#Underground Water Tank Cleaning

[alok021]

Underground Water Sump Tank Installation | Leenus India

/ Uncategorized / By leenus

Installing an underground water sump tank is a smart solution for efficiently managing water resources, especially in areas prone to water scarcity or where space is limited. This comprehensive guide outlines the steps and considerations involved in the installation process

SITE SELECTION

Before starting the installation, carefully select the site for the underground water sump tank. Factors such as proximity to water sources, drainage, and accessibility for maintenance should be taken into account

Ensure that the chosen location is free from any underground utilities like gas lines or electrical cables

EXCAVATION

Excavate the area according to the required dimensions of the sump tank. The depth of excavation will depend on the size of the tank and local regulations

It’s essential to create a stable base and walls to prevent collapse during and after installation

TANK PLACEMENT

Lower the tank carefully into the excavated area using appropriate machinery or manual labor. Ensure proper alignment and levelness

Double-check the dimensions and orientation of the tank to avoid any complications later on

BACKFILLING

Once the tank is in place, backfill the surrounding area with suitable material, such as sand or gravel, ensuring proper compaction at each layer

Take precautions to avoid damaging the tank during the backfilling process

INLET AND OUTLET CONNECTIONS

Install inlet and outlet pipes according to the tank’s design and local plumbing codes

Use high-quality pipes and fittings to ensure durability and prevent leaks

VENTILATION

Proper ventilation is crucial to prevent the buildup of gases inside the tank. Install ventilation pipes or vents as per the manufacturer’s recommendations

LID INSTALLATION

Install a secure lid or cover over the tank opening to prevent contamination and ensure safety

Choose a lid that is strong, durable, and resistant to environmental factors

TESTING AND INSPECTION

Before putting the sump tank into operation, conduct thorough testing and inspection to check for any leaks, structural integrity, and proper functionality of inlet and outlet systems

Address any issues or concerns identified during the testing phase

MAINTENANCE

Regular maintenance is essential to ensure the efficient operation and longevity of the underground water sump tank

Inspect the tank periodically for signs of damage, sediment build-up, or other issues, and address them promptly

Keep the area around the tank clear of debris and vegetation to prevent obstruction and ensure accessibility for maintenance tasks

[ja3yun]

Stitch Me Up | L.HS

underground fighter!heeseung x nurse!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), ex heeseung, unprotected sex, cream pie, weapon and blood mention, if i missed anything lmk!

wc: 4.5k+

synopsis: after a tough shift in the hospital all you wanted was to rid yourself of the tension and your ex turns up just in time

a/n: hi! hope you're all doing well. a quick one shot from me so i hope you like it. not much to say on this one <3 ilysm

Dragging your feet behind you, you unlock your door. Everything that went wrong today could have gone wrong; first, you caught your fingers in the mobile hoist, a patient spat in your face, and you spent the last 30 minutes of your shift cleaning shit from the toilets.

No one ever said being a nurse was a glamorous job, but on days like these, you wish you picked something a little more dignifying. 

You kick your shoes off and head to your bedroom to grab some pajamas. Every bit of you is emotionally and physically drained, this past month has been exhausting. Working 70-hour weeks and being underpaid for it was starting to take its toll on your fragile body.

Nights like these you miss Heeseung, you shouldn’t but you do. 

Picking up scattered clothes that made a mess of your bedroom floor, you groan when your lower back aches. Someone in their 20s shouldn’t be in this much pain. They should be living their best life, staying up late, going out at the weekend, and having a healthy social life. 

You love your job, it’s rewarding and you love to take care of people. Seeing people who are in your ward get better makes your heart feel full like your life is actually worth something and doing some good in this shitty world.

You used to have balance. Heeseung was your balance. 

Sifting through your drawers you find some pink shorts with white love hearts and a cropped white tank top. Usually, you would settle for a set of sweats and a baggy t-shirt but after practically spending 3 days straight in unflattering scrubs you wanted something pretty.

When you walk you can feel the pain in your feet, and blisters start to form. You needed this shower asap. Luckily the bathroom is less than 5 steps away from your bedroom door so you can keep your hobbling to a minimum. The shower is so enticing as you switch the button on and set the temperature just right, or in your case, scolding hot.

A roasting hot shower is what you need to forget today. You need Heeseung’s hands to melt away the pain.

You miss him.

Heeseung and you have been broken up for precisely 1 month and 13 days. For some reason today you can’t shake him off your mind. 

The water cascades down your skin, tiny droplets sit on your face as you wash your hair. The smell of coconut fills the tiny box bathroom and for the first time today, you feel content.

After you rinse the conditioner from your hair and wash your body with a matching scented soap, you pull the shower curtain back and step out carefully - the last thing you need is to fall and break a bone.

Wiping the mirror to rid it of the steam you stare at yourself. The dark circles under your eyes and the redness of your cheeks showcase just how tired your body is. Nothing an overpriced and overrated skincare routine can’t fix. You grab the cleanser and start your regime. It reminds you of him, how he used to always help you, the pads of his fingers gently rubbing the product into your skin, and when he had any left over he would use it on himself. He looked so cute and sweet during those times.

What is with you today? Why do you keep thinking about him?

Quickly, you dry your hair and body with the towel and get ready for bed. Typically, you would sit up and watch an episode or two of Brooklyn 99 but honestly, you’re too burnt out to enjoy it.

As you leave the bathroom there is a knock at the door and you freeze on sight. It’s late and none of your friends would come over, so your brain goes into panic mode. Being a girl alone in her flat was scary enough these days never mind taking in the factor of the time. All the lights are off so hopefully if you just stay still, they’ll leave.

Another knock.

Grabbing a coat hanger from the clothesline in the bathroom you arm yourself with it, it would do enough damage to the person on the other side of the door if you had to escape. 

So you couldn’t second guess yourself, you briskly tiptoed to the door and swung it open, hanger tightly in your grip ready to swing.

The figure turns around and jumps, backing up when they see the coathanger ready to be lobbed at their face.

“Woah, Y/N. It’s just me.” He puts his hands in front of him in defense.

Heeseung.

You breathe out and relax, dropping your arms to your side. Although your exterior seems to have gotten over the fright, your heart is thumping still. That could be because when you look him in the eyes finally you register who he is.

“Heeseung it’s past midnight, what are you doing here?” 

He steps forward and you see his face battered and bruised, his lip has been bust open and a black eye forming on the left side of his face, he was a mess. There have been countless times he’s looked like this, it’s how you two met.

A year ago there was a knock on your door, not unlike tonight, except that time your friend Jongseong was carrying a half-to-life version of Heeseung. The boy couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

“Y/N, sorry, I didn’t know where to go, he didn’t want to go to the hospital,” Jongseong explained, although it didn’t clear anything up.

“What the fuck, Jongie, who is this?” You grab the other side of the spent boy and sit him down on the couch, “What happened to him?” Looking at the guy in front of you, you see the blood on his t-shirt, slash marks on his arms, and his face is blown out.

Jongseong rushes to get the first aid kit from your bathroom, “He was fighting tonight and some arsehole pulled a knife on him, and got him in the stomach a few times,” You lift the fabric covering his torso and see wounds bleeding, “I tried to pull him out of the fight but he wasn’t having it.”

You don’t know a lot about Jongseong’s work life, all you know is that by day he’s a simple office body, filling, paperwork, a pen pusher of sorts. But when night came he was an underground fighter, all of it illegal, but he fell into it with some guys at the gym. From what you hear he is pretty good at it.

“Heeseung, buddy?” Jongseong slaps the boy's face a few times, “Stay awake, this is Y/N, she’s a nurse.” So his name was Heeseung.

“Jongie, these are pretty serious, he needs to go to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” Heeseung coughs out. You suppose if you take him to A&E how could any of them explain what happened? 

You rub his legs to soothe him, “Okay, no hospital.” 

That night you stitched his wounds and cleaned him up. Obviously, he survived, and you took him in like an injured winged bird. Let him stay at yours for 2 weeks, and by the time he was ready to fly away back into the world, you wanted him to stay forever.

You look him up and down to take in his outfit, he wasn’t wearing sweats so this wasn’t a scheduled fight, instead, he was clad in jeans, a White Stripes t-shirt, and a loose-fitting leather jacket, “What the fuck happened, Heeseung?” 

“Is it lame if I say you should see the other guy?” He laughs but nothing is funny. 

Stepping aside you let him into your flat which he does like second nature, his shoes left exactly where they used to go, “Heeseung you can’t just come here looking like this and not tell me what happened.” On autopilot, you go to get the first aid kit.

He takes a seat on your kitchen counter and looks around, “Nothing much happened, some guys being dicks.” 

You come back from the bathroom and see him atop your kitchen, “Eh, get down from there. Now.” He always perched himself on anything but a seat. It didn’t bother you too much but right now after your shift, you couldn’t be arsed to pander to it, “Try and treat my place with a bit of respect please.”

Heeseung jumps off and walks to take a seat on the edge of your couch. It might be wrong of you to think it but he does look beautiful like this. You blame Leon Kennedy in Resident Evil for your attraction to busted up men.

As you open the first aid kit you feel his eyes on you, “Why did you come here, Heeseung? You could have treated this yourself.”

“I missed you.” He confesses and it’s true he did miss you. 

For the past month he’s been throwing himself into fights he knows he won’t win just to feel something other than heartache. In spite of his cold attitude and reckless behaviour, he held your love so gently in his heart that he couldn’t even act tough around you. From the first day he laid eyes on you, he knew you had to be his, and if that meant opening up his heart, that’s what he did. 

A first he thought it was because you were fixing his wounds and he owed you something but that thought quickly vanished when you fixed more than that. 

“Heeseung, we broke up. It’s done.” You say coldly. With the thoughts of missing him earlier still fresh in your brain, you had to nip this in the bud.

When you broke up with Heeseung it wasn’t exactly because you wanted to, it was to protect yourself. His lifestyle and yours don’t mix, he was always getting into trouble and you were trying to avoid it at all costs. But more importantly than that, you couldn’t see the man you love come home every night exactly how he is now, broken and beaten. 

The deeper into the fight circuit Heeseung got, the more dangerous it was. People were pulling knives, guns, and bringing back up, all for the sake of making sure their bosses won the bets. Your ex-boyfriend was a great fighter - or so you’ve heard, he never let you come to any of the fights - but these other guys played dirty and it was a threat to his life. 

So when you asked him to stop and he said no, you did what you had to and called it off. You lost sleep, precious never to be taken for granted sleep, every night he fought and it was taking its toll on you. You tried to compromise with him and pleaded with him to go back to the regulated (if you could even call them that) fights, the ones where the stakes are lower.

However, Heeseung was above that now, too much of a hot commodity. 

“Baby, I’m making us enough money so you don’t have to do so much overtime.”

“Seungie, I’m a nurse, all we do is overtime. Plus, this shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about your safety.” Your voice is cracking with every sentence you have uttered tonight, but he still won’t listen, “I’m not asking you to give it up, but please stop taking these high-stakes fights, you’re going to get killed.”

Heeseung scoffs and places a hand on your shoulder, “I won’t die, I’ve got you to stitch me up.”

“No, Seungie, you don’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

It was a brutal way to end it, none of you walked into that conversation expecting that outcome, but for you, it was the only thing you could do.

Soaking a cotton pad with some anti-septic, you place it gently on his lip, a hiss from him following your action, “Sorry.” You whisper. A sorry for the pain but also for breaking up with him. No matter how much you knew it was right for you, you knew it was hard on him. Opening himself up to love you wasn’t easy for Heeseung.

“I’m used to it, baby.” Your heart cries as he calls you baby, it always sounded so perfect coming from him.

“What did the guys do?” You ask and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, masked behind purple and blue, “You said guys were being dicks, so what did they do?”

He didn’t want to waste energy on it, the fight being over in a flash anyway, “Just stuff. They got a jump on me hence the mess.” He moves his hand to gesture to his face but while his hand is already there, it engulfs yours, the one that’s cleaning the blood from his mouth, “Baby, I didn’t start it.”

“I know, Seungie.” You feel yourself falling back into how it used to be, his thumb running circles into your hand. 

Once you finish up, you place a skin closure strip on his mouth, your thumb rubbing gently to secure it in place. He takes the opportunity to take your thumb into his mouth and you nearly moan at the intimate act. 

But this isn’t how it is now.

“Heeseung.” You warn him. 

He releases your thumb and sighs, “Habit.” He was a man of few words, you knew that, so there was no need to say anything more.

“You should go. Keep it clean, and put some ointment on that black eye.”

“I miss you so fucking much, Y/N.” Ignoring him, you walk into the bathroom to return the first aid kit, “Don’t you miss me?”

It almost makes you laugh. You missed him more than anything, so much so that after the shitshow that was today all you could think about was him. All you wanted was for him to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is fine, but that is a wish that can’t be a reality anymore. 

“It’s not about missing you Heese-”

“I’ll quit.” 

You turn the bathroom light off and brush past him, “No, you won’t. We both know it so don’t lie to me, don’t start that now.” 

Heeseung is a beat behind you when you walk into your bedroom, “Y/N, believe me.” He knew you didn’t need to believe him, there wasn’t even a reason to believe him because he had said this before. But this time is different, “If you just listen to me,”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The stare you have on him is angry, “I offered you a solution for all of this, and honestly? I am so tired of this conversation now. I need you to go.”

Hurt flickers in his eyes, “Baby, I’m miserable without you.”

Agitation builds up inside you. He’s acting like this is solely your fault, like you were the one that caused all this. Granted, you broke up with him but it was after giving him every solution to stop it, “This is not my doing, Seungie, okay?” He wants to retaliate but you snip in before he gets the chance, “You love fighting those losers more than you ever did me, you made that clear.”

He sees red at your allegation. How dare you even think for a second you weren’t his number one. Sure, he didn’t want to give up fighting, it was who he was, but he also didn’t want to lose you, he sees that now. He has to prove to you just how much you mean to him.

Heeseung takes two long strides to you and kisses you hungrily. It’s been so long since he felt your lips in his. The stinging from his wound is dull compared to how he feels to have you like this again, he has a whole month of kisses and fucking to catch up on and nothing will stop him.

“I love you so much don’t you dare fucking say that.” It was a rarity for him to say that he loves you out loud. You knew he did, it was his actions that showed his love more than words, but hearing it made your eyes well with tears. Because he didn’t say it much, you cherished every single time he did.

You fall onto the bed behind you, his weight crashing onto you as you both lose yourselves in the kiss, all that anger and hurt dissipated each of his kisses.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you try and deepen the kiss but he pulls away. He takes off his jacket and t-shirt and that’s when you see the bruises dispersed along his chest and torso. This fight must have been a lot more brutal than he let on. 

Sitting up you kiss each bruise while he straddles your lap, gently showing love for each one. The nurse in you wants to tend to them right away, they really did a number on his stomach and you’re slightly concerned about the damage done to his insides. But right now all he needs is a few kisses to make it better.

“They don’t hurt, promise.” He assures you, but if you kiss him too hard, which isn’t hard at all, he winces. To fixate on something other than the pain he whips off your tank top and just the sight of your breasts has him feeling a-okay, “Missed you so much.”

You could laugh at his obvious ogling but with your burnt out body and his just the same, you just needed to feel him, “Seungie, please,” You whine into his right peck as you kiss him over his darkest bruise again.

Heeseung understands your pleas and pushes you flat against the bed before undoing his jeans and not so gracefully kicking them off, “What do you want, baby? I’ll do it all.” 

To quit fighting. That’s what you want to say, but you can’t risk the idea of an argument, not when you’re so close to having him inside you again, “Fuck me, Heeseung. Please.”

This is all he’s been dreaming about since you told him to go. Your love wasn’t the only thing he craved. 

Dipping his head down to yours he kisses you again, his hands dipping into your cute pajama shorts to pull them down, “Can I eat your pussy baby?”

You would love nothing more than to feel his tongue all over you but you are truly exhausted, “I have had such a hard shift Seungie, just need your cock to make me feel better.” You’re lifting your hips into his as you say this, staring into his eyes to let him know he has to do this soon or you’ll crash.

“Okay, baby.” He brings two of his fingers to your folds to assess how easy you could take him. You’re wet but you could be wetter for him. Heeseung is an average size but if you’ve been without sex for a month like he had hoped you’d need a little more. 

He clambers over you to reach the top drawer and grab some lube. His cock is basically in your face so who were you to not have a taste of it? You sit up on your elbows and your mouth engulfs his member. He's so shocked by the sudden action he nearly drops the bottle, “Shit, baby.” His free hand finds its way into your hair as you bob up and down his shaft, “Missed that mouth of yours.” He breathes out, “Missed it sucking me off, missed it saying my name, fuck I even missed it bossing me around.” 

Pulling back you look at him with an unamused look but he uses it as an excuse to kiss you once again. 

Slithering down to his previous position he coats his cock with some of the lube, sparing some for your hole, slipping a finger into you to slick your inner walls with it. You turn into a moaning mess as you feel his fingers for the first time in so long, your hips involuntarily buck up.

“I’ll only be a minute, baby.” Once he feels satisfied you won’t feel any pain, he slides his finger out and rubs the head of his cock on your pussy. He isn’t even teasing you but you feel like he is with how long he is taking.

Abruptly, he pushes into your heat, the feeling of you around him makes his head spin. No one will ever feel as good as you, that’s why he’s willing to do anything to have you, “So good,” he exhales, “So fucking good, baby.” Bottoming out, he can’t stop a loud groan from erupting out his mouth. You’ve missed the sound so much.

He starts to thrust into you at a fast pace once he knows your walls have settled, each hit making the room fill with sounds of skin slapping and curses. With the way he’s fucking you, you would think you hadn’t seen each other in years, but he craves you so much that even one day without the option of you around his cock was unbearable. 

“Shit, Seungie please go faster.” He listens to you and picks up the pace, knowing how tired you are he needs to get you off quickly. 

Between your thighs, his hand finds your clit as he starts to rub it harshly. You look unreal right now, with your mouth open and head thrown back into the mattress.

Lifting your right leg over your shoulder he reaches a deeper spot, his cock pounding into you with ferocity it makes you squeeze around him, “Oh fuck, baby, do that again.” You squeeze his shaft with your walls again, “Fucking pussy feels like heaven.” He whispers to himself.

His hips keep a harsh rhythm, the sharpness of each thrust sending you more and more over the edge, “Close.” Is all you say.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?” he smirks, happy knowing that he’s about to feel your ecstasy around him, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

And just like that your pussy comes undone on his dick that is still mercilessly pummeling into you. A loud mewl draws out your mouth and your hands grab onto the duvet under you, he’s making you feel bliss right now. 

Heeseung can feel himself getting closer and if he wants full satisfaction he needs to cum now while your walls are contracting thoughtlessly, he needs you to milk his cock dry.

Feeling him lose his rhythm a little you know he just needs a little something to bring him over the edge, “Seungie, need your cum so bad.” He loved it when you begged for his seed.

“Yeah? How bad?”

“I’m starving for it.”

The last few words have his hips stuttering and ropes of his cum shooting into you, filling you up just how you like it.

You’ve finally regained composure from your own high and just in time to see his slack jaw and eyes screwed shut. He was one of the few people that looked good when they orgasmed and you loved when you got to see him in all his glory.

Heeseung falls onto you briefly to catch his breath, the pain from his stomach coming back slowly but that doesn’t matter right now, “Let me clean you up.” He slides out of you and goes to get supplies to look after you.

Because your job requires you to look after everyone around you, it was nice how Heeseung would do aftercare so well, making sure you’re okay.

He takes a while but as he comes back he’s holding a damp cloth and bottle of water in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, “Sit up for me baby.” 

After placing the tea and water on the bedside table he starts to run the cloth along your sensitve area. He loved to see you full of his cum, every time the white substance would leak from you he felt a bit of pride so washing it away like this was mourningful.

“I have quit.” He says lowly, “Fighting, I mean. I quit this morning.”

“But you only said you would quit earlier?” You question, recalling the previous conversation.

“I wanted to see if you would believe me.”

You’re dubious, not understanding what he’s saying, “You can’t just quit like that, Seungie. You told me it wasn’t that easy.” 

And it wasn’t. It’s not like you can hand in a two week notice and call it a day, there are too many stakeholders involved, too much money being thrown around to just up and off.

“Yeah, you can see it wasn’t so painless.” He finishes cleaning you off and goes to place the rag in the washing basket.

“What do you mean?” As he walks into the room you see his bruises again and it all hits you at once, “The guys being dicks…”

Heeseung nods and jumps back into his boxers but not anything else with the hopes you want him to stay, “Told them I wasn’t doing it anymore and next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He laughs embarrassed at the memory.

This was technically your fault, you asked him to stop the high stake fights and this is what happened. 

Seeing your face, Heeseung sits on the bed next to you and cups your cheek, “Hey, no, I know what you’re thinking but you didn’t make me quit. I chose too. This is my doing”

“But I asked you to.” You look down and trace over his bruises lightly.

“Yeah, but I said no at first.” His hand runs into your damp hair, “I decided to quit this morning because losing you isn’t worth it. I meant it when I said i’m fucking miserable.” 

Sighing you fear this happiness in your chest is going to disappear at any moment, “It’s what you love though, Seungie.”

“I love you.” He hates that you have this preconceived notion that somehow he loves fighting more than you, “And I know I should have said it more when we were together but, baby, give me another chance so I can keep saying it.” 

You want to cry again, “Have you actually quit? No more fights?”

He places his hand on his heart, “I quit, promise. The only fights now will be with guys who stare at you too long.” 

Laughing, you remember a time he clocked two guys out for even offering you a drink. Heeseung has always been protective of you, that’s why you missed him so much today. Coming home after a grueling shift made you want nothing more than for him to hold you.

He’s offering you that chance again and you can’t turn it down, “I love you, Heeseung.”

“Fuck, baby, I love you too.” His lips are on yours again as he pours his love into you, his devotion.

Heeseung wasn’t letting you go again. Not for any fight in the world.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

The Hanford nuclear site was established in 1943 as part of the Manhattan Project, and over the next four decades produced nearly two-thirds of the plutonium for the US’s nuclear weapons supply, including the bomb dropped on Nagasaki.

During its lifespan, hundreds of billions of gallons of liquid waste were dumped in underground storage tanks or simply straight into the ground. After the site’s nine nuclear reactors were shut down by 1987, about 56m gallons of radioactive waste were left behind in 177 large underground tanks – two of which are currently leaking – alongside a deeply scarred landscape.

In the decades since, the Yakama Nation has been one of four local Indigenous communities dedicated to the cleanup of this historic landscape. For the Yakama Nation, that has meant tireless environmental and cultural oversight, advocacy and outreach with the hope that one day the site will be restored to its natural state, opening the doors to a long-awaited, unencumbered homecoming.

Today, their outreach work has reached a fever pitch. There are few Yakama Nation elders still alive who remember the area before its transformation, and there are likely decades to go before cleanup is complete. So members are racing to pass on the site’s history to the next generation, in the hopes they can one day take over.

Yakama Nation history on the Hanford site dates back to pre-colonization, when people would spend the winter here fishing for sturgeon, salmon and lamprey in the Columbia River, as well as gathering and trading with other families. In 1855, the Nation ceded over 11m acres of land to the US, which included the Hanford area, and signed a treaty that relegated them to a reservation while allowing the right to continue fishing, hunting, and gathering roots and berries at “all usual and accustomed places”.

But in the 1940’s, the situation shifted dramatically when the area was cleared out to make room for the construction of nuclear reactors.

LaRena Sohappy, 83, vice-chairwoman for Yakama Nation General Council, whose father was a well-known medicine man, grew up in Wapato, about 40 miles from Hanford. She said she remembers the strawberry fields that lined the Hanford site, her family gathering Skolkol, a root and daily food, and traveling to the area for ceremonies.

Her cousin’s family who lived close to Hanford were woken in the middle of the night and forced to leave to make way for the nuclear site, she recalled

“They didn’t have time to pack up anything,” said Sohappy. “They just had to leave and they were never told why and how long they were going to be gone.”

The effort to give Indigenous people a voice in Hanford’s fate was forged in part by Russell Jim, a member of Yakama Nation’s council, whose work has been credited with helping to keep Hanford from becoming a permanent “deep geologic repository”, a place where high-level nuclear waste from this site and others across the country would be stored.

“From time immemorial we have known a special relationship with Mother Earth,” Jim, who died in 2018, said in a statement to the US Senate in 1980. “We have a religious and moral duty to help protect Mother Earth from acts which may be a detriment to generations of all mankind.”

Today, the ER/WM program, which was founded in the early 1980’s with Jim at the helm, includes such staff as a biologist, ecologist and archeologist. It’s funded by the US Department of Energy (DoE), which operates the Hanford site and leads the cleanup process under an agreement with the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the Washington state department of ecology.

The Yakama Nation program’s focus is on accelerating a thorough cleanup of the site, protecting culturally significant resources and assessing the threats to wildlife and water.

[momobani]

Fire Brigade

THE WAY I hate YOU - chapter 4 - 11.4k

&team Nicholas x fem!reader - arranged marriage AU

SERIES MASTERLIST

Sum: as you settle into married life, you learn a lot about what it’s like to share your life with someone else. 

Warnings: swearing, sarcasm, mention of food and alcohol, they’re both cranky goofs in the morning idk, allusion to questionable parenting?, depiction of drunkenness  

Soundtrack rec: You’re So True - Joseph Arthur (Shrek OST) [there’s just something about this song, i can’t pin point it, just listen. i can just see a montage of their moments together as this plays haha] 

Taglist: @nichoswag @seokka0o @sseastar-main @hyuckslvr @ssshasssh

A/N: i know it’s been 84 years, i’m sorry but life was hectic - for some reason my note keeps getting eaten by tumblr (fu!) but basically - life = hard, nicho -> nico (as per his own request on weverse lol), enjoy <3

Being back in your new apartment was strange.

It felt like you’d never moved in in the first place before your honeymoon. You cleaned up a little after you returned, going grocery shopping together for the first time instead of singularly getting your own food and sticking it in the fridge. 

At the cashier, you almost asked to pay separately but then you realised how weird that would sound because you were so obviously involved and like who does that really? Nicholas whipped out his card before you could unzip your purse so you let him pay this time.

At least you drove there and back, happily abandoning the firetruck (Ferrari) in the underground parking, much to Nicholas’ pouty dismay.   

You still had several days off, mostly because there was a weekend when you returned and you’d strategically planned your time off to encompass that without burning your vacation days unnecessarily.

You had to admit, sleeping in in the morning was nice. 

In the morning you took time to watch some TV, sipping your coffee in front of the screen. You decided that you really needed to catch up on some work related stuff because you were going back to the office on Tuesday and you’d better be prepared. 

So you spread your papers out on the kitchen table, opened your laptop and got stuck in. It was fairly quiet in the apartment and you thought Nicholas was probably still sleeping. 

It’s a surprise when he walks through the front door some time later, a little sweaty and wearing basketball shorts and a sleeveless tank top. There’s a water bottle in one hand and you immediately know exactly where he’s been and what he’s been up to. 

“Hey,” he greets you, depositing the bottle on the counter. “what are you doing?” 

“Working,” you say, only glancing up at him. “what’s it look like I’m doing? Writing a novel?”

“Well, it could be but I doubt a novel-” he wanders past you and peeks over your shoulder. He gets kind of close and you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “-requires a contract for the sale of pharmaceutical supplies.”

“Y’know, you’d be surprised.” you reply. 

“You still have days off, why do work?” he asks, genuinely confused. You again imagined what kind of utopia Nicholas’ office must be if he really doesn’t get it. 

“It’s not a big deal, it needs doing ASAP anyway. Mind your business, dude.”

“Fine,” he raises his hands in surrender. “but I invited company, I didn’t know you were working.”

“It’s fine, I’ll move.” you say, marking where you’d left off and starting to sort things.

“Okay, but we might be quite loud. The guys are coming over.” he explains. “Are you sure that’s not going to disturb you? We can hang out in my room instead.”

“It’s alright, I’ve lived with pack animals back when I decided to have an authentic college experience.” you shudder, remembering the shit you’d been through. You wanted an experience, and oh boy, did you get one. Between the constant revolving door of strangers invading your apartment to the loud roommates you had, you’d really gotten used to noise.  

“Sometimes I really wonder what kind of life you’ve lived.” Nicholas muses, looking at you curiously, as if you were an animal at a zoo exhibit.

You shrug just as your buzzer goes off. Nicholas presses the button that unlocks the downstairs door. You take the first pile of papers and crap to your room, realising you’re going to need two trips to get everything. 

You put the first pile in your room but accidentally knock the first stack of maybe twenty pages down.

“Shit,” you mutter, crouching to pick it all up. You shouldn’t have taken the big clip off it. 

By the time you come back for the second pile of stuff and your laptop, your doorbell goes off and Nicholas opens the door. 

You watch as a group of dudes roll into your apartment, all in their uniform of shorts and t-shirts or tank tops. You recognise their faces from meeting them at your wedding, but you couldn’t match all the names you knew to the faces, except maybe for Jo, who had got the first-come-first-remembered privilege. 

“Oh, hey!” one of them notices you and greets you too as they come in. He has a big smile and several ear piercings. You try to place him to a name, he was either Yuma or Fuma but you can’t be sure. The rest of them notice you too and all offer you various greetings. 

“Maybe this a good time for proper introductions.” Nicholas suggests. “Guys, this is my wife, YN. YN, these are the guys.” he says unhelpfully. You raise your hand in a wave. 

“Hi,” you say. “you must be the fire brigade.” you smile. The room full of confused faces almost makes you laugh. Nicholas does ask them to introduce themselves individually though, probably his attempt to dispel your sarcastic take. 

So the guy who greeted you was Yuma, not Fuma, who’s ironically standing next to him in a cute Pokemon t-shirt. There’s also Euijoo, who you recognise as Nicholas’ best man, Jo, who shyly gives you a tiny wave, and Kei beside Jo, which makes the two look like twin towers. Make that triplet towers, since Euijoo was next to them too. You wondered if their clique had a height requirement or something because most of them were giants.  

“It’s nice to meet you all,” you say, finally gathering your things and taking your exit. 

“We’ll save you some meat!” Nicholas calls after you.

“Thanks.” you say over your shoulder. 

You’re halfway through the corridor when you hear the exclamations fill the room. It reminded you slightly of teenage girl behaviour and you thought it was funny. 

“Wow, you guys are getting on better than we thought!” you hear possibly Euijoo say.

“Dude, you didn’t say your wife was so hot!” you think that’s Kei’s voice. 

“Kei, you were at the wedding?” Yuma chimes in.

“Yeah, but he was too busy flirting with everyone else to notice.” a deeper voice comes in, probably Fuma. 

“Well, I had to entertain myself somehow, the whole thing went on for hours.” Kei replies. 

“Yeah! It’s not Kei’s fault he was born a pathological flirt.” Euijoo says in solidarity. 

“Bro, never talk about another man’s wife if you want to live.” Nicholas warns, only half joking. You can’t help but crack a smile as you close your door to their ridiculousness.   

You kept working, the noise level mostly okay since you were a fair distance and closed door away, but occasionally you could hear their excitement, loud laughter and yells travelling through the apartment. 

You wondered when it got incredibly loud, what they were doing, howling at the moon or something? Who knows, it was a group of grown men; who really understands the mysteries of dude-bros hanging out together?  

*

Some weeks passed without incident, your lives finding routine sleeping, eating and working, as you manoeuvred around each other every day. Despite you being worried about living with a roommate again, for the most part you led your lives separately but not completely severed from each other.

You went to work at your respective companies then came home and occasionally had dinner together, sometimes you even watched TV together or did your recycling. There were days when one of you went grocery shopping and asked the other if you needed anything, days where you cleaned the whole apartment, splitting off chores so you could be done quicker. 

You were lured into a false sense of security, you had to admit. 

And being relaxed didn’t hurt, but accidents did happen. 

Like the day of the most important meeting of the calendar quarter. 

You were meticulous, setting your alarm, preparing your materials and picking out your attire. Going to bed the previous night was smooth sailing and you conked out with no anxiety in your chest for once. 

The morning you had your monster shot coffee and a crispy yet perfectly soft inside bagel while you reviewed the notes you left in the margin of the document drafts. You cleaned up, purposefully leaving the small of stack of papers on the counter where you would see it before leaving the house and take it with you, while you got dressed. 

While you did your hair, you did happen to think of something more to add, so you wandered to the kitchen, your hair half-pinned up with clips while you styled it. 

Except the pile was gone.

Your jaw dropped open. How could it be gone? It was right there not even fifteen minutes ago. It can’t have just disappeared, could it? 

Panic started to rise in your chest as you looked around the kitchen; maybe Nicholas moved it so it wouldn’t get dirty on the counter. You deduce he’s been in the kitchen since you’d left because there’s a washed bowl on the rack beside the sink that you didn’t put there. 

You don’t find the pile after a minute of looking, opening drawers, cabinets, scanning the tables and whatever else there was in your kitchen. 

There was simply one conclusion - your papers were gone. 

You could hear Nicholas was in the bathroom and you decide to just ask him instead. 

“Wang Yixiang!” you yell, trying to get his attention. Not a moment later, the door of the bathroom is thrown open and hasty footsteps echo down the hallway, the perpetrator probably horrified of your tone. 

Nicholas bursts into the kitchen, still in his pyjama bottoms and a hoodie with nothing underneath; he did that a lot as a random habit of his that you’d noticed. There’s a spattering of shaving cream on one side of his face and the razor is still in his hand. You had no idea what he was shaving off though; he never seemed to have anything on that stupidly handsome face of his.

“I’m sorry! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” he says hurriedly before he’s even entered the room. He was clearly on the verge of freaking out at you calling his government name.  

“Did you happen to see a pile of papers that was on the counter?” you ask, cutting straight to it. 

“Papers?” he seems confused at the idea. 

“Yeah, I left a contract here, it was a small stack and had notes in the margin and tabs, but now it’s gone.” you say, starting to feel yourself grow desperate. 

Nicholas thinks for a moment, clearly unsure of what exact you’re talking about. How could that be though? He’s the only other person who could know what happened to it. 

“Hmm, let me see, I came to get cereal, got the milk out the fridge, then I hit my elbow, ate the cereal and after that I took out the trash since it’s trash day- oh no.” you look at each other in horror, then to the empty trash can beside the counter, brains putting in the missing pieces.

“Oh my god.” you breathe out. Then it hits you for real. “It’s trash day!” you exclaim, feet already moving of their own accord. You had to find that contract before it got taken away. 

“Don’t you have a copy?” Nicholas calls out, razor discarded while he stayed on your heels. 

“No! I told you, there was notes in the margin, and they’re super important and I have to have it with me today.” you were practically running down the corridor after you’d exited your apartment.

The two of you reached the elevator and you pressed the button, anxiety starting to make you sweat. 

“No time, stairs!” You announce, head spinning already, and turn when the elevator doesn’t come. You take two steps but Nicholas grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Are you crazy? We live on the tenth floor!” he snaps, holding you hostage. Before you can rebut, the elevator dings and the door opens. “See? C’mon!” you let him drag you in there, almost jumping out of your skin when you see your reflections in the mirror pane opposite the door.

Your hair was flying in all different directions, half of it styled, the other forgotten, while Nicholas paled as he swiped at the remaining cream on his face with a hoodie sleeve. 

“Just so we know what we’re dealing with here, hypothetically, if you didn’t have this contract…?” he says, trailing off. 

“The world won’t end but I may as well walk in there wearing a rainbow wig and a big, red clown nose and kiss this deal goodbye.” you describe. “Then I’ll have to answer to my parents, board of directors, and the entire department will be on my ass by the end of lunch because ‘nepo baby’ managed to fuck up the one job she had.” 

“They call you that?” Nicholas asks. You look away, counting down with the numbers of the floors that go by.

“Yeah, they do. Even though I have to work hard like them, it is my parents’ company. They’re right though, I’m not even sure what I’m capable of if it wasn’t for my parents making me work there.” you hated that you’d gotten to this subject, especially right now. 

“You still worked hard though, getting to where you are tod-”

“C’mon!” you ignore what he’s saying when the elevator finally dings as it got to the first floor and you drag Nicholas out as soon as the door opens.

You race toward the garbage storage space, heart thumping loudly; if Nicholas could just remember where he left the bag, in which container -

You open the door and find the garbage collectors already on the scene, rolling the large metal containers toward the street, where their truck was waiting. 

“Where did you throw it?” you ask desperately, looking around and seeing that some of the containers hadn’t left the premises yet. Nicholas looks like he’s about to faint. 

He doesn’t say anything but points in the general direction of the containers that are already sitting near the truck. You gulp thickly, realising what that meant. Somehow, it doesn’t disgust you and you act without thinking. 

“Excuse me!” you call out, trying to get one of the men’s attention. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but is it okay if we have a look at the trash? We threw away something important and it might still be around.”

The man hears you, turning around, giving you a once over, most definitely confused at your request. He considers it for a moment, then shrugs. 

“Knock yourself out.” he says. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Nicholas asks you as you drag him toward the containers. “Tell me we are not dumpster diving.” 

“Oh, but we are, roomie, we are.” you hum. He stands still in shock. You throw open the first container and flinch at the explosion of smell coming from the numerous black trash bags. 

“Are you deranged or something?” Nicholas shrieks when the smell hits his nose. 

“Listen, here:” you whip around to glare at him. “I am getting to that meeting with my contract, if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Now, dig, gremlin, dig!” you say through gritted teeth, turning back to the container. 

“You know what, don’t answer that. You must be.” he corrects when he sees you grab hold of the side, step up with your leg, and pull yourself up so you can reach inside the container. 

Now, normally you’d be so grossed out that you might have thrown up by now, but seeing as you could envision the embarrassment, tirade of disappointed faces of your parents, and sneering jeers of your colleagues, you started feeling up the trash bags without a second thought. You were going to worry about everything else later. 

Desperation makes even the most cowardly of dogs brave.

“What are you waiting for?” you bark back at Nicholas, who was just standing behind you, blinking dumbly. “Get in there and start looking!” you instruct. That seems to do it and Nicholas rushes over to the side of the adjacent container and flings it open, gagging at the smell but obediently rummaging around the bags.

There’s a tense minute while you try and feel your way through the container, looking for anything that might indicate paper on the inside, but you’re struggling to find anything. 

“Y’know,” you vaguely hear Nicholas grunt as he feels up a garbage bag. “I was just starting to like you but nevermind, I think I hate you.” he says as he squeamishly pushes away yet another bag. 

His comment doesn’t make you stop but it strikes a nerve. You knew he was probably talking shit because the two of you were practically knee and elbow deep in trash - in a reversed situation, you would too - but you were a little mad at him for not being more careful in the kitchen, and worse at yourself for ever leaving anything in there in the first place.  

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.” you reply, just as huffy as him. 

You keep digging but find nothing, your world suddenly becoming bleaker and bleaker. You had already decided to call in late for work and try to remedy the situation before the big meeting later in the day. You could think of some of the stuff that was written, but you’d lost some of the most important details. Not to mention your concentration and preparation had all been flushed down the drain.  

“Hey, we’re going to have to get going now.” you hear the garbage man say behind you. You glance over your shoulder and he seems like he couldn’t care less about your situation.

“Yes, right, sorry. Just a second.” you plead, desperately reaching into the container in vain.

“We’re already behind schedule, ma’am, I’m going to need you to step away from the trash.” he replies. You realise you’re being a nuisance but you can’t help it.

“YN, c’mon, just give up, we can’t find it.” Nicholas materialises next to your container. He sounds tired and hopeless, just as you feel. 

“But…I,” you attempt, heart sinking. You know they’re right, you need to go. 

“C’mon,” Nicholas steps up to the container and holds out a hand to help you get down. Your shoulders slump but you let him pull you to the edge and practically lift you out of the dumpster, his strong arms wrapped around your waist as he guides your feet to the ground again. “Sorry for the trouble.” he mumbles to the garbage man. 

You’re too numb to say anything so you just sort of nod politely at him as Nicholas steers you away and back into the building.  

“Ugh, I stink so bad.” he groans, voice cracking. You wait for the elevator and when it comes, your neighbours file out, doing a disturbed double take at the sight and smell of the two of you. You don’t care about keeping up appearances right now, your dejection running too deep. 

What were you supposed to do now?

After a moment of silence when you get into the elevator, you feel Nicholas look at you, hesitating at probably how hostile you must look right now. You were fuming, mostly at yourself. 

“I’m sorry.” he says gently. “I really am.” 

You soften ever so slightly but can’t help the tenseness in your voice. 

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring back the notes, but thanks for trying to find them.” you say curtly, coldly even. You know it was an accident but it still made a mess. “I’ll make do with what I have.” 

You get back to your apartment, Nicholas heading straight to the bathroom but you stop him. 

“The smell won’t come out with water.” you warn.

“Then what do you propose?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“Vinegar.” you state. “We’ll dilute some with water since it might be too strong and clean the smell off before showering.” It was an old home trick for getting rid of smells; vinegar was practically a miracle worker. 

And you do.

Armed with a cloth each, you stand in your bathroom trying to scrub yourselves clean from the essence of trash that crawled on your skin. It had permeated your clothes so those had gone straight into the washer, leaving you in your underwear. 

“Can you get my back?” you ask Nicholas, when your arms fall short of reaching behind you with the cloth. 

“Sure.” then his hands are in your hair, moving it to sit over your shoulder, while one rests there to stop it from moving back into the line of vinegar. He swipes the cloth over your skin, quickly reaching from the waistband of your underwear to your shoulder where he lingers. “You’re so tense, jeez.”

“Whatever, just keep go-” he doesn’t give you warning before starting to massage your shoulders.

You groan out loud as he teases out a knot in the muscle immediately. There’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks at the noise that just escaped your lips but Nicholas doesn’t seem to care as he keeps kneading your shoulders with his large hands. You contain most of your noises but a few quiet sighs leave your mouth as he works your shoulders.

“Can I move these?” he asks, tapping on your bra straps. Your brain has already shut down so you just nod.  

It was unexpected and even though your first instinct was to stop him and tell him to quit it, your body had its own opinion on the matter, shutting your mouth and relaxing under his touch as he slipped the straps off your shoulders. 

Your eyes flutter closed at one point, your body swaying in the direction that your husband applied some pressure to your back. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the warmth of his hands on your skin as he massaged your shoulders. 

“Feel better?” he muttered, mouth but a few inches from your ear, as he finished up.

“Much, thanks.” you sigh, coming back to reality. You do feel a little more warm in your cheeks than you should but you show no reaction. You reach for your straps but Nicholas beats you to it, sliding them back up your arms softly, his fingers grazing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

“Okay, now shower before you kill someone with that hair.” he chuckles, lightening up the mood. 

“What about you?” you turn to look at him. He shrugs, the bulk of his bare shoulders rising and falling.

“I have nowhere to be, don’t worry about me. Just get that smell out of your hair.” he instructs before vacating the bathroom. You’re left staring after him. 

You’d been mad at him just a smidge about the contract but he’d managed to ease his way back into your good graces with an apology and a massage. You guess it made sense; Nicholas was your friend now, and if any of your other friends did the same thing, sure you’d be a little mad but you’d forgive just as easily.

But there was something about the way none of your other friends would have done what he did, touch you like he did, stand close like he did. 

You banish the thought and scramble into the shower, aware of the ticking of the clock before your meeting. 

*  

You wondered why you’d agreed to come to family dinner at your house alone on Friday night. You should have really dragged Nicholas there so he could suffer with you, although of course, the hope was that with his presence, your parents would lay off you and focus on him, their precious, angelic son-in-law. 

He had let you know he’d made plans with the guys and offered you an alternate to family dinning, which you’d regretfully declined because you knew that your mother would never just let it go and would instead invite you to several consecutive family dinners and/or events to make up for the loss. 

You really were better sacrificing yourself for one evening than signing yourself up for a plethora of others.  

Regardless, you should have known better than to hope this would be a marginally pleasant evening. Without Nicholas there, your parents, mainly your mother, had taken to grilling you over entrées. And the main course. And you predicted dessert.  

“Are you being good to Nicholas?” your mother asks. “Have you been cooking and cleaning enough around the apartment?” she continues without pause. 

“Yes, mother.” you say. You weren’t lying, it’s just that you had an agreement to share everything fair and square with Nicholas, including all the chores, bills (mortgage too, naturally) and other expenses. 

“Are you sure?” she continues. “He’s got no reason to be mad at you, has he?” she inquires, her eyes unnaturally wide.

“No, mom, he doesn’t.” you say, regretting your decision to drive because now you couldn’t at least drown out some of the nagging with alcohol. 

“Then why didn’t he come along for dinner? You invited him, didn’t you?” 

You almost roll your eyes but hold back because she’s watching you. If she looked away more often, you’d probably get a headache from rolling your eyes. (Growing up under her roof, it had been the most common cause of your headaches. That and tension headaches.) 

“Yes, of course I did, but he made plans way before so he couldn’t cancel.” you explain for the tenth time. 

“Well alright then, I suppose.” your mother concludes. 

Finally, you think. 

The whole scene was eerily starting to resemble an episode of Gilmore Girls and you were in the role of Lorelai, fending off your mother.

She was practically treating you like devil spawn and Nicholas as if he was their own son and you had stolen him away and trapped him into a heinous marriage. You half wondered if you had dinner alone with the Wangs, was that how they’d treat you too? You could only guess they weren’t incredibly fond of you either from the way you’d initially refused to marry their perfect son. Clearly, parents, your own or other people’s, didn’t seem to like you very much.  

Your father and Maki were also at the dinner table, minding their food, and possibly fearing for their lives. You knew what they were like; if they were chewing, their ears seemed to close off. 

By the time you got to the main dishes, you’d fielded questions about Nicholas from your mother, and the apartment, but also work questions from your father, which you skilfully managed to not go into any detail on, lest he pick up on something being wrong at work. 

Maki helpfully tried to steer the conversation away too, asking random questions about the company, which your father was more than happy to answer because his youngest was taking an interest in the family business. You were grateful to Maki but you worried this might give your parents the green light into throwing him in there with you. 

Your father was plenty capable.  

He’d probably also hear about how your meeting had gone in the office - there’d been a lot of back and forth (which you’d instigated) to avoid getting to anything too serious while you still hadn’t recovered details of the contract you’d lost.

It had resulted in scheduling another meeting some time later, giving both parties time to reconvene and finalise their sides of the deal. 

By the time you finished the main course, your mouth was dry from all the bullshitting you had to do. As soon as you finish your portion of dessert, you figure it’s time to jet. 

“So, I should get going and go home, y’know, to the husband you picked out for me.” you start only half-sarcastically. “Thanks for the dinner,” and the shakedown, you think. “could I take some dessert for your beloved son-in-law? He likes this kind of thing.”

“Well, YN, I’m glad you’ve learned what he likes.” your mother says. You wait for her to finish her sentence before having any hope of even a tiny compliment. “You may take some home, but next time just bring him here for dinner, instead of taking home scraps and left overs, it’s embarrassing. As if you can’t afford a full meal.”

“Mom, I told you, he really had plans and I did beg him to come.” you fib, hoping it sells. 

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” she concedes. “But you shouldn’t beg your husband for things either, it sets for an awkward relationship and it’s embarrassing.” she continues. 

You should have known something mildly positive would be followed up in this manner. You sigh and wait for the house keeper to bring you a box for the dessert. 

You get up and get your things by the door, then hug Maki goodbye and ruffle his hair, whispering a quick “Hang in there, kiddo.” to which he just looks at you blankly, dimples popping. You felt bad leaving him there with the hyenas (your mother). “You poor thing.” you lament, patting his arm, as you put on your shoes.      

“Drive carefully,” your mother says after you say your goodbyes. “and don’t forget you have that charity event in a couple of weeks. You have to go with Nicholas.”

“Yes, I know. You told me several times already. It’s in my calendar.” you take the box of dessert and open the door. “Goodnight.” you call and leave before anyone can say anything more. 

As soon as you get inside your car, you let out a frustrated grunt, hitting your steering wheel with the palms of your hands, releasing a sound that would compete with wild animals. You just needed to get that out of your system because there was only so much pent up frustration you could take.

Once you calm down, you start the engine and go on your way. The dessert sits in the passenger seat as you precious cargo as you drive through the night, windows down, playing some songs you’d curated specifically for after family dinners. 

You sing along because the roads are empty and no one’s around to hear you sing like a strangled cat. It’s the exact catharsis you needed, expelling all that energy while the moon hangs full in the sky, so you’re in an improved mood by the time you walk through your front door. 

After you kick off your shoes, you go to the kitchen, slippers smacking loudly against the floor as you walk. The sound of your arrival must have alerted Nicholas because he appears while you’re getting a glass of water after depositing the dessert in the fridge. 

“You’re back earlier than I thought.” you observe, putting the glass down with a ‘click’ on the counter.   

“Yeah, the thing with he guys didn’t last as long as we thought so I came back early.” he explains, plopping down to sit at the counter. “How was dinner? You seem disgruntled.”

“Excellent observation.” you frown, thinking of the best word to describe the ordeal. “It was rather disagreeable.” you attempt. 

“Oh? That is most unfortunate, Mrs Wang. Something happen in particular?” he listens attentively. 

“Your mother-in-law says hello and sends her regards. Need I say more?” you raise your eyebrows at him. He’s wearing a loose grey t-shirt and looks sleepy already, which you note is odd because if you had learned anything about your husband, is that he was, by personal preference, nocturnal. 

“Ah, lovely.” he nods in understanding. “Sorry, I let you fly solo.”

“I wasn’t totally alone, Maki was there, but he can only say so much.” you say. “Anyways, I got you something.” you remember to bring out the dessert from the fridge again.

“Ooh, what’s that?” Nicholas perks up at the sight of the box. You almost laugh at his sudden rejuvenation.

“Dessert. The one with the strawberry sorbet.” you hum smugly when his eyes light up. 

“Wah, that’s great. Is it my birthday?” he smiles as you open the box and offer him a spoon. He seems to change his mind in a split second and his face falls, suddenly becoming serious. “Are you trying to poison me?” he interrogates, face full of suspicion.

You tilt your head sarcastically. “Totally. Tis part of my elaborate scheme to become a young widow.” you deadpan and start to take away the spoon but Nicholas stops you and accepts it. “Trust me - if I was going to poison you, you wouldn’t know about it.” you add, gulping down the rest of your water. 

“Well, that’s reassuring.” he hums while looking at the contents of the box.

“Bon appetit!” you give him a toothy smile and breeze past him. 

*

To say that mornings with Nicholas were a pain, would be a gross understatement. 

From what you’re seen on your honeymoon, your husband was most certainly not a morning person, but you had yet to see in detail just how grizzly the situation could get.

It was kind of ironic because Nicholas was a well put together guy; he knew what he was doing, worked hard at it and did it without a fuss. He seemed like the ultimate catch - young, rich, tall, handsome (others would say sexy too and you would agree, objectively only of course), funny, smart, polite, respectful, well mannered - but of course, nobody’s perfect and it didn’t take a genius to work out that mornings were Nicholas’ weakness.  

For the most part so far, the two of you had differing schedules and you barely ran into each other in the mornings, mostly taking turns in the bathroom if anything and giving each other a heads up if you were particularly in a hurry that day or the next day or whenever. 

Today however, you had a meeting of the boards of directors for your two companies. It was mostly oversight for the progression of the merger and a chance to hear from the heads of the companies to brief you on the vision for how the merger should go. Your and Nicholas’ presence was without a doubt mandatory and possibly even the highlight since everyone would be talking about you two. 

You woke up like clock work, a couple minutes before your alarm and stretched out like a cat before getting up to hunt for coffee (your cavemen ancestors would be shocked). You walked past Nicholas’ room and heard his alarm going off, relieved that supposedly he’s awake. 

Supposedly. 

The coffee machine whirs quietly as you prepare two cups since you figured Nicholas would want coffee too, but you don’t hear his door opening or in fact, any noise from his room. You pad over to the corridor to listen out and pick up the sound of a second alarm. It sounds promising so you don’t think too much of it and go back to drink your coffee.

It’s been ten minutes when you decide that something is wrong with Nicholas. 

You leave your half drunk coffee and his untouched one on the counter and go knock on his door.

“Yo, Nico, you awake?” you call out. You strain your ears to hear a response, leaning onto the door itself. You hear an unmistakeable groan. “I know you’re alive and in there, now get up!” you shout, hoping the louder the message, the more likely it is to get through to him. 

You leave to finish your coffee but when he still doesn’t get up, you roll your eyes and stack your cup on the pile of dirty dishes waiting to be put into the dish washer. 

“That’s it.” you mutter, determined to make him shift. You fill a glass with cold water, stopping by the freezer for ice and then make your way back to Nicholas’ room. 

You were starting to worry that you were going to be late for that stupid meeting since it was already a quarter to eight.   

You bang on his door almost violently. “Wang Yixiang, get your dumb ass up or else!” you call to another groan of what sounds like ‘go away’. Your blood pressure spikes and you snap. “I warned you, I’m coming in.” 

And you yank the door handle and enter the room. 

You find Nicholas in just pyjama pants, sprawled face first in his bed, blankets and sheets tangled up like a war zone while he hugs an extra pillow and a wolf plushie sits on the opposite side of the bed against the headboard. His hair is a mess and splays all over his face and pillow as he still dozes despite your loud attempts at intervening. 

You hesitate for a second because he looks so peaceful, then you remember that you have somewhere to be.  

“This is a warning shot.” you say and dip your fingers into the water to grab hold of an ice cube.

You launch the ice cube unceremoniously and it plops onto Nicholas’ bare back. He jolts at the contact and a low moan sounds from the back of his throat. Your eyes widen as you feel a wave of queasiness wash over your lower abdomen. 

What the fuck did you just do? Did you press the wrong button? Is he malfunctioning? Does he need to go for an MOT check like a car? 

The noise sent you reeling and you wanted to run away but the ice cube did nothing. It just sort of slid off of his back and he shuffled a little, getting comfortable again. You sigh and nod to yourself. You hoped it wouldn’t need to come to this.

“Right.” you say. Without another moment to lose, you hold out the glass over Nicholas’ bare torso and tip your wrist so the water comes spilling out.

The water splashes all over his back and it sends Nicholas flying up with a piercing screech. 

“What was that for!” he yelps, shaking off the water off his back and reaching for a blanket to wipe it off. You would stay to have a full conversation about this, but you’re already on your way out. 

“You’re late.” you chastise. “And if you’re late, then I’m late. Now get up or I’ll come back with a bucket.” you warn as you sweep out of the premises.

“You know you’re meaner in the mornings!” he calls out after you. 

“Thanks!” you reply over your shoulder. 

Needless to say, you usher Nicholas into your car ten minutes later, him almost dressed as he finishes buttoning up his shirt and does his tie in the car, then styles his hair in the passenger seat using your overhead mirror. You try your best to avoid a pothole but manage to run straight over it by accident. Your car jolts and Nicholas groans in frustration when his hair swishes in a different direction. 

“You couldn’t let us be fashionably late.” he mutters. 

“I’m never late. Fashionably or otherwise.” you inform him. “Get used to it, hubby; you roll with me now.” you say as you manoeuvre the steering wheel. 

“Alright, got it, Sergeant.” Nicholas holds up a hand as if swearing an oath.

“Next meeting, we might even make it on time.” you sass back as you pull up to work and exhale. 

This was going to be a long day. 

*

Before you could blink, it was the last day of the calendar quarter and you were dreading it because it’s the day that you and your uncle gather to have coffee and talk about work, less in a boss and employee way and more of an uncle-niece thing. It was the first time you’d ever felt apprehensive to talk to your uncle since he’d had a part to play in your arranged marriage and you were still disappointed in him.  

You’d always been closer to your uncle than your parents as far as you could remember. Probably because he didn’t keep you on a leash and command you around but respected your independence. He’d even tried to stop you from going to law school unless it was definitely what you wanted. You had no idea why he’d done that at the time (you were still in high school), but after a few years, you now appreciated the gesture.

Now, you weren’t so sure what he was going to be like after letting your parents push you to Nicholas. You still remembered his face that day; impassive as if he didn’t care about you at all. There was a still a lingering feeling of betrayal when you thought about what your uncle had done.

You took your normal route to company rooftop, your coffee mug hot in your hand as you made your way outside. 

Your uncle was waiting at your usual table, the tiny one at the end of the row closest to the edge of the rooftop balcony. From there, you could see out to the city and watch the sun set. It was just after work hours officially ended so the cafe at your company had closed already but you each bought a mug from your offices and sat down.

You walk up to the table as briskly as your coffee would allow you and sit down in the empty chair. 

“Hi, uncle.” you attempt. He half-smiles, his fond demeanour unchanged as always. 

“Hello, YN.” he replies. “Are you ready for a chat?” 

The question hangs in the air, for some reason, you feel it entails more than your usual this and that about work. 

“Sure.” you say, cautious. 

You end up telling him about some of the finalised negotiations you made this quarter and catching him up on some of the cases you’d been assigned. After a while, it feels natural and you confess that you’d messed up a little with that contract but you don’t tell him it involved Nicholas.

In fact, you don’t mention Nicholas at all and try to move on as if there was no massive elephant in the room. It’s definitely starting to annoy you, skirting around the subject but you try to stay steadfast despite how it irks you.  

Your uncle figures it out anyway. 

“Something bothering you, dear?” he asks, voice totally unintrusive.

“Not really,” you lie, but your eyes shift to your half-drunk coffee. Your uncle sighs and puts his mug down.

“Listen, YN, I’m not a fool, we should talk about it.” he says. “I know you’re probably displeased with me for pairing you up with Nicholas, but you’ll just have to find it in your heart to accept it.” he continues. “I am not expecting your forgiveness, although I would be relieved to hear it. What was done was for your own good. I hope one day you’ll be able to see that.”

It hurts to hear the same rhetoric from your uncle as it came from your parents; the whole ‘for-your-own-good’ thing made you want to pull your hair out, yet you realise that coming from him, it feels all the more painful. 

“I understand that you’ll keep giving me a cold shoulder and I’m okay with it, I suppose, but I need you to remember that everything is temporary.” he meets your eyes. You sense something odd for a moment when he says that, but you don’t react. “Besides, you might even end up liking Nicholas, he’s a good boy.” 

That seems to spur you into action.

“Uncle, it’s not about that.” you reply adamantly. “Nicholas is great, he’s really not the problem. The problem is that you still let my parents dictate such a huge decision in my life - I trusted you to not do such a thing. You’re better than that.” 

Your uncle pauses for a moment. “You agreed eventually, didn’t you?” he asks simply. 

“Well yes, but it was because I was scared they’d do something to Maki. You know they would pick on him if it wasn’t for me.” you argue. 

“YN, your parents are complicated people, but they’re not quite as evil as you believe them to be.” your uncle says gently, the way you try to talk to little kids and rationalise a situation which they find stupid (and usually have a right to find as such).  

“Well, you’re related to one of them, you kind of have to say that.” you remind him, rejecting his philosophy.  

“I’m saying it because it’s true. Try to understand them a little more. Alright?” he pleads. 

You look at your uncle and see that he’s trying - he’s trying to be the bridge in this family and you have to give him something to work with. 

You nod reluctantly, not because you agree with him or want to understand your parents, but because you wanted to go easy on him for the sake of not creating issues in your family as a whole. Sometimes you couldn’t have compromises and you needed to be more patient and the bigger person. 

You knew where he was coming from; of course people are complicated and do things for complicated reasons, including hurting their loved ones. You believed that it was possible that it could be true they weren’t so bad but also true that some people just weren’t nice, weren’t kind, weren’t understanding by nature. 

In that line of thought, it wasn’t even about the specificity of your situation. It was that you knew there’s truly nothing completely black and white in the world - your relationship with your parents had always been full of greys, differing shades of blurriness contorting your feelings towards them for your whole life. 

You put the topic down quietly and resumed chatting about this and that, the whole thing weighing you down just a bit before you concluded and bid your uncle goodbye, going home immediately after that, although you’d planned to stay longer. 

“Fuck overtime.” you hum as you get into your car. 

The rest of your evening is fairly quiet, you cook dinner for yourself after Nicholas sends you a text about a haphazard night out with his friends and to not wait up for him. It’s completely fine by you since you really needed some time alone to stew about everything; your conversation with your uncle had sent you spiralling.

Were you being unreasonable? Should you be less angry at your parents for setting you up with Nicholas? You’d meant it when you said he was great, not that you’d say that to his face ever and watch it become smug and delighted. 

The thought passes as quickly and fleetingly as it had come. You were dead set in your bones to resent your parents because what they did was wrong - it was about your autonomy as a person and they’d violated that on some level. You acknowledged your agreement only to the point of technicality - yes, you’d gone through with it willingly despite hating the situation. 

That was then. Now it was a couple of months later and the extremity of the feelings had died down and you were occasionally forgetting their misdeeds, so your meeting with your uncle had served as a reminder that you shouldn’t forget or really forgive it just because nothing awful had happened. Or at least yet (you knew nobody was insured about anything).  

It gets late around midnight before you hear your front door unlocking.

You were just sitting on the couch, watching TV, a rarity in your busy life, when you hear several sets of footsteps stumbling into the house. There’s hushed voices shushing after a particularly loud noise. 

“Nicholas?” you call out, switching off the screen and getting up to check out the situation. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Nicholas yells loudly before even seeing you. The tone is shrill and very alarming and makes you freak out immediately.

In the hallway you find a quartet of men, your husband amongst his friends, the fire brigade. Nicholas is standing- no- leaning on Kei, clearly out of his mind, as well as a complementary identical Euijoo and Fuma, the latter supporting the former in his arms. Their clothes all seem to have the marks of some drizzle and you deduce that it must be raining outside.

You make a face, taking in the scene. “What the fuck is wrong with him?” you ask generally to the presumably slightly sober parties, already knowing the answer. There are a couple of guilty looks exchanged between Kei and Fuma.

“He’s drunk.” Kei admits sheepishly. 

“I figured, how bad is it?” you ask. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” Nicholas interjects, eyes glazed over as he leans his head on Kei’s shoulder. “I feel great!” he grins. There’s a wildness in his eyes that makes you worry. You don’t even spare a thought on the name calling.  

“He had a bit.” Fuma offers but he seems uneasy to elaborate. 

“How much is ‘a bit’?” you push for details, sceptical.

“A glass.” Kei says. 

“Of what?” 

“Tea.”

“What kind of tea?” you interrogate, already knowing the answer.

“Long island ice tea.” Kei mumbles, lowering his eyes to the floor. 

“You let him drink what!” you exclaim, outraged. “Of all the things you could have had, how on Earth did Nicholas end up having a cocktail with four types of alcohol in it?” you shriek.  

You look at Nicholas, who has been clinging to Kei, hanging off him like a little koala. Euijoo cringes at the volume of your voice as he seems to doze off on Fuma’s shoulder.

“We’re sorry. It was kind of an accident.” Fuma says, clearly ashamed. 

You had never drunk with Nicholas before, save for the tiny bit of wine at his parents’ and the sip of champagne at your wedding, so this was a serious shock. Was your husband a serious lightweight? Did you even know him? Clearly you had only scratched the surface of Nicholas trivia if this had never come up till now. 

“Yeah, he’s not really built for alcohol.” Kei says apologetically. 

“But it’s okay, we’ll take care of him, and Euijoo.” Fuma adds quickly.

You look at the way Euijoo is basically sleeping in Fuma’s arms, surprised that Fuma can hold him up so well when Euijoo is a few inches taller. Kei on the other hand seems to be struggling with Nicholas’ affection - while you were talking, there was an attempted piggy back that Kei had to gently fend off. On closer surveillance, Nicholas seemed to be a clingy drunk with a bad case of grabby hands.  

“No, it’s fine.” you find yourself saying. “I’ll take care of him, I did marry this mess. He’s my responsibility now.” you tell the elder two. You couldn’t imagine the ruckus they would collectively make so you decided it was better that you just take over. 

Kei’s eyes light up in gratitude while Fuma seems even more guilty while cradling Euijoo’s head to his shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” Fuma asks, his voice full of concern. You nod reassuringly.

“You guys can go, I’ll make sure he’s okay.” you insist. Despite meeting them for the third time today, you most certainly were strangers and you didn’t really want them hanging around your house, even if they were Nicholas’ friends. 

“You’re a badass, YN, thanks.” Kei gushes while guiding, more like carrying, Nicholas to the couch. You give him a nod of acknowledgement while standing between the hallway and living room. 

Euijoo seems to stir, clearly having some kind of sonar or telepathy or something because as soon as Nicholas is a few feet away, his eyes open and he looks around as if he lost something.

“Noooo,” Euijoo whines, trying to follow. “don’t take my bestie away…” his attempt is curtailed by Fuma, who pats his back gently. 

“Nico’s home, Joojoo, don’t worry about it. You’ll see him tomorrow.” Fuma explains. “Sorry about this, YN.” he says to you when Kei comes back. Euijoo seems dissatisfied with the current chain of events but pouts about it quietly. 

“Right, he’s all yours.” Kei says before going to stand on Euijoo’s other side and take some of his weight off Fuma. “Let’s get you home, buddy.” he puts one of his arms around his shoulder and the three of them start to make for the door. 

You open it helpfully and stand aside, letting the two older men half-carry, half-drag Euijoo away. 

“Thanks for bringing Nico home in one piece.” you say as you bid them goodbye. 

“Good luck.” Fuma gives you a ‘fighting’ gesture with his closed fist in solidarity.

“Thanks, I think I’m going to need it.” you bid them goodbye and close the door, bracing yourself for what lay ahead. 

In the living room, Nicholas has managed to stay where Kei left him, splayed all over the couch like a pancake, staring upwards. You round the couch and assess the situation; he’s very much out of it, eyes unfocused and mouth ever so slightly opened as if he was fascinated with the colour of your ceiling.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you begin. You decide to get some water and painkillers for the inevitable hangover he’s going to get in a few hours. 

There’s a moment of silence while Nicholas shuffles, sitting up but still leaning into the shape of the back of the couch. He seems to register you talking to him, which by the time you stand in front of him with the glass of water, makes him animate suddenly, his body switching gear. 

“YN!” he says, as if shocked. 

“Yes?” you offer him the glass but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Let’s go dance outside!” he exclaims, his face bright with excitement. He starts to get up but seemingly feels dizzy since he flops back down on the couch, clutching his head. You blink at him, unable to understand the thought process. The request was neither here nor there, really. 

“We can’t.” you say simply. “It’s raining. See?” you point toward the window where the drizzle seems to have escalated and the drops are sliding down the glass. 

“Yeah, well it rains inside too.” he mumbles when you put his suggestion down.

“Y’know, I’m not sure it does.” you hum, amused at the comment while you place the glass on the coffee table. 

“But the shower,” he insists. “it’s inside rain.” he says. You purse your lips, biting back a laugh at how convinced Nicholas seems that the shower is really rain. 

“Okay, alright.” you say, nodding to yourself. “Let’s get you to bed, you need to sleep this off.” you start to lean down to take hold of his arm.

“I don’t want to sleep.” he whines immediately. Instead, he takes hold of your arm and looks up at you with big eyes. “I’m hungry.” he pouts. 

“Okay, what do you want to eat? I’ll make it for you.”

“You will?” his eyes light up with delight. “I’ll eat anything you make.” 

The way that alcohol seems to keep its chokehold on Nicholas suggests to you that you should probably opt for something that will ease the problems that would follow.

“Hangover soup it is.” you state, trying to shake Nicholas off so you can get to the kitchen. 

When he doesn’t let go, you sigh and tug him up by the hands so he stands up. You help him stumble across the room to the kitchen part and sit him down at the counter where he slumps immediately and rests on his crossed arms, looking up at you, the dopey look resting on his face. 

You start to gather the ingredients, which thankfully your fridge contained because you’d been shopping yesterday, but that’s when the babbling starts. 

Nicholas seems to have found some new energy because once his mouth opens, it doesn’t seem to close. 

“Is that beef? Oh my god, it is, I love beef. Are you going to cook the beef? ‘Cause I know this killer recipe for a beef stew and you just have to try it. I used to have it as a kid but my parents never made it for me, it was always this nanny I had and she was awesome. I really miss auntie, YN, I really miss her. She was the best. Are you going to make the beef like she did? Maybe you can get the recipe from her, oh! You should meet her, she’d love you!” and as much as you wanted to listen to everything, your brain sort of switched off when he got on another tirade as you started slicing the cabbage and other veggies for the soup. 

He starts to run out of steam by the time you get to putting the sauce you prepared on the beef and the cabbage and he just sort of leans on the counter, face in the palm of his hands and watches you. 

Then comes more absurdity. 

Nicholas giggles distinctly and smiles to himself. 

You only react out of concern, putting the lid on the pot. “What is it?” you ask. 

He shakes his head bashfully and doesn’t say anything but continues smiling. 

“Fine, don’t tell me.” you mutter, putting the broth to the beef and adding the cabbage. You’re starting to feel a little paranoid; was he laughing about your cooking? You knew you weren’t a Michelin chef, or even as good as he was in the kitchen, but you weren’t that bad, right? 

“Hmm, I’m happy.” he says, fingers squishing his own cheeks. 

The statement takes you by surprise. 

“You’re drunk.” you correct, unsure what to make of it. 

“Don’t you wanna know why I’m happy?” he leans forward, as if trying to get your attention. 

You shrug on reflex. “Happiness is fleeting and overrated.” (as is alcohol within your system). 

“Boooo! Why are you like this, huh? You’re so cute, you should be happy too!” he insists. You side eye him but let him continue. “My cute wifey should be happy, like me. Let’s be happy together!” he laughs, as if he just solved the world’s problems. 

You stare at him, slightly horrified because a) who the hell was he calling his ‘cute wifey’ ‘cause that sure as hell wasn’t you, and b) how would you be happy together when you were living in a loveless marriage?  

“Nicholas, I don’t-”

“No! Stop it! I won’t hear it, I want everyone to be happy. End of discussion.” he babbles, clapping his hands together once, as if he’s hitting a slate. 

You’re baffled - you’d forgotten what it was like to talk to drunk people.  

You hate the way his words pierce through your thick skin and land somewhere soft where it hurts. You knew he was drunk, but he must be drunker than you thought.

If anything, his declarations made you sad because who knew what the future holds? You didn’t dare fantasise these days, for fear that if you did daydream, everything in your life would fall apart and you really would spend a life time with Nicholas instead of finding the love of your life. Would that bring you the happiness you’ve been brainwashed to expect in life? 

Despite yourself, you held on to the belief that whoever it was, this figurative love of your life person, they were out there and you might still have a chance to find them even if you were or had been married to Nicholas. The thought was a sick and twisted hope as you prepared the soup, quietly hating yourself for thinking it while you were just hanging out with the man that was for the present circumstances, your husband. 

You couldn’t reason with the guilt; its grip was too strong but you were a romantic at heart and nothing that had happened between the two of you had been romantic, at least in your view. Being forced to marry each other wasn’t exactly romantic, was it? 

Your soup is finally ready and you turn off the heat, bringing out a bowl. Nicholas has been lying on the counter, his cheek against the cold surface while he sits in one of the tall chairs surrounding your island. The clang of the lid seems to shake him and he straightens up then stares at you suddenly with a newfound focus. You start to think there’s some dirt on your face. 

“You’re so pretty with your hair like that.” he notes, as if it just occurred to him. You almost spill the soup in your hands as you process the random compliment. You don’t think much of it though, because this is how you wore your hair almost every day so it was definitely some unconscious thought fuelled by that wretched cocktail. 

“Eat up.” you instruct, putting the steaming bowl in front of him. He grins at it, as if it was his first born child. You make a mental note to never bring alcohol in the house. 

“Thanks!” he says happily but instead of digging in, he starts to pat his pockets. 

“What are you looking for?” you ask, sure you were going to have to solve this one. 

“My phone,” he says, searching his pockets to no avail. “but I can’t find it.” 

You sigh heavily and reach to your right, picking up the device and holding it out to Nicholas. It had been sitting on the counter the whole time, but how could you expect his drunk ass to see it?

“Ah! Great.” he says and takes it, holding it up to the bowl. “I have to take a picture, my cute wifey made me a meal.” he giggles. You want to scowl at the new nickname but the goofy way he says it makes it hard for you to fight a smile trying to break through. 

“Watch it or it might be the last meal I make for you.” you warn, no force behind your words. 

You let him eat, just relieved that he’s not saying any more weird things. His battery had run out a while ago so he hadn’t been so bad when he was just resting on the counter. You were already thinking ahead about how you were going to get him to sleep. Drunk people tended to get sleepy after a while so why hadn’t he yet? 

The conundrum bothers you while Nicholas finishes eating. 

“Are you ready to go to bed?” you test the waters tentatively. 

“Nah, I’m not sleepy,” he says while a yawn follows.  

“Oh thank god.” you sigh in relief at the yawn. His brain might be saying he’s not sleepy but his body sure was; you just had to wait for his brain to catch up. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Nothing.” you say quickly. “Well, let’s get you to your room, I won’t make you sleep.” you lie. 

It’s barely a trek to his room but you definitely struggle through the hallway because Nicholas for some reason thinks that he’s the size of a tiny lap dog and you practically carry him to bed. You almost manhandle him to lie down, his body falling limp onto the mattress and you pull the blanket over him before he gets any ideas of getting up. 

“Hang on a sec,” you tell him, going to get the water, painkillers and a bowl in case any of the iced tea or stew makes a reappearance. “Alright, do you need anything before I go?” you ask. 

“There is one thing,” he says after a moment. “come closer.” he says quietly. You worry he might try to snuggle you to death but you indulge him, perching on the edge of his bed. You lean closer, listening. Nicholas looks up at you. “I have to play Mario Kart right now, YN. It’s life or death.” he pleads. 

You straighten up immediately, your blood pressure wavering. 

“Oh, it’s life or death, alright.” you mutter. “Might kill your dumb ass if I ever catch you drinking again.”

That seems to change his mind pretty quickly and you can almost see his non-existent tail curl between his legs.

“Alright, if you need anything, just shout, I’ll leave the doors open.” you tell him. “Goodnight.” you start to get up but he catches your hand before you can step away. 

You’re surprised and think he must have thought of something so you turn, watching him expectantly. 

“Don’t go.” he says in a small voice. It was possibly one of the lowest decibels you had ever heard him talk at. 

“Why? Don’t you want to sleep?” 

“I don’t want to be alone.” he admits quietly. His voice makes something lurch in your chest. You gulp, considering his request.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” you promise, sitting back down. 

Nicholas nods and cozies up in his blanket, still not letting go of your hand. 

You watch him for a moment; his eyes are closed and his chest is falling and rising steadily as if he’s already asleep but you know better from the python grip of his hand around yours. There’s something peaceful though in his expression despite that, the same tranquillity that had made you hesitate before waking him up some time ago. 

His words echo in your mind and for a second you let your heart break a little because you knew that you were luckier - you had Maki, but Nicholas was the only heir in his family. You were older but you didn’t exactly remember a time that you didn’t have Maki in your life. You wondered what it was like to grow up alone, missing the presence of a sibling.

After a few minutes, Nicholas seems to drift off, his hand loosening but still wrapped around yours. You want to untangle yourself and go but you worry about waking him, so you slide to the floor and sit against the side of the bed instead, predicting that he’d move around in his sleep and you best avoid that or he could wake up from that too. 

What you don’t expect is that you drift off too. 

You wake up in the middle of the night for a second but it’s only to shift around, your brain not registering that you’re sleeping on the floor in someone else’s room. 

The next time you wake up is in the morning, you can tell by the light in the room, but you’re no longer on the floor. You’re lying in a bed, a blanket thrown over you that you’d been snuggling into. You inhale the smell of the pillow and blanket you’re cocooned in and your eyes snap open. 

You forgot this wasn’t your bed.

You flail about with desperation as you sit up and notice that beside you and the cute wolf plushie positioned next to your pillow like a guard dog, Nicholas’ bed is missing its Nicholas. You glance at the clock on the bedside table and do a double take; it’s around eight, on a weekend, and Nicholas was already out of bed? 

“Did the sun rise in the west?” you wonder out loud, flicking off the blanket and getting up. 

When you open the door of his room and pad into the hallway, you can already hear the distant clattering around in the kitchen. You smooth a hand through your hair and make your way there. 

If it wasn’t for the time of day, the image you were seeing wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; Nicholas did spend time in the kitchen cooking too, knowing his way around confidently. Yet, what you were seeing makes you suspicious. 

Nicholas notices you coming and gives you a sheepish greeting. 

“Morning, you hungry?” he asks. 

“Uh,” you let your brain buffer. It felt like a trick question. “I guess.”

“Good, I made breakfast.” he turns back to put the finishing touches on the meal while you sit down at the counter, hesitatingly. 

On closer inspection, he does seem hungover - his movements are a little slow and his slouch is visible unlike his usually good posture, but otherwise, there’s no sign of last night’s drunken Nico. 

You’re presented with a cup of coffee from your machine, just the way you like it, then a plate of fruit cut up and arranged neatly and finally a pretty large stack of pancakes with a little chocolate sauce that spells out ‘sorry :(’. 

“I really am sorry.” Nicholas adds for good measure, twiddling his thumbs opposite you at the counter. 

You can’t help but smile at the pancakes a little because they really were cute.   

“You’re forgiven.” you say. “Just please never consume alcohol ever again, thanks.”

“You got it.” he promises.  

~

more memes!!! chapter 4 edition <3

A/N: thanks for reading, feedback is always appreciated <3 yn finally met the fire brigade! yes i know i didn’t write in taki and harua, that was deliberate, it’s not that i don’t love the babies, it just doesn’t make sense for them to be in this chapter haha, they will appear, i promise. also the vinegar thing is true - it’s good for getting rid of smells, just fyi.

*copyright 2021- © momobani 

[forbidding-souda]

Sorry if this is random. But like, I hope you're doing well. Every so often you pop in my head and I'm like "oh I hope they're doing well." You seem like a good person, and a good person like you deserves good things.

This is so sweet and real wth hai there.

It took me a second to try and decipher if you are an unauthorized irl bc my opps type like this but no one knows this acc so nvm but omg you're the sweetest.

I am doing very good!!! Both working hard AND hardly working like a girlboss. The danganronpa fic I'm writing rn for this account is a request about a shsl underground surgeon with three male characters yippie that's on the menu.

I have a pet fish now and he's a betta his name is Gude after Gudetama. He had a 15 gallon tank but then workers came into my room and they cracked his tank so now he's staying in a one gallon one until I can save up to buy him another big one and his favorite decor doesn't fit in it WAAAHHH but i think the good side is now I have a travel tank when I'll have to leave him at my friends place so there's that.

I was actually cleaning it earlier and spilt water everywhere bc i missed the bucket with my gravel vaccuum and there's water on my carpet so my floor is covered in baking soda LOL

Anyway look at this art I did for artfight it's of this danganronpa oc

i love it so much but anyway ty for asking! I love having an excuse to post here and share small updates and such and I'll only do it under asks.

[autumn-solitude]

mermay idea because I have no self control to wait

Janitor Cross x Mer Koi Dream

Cross was disappointed but not surprised to find out that the only reason he’d been hired at the aquariam in the first place was because he happened to look like the upper half of the mer that the scientists were all abuzz about. But Cross hadn’t known about that at the time, and had been grateful for employment at all after the…incident at his previous workplace.

Today?

Today, Cross had been instructed to go clean up some underground space full of lab equipment along the walls. And in the center of the room was a giant circular pool about four feet high and ten feet in diameter, reinforced with steel and thick glass-viewing panels along the side. Small, for what was being bragged about. That a new specimen, and soon to be new resident for the aquariam above, had been captured. Investors and all were certain this creature’s presence would draw in new guests it was a rare, previously unknown species found to exist; no longer a myth.

Unsurpsingly (to Cross, at least) the mer was not interested in being cooperative from its initial interactions with the aquariam keepers and scientists. And apparently, this currently holding (cell) tank was just temporary, until the mer calmed down and could be tamed. The mer was to be treated like any other wild animal, since there had been no understandable vocalizations but for chirps, clicks, whistles and hisses.

Checking the time, Cross’ shoulders slumped. He was off the clock soon, and it had been made perfectly clear that overtime was not allowed until things with the mer had moved further along. Glancing at the circular tank, Cross got to work, cleaning up the water that was splattered all around the tank, just barely missing the electronics against the different walls of the room. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue but Cross was currently cleaning in the pitch dark, his way only led by what his eye lights could see. But this also allowed him to see the soft golden-orange glow that approached one side of the tank, the glass lighting up as the kelp and other vegitation shifted while the mer swam. Cross kept his head down, rhythmically mopping up the water and moving along; he’d been instructed to not interact with the mer, nor remop should the mer decide to splash the floors while Cross was there.

The clean-up didn’t take long, with the last part closest to the tank itself. Throughout the mopping, there were only hints of the mer’s presence; the water rippling from fins cutting through, the clink of bones softly against the glass, as if the mer was following Cross’ progress as the glow followed along. Just as Cross was getting ready to leave, he let out a surprised gasp as a splash rang out of the blue, and he was drenched skull to boots in lukewarm, almost cold water. Spluttering, Cross turned his head in time to see what appeared to be two golden eye lights peering at him through the glass, and what sounded like a muffled laugh. The eye lights vanished, and another cascade of water further drenched Cross. He slipped backward and hit the equally wet floor with a clatter of bones, likely bruising something in the process.

Soft laughter rang out like a melody of a chime in the breeze.

Cross’ eye lights vanished then returned in a fierce blaze, before Cross’ mind caught up with him: he was okay.

It was fine.

Shit happened.

The mer was allowed to be unhappy about the small tank and splash around.

Cross didn’t expect the softer laughter to have cut off, replaced with a silence so quiet Cross could hear his own breathing. When he looked at the tank, the glow was dim and on the other side from him, absolutely no motion within the water whatsoever.

Weird.

With a sigh and a grimace over his sopping wet clothes, Cross heeded the instructions he’d been given, and left the underground lab/tank (cell) with his cleaning equipment and mop. Had he looked back, he would have seen golden eye lights watch his departure with a mix of confusion and consternation.

[molinabiancavalentina]

MODERN HISTORY

2ND BLOG _ The Indus Valley Civilization / HISTORICAL EVENT

The Indus Valley Civilization was one of the oldest urban civilizations, dating from 2500 BC to 1500 BC. Although research is still being done on how they handled the issue of water conservation in this interesting part of the world, some advanced water conservation and management practices can be named. In fact, the covered drains that run under the streets of the ruins of Mohenjodaro and Harappa show that their inhabitants were well versed in hygiene. The relevance that exists in relation to the problems of excessive water consumption and the events that occurred within this civilization are interestingly compatible, since at this point in the blog is where my theory is that in ancient times, water consumption was not as excessive as it is today, the reasons for this is not only because there was less population at that time, but because people knew how to distribute and appreciate the resources provided by the earth and they respected it very much. 

The Indus Valley Civilization, which flourished along the banks of the Indus River and other parts of western and northern India about 5,000 years ago, had one of the most sophisticated urban water supply and sanitation systems in the world. Ruins such as Mohenjo-Daro in Sindh and Dholavira in Gujarat had settlements with some of the most sophisticated sanitation systems in the ancient world. They included drainage canals, rainwater harvesting, and street sewers. Sewage was disposed of through underground drains built with precisely laid bricks, and an elaborate water management system with numerous reservoirs was established. In the drainage systems, the drains from the houses were connected to the wider public drains laid along the main streets. The drains had holes at regular intervals for cleaning and inspection. Water from bathrooms on the roofs and upper floors was carried through closed terracotta pipes or open chutes that emptied into the street drains.

Some of the cities of this civilization contributed in a certain way to the conservation of water, since they had their own irrigation systems that allowed the conservation of water in a better way. These cities are the following:

Dholavira: One of the oldest water´s harvesting systems is located about 130 km from Pune along Naneghat in the Western Ghats. A large number of cisterns were carved into the rocks to provide drinking water to the traders who traveled along this ancient trade route. Each fort in the area had its own water harvesting and storage system in the form of rock-cut cisterns, ponds, tanks and wells, which are still in use today. A large number of forts like Raigad had tanks that supplied water.

Western Rajasthan: In ancient times, houses in parts of western Rajasthan were built so that each had a water harvesting system on the roof. Rainwater from these roofs was channeled into underground tanks. This system can still be seen today in all the forts, palaces and houses of the region.

Jodhpur: The old city of Jodhpur has over 200 stepwells, built from around the 6th century as part of an incredibly sophisticated water architecture," he explains. During the little rain the region receives between June and September, water is diverted from canals built on the hilly outskirts of the city to man-made tanks, or talabs.

In addition, one of the main figures in water conservation in this civilization were the engineers and urban planners, who were in charge of drainage systems and so on. They were known to have extensive knowledge on how to conserve water.

The results obtained by this civilization in terms of water conservation are the different implementations they gave to water conservation related to the system they had to maintain cleanliness at the time of using the water resource. The effects they had on the future plans of water conservation are mainly positive, since it is well known that this civilization was an intelligent and organized one, that knew how to control its resources very well and how to improve day by day, but above all, to do it in peace with the environment.

If we want to go deeper into this topic of the Indus civilization and water conservation, let's make a connection with the present time. Actually, water conservation is so important especially in environmental topics that are given in schools or in those talks that are given in any convention, but the thing here is that how could it be possible? Well, the answer is because of the ancient civilization that paved the way for us and made it easier for us to continue to practice water conservation today.

To finish this blog, let's review everything about this historical event, basically the Indus Valley civilization makes it easier for actual people to organize well water and not make such a mistake when we have to preserve it in the right way. If we start to become aware of this whole problem and start to organize our resources in the best possible way like this civilization did, we can probably improve all over the world with this issue of conniving water for a better change in general.

[studzblr]

Save what can be saved : Day 26/48

Hi!

Still studying ob/gyn.. I'm kinda late. Maybe I will be lucky enough to finish it tomorrow? We will see

Over than that, I helped dad with cleaning the underground water storage tank. So satisfying.

This is your reminder to perform breast self examination, maybe there is something hiding there, and no, you're not " too young " for this.

[esconpanache]

Discover Luxurious Living at Escon Panache: A Perfect Choice for Your Dream Villa

Are you in search of a luxurious home that combines modern amenities with a serene environment? Look no further than Escon Panache. This newly launched ultra-luxurious residential property by Escon Group offers 4 BHK villas in Greater Noida, designed to cater to all your lifestyle needs. Here’s why you should consider making Escon Panache your new home.

Gated Society with Top-Notch Security

One of the primary concerns for any homeowner is security. At Escon Panache, your safety is our priority. The gated society ensures a secure living environment with controlled entry and exit points. Boom barriers are in place to prevent unauthorized access, and the entire complex is under 24x7 hi-tech security surveillance. You can enjoy peace of mind knowing that your family is safe and secure.

No Overhead Visible Cables

In a bid to maintain an aesthetically pleasing environment, Escon Panache features no overhead visible cables. This not only enhances the beauty of the complex but also reduces clutter, giving the community a clean and organized look.

Central Green with Open Gym and Temple

Imagine waking up to the sight of lush green landscapes and starting your day with a refreshing workout in the open gym. Escon Panache boasts a central green area with beautifully landscaped gardens, an open gym, and a temple, providing a perfect blend of nature and spirituality right at your doorstep.

Well-Lit Internal Roads with LED Lighting

Navigating within the community is a breeze with well-lit internal roads. The roads are equipped with LED lighting, including a mix of solar-based lights to ensure illumination even during power failures. This not only promotes safety but also contributes to energy efficiency.

Modern Clubhouse with Premium Amenities

The heart of social life at Escon Panache is its modern clubhouse. Here, you can unwind and socialize with a range of amenities like a swimming pool, pool table, air-conditioned gymnasium, yoga/meditation room, and a party hall. It’s the perfect place to relax, exercise, and celebrate special occasions.

Advanced Home Automation and Security Systems

Embrace the future with advanced home automation systems that offer enhanced comfort and convenience. Each villa is equipped with smart lighting, voice assistants, and integrated security systems. Additionally, a video door phone with an electronic lock for the wicket gate provides an extra layer of security, ensuring you can control access to your home effortlessly.

Dedicated Water Supply

Water supply is a crucial aspect of comfortable living, and Escon Panache ensures you have a reliable source. The complex features a dedicated underground tank (UGT) with a plumbing facility for a consistent water supply, ensuring you never face water scarcity.

Elegant Modular Kitchen

The kitchen is often the heart of the home, and at Escon Panache, you can enjoy a state-of-the-art modular kitchen. Designed to blend functionality with aesthetics, the modular kitchen allows you to embrace the art of flavor and make cooking a delightful experience.

Private Garden and Terrace Garden

Bring nature into your home with a private garden and terrace garden. These green spaces provide a tranquil retreat where you can relax, entertain guests, or enjoy some quiet time amidst nature. It’s the perfect way to unwind after a long day and reconnect with the outdoors.

Private Pool and Sundeck

For those who love swimming, Escon Panache offers the luxury of a private pool and sundeck. Make swimming a part of your lifestyle and enjoy the exclusivity of your personal aquatic haven. It’s an ideal spot for relaxation and recreation, right in the comfort of your home.

Double Height Living Room and Lift Option

Experience grandeur with a double height living room that exudes elegance and space. Additionally, the option of an in-house lift adds convenience, making it easier to move between floors, especially for elderly family members or guests.

Vastu Friendly and Zero % Loading

Escon Panache villas are designed keeping Vastu principles in mind, ensuring positive energy flow and harmony within your home. Moreover, the zero percent loading feature means you get maximum usable space for the area you pay for, making it a smart investment.

Premium Specifications

Every villa at Escon Panache is crafted with premium specifications. From granite stairs to high-quality flooring and tiling, every detail is meticulously planned to offer you the best in class living experience.

Perfect Location

Located in Greater Noida, Escon Panache offers excellent connectivity to major expressways, schools, hospitals, and other essential services. The strategic location ensures you are never far from the city's conveniences while enjoying the tranquility of a suburban setting.

Escon Panache is more than just a residential complex, it's a lifestyle destination. Connect with us to learn more about our villas. We would love to explore for you.

Visit:- https://esconpanache.com/

Ref:-https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/370771936-discover-smart-living-at-escon-panache-4-bhk-villas

[aggravateddurian]

SubSurf: My Cyberpunk SF/Fantasy Universe I've been working on for just over 8 years now...

SubSurf is a near-future cyberpunk urban fantasy universe, set in alternate universe. In this universe, a fantastical element known as 'Etherite' has propelled science and technology. Etherite has also fundamentally affected the development of humans. New species of flora and fauna have popped up across the world.

You might recognise them from fantasy, maybe like those seen in DnD, Skyrim or Shadowrun, but different in their own ways, the consequence of the circumstances of their creation.

Before we begin, let's check the news...

Florida man strikes again!

Now, some of this might sound like a TTRPG sourcebook, and that's because I started this project as a TTRPG, and back then my cyberpunk of choice was Shadowrun (I am a glutton for punishment).

Part 1: What is a Subsurfer?

The term 'subsurfer' started appearing in slang around 2025. The term referred to mercenaries and punks who used the disused Los Angeles Subsurface Transit (LAST) Network tunnels during the Third Continental War (also known as the First Intercorporate War) to traverse the city.

It also had the connotation of being associated with underground culture (e.g. punk) culture. It is therefore accurate to state that the term 'subsurfer' is synonymous with the term 'cyberpunk.'

Part 2: The Subsurfer Life

Subsurfer Archetypes

A list of the typical roles or specialties of mercenaries in the 2080s.

Street Warrior

The Street Warrior is the ur-archetypical Subsurfer. The first Street Warriors were the Baywood Ronin, a crew of subsurfers who revolted against a corp-backed gang in Baywood, on the south side of Morro City, in 2028. Prior to that, without a unified term, Street Warriors were often referred to as gunslingers, street ninja, cyber ninja, street samurai, cyber knights and a thousand other variations, some of which survive today as self-applied designations of a particular speciality in combat.

Street Warriors are the muscle of a mercenary crew. They specialise in the very delicate art of applying firepower or force to targets, making physical holes in things, knocking teeth out and any other number of combat-related tasks. Depending on the speciality, they can range from agile, acrobatic shinobi types to the generic ‘operator’ with an assault rifle, breachers who specialise in explosives and CQB combat with shotguns, all the way to brute force muscly chrome-heads decked from head to toe in subdermal nanoweave armour and equipped with a pair of tech-fists capable of punching clean through tank armour.

Warpers

The Warper is a specialist in psionic warfare. Etherite warps reality, and some beings with large etherite presence in their body, due to genetic predilection to naturally accumulating it in their bodies (and not getting horrible cancer or mutations in the process) or because a corp decided to ‘accidentally’ drop an airship’s worth of etherite dust into the river and your poor family (who can’t afford water filters) had to drink etherite-laced water for the formative years of your life.

Nobody is born ‘magic,’ you develop it. Warpers are powerful force multipliers or gamechangers on the battlefields of the 2080s, and one that corporations and the military rarely employ, because they’re prone to etherwrack, a condition that’s not unlike Violent Cybertech Dysmorphic Psychosis (VCDP, or borg-rage, the final, and often terminal stage of CDP). This means that almost every Warper’s a subsurfer. A subsurfer with the ability to warp space and reality, granting them capabilities on par with some of the most advanced cyberware.

Codecasters

Codecasting is the ‘lite’ version of webcrawling, in that their work exclusively takes place in meatspace. Their weapon of choice is the WANDeck (sometimes just called a ‘wand’), either a small, PDA or phone-sized device they wear on their hip, or in recent years, a neural implant attached to a pair of wireless transceivers mounted on the user’s temples, or inside their optical implants. The codecaster uses a set (deck) of pre-built programs to wirelessly (but sometimes, surface crawling as well) penetrate enemy nets and distribute (cast) their pre-coded attacks on their enemies. This has effects ranging from causing their optical implants to reset, to triggering critical system failures in their enemies, or underclocking an enemy’s control limit to induce borg-rage.

Anybody with a WANDeck and cursory web knowledge can become a codecaster, but the best codecasters have custom rigs, sometimes even backpack rigs, or significantly chrome their own bodies (on par with the most advanced webcrawlers), and code their own programs.

Webcrawlers

Webcrawlers, sometimes called ‘spiders’ (particularly corporate or government operatives), are network specialists who engage in the riskiest, but most rewarding way of accessing the net… connecting your physical body to the net and directly interfacing with it. Webcrawlers are often chromed in unique, often lifechanging and permanent ways, to achieve this. This technology has only existed in the last forty years. Prior to this, webcrawlers ‘ran on the web’ by entering the net through a deck (now called a LANDeck, or simply a spider deck), often worn on their hip or forearm, which contained their programs and other advanced tools for interfacing with the web.

In the 2040s, the cybertech firm MacroComm, the grandfather of the modern webcrawling profession, developed neurodecks, which allowed crawlers to ditch the deck (though many prefer the added layer of protection the deck’s ICE system provides) and directly interface with the web. Today, most webcrawlers are the latter type, who have neurodecks implanted directly into their brains. Some webcrawlers accessorise their neurodecks, including datavols (data volumes, essentially expandable storage devices) to store programs and viruses, and some even have branched into the world of codecasting, augmenting their neurodecks with caster transceivers.

Techies

Techies are specialists in a range of technical fields, ranging from car repair to advanced surgery. They are an essential part of any merc crew, even if they don’t go out into the field and get shot at daily. Most techies specialise in weapons systems, vehicles, or drones, and build a repertoire of contacts, resources, and knowledge to become highly skilled in their field. Those who choose the field of drone ops, vehicle operations (e.g., becoming a professional wheelman or pilot) or medicine undergo extensive training for years, often starting their career working for a gov or corp before they go out on the streets.

The most famous and well-known techies are cybertechs and cybersurgeons (sometimes corrupted to cygeons), the specialists in cyberware maintenance and modification, and implantation and removal of cyberware, respectively. The best comparison is the difference between an electronics technician and an electrician.

Fixers

In a world where crime is just about the only way to make a living in the neon-choked streets of the dark future, it makes sense that someone who is a combination between logistics specialist, organised crime boss, mercenary commander, arms dealer, contract lawyer and celebrity agent is one of the most important professions. Meet the fixer, a logistical master who uses their contacts and connections to arrange jobs for mercenaries, or even for non-mercs, sometimes fixers are employed by bands or media crews to arrange logistics or gigs. Sometimes, they cover up ‘unfortunate accidents’ for corps, others, they’re arranging the shipment of arms through restricted zones, and other times, they’re helping negotiate deals between rival gangs.

The job of the fixer is highly rewarding, but fraught with risk. Fixers are one of the most dangerous subsurfer jobs there is. Betraying a crew for a leg up on another lead could lead to the crew (or a survivor) hunting you down and giving you a lead injection to the back of the head. Organising and executing a hit on a corp could lead to said corp ‘paying you a visit,’ working with gangs could lead to rival gangs doing what gangs normally do, but to you. Piss off a band you organised locations and gigs for, they might destroy your reputation… and the less said about what happens if you decide to fuck an journo, the better.

I'm going to post additional lore over the next few days. Next will explain what Crystal City is, and why living there is worse than living in San Fran or LA, as well as the variants of humanity (and inhumanity) that exist in the world of SubSurf.

[quaranmine]

hello! Anon (who is planning a post HcxFirewatch fic) again! I'm just curious, but how do firewater lookouts like Grian and Scar take a shower? By using one of those "camp shower" bags or do they go have a splash in the lake? Thank you in advance!

Hi! So, I was trying to find a YouTube short/tiktok video I swear I saw from @/followmyleap where he talked about how he took showers. Or maybe it was @/lookoutformichelle? (who has way more videos on tiktok but I don't have an account so I linked her youtube.) I failed to find the video I was thinking of but it was basically one of those camp shower bags. I think you could also just look up any type of advertised backpacking/camping shower products. I have no idea what products would/wouldn't be available in the 80s though. Grian and Scar DO have water—they have a rain catchment system in an underground tank, and then a spigot at the bottom of the tower. That's the same set up that Philip Conors had in his lookout in Fire Season and I know that the Firewatch dev team referenced his book too.

I also wouldn't discount what you could do with just a bucket of water and some soap, either. You don't have to have plumbing in order to wash yourself, nor do you need to have the falling water of a shower. You could just use the soap and then a smaller cup to rinse yourself.

I think the lake is last resort honestly because, well. I grew up swimming in lakes and I don't think anybody has ever felt super clean after swimming in one LOL. Maybe I just haven't tried that good glacial lake water...I think for a silly goofy moment he could go dunk himself in the lake, but for a legit long-term hygiene plan it'd be the former ideas.

they are more likely to be taking cold showers than hot though 😔

[thenickwhite]

Hydrovac Excavation: A Sustainable Approach to Subsurface Utility Projects

In the realm of construction, the impact on the environment is a significant concern. The integration of environmental sustainability technology is pivotal in mitigating this impact while maintaining cost-effectiveness in debris removal. Project Sustainability Management (PSM) is becoming increasingly relevant in this context. PSM encompasses the planning, monitoring, and control of project delivery and support processes, taking into account environmental, economic, and social factors throughout the project's lifecycle. One key aspect of this is the sustainable management of excavated materials, which can be repurposed, thereby reducing waste.

Aussie Hydro-Vac Services stands at the forefront of environmental sustainability. The company is renowned in the vacuum excavation, drain cleaning, and cable location sectors, adhering to ethical operating and contractual practices. By incorporating environmental sustainability technology, Aussie Hydro-Vac Services effectively addresses complex project issues and crisis situations.

Enhancing Safety in Exposing Subsurface Infrastructure

The construction industry is increasingly adopting environmentally sustainable practices, particularly in projects involving sensitive subsurface utilities. Hydrovac excavation plays a crucial role in this shift. This technique transforms soil into a slurry, which is then easily suctioned and vacuumed into a tank. Compared to traditional mechanical digging methods, hydrovac excavation is safer, reducing the risk of cave-ins and other hazards associated with conventional excavation.

Hydrovac excavation employs a specialised vehicle equipped with a hose or wand. This wand injects water under pressure into the soil, breaking it up and transforming it into a slurry. The slurry is then vacuumed into a tank attached to the vehicle, keeping the worksite clean and orderly.

Precision and Control in Urban Environments

Hydrovac excavation is particularly useful in urban settings where precision and minimal impact are essential. It offers greater directional control, allowing technicians to work more accurately, especially near underground utilities. The technique is faster than traditional digging, minimising disruption in densely populated areas. Hydrovac excavation is ideal for city installations, sewer repairs, and plumbing, among other applications.

Environmental Sustainability in Project Management

Aussie Hydro-Vac Services leverages environmental sustainability best practices in project management, offering competitive advantages and economic benefits. The company utilises hydrovac excavation techniques with vehicles designed for non-destructive methods. This approach is particularly effective around sensitive infrastructure, offering a safe and efficient process.

State-of-the-Art Equipment and Infrastructure

Aussie Hydro-Vac Services is committed to sustainable environmental project management, promoting the judicious use of natural resources. The company's service range includes vacuum loading, drain and culvert cleaning, liquid and solid waste disposal, non-destructive digging, emergency response, and more. Its fleet includes the Cap Bora 3200 large vacuum unit, CCTV and geotech vans, medium vacuum excavation units, and Kaiser recycling units, ensuring efficient and effective hydrovac excavation.

Safety is paramount when working with underground utilities, and Aussie Hydro-Vac Services is equipped with the latest machinery, trucks, and skilled personnel to ensure the highest safety standards. Hydrovac excavation is an innovative solution for commercial, industrial drain cleaning, and utility applications.

For a safe, clean, precise, and cost-effective excavation solution, contact Aussie Hydro-Vac Services. The company's state-of-the-art hydrovac excavation methods are ideal for a variety of terrains, including frozen ground. Serving primarily in Queensland and New South Wales, Aussie Hydro-Vac Services has the capability to operate across Australia.

[reasoningdaily]

The Conversation: The importance of shining a light on hidden toxic histories

Indianapolis proudly claims Elvis’ last concert, Robert Kennedy’s speech in response to Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination, and the Indianapolis 500. There’s a 9/11 memorial, a Medal of Honor Memorial and a statue of former NFL quarterback Peyton Manning.

What few locals know, let alone tourists, is that the city also houses one of the largest dry cleaning Superfund sites in the U.S.

From 1952 to 2008, Tuchman Cleaners laundered clothes using perchloroethylene, or PERC, a neurotoxin and possible carcinogen. Tuchman operated a chain of cleaners throughout the city, which sent clothes to a facility on Keystone Avenue for cleaning. It was also the location where used solution was stored in underground tanks.

Inspectors noted the presence of volatile organic compounds from leaking tanks and possible spills as early as 1989. By 1994, an underground plume had spread to a nearby aquifer. By the time the EPA became involved in 2011, the underground chemical plume had seeped more than a mile underneath a residential area, reaching a well that supplies drinking water to the city.

When geographer Owen Dwyer, earth scientist Gabe Filippelli and I investigated and wrote about the social and environmental history of dry cleaning in Indianapolis, we were struck by how few people outside of the dry cleaning and environmental management fields were aware of this environmental damage.

There are no markers or memorials. There is no mention of it – or any other accounts of contamination – in Indianapolis’ many museums. This kind of silence has been called “environmental amnesia” or “collective forgetting.”

Societies celebrate heroes and commemorate tragedies. But where in public memory is environmental harm? What if people thought about it not only as a science or policy problem, but also as a part of history? Would it make a difference if pollution, along with biodiversity loss and climate change, was seen as part of our shared heritage?

The slow violence of contamination

Environmental harm often takes place gradually and out of sight, and this could be one reason why there’s so little public conversation and commemoration. In 2011, Princeton English professor Rob Nixon came up with a term for this kind of environmental degradation: slow violence.

As underground storage tanks leak, shipwrecks corrode, coal ash ponds seep and forever chemicals spread, the creeping pace of poisoned soil and water fails to garner the attention that more dramatic environmental disasters attract.

Certain interests benefit from hiding the costs of pollution and its remediation. Sociologists Scott Frickel and James R. Elliott have studied urban pollution, and they highlight three reasons for its pervasiveness and persistence.

First, in cities, small factories, auto repair shops, dry cleaners and other light industries sometimes only stay open for a decade or two, making it challenging to regulate them and track their environmental impacts over time. By the time contamination is discovered, many facilities have long been shuttered or purchased by new owners. And the polluters have a direct financial interest in not being connected with it, since they could be held liable and forced to pay for cleanup.

Similarly, urban neighborhoods tend to have shifting demographics, and local residents are often not aware of historical pollution.

Finally, it can simply be politically expedient to look the other way and ignore the consequences of pollution. Cities may be concerned that publicizing toxic histories discourage investment and depress property values, and politicians are hesitant to fund projects that may have a long-term benefit but short-term costs. Indianapolis, for example, tried for decades to avoid mitigating the raw sewage flowing into the White River and Fall Creek, arguing it was too expensive to deal with. Only when required by a consent decree did the city start to address the problem.

Toxic legacies are also difficult to track because their effects may be hidden by distance and time. Anthropologist Peter Little traced the outsourcing of electronics waste recycling, which is shipped from the places where electronics are bought and used, to countries such as Ghana, where labor is cheap and environmental regulations lax.

Then there are the toxic traces of military conflicts, which linger long after the fighting has stopped and troops have returned home. Historian and geologist Daniel Hubé has documented the long-term environmental impact of World War I munitions.

At the end of the war, unused and unexploded bombs and chemical weapons had to be disposed of. In France, at a site known as Place à Gaz, hundreds of thousands of chemical weapons were burned. Today, the soils have been found to have extraordinarily high levels of arsenic and other heavy metals.

More than a century after the end of the war, little grows on the contaminated, barren land.

Toxic tours and teaching moments

There’s a growing movement to make toxic histories more visible.

In Providence, Rhode Island, artist Holly Ewald founded the Urban Pond Procession to call attention to Mashapaug Pond, which was contaminated by a Gorham Silver factory. She worked with community partners to create wearable sculptures, puppets and giant fish, all of which were carried and worn in an annual parade that took place from 2008 to 2017.

Cultural anthropologist Amelia Fiske collaborated with artist Jonas Fischer to create the graphic novel “Tóxico,” which will be published in 2024. It depicts petroleum pollution in the Ecuadorian Amazon, as well as the struggles of those fighting for environmental justice.

Toxic tours can educate the public about the histories, causes and consequences of environmental harm. For example, Ironbound Community Corporation in Newark, New Jersey, offers a tour of severely contaminated sites, such as the location of the former Agent Orange factory, where the sediment in the sludge is laced with the carcinogen dioxin. The tour also goes by a detention center that’s built on a brownfield, which has only undergone industrial-level remediation because that’s the standard all prisons are held to.

In 2017, the Humanities Action Lab organized “Climates of Inequality,” a traveling exhibit co-curated by more than 20 universities and local partners exploring environmental issues affecting communities around the world. The exhibit brings attention to polluted waterways, the impacts of climate change, ecological damage on Indigenous lands and the ways in which immigrant agricultural workers experience heat stress and chronic pesticide exposure. The exhibits also explore the affected communities’ resilience and advocacy.

These stories of pollution and contamination, and their effects on people’s health and livelihoods, represent only a sampling of current efforts to curate toxic heritage. As sociologist Alice Mah writes in her foreword to “Toxic Heritage”: “Reckoning with toxic heritage is an urgent collective task. It is also unsettling work. It requires confronting painful truths about the roots of toxic injustice with courage, honesty, and humility.”

I see public commemoration of hidden toxic histories as a way to push back against denial, habituation and amnesia. It creates a space for public conversation, and it opens up possibilities for a more just and sustainable future.

[bladehorror]

Unlike Dragonhome, which the Earthshaker has barely touched after the shattering of the Pillar, the Shifting Expanse is a desert by design.

Usually, it isn't very windy during most of the year -- although it is rather cold, which is a surprise to those who come from other flights. The ever-brewing storm above needs to stay in place for as long as the Stormcatcher can keep it there and wind is generally a nuissance in the process, so there's plenty of climate control equipment all over the flight.

It doesn't work perpetually, however. Maintenance is needed, and it's better to have a predictable time table for these things than be caught in a situation where weather shields short-circuit and dragons have to work under a literal deluge to fix them.

In the brief annual period in which the thunder clouds above the Expanse finally precipitate, it all comes down hard. The entire flight is issued a warning weeks in advance, and efforts are taken to prepare for the scheduled floods and storms. Waterholes and tanks are cleaned, the dams and giant pipes that prevent the Carrion Canyon from becoming a giant river are checked for leaks and clogging, overworld lairs and equipment alike are properly stormproofed, and everyone is highly encouraged to go underground for the duration.

Then the shields are taken offline.

It usually happens right after Thundercrack Carnivale. The Deluge itself lasts for nearly three weeks, as the clouds have had all year to build up. It's a terrifying thing, near rivaling the Twisting Crescendo in intensity and much more unruly.

Beastkeepers, guards and even mercenaries are conscripted to patrol and guard entrances from infestations and wild animals, as well as offer what support they can give to beastclans looking for refuge. Water and Wind-born mages do their best to protect vulnerable points, and Earth-born dragons constantly reinforce the walls of the underground shelters as to prevent cave-ins, infiltrations and anything else that risks the clans inside.

It's a time of uncertainty and anxiety, as one never knows whether their home and belongings will outlast the storm; and while the Lightning followers are rather lax in their religious practices (less interested in ceremonies than in practical services in the form of work), it's a time some reserve to reflection, meditation and spiritual cleansing -- as the surface of the Expanse is being washed by the storm, so should they clean themselves.

In the days afterward, when the storm is over, it's time to go back up, assess the damage and begin rebuilding. Since this is a scheduled phenomenon, the vast majority of lairs are well prepared and damage is minimal, the biggest losses being temporary outposts and settlements, and the rare casualty of a poor uninformed traveller. These days preceding the next elemental festival are spent cleaning things, replanting crops and gardens (for more ostentatious lairs) and general mutual help.

The clouds take a while to build up after that. It's a rather idyllic period; the clear skies and bright days in the week that follows allow the land to dry up and the wild cacti to recover. All that warmth after the storm makes the Shifting Expanse home to the greatest celebration of Flameforger's Festival, second only to the Ashfall Waste itself.

[female-malice]

Almost every gas station eventually pollutes the earth beneath it. The main culprit: the underground storage tanks that hold tens of thousands of gallons of fuel, one of the most common sources of groundwater pollution. Typically, two or three of these giant, submarine-shaped tanks are buried under a station to store the gasoline and diesel that gets piped to the pump. A large tank might be 55 feet long and hold as many as 30,000 gallons; a typical tank might hold 10,000 gallons. Leaks can occur at any point — in the storage tank itself, in the gas pumps, and in the pipes that connect them. Hazardous chemicals can then spread rapidly through the soil, seeping into groundwater, lakes, or rivers. Even a dribble can pollute a wide area. Ten gallons of gasoline can contaminate 12 million gallons of groundwater — a significant risk, given that groundwater is the source of drinking water for nearly half of all Americans.

As a result, time-consuming cleanup efforts are unfolding all across the country, with remediation for a single gas station sometimes topping $1 million. Leaks are such a huge liability that they’ve led to a high-stakes game of hot potato, where no one wants to pay for the mess — not the gas station owners, not the insurance companies that provide coverage for tanks, not the oil companies that supply the fuel. In some states, polluters have shifted tens of millions of dollars in remediation costs onto taxpayers. Roughly 60,000 contaminated sites are still waiting to be cleaned up, according to the Environmental Protection Agency, or EPA — and those are just the ones that have been found.

The catastrophe was set in motion in the years after World War II, when many Americans bought cars and moved to the suburbs, spurring demand for gasoline. Oil companies helped build hundreds of thousands of gas stations around the country and installed steel storage tanks beneath them. But those steel tanks and piping, exposed to soil, corroded over time, and petroleum began seeping through cracks and holes, carrying carcinogens into the groundwater.

(continue reading)

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

I really hate landlords.

Our house was a rental most of its life. This means everything was done cheaply. The house used to have a septic tank, but a few years ago the landlord installed a sewage line and disconnected the septic tank. He had it done poorly and low quality. The line is too close to the surface and a portion is exposed. When we have thousands of dollars to spend, we'll have it replaced and put deeper underground.

The clean out valve thing that has a cap and surface access is missing two parts. This has resulted in crap literally coming up into the yard. The parts need to be installed, and our warranty won't cover this because it's not part of the foundation.

The fix for the cleanout valve thing is $100, plus another $90 foe the dispatch fee, which is money we won't have until Bubby's first paycheck. He won't be getting paid for another week or so.

I really hate landlords. Especially DIY weekend warrior types. They fuck things up so much. We knew this was a rental when we bought it. We knew we would have to make repairs. What we didn't know was how many nor how soon we would need to fix them. Last week, day before my bday, the water heater died and couldn't be repaired. It was 20 years old. It was replaced, and our warranty covered just under $400 of the $3168 it cost. Thankfully, this plumbing company has a financing option, making monthly payments possible.

Needless to say, I'm stressed tf out, frustrated, and wanna beat the ever living shit outta the previous owner.