#Gas Transfer Pumps

[bestpickme]

✅ 5 Best Fuel Transfer Pump 2023 || Awesome Manual Fuel Transfer Pump wi...

[gn4bnahc]

Workout Session

Pairing: Changbin & Bangchan x Fem!reader

Genre: Smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Threesome, creampie, oral, unprotected sex, rough sex, pet names: babygirl, slut.

Masterlist | VIDEO

This is just fiction!

This was your first time in this gym. You keep trying different gyms, but they were horrible, so you try out this new gym near you and get a membership.

As you entered, two guys stared at you, you guys stare at eachother for a few minutes before breaking it. You go to a machine, but you don’t know how to use it. You decided to ask for help, you looked around and saw that thise two guys were the ones near you right now, so approached them.

“Uh, excuse me”, you say while tapping Chan on the shoulder, both of them turn around and look at you “Hm?”, both of them say while raising their eyebrows and eyeing you up and down, “Can you help me out with that machine”, you say as they both nod and follow you.

They both guide you and teach you, “I’m Changbin by the way and hes Chan”, “Oh I’m Y/n”, you smile at eachother, shaking hands. They both walk away, but you could feel them still staring.

They look at you, practically eye fucking you. Your nipples, showing through your tank top, you didn’t wear a bra since all of them were in the laundry, your tight leggings with your camel toe (if you don’t know what that is, search it up), they couldn’t help but stare.

You were finally done working out, you pack your things getting ready to leave, but Changbin and Chan approached you. “Y/n would you maybe want to workout with us privately?”, Chan asked while smirking at you, “Huh? Where?”, “You know…”, Changbin says while crossing his arms, “Wait wha-”, “We don’t bite… unless you want us to…”, Chan says as both of them stare at you, waiting for your answer.

“I mean… you guys look pretty big… I don’t know if I can take it”, “We’ll be gentle, gorgeous”, Changbin says as they he looks at Chan, knowing that it was a lie.

Few minutes later

You guys go to the parking lot, “Which car do you wanna ride, mine or changbin’s… or do you wanna ride something else” Chan says teasingly as he smirks at you, your cheeks turn red while looking down shyly “I think i’ll ride Changbin’s…”, “Which are you talking about… my car or my di-”, you cut off Changbin, dragging him to his car “oookay, let’s just go now mkay”. “Hey! you better not taste that pussy before me!”, Chan says as Changbin chuckles, “Pfft you just gave me an idea”, Changbin says while looking at you, smiling innocently.

Chan texted Changbin to stop by the near gas station cause he was gonna pee. As Chan gets out of his car, “Take off your leggings now”, Changbin says, ordering you, you follow his orders quickly, he transfers to your seat, without any hesitation, he quickly circles on your clit, licking your wet cunt, “So wet for me already”, he holds both of your thighs, still burying himself in your pussy, you moan out loud, “Chan is there already, Changbin”, “Shit”, Changbin says as he quickly transfers to his seat, leaving you without your leggings and panties. Chan knocks on your window, you open it, he looks at both of you with your flushed faces, “Wait… why don’t you have your leggings on… Changbin… you little bitch”, Chan says jokingly shaking his head and chuckling, “My bad…”, Changbin says while shrugging.

As Changbin was driving, he caresses your thigh “Man, I can’t wait to fuck you dumb”, you giggle and place a kiss on his cheek.

Few hours later

All of you arrive at their house. As you enter, Chan quickly kisses you roughly, holding onto your waist, “I’m definitely going to punish you after what you and Changbin did a while ago”, he says while you take off your shoes.

They suddenly both carry you to Chan’s room, Chan still kissing you as he goes upstairs, “Helloooo… Im literally here right now”, Changbin says as you and Chan look at him, laughing.

They throw you on the bed, Changbin plays some music while Chan is making out with you, he puts in a finger, pumping it inside you, you moan as he adds another finger in and out of you. “Hey… I thought we were gonna do this together..”, Changbin says as he pouts, you both stop kissing and look at him while smiling. You crawl towards Changbin unzip his pants, taking off his underwear, you look up at him while you stroke his dick slowly, you smile at him innocently even though your literally about to have a threesome. While you suck on Changbin’s cock, your ass was in Chan’s view, when you heard his zipper unzip, you knew what was about to come. Chan lines his cock on your entance, he puts it in, starting off slow but going faster. You suck on Changbin’s dick faster, licking his tip, “Shit babygirl… best work out evaaaar”, Changbin says while throwing his head back, Chan goes faster, fucking you from behind. As you whimper , cry out loud, moan, both of they feel more aroused. Both of them look at eachother and nod, they pull out. You look at them confused, “Why’d you stop?”, you look at them pouting, Changbin lays down, he taps on his thigh, “Here, you fucking slut”, you crawl to him, going down his dick slowly, you moan as his dick enters your cunt. You start bouncing on him, Chan lines up on your ass hole, “Channie, will it fit?”, Chan smiled as he heard you call him ‘Channie’. Both of them are fucking voth of your holes right now, Changbin is down you, Chan is behind you, “Fuuuck this feels like heaven”, you say as you bite your lip, rolling your eyes back, panting heavily. “Shit I’m about to… t-”, Chan says as both of them releases their load in you, filling you up, you squirt, “Shit you’re like a fucking fountain”, Changbin says as he presses his dick deeper inside you, rubbing your clit.

The three of you lay down on the bed, you in between them, “We’re definitely taking you out on a date after this”, Chan says as they both look at you, panting heavily, “Huh? What do you mean after this?”, “Babygirl, we didn’t say we’re finished”, Changbin says as they both look at you, smirking.

[turbulentscrawl]

Modern AU: Norton Campbell

You've heard of modern reader? Well now it's time for Modern canon!

- Previously, he worked in the oil industry, but a nasty accident he doesn’t speak about has left him with his fair share of burn scars. Norton now works as an independent contractor, known around town as a do-it-all type of handyman. He rarely works with or for group projects, preferring to be hired directly by property owners for the work they need done. He’s his own boss, and he makes his own schedule, but he’s a workaholic.

- He was raised by his uncle Benny after his parents died when he was still very young—his mother shortly after childbirth, due to complications, and his father in a work-related accident. Benny’s health deteriorated fast, though, and as soon as he was legally able Norton picked up a part-time job to help pay the bills and build a college fund. (Or several, more like, and he was known to bounce around for better pay.)

-Some time in his senior year of high school, he discovered that Benny was keeping secrets; Benny had not only convinced his father to stay in the oil industry after he was born, but wasted and gambled away all the life insurance money from his death. Enraged and betrayed, Norton dropped out of school and left. He drove as far away as he could with the little money he had, and then lived out of his truck for a while. Eventually, he made enough money to rent a shitty little motel room by the week, and then a shitty little apartment.

-After leaving, he at first went into the oil industry like his old man and Benny had been—it was something he was familiar enough with and hard labor paid better than being a busboy again. But after a few years there was an accident which left him with several burn scars. He was left in pain for a long time, but the worker’s comp paid for most of his medical bills and his rent, giving him just enough time to get his GED. After that, he started into construction, plumbing, and other handiman things he was knowledgeable in after years of being poor and self-sufficient.

-The accident, this time, was more of an ACTUAL accident. Norton had a disagreement with some of the coworkers he hated. There was an altercation, and something ignited…and Norton was the only one who got out. He doesn’t talk about it, mostly out of shame and a sense of guilt, but he copes by telling himself they deserved it.

- He drives the same beat-up old pickup truck Benny bought for him as a kid. It was transferred into his name when he was 18, so Benny can’t swipe it from under his nose. (Legally, anyway.) He could probably get a loan and buy a new car, but at this point he prefers to keep the old hunk of junk. Maybe he’s sentimental, or maybe the weekly maintenance he has to do on it is just therapeutic in a way.

-Not a super techy guy. He keeps up with industry news and learns new skills often, but his truck, his phone, and most of his home appliances are older. He’s good enough with fixing things that he hasn’t bothered to replace them.

-He’s not much of a decorator, either, but he’s good at thrifting and building his own furniture with recycled materials. His apartment/home is a bit of a hodgepodge, with mostly bare walls, but what he does have I impressive in its own way. Any décor he has is likely gifted.

-He’d like to own a home one day, but he’s playing things by ear. He realizes that might be asking a lot while he’s got no real support system.

-He’s a fair cook, but a lot of what he makes could be called “struggle meals.” They’re what he’s been used to for a long time.

-He’s a little paranoid about pumping gas into his truck, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. On his days off, he tends to walk to take public transit to save some money and gas mileage.

-He’s that guy with a 7-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, bodywash etc men’s soap. Someone please teach him better ways.

[zmediaoutlet]

Three hundred miles under the big sky, Red Lodge to Miles City and then out of Montana to Bowman. Gas at a dingy co-op, half garage and half store. Sam sits on the trunk waiting for the nozzle to click and watches Dean go to the payphone by the dusty propane display, watches him dial. Give whatever performance he feels like. His shoulders hunched up under his coat. Not that cold today but he's still wearing it.

Sam stretches his sneakers out in the gravel. Another car pulls in by the store. Older lady, hair a flash of silver when the afternoon sun gleams over it, giving Dean a weird look that he returns with a broad screw you smile when he comes back from the phone. No wonder. His face is all over bruises, like someone used him as a punching bag. Not far off.

"They going to get him?" Sam says. He takes the Coke when Dean hands it over. Glass bottles, what a time warp.

Dean finishes swigging down half of his own bottle, burps contentedly. "Cops'll find Gordon sitting in his own stank," he says, ignoring Sam's wrinkled nose. He lifts a shoulder. "Or he got out, and they'll find whatever's left in that creepy house. Blood and all. We should've left him to stew longer."

Sam drags his thumb over the glass rim before he takes a sip. Sharp caramel, freezing cold. He can't imagine Gordon getting caught. Too competent, too—vicious, effective. Sam resented the comparison to Dad but it wasn't—all that far off. Except where it really mattered.

"Just glad we don't have to deal with it," Sam says. Dean half-nods. Looking off into nothing, rubbing the edge of his cut lip. Somewhere else. "What?"

The nozzle clicks. Dean blinks. Hands his bottle to Sam and deals with the pump while Sam spins the gas cap back into place. He expects Dean to come back around to the driver side but he sits on the trunk next to Sam, instead, stretches his boots out to match Sam, his face pointed vaguely at the store but his eyes—three hundred miles in the rearview? Or further?

"Wasn't—a replacement," Dean says. Sam has no idea what he means, until he does. He bites the inside of his cheek. Dean glances at him to make sure he follows and then dips his chin, looks at the tips of his boots instead. "That wasn't it. Don't wanna get in a fight. But you—?"

"I get it," Sam says. Which is true, kinda. He half-wishes he hadn't said anything except that at least that fight had gotten Dean to crack, at least a little, from this awful manic fakery he's been dealing with, ever since they left the hospital with a body they had to burn and the weight of the world no lighter.

Dean nods, still staring at his boots. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. Sam isn't sure Dean got it, particularly. How something could be a substitute not for the physical fact but for the feeling. There was no replacing Dad, not at all, but what Dad meant, that fog of expectations and received wisdom and a way of looking at the world, black and white, right and wrong—but then, Gordon wasn't that, quite, either. No matter how much Sam had strained against and fought with and sometimes hated their dad, he never, ever suspected him of—

"I don't know how he could do that," Dean says. Like it's pushing past some thickness, shoved out of his throat. "His sister. How could he."

"I mean, I messed up your Stones tape back in Milwaukee and you said you were going to kill me," Sam tries, but Dean just closes his eyes, a muscle in his jaw flexing. He licks his lips, drags his heels in. "I don't know. Drove him crazy, I guess. Couldn't see past the monster stuff to what mattered, you know?"

Dean shakes his head, drags a hand over his face. Flinches because he caught his bruises, the idiot. Sam transfers both Coke bottles to one hand and catches Dean's wrist, pulls it down, and Dean huffs and then looks at him sideways. God, he's tired. Sam looks at the store, through the grimed glass windows—the old lady's with the clerk at the counter, and no one else is around—and he takes the opportunity he wishes he'd had earlier and pulls Dean closer and kisses him. Very careful, closed-lipped against the hurt mouth. Dean's lips part anyway and there's the smell of Coke and the smell of blood and Sam breathes deep and then pulls back. Dean's eyes wide like that was the last thing he expected. Where has he been, Sam thinks, but he thinks it very fondly, and then he thinks that, god, he needs sleep, too. Ten straight hours preferably, in a motel room with blackout shades, his body plastered against Dean's and the two of them waking together. Knowing what matters.

Dean licks his lower lip. Looking like maybe he wants the same thing, or at least something close enough they can compromise. "Give me my Coke back," he says. Pink-eared. Sam smiles at him and carries both over to the passenger seat, with Dean bitching about, hey, who bought what for who, squatters rights ain't it. And so on. The day's bright, and brighter. The sky huge. Dean reaches over and steals Sam's bottle while they're pulling back out onto the highway and almost crashes the car, sets Sam laughing enough that he snorts Coke out his nose. "Can't take you anywhere," Dean says, affecting dignity. No, Sam thinks. He's nothing at all like Gordon.

[rootytootypie]

❤️💨🫘😳🤢🦸‍♂️for Spiderman please. Uhhhh not the Tom Holland one, the adult versions just to be clear hehe

💨: On a scale of gassiness, Peter is definitely a reticient seven. He doesn’t go around tooting his horn at all, but his Aunt May knows this (other) little secret. She thinks it’s the sweetest thing her nephew is so polite, but she always makes sure there’s Gas X, ginger ale, and mint around the house to settle his poor stomach. She also definitely makes sure Mary Jane is in on it once Peter moves out, so even at ESU, he’s well stocked with remedies for his tummy troubles. MJ is super subtle about it, making sure he doesn’t realize she knows until he’s ready to tell her (mostly because he’d be mortified if he know his aunt told his crush all about how he’s not actually an avid tuba player, and in fact has never even owned the instrument). Peter’s actually more shy with friends and family than strangers, mostly because he finds his loud gas so embarrassing, but also because he doesn’t want to worry anyone with his stomach problems.

🫘: Peter and beans have a dangerous, odiferous affair going. He knows he shouldn’t touch them in any form, but in one of the culinary capitals of the world, how can he resist refried beans, bean dip, bean chips, and all the forms it takes that have Peter swinging home tooting like a tugboat? They just smell so good going in? How can they stink so much coming out? Yes, they require a retreat to a fortress of solitude (his bedroom at May’s, the dorm room at peak party times so Harry’s out, or his apartment), but the taste makes it worth it. He pines, he perishes (mostly because he’s a little afraid Triple J will declare Spidey a gaseous menace).

😳: When you’re gassy like Peter, you definitely have a few embarrassing farts in your memory banks. But there only one that can be decreed the worst.

It was Peter’s first college party at ESU, in the extreme ostentatious Alpha Mu Pi mansion on campus. The place was cavernous, with no doors clearly marked and most of the freshman being as clueless to the layout as he was. This was very bad, because his nerves had driven him to packing in the chips and bean dip abandoned in the corner. And after about fifteen chips, Peter’s stomach was bubbling. He was sure it was brewing something nasty.

His lack of direction led him to a door another random guy thought might be the bathroom. Instead, as Peter flung the door open and saw two guys making out, he let out a *BBBBBBRRRRRRbbbbbblllllrllllrllrllllllBBBBB!* that rang out louder than the music pumping on the stereo. Everyone was looking at him, including the gay couple, one of whom happened to be Rodney Worth, the starting quarterback who just transferred from Crofton University.

Peter and his fart had just accidentally outed the quarterback to a packed frat party. For weeks, he hung his head in shame, especially as the news hit the school paper. He not only embarrassed himself, he’d ruined some poor guy’s life (I’m partly picturing the Spideyverses of the past films, so it’s technically always the 2000s/early 2010s in their universe; i.e. Rodney would NOT be in for a fun time). He finally sighed, gathered up his courage, and went to Rodney to apologize.

He found Rodney under a tree in the quad, openly reading James Joyce to his boyfriend. “Can I talk to you, Rodney,” Peter asked nervously. The broad shouldered football player nodded and stood up, following Pete a few steps away.

“I’m really sorry for outing you,” Peter said. “It was an accident, but I know that doesn’t make things better, so I’m just plain sorry that the news spread so much, and-”

“Sorry,” Rodney said, perplexed. “I’ve been wanting to thank you. I’m finally free to be who I am, and fuck anyone who thinks badly of it. Because of you, I’m not burdened by any secrets. I’m gay and proud.”

“Oh,” Peter said, surprised. “Well, that’s great. I’m glad there was a positive side for you.”

“Do me a favor, though,” Rodney asked with a grin. “Lay off the bean dip, okay?”

❤️: Peter was downright terrified to fart in front of MJ. He was afraid one toot would be the thing to make her snap out of dating him and remember him as a geeky neighbor boy instead of a boyfriend. He held it pretty steadfastly…until one night when they end up on the coach together watching a movie - and the popcorn mixed in his belly with the bean chips he ate as a quick snack. Peter shifted, ready to head for the bathroom - just as she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. She looked up at him, and her eyes made him want to melt. “I’m so glad we get a night to ourselves,” she said. “No urgent crimes to interrupt, no crazy missions, or jacked up supervillains. Just you and me.”

“Same,” Peter squeaked, his voice breaking from nerves.

“Are you alright,” MJ asked. “You look kinda feverish. Can you still get sick?”

“I’m fine,” Peter protested. “Just…happy. Content. Can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Yeah…okay,” MJ said. “If you’re sure.”

“Sure as shootin’,” Peter heard himself say, and blushed. Where the hell did come from? At least his embarrassing little problems is under wraps-

*PrrrrrooooooBLLLPBLLPBLLP!*

“Oh, God, MJ, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I-”

“Finally showed me your tuba playing,” MJ snarked, giggling.

Peter pouted. “Just for that, I’m gonna point out you toot in your sleep,” he groused.

“Aw, Pete,” she said. “Is it really bad? There’s some ginger ale in the fridge I can get you.”

“…Okay,” Peter agreed. “But if I have to fart more, will you still cuddle me?”

“Duh,” MJ said. “Just stand up if you have to shoot webs out of your butt, because I just bought this couch from Pottery Barn.”

“…I love you,” he said, giving her puppy dog eyes. “And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sor- Oh, my God, that’s vile! Talk about silent but violent. Apology accepted! …Now come back here, I’m cold.”

🤢: Peter is very easily grossed out by certain people’s farts. Certain people being Flash Thompson on a power trip farting in his general direction. Other than that example of fart torture (not really my scene), Peter is sorta ambivalent to farts. Well, the one exception is when he sneaks up on criminals and one of them farts in surprise. That cracks him up. He’s definitely as much of a worrier as his friends are about him, and happily give out tummy rubs and forehead kisses to any of his girlfriends who are gassy for whatever reason, but especially period cramps.

🦸‍♂️: He doesn’t fart web. That said, his sudden bean intolerance only came after he was bitten by the spider. Before that, he didn’t struggle with any food. There have been times the resulting farts propelled him forward by a few extra centimeters as he swings through the city, so the gas has also definitely gotten more powerful since he became super. It’s as if the bite gave him extra protein farts as a consequence of his newly developed bod.

[ghostboybrainrot]

Out of Touch Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, AO3

Edit: I'm starting the process of transferring these to AO3. Click the link above to subscribe and get updates more reliably! (But don't worry I'll keep posting on Tumblr, too.)

____________________________

Martha saw the shadowy figure falling from the sky. Its form stuttered as it fell. Suddenly, with a flash of light it changed. It was more solid now but it was still falling too fast for her to be able to see clearly.

It hit the ground with a soft thud. And she realized what she was looking at.

He couldn't have been older than 16. He was skinny. Too skinny. His black hair was messy. He wore a ratty dark blue hoodie and jeans. His shoes were held together with duct tape.

Her core lurched at the sight of him. He looked so fragile. For a moment she worried he'd lost consciousness. Had he hit his head? A weak groan escaped his mouth, pulling her from her thoughts. It was raspy and dry. Not a noise she expected from someone so young.

At least he was awake. That ruled out anything too serious.

He was trying to stand but was struggling. He'd injured his leg. She saw him wince with pain.

When he finally pulled himself up, he needed to hold the wall for balance. She expected him to start walking toward the exit of the alley but instead he made his way deeper, toward a dumpster.

He looked back scanning the alley. His eyes swept over her hiding spot but didn't seem to register her presence.

Satisfied that he wasn't being followed he crawled behind the dumpster, and out of sight.

Slowly, she closed the distance between herself and the dumpster. She stayed in the shadows but angled herself so she could get a glimpse of him.

He'd made a makeshift blanket with some garbage that had been lying next to it. His eyes were closed. She could see his chest rising and falling slowly. She wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep that fast, but judging by how exhausted he had looked she wouldn't be surprised.

Her core tightened in worry. This boy shouldn't be left alone. Especially not here. Not in this alley. It wasn't safe. She glanced around, nervously. No one else had seen the boy yet, but she didn't want to risk it. He was tucked away but anyone who spared more than a passing glance in his direction, could spot him easily.

It was late autumn and the air was cold. It was likely to get colder before morning. People froze to death in nicer weather than this. She had to do something. He needed help.

Maybe she could find him a blanket or a coat?

She didn't like the idea of leaving him alone. She worried someone would find him if she took too long. She would just have to be quick.

She gave the sleeping boy one more glance before she floated off.

There was a general store near here right? At least there used to be. She headed in the direction she thought it had been. She didn't couldn't find the shop but she kept going anyway. She had to come across something eventually.

She couldn't remember the last tile she'd been down this way. Had it always been this run down?

It was late which explained the lack of people but the buildings were falling apart. It looked like no one had lived here in a long time.

She had to travel several blocks before she found anything that looked like it was still in business. The small gas station stood bright against the darkness. There were no cars at the pumps and the small shop attached to it looked closed. But they might have some emergency supplies.

She floated through the locked double doors. She scanned the shelves. There were a variety of items a person would need on the road. Motor oil, washer fluid, ice scrapers. There were also plenty of snacks and cooler on the back wall was full of drinks of varying colors and sizes.

She found what she was looking for at the end of an aisle. An emergency blanket. She knew people kept these in their trunks in case they got stranded in the cold. It didn't look comfortable. But hopefully the material was warm enough.

She reached for it but her hands passed through. It had been a long time since she'd tried to interact with the living world. She'd been able to move small things but never something like this. And she'd never carried anything so far.

She kicked herself. What had she been thinking? She couldn't help that poor boy. He needed someone who could be there. Who could hold him. Comfort him. Talk to him. Someone alive.

How could she hope to help like this?

She thought back to the shadow that had flown overhead. The flash of light and the fall. Maybe the boy wasn't alive either. At least not in the way most were.

She shook her head to clear it. She could worry about that later. She could do this. She just needed to focus.

She closed her eyes as she concentrated. She tried to imagine what it would feel like if she could reach out and touch it. She reached forward and her hand met the fabric. She ran her hand along it. The material was as scratchy as she imagined, but she could feel it. Really feel it. She smiled as she tried to scoop it up.

It took some time but she was able to lift the blanket off the shelf. She had dropped it a couple times but each time she picked it up again it had gotten easier.

Encouraged by her success, she looked around to what else she could grab. She settled on a bottle of water, and a prepackaged pastry. She had to take extra time to balance them on top of the blanket. She managed to roll the food and drink into the blanket, to keep them from falling as she flew back.

Phasing through the doors with the items proved challenging as well but she had started to get the hang of it.

Finally, she exited the gas station arms loaded with her spoils.

When she arrived back the boy was still where she left him. Carefully, she set down what she was carrying. He was still breathing. Slow and steady. If she wasn't sure before she knew he was sleeping now.

She considered the best way to get the blanket around him. She decided to move the cardboard and plastic. She spread the blanket out over him attempting to tuck it underneath him to help keep in the warmth.

She tried to replace the plastic wrap and boxes to provide him with cover.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open. He focused his icy glue gaze on her and she gasped.

________________________

Notes:

Thank you for reading! It's a little on the short side. I have another part after this almost finished but it wasn't quite ready so I split it in two and posted the first half! I do plan on posting to AO3 in the near future as well. (GhostBoyBrainRot on AO3 as well if you wanna subscribe.)

To everyone who guessed Jason. Don't worry Danny is going to be running into the batfam soon! >:)

But until then enjoy Martha! She's a little lost but she's got the spirit xD Hehe

Housekeeping note: Anyone who requested a tag. Check the list. If you see your at below and its spelled correctly, something is preventing me from tagging you. It might be because tumblr thinks your a bot or there may be something you need to change in your privacy settings.

If it isn't spelled correctly please DM me with the correct tag and what work its for. I have more than one going at the moment.

If I missed you entirely just leave a reply on this post and I'll try to add you next time.

Hope this helps! And thanks for reading!

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[dollsonmain]

Customer of the day:

So there's this lady that always looks sour as hell and isn't friendly at all. When I say hello to her she just kind of sneers and waves me off. She also always wears sunglasses so I have never seen her eyes just the sour, scrunched line of her mouth. Manger says she's like that with her, too, but is nice to the younger man that works after I do. It seems she doesn't like women.

We were having issues with two of the pumps' computers crashing today, and she had asked for gas on one of the pumps that had crashed repeatedly and was having trouble again.

So Manager transfers her purchase to a functioning pump, goes out, and asks her to please move to the other pump.

A few hours later the lady came back and asked for a receipt for her purchase because she didn't want to pay twice.

That's fine, I can totally do that, but, because of the way transactions show up in the log, I have to ask a couple questions.

Me: Do you know what time that was?

Lady: No. There can't have been that many people since then. (There were, her transaction was about 20 back.)

Me: Did you pay by cash, credit, or debit?

Lady: I used a card.

Me: Was it credit or debit?

Lady: I don't know. You have the computer.

Me: Yes, but I need some information to pull up the correct transaction. Do you remember how much it was?

Lady: You didn't give me a receipt so I don't know.

Me: ....

Me: What are the last four digits of the card you used?

Lady: *shows me her card*

Me: Ok, here you go! *prints receipt and hands it to her*

Lady: Is this the pump number? *points*

Me: Yes.

Lady: This is the pump number?

Me: Yes.

Lady: ... I want a receipt for the other pump.

Manager: There is no receipt for the other pump because we transferred your purchase to the pump you used.

Lady: I want a receipt for the cancelled transaction on the other pump.

Manager: There was no cancelled transaction, we transferred the purchase to the pump I moved you to.

Lady: So, you expect me to just TRUST you.

Manager: If a duplicate purchase shows up on your account, come talk to me.

Lady: You expect me to just TRUST you.

Us: Have a good day!

-

I almost forgot what it's like working retail. Honestly, though, most of the customers are fine. Some are friendlier than others, but other than this one sour lady, they've all been pretty nice.

[sherlocks-blanket]

Seeing your ghost

Sherlock Holmes x reader

A/N: First of all! A big thanks towards @classickook who pretty much beta read it! Also relationship is pretty much for interpretation if it's romantic or platonic.

Words: 1,8k

Warnings: Heavy angst, major character death,drug abuse,overdose, open ending

You groggily opened your eyes and were met with only darkness. You tried to adjust your eyes to see in the pitch black, but saw nothing. First you thought that you were in the trunk of a car, but the cold fresh air from London caused a shiver to run through your body.

So your conclusion was that you were somewhere outside.

You remembered that two men knocked you out and put you in a black car. You knew that Mycroft was someone who would send a black car if he ever tried to talk to you to get through to his brother, Sherlock. He knew you were someone who Sherlock would listen to… well, sometimes, at least.

But this…

This wasn’t Mycroft’s doing. It was someone else…

‘Sherlock,’ you thought. Maybe you could…

No. You couldn’t go for your phone because, of course, those bastards had to bind your wrists with rope.

“Great,” you sighed, trying to scan your surroundings with your now dark-adjusted eyes. You couldn’t really sit up or turn with how crowded the space was.

It was different kinds of materials that you were surrounded by, from wood pieces to hay to old furniture parts. Everything was good for burning…

As if your last thoughts could be heart, it became true when you felt an aura of heat start to warm up your shivering form, followed by a wave of smoke coming through.

You started to cough as you breathed in the deadly gas.

As the rush of adrenaline pumped through your veins, hearing your heart beating through you ears, you tried to wriggle yourself out of the ropes when the panic settled into your system.

You cried out for anyone to help, hoping someone would hear you and save you before the fire could lay its hands on you, or worse, before the smoke could knock you unconscious.

***

“Move! MOVE!” Sherlock yelled, pushing people aside to get through the crowd that was surrounding a bonfire and reach his target.

The target was a burning spot where you were buried underneath.

Sherlock had received a mysterious text message on his phone with words that didn’t have any meaning. If anyone else had seen it, they would’ve ignored it, thinking it was some king of random spam; but with Sherlock… being the famous detective that he was saw the hint in it.

-Save Y/N

 

Sherlock shouted your name, hoping you would respond as he pushed the burning objects away from the pile.

The crowd was frozen in their spots and only watched in horror when Sherlock dragged your body from the fire.

“I’m a doctor! Let me through!” John called inside the mob of people, which still stood petrified towards the scene in front of them. After he got through, he rushed directly to his friend’s side and knelt down to examine you.

“Sherlock…”

The detective felt some unease as he faced John when his name was mentioned. Sherlock saw the grim expression on the doctor’s face only to get the dreadful answer he was afraid of hearing. He saw the confirmation in John who just shook his head and glanced to the ground.

Not believing any of it, he took your wrist to only come to the same conclusion.

That you were dead…

***

Blue lights illuminated the area when the police arrived along with an ambulance that didn’t matter anymore since you had passed away.

The place was full of police officers interrogating the witnesses along with paramedics who checked on everyone. One of them dropped a blanket over Sherlock’s shoulders, but no complaints came from him. The detective just sat, his face expressionless. Most people would just see an emotionless machine from the outside, but on the inside was a black void consuming him. He just couldn’t comprehend that he just lost someone from the few people who were very dear to him.

His blue eyes caught a person who transferred the black body bag with your body inside to a car and then closing the doors shut. Moments later, the vehicle took off and drove away from his sight, and now you were truly ripped away from him…

***

Days passed like seconds after your passing, and Sherlock did everything to distract himself. He took every case, even some he deemed unworthy of his attention, only to solve the in a matter of seconds. The detective overworked himself just to calm his racing mind, but in the end, even his body needed some rest and John would oftentimes find him passed out in front of his laptop with his face on the keyboard. John would then wake him up, telling him that he should go to bed, but Sherlock declined and continued to work until the cycle would repeat…

It worsened further after the funeral. He wouldn’t leave his room some days, skipped meals more often, and then the unbelievable: he stopped taking any cases.

John, Mrs. Hudson, and everyone else were clueless as to how they could help the grieving detective.

The door of the flat opened as the veteran entered the living area to find his friend sitting on his armchair, two fingers on his temple and eyes fixed on the fireplace in front of him. The warm colors of the flames lit up his face in a beautiful orange glow, but also showed what miserable shape the detective was in: prominent dark circles formed under his eyes from lack of sleep, his cheekbones were more noticeable, and a stubble grazed his chin. 

John noticed a tray with some food Mrs. Hudson had most likely brought up, along with some tea, but everything was neglected and cold by now.

“Leave…” Sherlock muttered without looking up.

“Look, I… I know Y/N’s passing is hard for you, but do you not want to find the person who was responsible for this?”

Their eyes met the moment John mentioned your name, and thinking that Sherlock had given up on finding your killer struck a sensitive nerve in the detective, which the army doctor never thought Sherlock would have done.

“You really think I didn’t try to find the murderer?”

Offended by the statement, Sherlock stood up from his position and walked passed John in haste with him following with quick steps. “Don’t’ you dare to—”

John held his breath as he stormed into Sherlock’s bedroom to find his wall full of notes lined with different colored strings on a map. It explained why he hadn’t left his room some days or why he didn’t take any more cases; he tried hard to solve this personal case just to find out who killed you.

“It was a test, but the outcome…”

“So you mean that it was an accident?” John interrupted, his eyebrows quirked up in confusion.

Sherlock shook his head, pointing at a note on the wall. “Why would someone give me a hint and a location inside a dubious text message, which I needed to decipher? Do you not see it? They wanted me to find Y/N! But…”

“But you think the outcome should’ve been with Y/N being alive… so technically, it was an ‘accident’,” the doctor finished the sentence, the last word ending in a different tone than the rest. John slowly started to understand what Sherlock had tried to imply.

“They tried to draw a reaction from me, but the purpose for what is still left unknown…” the detective voiced his thoughts in a whisper. His eyes scanned over every note he had pinned on the wall but couldn’t find the answer he was looking for. Another rare occurrence that the famous detective Sherlock Holmes was stuck on this case. It frustrated him that the murderer was still out there living their life while yours had been ripped away from you. But for what gain?

Just as John opened his mouth to voice out his current thought on the matter, Sherlock pushed him out and sealed himself inside his bedroom as he did over the past several days. A sigh left the veteran’s lips as he stood locked out from his friend again.

“Just so you know… if you need help or anything, I’m here for you.”

Sherlock heard John step away from the door as the silence filled his space again.

***

No one thought that he would reach this point again—not even Sherlock—as the needle stuck in his skin, injecting himself with any drug he could dig out from a hiding spot inside his bedroom, hidden away from curious gazes.

He needed it for altering his brain to increase his thought process and to numb his emotions that people called pain, but he never thought he would get the outcome of a shadow seen out of the corner of his eyes.

No one should be able to get in except…

The detective faced the window, which was closed along with the curtains that lit up the dim room. When his eyes went to the corner where he saw the shadow before, he was met with your eyes.

“Y/N?” he breathed out, his gaze open wide in shock. “No… it can’t be.”

You smiled at him, not saying anything as you slowly strutted toward him, trying to reach out for his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head. “You’re dead. You’re dead!” he repeatedly murmured, opening his eyes again to see that you were gone. He scanned his surroundings to see if you were hiding, but no… you weren’t there anymore.

The detective dropped down to his bed, burying his face in his hands.

What just happened? Had his mind tried to comfort him or hurt him more? Was that what people called a breaking point, or was he going insane?

But, in the end, he was human like everyone else, and your death was proof of that as tear after tear streamed down his face.

Solving the case was stored in the back of his mind, his hands shaking as he reached for the syringe again. If he needed the drugs to see you, then so be it. He increased the dosage, hoping it would last longer. A sigh of relief left his lips as the needle pierced his skin.

Now he only needed to wait…

***

Mrs. Hudson was the first to noticed that the detective talked to himself. She dismissed it at first as rambling about something, even thinking that he babbled about an old case, which she wished for instead. But as it happened more often, it sounded like he was talking to someone, and the moment your name was said, the landlady started to worry, thinking the worst. She then called for John to investigate, the two of them hoping he didn’t relapse…

John broke down the bedroom door to find Sherlock lying on his bed surrounded by empty syringes. A gasp was heard from Mrs. Hudson at the state the detective was in from her position beside John.

“Sherlock!” the doctor called and rushed to his friend’s side to check on him.

His face was pale as a sheet, his gaze focused on a random spot, but his lips were surprisingly pulled into a smile like he saw something pleasant, unlike the two of them standing there.

Sherlock saw your ghost grasping his hand.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Random Thoughts (mostly CC!NextGen)

1) When I suggested Nitaru have the Stockpile Quirk: Original Flavour, I was mostly thinking of it as the ultimate irony. Cause like, the OG Stockpile Quirk didn’t really seem to DO anything, until it got mixed with the Transfer Quirk. Like, Stockpile seemed to be … kind of nothing? I imagine that, in the long term, with whoever had it originally, it MIGHT have ended up some kind of general enhancer, but I sort of got the feeling that, without the transfer ability, it wouldn’t have done much. I thought it sounded funny that, the ONE Quirk AfO wanted more than anything, the one he attached all this importance to, the one he tracked down and killed HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE TO GET, THAT’S the one Nitaru ends up with … and it does basically nothing, because it doesn’t have all the other bits stuck into it. It’s just kind of … there. Nitaru is, effectively, Quirkless. (Which, you know, the difference is semantics, but the irony made me laugh).

2) k, Mimi asked me to expand on Doctor Frankenstein (real name pending/If you think of one, go for it). And like, while I have NO idea who he is EXACTLY, I did think up a general backstory, so.

Like. Doc would have been working at the HPSC for a while. I have this half-baked idea he did work on performance enhancers or something, but his big passion project is “creating” the “ultimate hero” through gene-manipulation. And while he got some side-projects green lit, his big project of “creating” his own heroes kept getting shut down.

i think I mentioned this before, but I imagine in a world where people can shoot lasers, or teleport, or make poison gas, gene manipulation and cloning and shit would be seen as even more taboo than we generally see it as. Like, you are playing god WITH GODS. You are basically making weapons. So DocFrankenstein keeps getting shut down, and getting more and more frustrated. He knows this project could be big, a game changer (especially with HIS genius at the helm) but all of these PLEBIANS can’t see his vision!

This isn’t to say the guy doesn’t have influence. While the President Lady Nagant served under shut the whole thing down hard, the one after, she does the whole thing with Hawks in part because of the Doc’s suggestions. Like, oh no, we are NOT making test tube babies, but she sees the merit in raising a kid for the role. Doc is made Hawks’ main doctor, and while he’s given a bit more leeway, it’s still not what he wants.

Then the Noumu show up. And oh boy.

Doc is both in awe … and disgusted. Cause on the one hand, he’s seeing this as evidence supporting his theories! Genetically made superbeings! On the other, using corpses? Pumping them full of chemicals? He understands that AfO is probably on a time crunch, but REALLY. These Noumu are barely more than ANIMALS. No thought, just following orders. If HE were the one calling the shots … (Basically, the only reason I see DocF not going to work for AfO? Their egos would have throttled each other.)

So, the War happens. And most of the upper members of the HPSC are killed. During the War, Doc F doesn’t really have time for his projects. He’s still working on them, he hasn’t given up, but like. There’s other shit to do, he’s trying to make sure AfO gets taken down. (And gets increasingly envious, because oh, the THINGS he could do with All For One …)

But once it ends? That’s when he sees his chance.

The Hero Public Safety Commission is in shambles. Lots of their dirty laundry got aired, and of those left who weren’t killed? Even more get arrested. They’re replaced by New Blood, people who are determined to do this RIGHT. No more behind the scenes machinations. No more manipulation. Transparency and honesty is the new HPSC motto. Those of the Old Guard left behind are scrambling to try and consolidate their power, to try and figure out how to put the HPSC back where it SHOULD be. The perfect peacekeepers who can do no wrong, who never misstepped in the first place. They are desperate for anything that can make things how they used to be.

Enter Akamei Kazanawa (Kazan=volcano).

Akamei was a junior handler before everything went to shit. She SHOULD have been working with Hawks, but. Well, this was around the time Hawks started infiltrating the League of Villains, so that didn’t really last long. So, rather than the first step in her career, Akamei got shafted and often blamed for Hawks growing independence. Which, of course, made her angry and bitter. She spent a lot of time with DocF, and the man was fairly sympathetic, in his own way (he gets what it’s like to have your vision stamped on by those who don’t understand your genius). Meanwhile, Akamei was intrigued by his genetics project, and saw plenty of potential in it. So she thinks. And she plans …

When the war ends, Akamei is one of many junior agents who get promoted because they need butts in seats, bodies in positions. She’s also one of the few that was involved with the Hawks program who DOESN’T end up arrested. She plays on the fact Hawks and her barely interacted, that she didn’t really “do her job”, to keep out of jail. DocF also stays out of jail, partly because Akamei manages to spin his involvement as unwilling (which, technically it was, but not for the reasons everyone thinks). Then, when the Old Guard are panicking, trying to figure out how to make all this awfulness go away, and put themselves back on top?

That’s when Akamei proposes the “Future Heroes” Program. A program of “home grown” heroes, entirely under the HPSC. She even volunteers to be the first “Handler”. And at this point?

the Old Guard is so desperate, it gets the green light.

-

So my thing with Nitaru is that 1.) I am kinda. Consolidating the Stockpile/Transfer Quirks into the whole thing just being how Yoichi’s Quirk operated in the first place. (because really there’s no reason for both to be separate and idk how the stockpile Quirk worked on its’ own without the transfer). and 2.) Nitaru is made from AfO’s stitched-together DNA. So his options for what his Quirk could be are either directly AfO’s Quirk (what they hoped for) or the Quirk from whatever they stitched in to make him whole (think Jurassic Park how they used frog DNA to complete the Dino DNA and it gave the Dinos the frog ability to change gender), or no Quirk whatsoever because he’s made of string and duct tape and it just didn’t stick.

The doctor stuff and Akamei stuff is great though! The Akamei stuff actually kinda really works with uh. I have plans for one of the main handlers for Nagant and Hawks to..... mysteriously disappear. So yeah she was learning to take over the job and then her boss fuckin vanishes which technically puts her in the spot, but this is right when Hawks is starting to break free of control and she’s tasked with getting him to comply but whoops all hold they have over him mysteriously disappears (in a good way)!

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Getting into uni was something you’d worked. You’d worked hard for it. And it just pissed you off that you had to share the same college with other students who didn’t even have to try. Like Ivan for Instance. He got into the college on mere kick of genetics! And since he was foreign student he got even more of a scholarship than you did. And he was dumb an ox! You could count how many times you were in class and he would burp or fart and just laugh dimly while the others around him would laugh. The others being the jocks he was a part of. They would encourage him to be obnoxious. And he was loud as hell and could t even speak right without throwing some foreign curse words in there. What an idiot ! You sat down In The uni cafeteria watching Ivan bro it up with the other jocks. You would think that being 20 years old he would act more mature. But he acted like a child in an over grown body. It was ridiculous. He over confident. Cocky. And just everything you couldn’t stand in a man.

You got up leave the cafeteria. You threw your food away only to turn around and run right into Ivan. He tray of half eaten food fell all over you. And he has spaghetti so you clothes got covered in the red tomato sauce. “For fucks sake you big dumb oaf ! Look where your going !” His brow furrowed slightly like he was trying to maintain his composure. “Awe. Can you understand me with that walnut Brian ?! YOU UNDERSTAND SIMPLE STUFF?? YOU UNDERSTAND!!” A large hard clapped on Ivan shoulder and it was a jock bro. “Bro don’t worry about this little pipsqueak. He just mad cause he ain’t a big bro like us !” You we’re so mad. You couldn’t stand these big dumb jocks that just seemed to run the school. You stormed out of the cafeteria back to your dorm where you slammed the door. Sulking in your room. Looking for ways to transfer to a school that didn’t just allow random dumb apes to get in for academics when they were better suited for a circus! You were so annoyed with the show that Ivan was putting on for everyone that you didn’t even finish your own meal and now you were starving. You started to eat on the bag of chips and didn’t even notice that a dark shadow had slipped across the floor. A shadow with horns and an inhuman figure. And within a quick motion replace your own.

You felt a little nauseous. It had to be grease chips you were eating. You got up to go to the bathroom when you smelt something awful! Taking a quick sniff around the room you couldn’t find the smell. It smelt of cabbage and onions. Yeah n the bathroom you sat down on the toilet. Trying to ease your your stomach as you felt like you had a serious bout of motion sickness. Without warning you let out a loud fart that rattled the toilet seat. And without a second though giggled dumbly at the sound and rancid smell. You sat back really quick. What the hell was that? You never let gas like that and you certainly never giggled at it !!! You’re stomach churned again “woaahhhhh” you moan if as you leaned back on the toilet. A loud burp escapes your lips. You feel as if you’re being pumped with air as your stomach begins to rapidly poke further and further out. You’re stomach stopped sweeping abs whither a sharp cramp you abs became barely visible amidst a thick protruding gut. You panic. Jumping you you run the door. Only managing to into your dorm room when you fall. You roll into a sitting position on the floor abs see you legs begin to beef up with thick muscle. As your veins begin to pop and you chest begins to balloon outward. You in tears from what your seeing. The smell of cabbage and onions fill the room. As you begin to sweat. Your arms push outward as muscle continues to grow. Even your feet begin to grow. Thick and wide. Definitely no able to fit in your shoes anymore. Your body hair begins to fall out leaving your hairless except for the hair on your head. Which turns blonde. Your face reshapes and after what seems like an eternity the changes have stopped. You struggle to stand up. Your much large body getting in the way of simple movements. You go to the bathroom. And you see a foreign man standing there. One that looked just as stupid. Just as large. And what seemed to now be just as smelly as Ivan.

You freak out. What the hell is going on !! You can’t let anyone see you like this ! What will people think. He try to open your phone but your Face ID no longer works. You have to try and find out what’s happened You mange to get into your phone and realization sets in. Nothing makes sense. NOTHING MAKES SENSE!! You drop the phone and try to find something. Anything that you can read. But nothing in the weird characters that was once so easy to understand make no sense. There is a loud bang up the door. Not even giving you time to open the door Ivan barges in and shuts it.

“It got you too didn’t it ?” Why did Ivan make perfect sense ?? You started to step backwards until your thick back hit the wall and you collapsed. “One of then got me on the way here….and. I can’t stop” he said as he let out a loud thunderous ass clapper and you giggled dumbly abs and he did too. You then see your shadows touch. And you see the horns on both of them. Abs how the shadows seemed to shake hands. “Wut is tha!” You demand. Your deeper voice surprised you and the accent you now had. You sound even dumber than Ivan. But what was worse. “It’s the thing that done this to us…..it’s turned into these freaks!” You look down again. Your larger feet and body already dripping thick greasy sweat. What ever these things were made you your worse nightmare. And for the foreseeable future you would be seen as the big dumb Russian jock. Unable to communicate clearly to anyone accept Ivan. And just when it dawn on you that this was your new life a loud fart shot our own ass and you giggled like the dumb Russian man you forever to become.

December 2nd, 2021 7:01pm writing challenge davidsp01 college hell

[usafphantom2]

SMART VALVE

Ben Rich followed Kelly Johnson as the leader of the “Skunk Works” out of Lockheed. Ben writes in his book by the same name, “Skunk Works,” that the design team headed by Kelly and Ben turned to Shell Gas to develop a special safe high flash point fuel that would not vaporize or blow up under tremendous heat and pressure that a lighted match would not set ablaze. We needed the fuel to remain stable at enormous temperature ranges. The (JP-7, as it was later known) was at -60° when a KC 135 tanker pumped fuel into the SR-71. The fuel acted as an internal coolant. All the heat built up inside the aircraft was transferred to the fuel by heat exchanges. They designed a Smart Valve that could sense temperature change. It supplied only the hottest fuel to the engines. The smart valve sent cooler fuel to the retracted landing gear and avionics.

The fuel also cools the cockpits.

The air conditioning bled off the engine compressor, dumped it through a fuel cooler, then through an expansion turbo into the cabin at a fridged -40°.

My Dad, Butch Sheffield, had told me he was always happy when they refueled as it would cool off the cockpit. The cockpit would become increasingly uncomfortable as it ran low on fuel. Dad wrote a few pages in the book “Skunk Works” see page 249. Butch first met Ben at the Skunk Works in 1965. Dad was picked first to fly the SR-71; he went to the very first SR-71 class taught by Ben Rich and Kelly Johnson. Later Ben selected, my Dad to work directly for him as Director of Special Projects for the Skunk Works.

I highly recommend Ben Rich’s book “Skunk Works”

Written by Linda Sheffield

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Anthropocene Magazine:

Nearly ten times as many people in America now work at Starbucks than dig for coal. Coal mining has long been a canary of America’s energy transition—it lost hundreds of thousands of workers in the 20th century, and has shrunk in half again since 2012. 

Losing dirty, dangerous coal jobs is one thing, but the wholesale dismantling of our fossil fuel economy promises to be far more disruptive. True, but there’s a huge caveat. The bright light on the horizon is that most estimates of new clean energy jobs dwarf even the largest oil refineries and auto plants. 

Winners

1. Everyone (on average). 2021 was a big year for energy jobs globally—it was the first time that more people around the world were working in clean energy jobs than fossil fuels, according to the International Energy Authority (IEA). While the US is still lagging behind that curve, clean energy jobs here are growing at twice the rate of the rest of the energy sector, says the Department of Energy (DOE). And the future looks rosy. Researchers at Dartmouth College calculate that a low carbon economy in the US would create two or even three green energy jobs for every fossil fuel job lost. (That fits with an earlier study out of Berkeley, which found that renewable and sustainable power sources inherently require more people per gigawatt hour of electricity generated, compared to fossil fuel plants).

2. Solar installers and battery makers. Photovoltaic and energy storage companies have been on a tear, adding tens of thousands of workers last year in the US. When considered along with wind, EVs, heat pumps and critical minerals supply, solar power and batteries accounted for over half of all job growth in global energy production since 2019. And the IEA expects these sectors to add tens of millions more jobs by the end of the decade.

3. Some surprise hires. Don’t count out Big Oil and Big Auto just yet. Both the IEA and the DOE expect the fossil fuel industry (particularly natural gas) to hire more workers in the immediate future, albeit at slower rates than clean energy jobs and tailing off in years to come. The IEA notes that if fossil fuel companies could successfully transition to hydrogen, carbon capture, geothermal and biofuels processing, they could almost offset decreases in core oil and gas employment all the way to 2030. It also expects car makers to pivot to EV production, retraining workers and safeguarding many jobs.

Losers

1. Oil workers. Changing careers means more than just a quick retraining session. Morgan Frank at the University of Pittsburgh went down the rabbit hole of what transferring US fossil fuel employment to green jobs would actually mean, and the answer isn’t pretty. His team’s paper in Nature found that green energy jobs are not co-located with today’s oil and gas workers, leading them to predict that almost 99% of extraction workers would not transition to green jobs. And any workers that do make the change face a financial hit. The IEA notes that workers moving from oil and gas to wind, solar and hydrogen today would see pay cuts of 15 to 30%.

2. Petro-states. The shift to green energy will be difficult for economies that rely heavily on fossil fuel extraction and processing. Consultancy EY has an illuminating, interactive webpage allowing you to compare employment in regions around the world, under different decarbonization scenarios. Spoiler alert—oil producing nations in the Middle East and Australia are likely to see employment slump, and even Africa could experience a destabilizing wobble unless it accelerates production of green hydrogen and EV battery materials. “Due to the transition, socio-economic sustainability risks will likely increase as the employment rate drops,” warns author Catherine Friday.

3. Homer Simpson. Some low-carbon energy sectors aren’t exactly booming. The US Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) expects the employment of nuclear technicians to decline 6% from 2023 to 2033. The US hit peak nuclear power stations in 2012 and has been declining ever since, as facilities age into decommissioning without being replaced. Meanwhile, a planned new generation of safer, cheaper and more efficient fission reactors continues to suffer cost overruns, red tape and delays, and commercial nuclear fusion remains a decades-distant dream. D’oh!

What To Keep An Eye On

1. Labor shortages. Workers skilled in green energy jobs won’t just appear from nowhere. Projects are already facing delays in the EU and the US from labor shortages. Biden’s omnibus Inflation Reduction Act included incentives for partnering with apprentice programs and other funding that could be used to train maintenance workers, and installers for clean energy projects. But millions of workers will be needed, and in short order.

2. Carbon capture. The IPCC estimates that between 350 and 1200 gigatons of CO2 will need to be captured and stored this century. No one really knows yet what the technologies needed to achieve that will look like, but they will likely involve a lot of new workers. Climate research firm Rhodium Group estimated that each gigaton captured could translate to 1.5 million construction and 500,000 operation jobs.

3. Chat (and other) bots for hire. Any predictions about the future workplace should be taken with a large pinch of AI and robotics. The BLS just issued a report that shows dozens of occupations employing hundreds of thousands of Americans are likely to shrink in the years ahead. Top of the list are clerks and supervisors, but there are plenty of manufacturing and production roles at risk, too, that could affect the green energy roll-out.

[polyhexian]

I remember at the early part of the pandemic I needed to travel south for a family funeral and we didn't really know how COVID transferred yet and I was at the pump with my respirator and my gloves and I got out to pump myself and the attendant comes running out and I just turned and pointed at him like NO and he just walked backwards into the gas station again

[man-and-atom]

We have repeatedly pointed out that claims about the cheapness of electricity from wind and solar mean remarkably little in terms of the actual cost to the consumer. In Switzerland on 22 April, an erroneous forecast of solar feed-in led to a generation deficit of about a gigawatt, which lasted for several hours. This was made good at a cost of around 30 million Swiss francs by purchasing make-up power at a price of up to CHF 12 000 per megawatt-hour.

At that price, the £89·5 (CHF 102) per MWh guarantee to Hinkley Point C, widely derided as the foremost example of long-delayed and over-budget nuclear power, looks reasonable. So it is not surprising that a new study from a group at the Eidgenossisches Technisches Hochschule (Federal Technical University) has stirred up controversy.

The conclusion is simple, and in its broad outlines, is nothing that hasn’t been recognized since the 1970s. In the harsh climate of Switzerland, energy consumption is particularly high in the winter, but solar power is available only in the summer. Hydroelectricity, which undergirds the Swiss power grid, has good years and bad years (which is why Switzerland began building nuclear power plants in the 1960s). With an annual electricity demand estimated, on the basis of electrification of transport and heating, at 113 terawatt-hours (compared to a 2023 consumption of 66 TWh, although a Government study, assuming strong conservation measures, anticipates a demand of only 80—90 TWh by 2050), it would be necessary to transfer tens of TWh from the summer to the winter months. Pumped hydro is far cheaper than other storage systems, and the Alpine topography of Switzerland makes it feasible on this scale, which is not true of most countries.

The ETH group estimated that a combination of pumped hydro with electrolysis plants and hydrogen storage facilities to allow for winter operation of gas turbines, enabling decarbonization with renewable electricity, would require investments of CHF 563×10⁹, about 70% of present annual GDP. By contrast, baseload nuclear, requiring about 8 GW of generation, should cost CHF 48×10⁹.

Critics insist that the future cannot be simply extrapolated from the past, but this seems like the notorious “and then a miracle occurs” mathematical proof. With a short timeline for decarbonization, a “wait and see” approach cannot be taken. It is also suggested that time-of-use pricing might reduce the annual load variation somewhat, and that nuclear may be more expensive than predicted. With a differential of more than a factor of ten, however, it seems that there is plenty of room for the overall conclusion to remain broadly true. Against this, of course, is current legislation mandating a “nuclear exit”. Fission is a route to decarbonization which is more likely to succeed, because it imposes less hardship.

[ratwars]

what horrors have u encountered today?

Well I'm trying to maintain sweetie status today and if I complain about the actual interpersonal issue I have dealt with I am at risk of pissing myself off dear anon so instead here are some dumb things from my day:

A giant beetle got inside and I tried to catch him and put him back outside because he was so big and lost and I accidentally got scared and fumbled the cup and paper and killed him horrifically in the process. Semi decapitation I had to smush him the rest of the way on purpose to put him fully out of his misery. It would have been better if I had killed him quickly and purposefully from the jump instead of trying to be a steward to nature, he spent his last moments confused, jostled around, and fatally wounded. Do bugs feel pain?

I had to go get gas and it was so busy I waited forever, decided to move and wait behind another car, and that guy went inside forever before coming out with 3 bags of I guess snacks and drinks idfk. I debated moving again but felt like at this point I should just accept my lot. People that don't move their car and go park in a regular spot after pumping when they are going to apparently grocery shop at the fucking gas station should be strung up by their toes to think about their behavior.

I finally opened the bottle of my favorite wine I had been waiting to have one of these weekends and used my cool new corkscrew (it has bat wings my old one had flaking paint and was crazy old) and I broke the cork halfway in the neck of the bottle. I had to push it in and then use a strainer to transfer it into a carafe so I didn't have dissolving crumbled cork in my wine. Except now it won't last as long 😔

[terraliensvent]

Things Tycho needs to implement for the mod apps:

Please hire fucking adults. Not 19 year olds, please hire some people that are over 21 and have more developed brains. Preferably 25 and up.

Heavily restrict the ability to make mod customs. I know that a LOT of people only want to be staff to be able to make customs, and this isn't a good thing to be able to do right off the bat since Tycho needs mods who want to work, not make money making designs. I think mod customs should not be allowed for at least 6 months AFTER mod trial is over. Work on the species, that's what you were hired to do, not make customs. If you want to make and sell designs, apply to be a GA, not staff.

Mod myos. There's too many mod lim myos floating around and these should not be tradeable. If mods get myos as payment every month, they should get two options. Lim myo, not tradeable. Modified myo, tradeable. They get to choose just one.

Also I think Tycho needs to go through the shambling remains of the staff and get rid of loose ends, like Kea. Kea does absolutely fucking nothing for the species except occasionally vote on staff matters and do transfers, which literally any other staff member can do. All she does is ignore trade offers for her obvious trades that totally aren't entertaining offers, which aren't even allowed btw, and she'll talk about opening up customs to get people to throw themselves at her for her art. She needs to be removed as a staff member and made a GA, since that's what she's best at. Plus she's just conveniently taking a break and ignoring all the work that needs to be done and making Tycho and the other few mods do everything themselves. If Kea can't be a functioning staff member in this moment when we really need them, why do we need her at all? Karma, too. Why are you guys taking a break and making everyone else do all the hard work so you can just come back when it's all over and reap the benefits? You guys suck. Either step up and do your job or quit.

i agree with everything you said here anon

on your first point, it def goes back to the maturity thing for me because, while previous mods and the owners are “adults,” 18 and 19 is still pretty immature (and you can really tell based off of the controversies that have happened just within a year)

on the second, i really think terras should make more use of the “official artist” role. i agree that a lot of mods seem to just sit on their ass and make customs/adopts, which, if you want to just do art then say that!! dont present it like youre gonna actually moderate if ur just pumping out adopts, thats why theres the official artist role

for the third point, i actually think tycho does have plans to mitigate the myo situation (you can see that in the conversation i had with him here), so i think theres gonna be some progress there

on your last point, i agree as well; i think kea especially is one of the people who would benefit from being an official artist instead. she has the admin role but ive literally never seen her be an administrator of anything. doing approvals is something that really anyone can do, and the main thing ive ever seen from kea is customs and adopts. i dont think ive really ever seen her answer questions or design help, and as far as events go the only one shes been visibly a part of is the birthday one that just happened (and honestly if i didnt just go and check right now i would have totally forgotten shes an ADMIN, not just a regular mod)

i think delegation of staff and staff responsibilities is a big thing that needs fixing, since its been an issue basically forever in this species. design and prompts take forever to approve, but when its ever suggested to get more mods it was always “we have enough!” yeah, you have an overabundance of mods that just wanna make fucking adopts and nothing else. just make them official artists and have the mod role for people that can actually work.