#rainwater storage

[zooeytang]

On site experience and rainwater tank installation

[natinalpartisan]

Rainwater Collection System for Your Home: A Comprehensive Guide

Discover the perfect rainwater collection system for your home with our comprehensive guide. Water scarcity and environmental concerns have led many homeowners to explore sustainable solutions, and rainwater harvesting is an excellent choice. This informative guide will walk you through various options, such as rain barrels, cisterns, and underground tanks, highlighting their benefits, installation considerations, and maintenance requirements. Learn how to select the right system size, determine optimal collection points, and integrate filtration mechanisms for optimal water quality. Whether you want to reduce your water bills, conserve resources, or enhance your garden irrigation, this guide will empower you to make an informed decision for a greener, more sustainable home.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

'By the time we arrived,' Captain Warner wrote in his memoirs, 'the boys had set up a small commune with food gardens, hollowed-out tree trunks to store rainwater, a gymnasium with curious weights, a badminton court, chicken pens and a permanent fire, all from handiwork, an old knife blade and much determination.'

"Humankind: A Hopeful History" - Rutger Bregman

[skillofsurvival]

How to Store Water for Emergency Situations

It’s important to know how to store water for emergency situations, as having access to clean and safe drinking water is essential for survival, which is why it’s also one of the most important things to think about when survival prepping. Whether it’s a natural disaster, power outage, or any other emergency, having a supply of water stored can mean the difference between life and death. In this…

[goodlucktai]

17 with rise b-team?

dialogue prompts

17. “How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers.” 

x

“Ohmigosh!” Mikey scrambles down the fire escape with half of his usual grace—which is to say, not much—and lands with a clumsy splash next to Donnie’s boneless sprawl. “Donald, you hit the ground so hard pops probably heard it at home. Are you okay?”

Donnie makes a noise that just sounds like eeuuugrrgghheeuugh. Rainwater is seeping into him from all sides thanks to the puddle he landed in. Normally, he would be making this everyone’s problem by now. The fact that he’s just kind of laying there like he’s given up on life is really worth freaking out about. 

Worried, Mikey tugs frantically at the shoulder of Donnie’s jacket until he opens his eyes, then demands, “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

Squinting at him, Donatello thinks about it for a moment, then announces, “Six.”

“I don’t have six fingers!” Mikey shrieks, the peace sign he’s still holding up an inappropriately cheerful gesture for the current situation. 

His big brother scrambles upright at that, his wooden expression falling away and sheer panic flashing across his face instead. 

“What in Lovelace’s name do you mean you don’t have—”

Mikey lifts his left hand in its bright yellow short arm cast. They both look at it, and then Donnie puts his face in his hand without speaking in a way that manages to speak volumes. 

“You’re the one who told me to pretend like my broken hand wasn’t even there!” Mikey says defensively.

“Yes, because Nardo will hunt me for sport if you make that break any worse while I’m directly responsible for you.”

Drawing himself up to his full height, which isn’t remarkable on a good day and even less-so when he’s kneeling in the rainy mush of a Brooklyn alleyway, Mikey grits out, “I’m not a baby. I don’t need supervision.”

“Counterpoint, you are a baby and you do need supervision,” Donatello says dryly, heaving himself up off the ground. The battle shell absorbed the brunt of the impact, designed to protect his spine in pretty much every conceivable scenario, but he still looks like he feels pretty sore after that dramatic fall. He puts his hand out for Mikey to take, but Mikey sulks at him and ignores it. “Michael, I just watched you do a handspring off the railing of a sixth-story fire escape. 

“Yeah and it was sick.” 

Or it would have been, if not for the rusted joints that gave beneath roughly one hundred and fifty pounds of ninja turtle. Donnie’s last-minute save was sick as hell, though. 

He didn’t think twice before grabbing Mikey and hauling him onto the safety of the solid rooftop, using himself as a counterweight to pull it off. He wasn’t wearing the battleshell that could fly or turn into spiderlegs, because they were doing a junkyard run and he wanted the one with extra storage space instead. He knew he’d fall, he’s too smart not to have run all those calculations in the split-second he had, but he didn’t miss a beat. 

Mikey doesn’t like that Don almost got hurt helping him. It sours his righteous annoyance a little. And it also lessens his argument by a lot. 

“There are four of us, which divides neatly into two halves of two,” Donatello says patiently. “Two of us who are older, and two of us who are younger. You are firmly in the younger half. If it makes you feel any better, our fearless leader is, too. Why do you think Raph refuses to let him out of his sight while his leg is in that brace? You’re both the babies.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that to his face,” Mikey mutters, but it does make him feel better, so he lets Donnie haul him to his feet. 

And Donnie was right about more than that, because the second they meet up with Raph and Leo, Leonardo demands, “Miguelito, what did you do?”

As one, Donnie and Mikey look down at his cast—which, okay, which has a thin crack down the middle. Presumably from when Mikey landed on the roof after Donnie’s Hail Mary throw. How did Leo even see it from way over there? 

Donnie starts to look hunted even before Leo whirls on him and says, “You had one job, Tello—make sure his razz stayed un-tazzed!” 

“That is easily a three-turtle operation and there is only one of me!”

Since the twins can go on for ages once they really get started, Mikey drifts over to Raph, offering his biggest brother his best smile. Raph smiles back like a knee-jerk reaction, reaching over to rub Mikey’s head affectionately.

“Have fun, big man?”

“Yep!” Mikey says sweetly. “Donnie will probably tell you some crazy story about acrobatics on a rooftop, but you know how he likes to exaggerate when Leo eggs him on. We had a totally lowkey junk run. Can we get Crazyshakes on the way home?”

Raphie’s not stupid, but he has three very significant blind spots, and they’re all little-brother-shaped. He softens completely and lifts Mikey up to sit in place of pride on his shoulders, tall enough to see all of Manhattan. Then he passes up his phone, even though Mikey totally would have ordered the shakes on his!

He’ll never not complain about being one of the babies, but he has to admit—just to himself, in secret—that there are definitely some perks. 

“Make sure you get that shortcake one for Leon,” Raphie says offhandedly. “He’s been on a strawberry kick recently.”

Part of Mikey wants to roll his eyes at this additional bit of proof that Donnie is constantly right about everything. The much larger part of him just feels warm and sweet and cared for.

He wraps his arm around Raph’s head and squeezes, as much of a hug as he can manage with the phone in one hand and the other in a cast, and adds all four of their favorites to the order. The twins’ argument bounces off the alley walls around them, both of them on the verge of laughter by now and trying not to be the one who breaks first.

Mikey normally isn’t very fond of rainy days, but this one he wouldn’t mind living in. 

[waywardstation]

Cold to the Touch

Phione Akari AU

As a phione, it's hard for Akari to find anything fun or entertaining to do. But she still manages, even if it's at Ingo's expense.

I wrote this after I got a request to write about something for this AU with lower stakes and let Akari have some fun, after putting out several segments that were pretty stressful and sad for the characters. And if possible, to have her prank Ingo. I did my best hopefully!!!

OR read here on AO3!

AND check out the Phione Akari AU masterpost!

Enjoy!

————

There were many, many things Akari hated about being a Phione. 

Many changes. Many limitations. Many problems. 

But this was not one of them. 

In fact, she found that this was quite fun.

“And if I could have two of those leek salves, and a half-bag of those dried apricorns?”

Choy grabbed two small purple bottles and began weighing out a bag of the nut fruits as Ingo browsed the wares at the storefront, pointing out what he wanted to purchase. While there wasn’t much room with everything out on display, he did his best to keep himself under the protection of the storefront’s awning — the rain was coming down hard today.

And as much as he disliked the idea of dragging all of this stuff around with him in the coastlands, especially in weather like this, he had promised Akari he would actually take better care of himself out there now while continuing his search.

No more sleeping on the ground, or against trees and boulders. No more living off whatever he picked off of bushes and trees. No more foregoing needed sleep for a few more hours of searching. No more sacrificing his health when he didn’t need to.

“Anything else for you today?” Choy asked as he placed them down next to the other items that had been requested.

“Oh, one last thing; do you perhaps have a lightweight roll or sleeping mat?” Ingo searched past the shopkeeper at the storage shelves behind him, leading Choy to look over his shoulder — he could see what looked like a few different sleeping rolls. “Like the ones the Ginkgo Guild members are equipped wITh-!”

An awkward jerk as Ingo scrunched his neck into his shoulder, crashing the sentence with an odd jump. A subsequent squeak from somewhere in his coat collar, quiet enough for only Ingo to hear.

“Everything alright?” Choy looked back from the shelves, giving him a look halfway between confusion and concern.

“I uh, apologize. Unfortunately, too many nights sleeping on the ground has left me with a sore spine, is all.” Ingo tentatively answered, rubbing at his neck. “It… pulls sometimes. I’m sure you can now understand my need for an adequate sleeping mat.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Nodding his head, Choy stepped away from the shelf he had been approaching. “I understand! These rolls might be too thin; I have some thicker ones in the back that might be better for that. I’ll be right back with one.”

Ingo watched the man disappear behind the rows of shelves, making sure he was out of earshot before he hooked his lapel with a finger and pulled it back.

“Miss Akari, please!” He whispered into the collar of his coat. He could not see her and he was too saturated with rainwater to feel where she was, but he knew she was in there somewhere; he could hear her snickering. “You know I’m not fond of that!”

“Phi-phi!” She retorted. While Ingo had no idea what she was saying, the bubbly tone of amusement in her voice indicated she wasn’t taking him seriously.

He was sure it was because of a phione’s adaptability to water and its strange thermoregulatory characteristics — Professor Laventon had said something about it — but whenever it rained, Akari became just as cold as the falling water that mixed with her. Like ice cold. It turned her little flippers into something more like the freezing hands of death. And she unfortunately found it funny to -

“AH!” The frigid touch of Akari’s ribbon-like appendage (now more comparable to the frozen fingers of a froslass) against his neck made him flinch before forcing himself back down into a whisper. “Miss Akari-!”  

“Warden?” Choy called out from the back. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Not to worry, it’s simply an instance of my neck bothering me again!” Ingo lied through his teeth. One last quick whisper into his coat collar, towards quiet giggling. “Please-”

“Alright, I’ve got a couple here that you can look at!” Returning from the back shelves, Choy heaved a bundle of various mats onto a display table with a grunt. “All varying degrees of sturdiness, but maybe you’ll like one of them.”

Ingo browsed the mats, pressing down on the different materials and lifting edges to test heaviness. Some were too firm to be kind to his back, and some were too bulky to comfortably carry. None of them seemed very suitable for him, honestly... 

As he browsed, Ingo couldn’t help but notice he was actually being left alone. No icy jabs, no startling coldness. Maybe Akari was listening to him now. it was nice not feeling the freezing hands of death grasping at the back of his-

“GHh-!” Ingo jerked awkwardly again, tucking his chin down against his chest and hissing through his teeth. He spoke too soon.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a thicker mat? Or at least a neck roll for support? It seems…” Choy stalled for a moment, filtering his words into something kinder. “Bad.”

“No no, I can assure you it’s temporary! It’s simply rather distracting, ” Ingo emphasized the last word quite forcefully, rubbing at his neck. “I’m confident that’s the last time it’ll happen.”

“Maybe at least have the medical corps look at it before you go.” Choy did not sound any less concerned.

“Perhaps I will make that detour,” Ingo brushed it off kindly. He was going to have to make this quick, it seemed Akari was intent on embarrassing him in public just for some amusement. “I apologize for having you drag all of these mats out, but I may have to go with one of the previous, lighter alternatives.”

“Not a problem,” Choy pushed the heavier rolls aside and turned to pull down one he had initially suggested; a simple green one, tied with wound rope. “This mat’s good then?”

“I believe so,” Already searching through the inner pockets of his coat for money, Ingo only gave the roll a passing glance to confirm. “I think that’s everything I need.”

“Sounds good,” Choy lugged the mat up onto the table, bunching it with everything else he had requested and quickly reevaluating it all. “Alright, together that’ll be seven-thousand six-hundred.”

“Mm-hmm,” Head down, Ingo began counting out what he had in his hands. He should have enough…

“Oh, but wait-”

Thinking something was wrong, Ingo glanced up only to see Choy setting a small box on top of his pile of supplies.

“Just a few honey cakes, no extra charge.”

Ingo blinked, not catching the sudden tiny squeak from within his coat. “No charge? Thank you, and please understand I am not at all ungrateful for the offer, but… I’d like to know why?”

“Well, because I appreciate your business!” Short and simple, Choy clasped his hands together.

Ingo sized up the box; it wasn’t terribly big, but it certainly wasn’t small either. Truely, it was a kind gesture, but to him, all he saw was more cargo to lug around, more weight to tug at his back. And he wasn’t sure he could keep it from becoming soggy in the rain, anyways. 

And he couldn’t help but feel that it was perhaps a pity gesture; he knew Choy had seen him practically drag himself through Jubilife’s gates the other day.

“I greatly appreciate it, but I couldn’t in good conscience, really.” Ingo gave Choy an apologetic, flat-lined smile, putting up a hand. “Those are your wares! Please, keep them.”

Another small squeak, and this time Ingo heard it. He preemptively placed his hand over his neck just before she could touch him, her icy flippers patting his fingers instead.

“Then take it as a gift of support, please.” Choy extended a more genuine tone now, he confirmed what Ingo had suspected about it being a pity gesture. “I know what all of these supplies are for, Warden. You’ve been doing so much to find Akari, and this weather definitely isn’t making things any easier for anyone right now. And I can empathize; all this sudden rain’s been making it hard for Yui today. She can’t seem to shake this terrible sickness that won’t leave her alone, and it’s been really difficult lately to-”

“AAa -HaAH-!” Ingo interrupted with an embarrassingly loud shout, suddenly jerking forward with scrunched shoulders as both hands frantically clamped against his neck. “Just- Ahck! Stop it-!”

“...I’m sorry?” Staring at Ingo in bewilderment, the appalled tone of Choy’s voice was painfully shame-inducing. The heavy atmosphere pressed down on Ingo’s shoulders, the rain in his coat suddenly pulling down on him like heavy weights.

Oh Arceus. Did he really just laugh while Choy was empathizing with him over his sick wife? 

Did he really just say stop it??

“Ahem!” Ingo cleared his throat gratuitously into a fist, his face burning like fire as he realized what he just did. “M-my deepest apologies for that! Illness is terribly unfortunate, and I hope for nothing but a quick recovery for your poor wife! I absolutely didn’t mean to- Please, excuse me for a moment!”

“Right.” Choy crossed his arms, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as Ingo stiffly hurried out into the rain, rushing around the right corner of the store.

Reaching the bridge that led to the housing units, Ingo stopped and made sure no one else was around to hear. Reaching into his coat collar and fishing Akari out of it, he held her close to his (still very red) face with one hand, sternly shaking a finger at her with the other. “Miss Akari!” Don’t- don’t do that! Just because I said no cold shocks, that doesn’t mean you can start tickling m-!”

“Phi-phi!” She squeaked back at him avidly. He didn’t understand, but with her troubled eyes and tone, he could clearly see she wasn’t laughing anymore — she probably realized how inappropriate the timing of that was, regardless of how accidental it was.

Ingo’s frown pulled, his eyes narrowing from behind the raindrops now dripping off his hat’s brim. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, Miss Akari, but I recall you fervently requesting me to keep you both concealed and inconspicuous while in Jubilife. I’d say this is making it difficult to do either!”

“Phi!” Freezing cold flippers wrapped around his thumb as she hugged it tightly. She often did that when expressing gratitude or apologetics to him, an extension of hugging him as a whole. Her guilty eyes indicated it was clearly the latter reason, this time.

“It’s alright, just please, please, don’t repeat it. I would very much like to complete this transaction in peace.” Ingo accepted the apology. He had planned for that to be the end of it and moved his hand to place her back in his coat collar, but she squeaked at him again.

When Ingo pulled her back, she made an exaggerated motion that resembled eating, holding her flippers up and mimicking taking bites out of something. 

He couldn’t make a guess until she pointed at the side of the general store, then repeated the motion again.

“The honey cakes? You wanted those honey cakes?”

“Phi!” She clapped her flippers together, celebrating his correct guess.

“Just one of those is bigger than your head; it takes you two days to consume one.” Ingo shook his head. “And there are several in that box; I’m afraid they’ll go to waste.”

Akari made a pleading motion and held her flippers together up at him with big eyes, but otherwise she grew quiet, and Ingo’s features softened.

She’s had it very hard. He knew that. These past few weeks had been terrible and frustrating and confusing. And while the last three days had certainly been much happier with his revelation over who she was, it still… it didn’t have much in it to be happy about in general, and he knew Akari was depressed with her limitations.

The giggles she had let out in his coat earlier was the first time he had really heard her laughing or having fun in a long while (even if it had been at his expense… but really, as a phione, there weren’t many things she could do to entertain herself right now).

So what was the harm in getting her some simple sweets? Giving her something to be happy about?

Ingo’s words left his mouth in a cloud of breath, visible in the frigid air. “Alright, Miss Akari. I will get them for you.”

“Phi!” She squeaked, a little surprised, but clearly happy. She hugged her flippers around his thumb again in a gesture of gratitude as he brought her back to his shoulder, tugging the lapel of his coat back.

“But please do your best to finish them! And please, no more cold touches. Or tickling.” He added as she wiggled back into her spot, amongst the folds of his tunic’s hood. “I would not like to laugh at that poor young man’s sick wife for a second time.”

The subsequent giggling at his shoulder was his only response as he smoothed his coat collar back down, but that was enough for him.

Now. To somehow find the strength to go back and face Choy. Ingo took a deep breath, steeling himself as he turned to walk back around the corner of the building. Ugh, he could already feel the blush of shame returning.

“I’d like to once again apologize for that outburst,” Rounding the corner, Ingo took his place back before Choy, who still appeared rightfully upset; arms now crossed, the store owner seemed much less amiable now. “Truely, I didn’t mean to laugh during such a sensitive subject.”

“Was that the fault of your sore neck as well?” Choy reached up to take his glasses and clean a few stray raindrops off them with his hanten. His words were painfully flat.

“Ahah… uhm, no,” Ingo coughed. “My mind simply reminded me of very ill-timed joke. Very unfortunate timing.”

Choy didn’t really believe him, Ingo could see it in his eyes. Regardless, he adjusted his glasses back on his nose, and went to grab up Ingo’s items, sliding them across the display table. “Unfortunate indeed. Here are your items, Warden.”  

“Oh, thank you. Though also, before I depart-” Ingo held out the money he owed, but began searching through his coat pockets again. “I believe I’ve had a track change; I would like those honey cakes after all. But please, allow me to pay for it in full; it’s the least I could do. And again, I do hope your wife recovers swiftly.”

It seemed Choy’s hardened features softened a little as Ingo dropped the money into his hand.

[beautyandlifestyleblog86]

Ways to practice eco-friendly living in your home

1. Reduce energy consumption:

- Install energy-efficient appliances and LED light bulbs.

- Turn off lights and unplug electronics when not in use.

- Use natural light as much as possible.

- Set your thermostat to a lower temperature in winter and higher in summer.

- Insulate your home properly to reduce heating and cooling needs.

2. Save water:

- Fix any leaks in faucets and toilets promptly.

- Install low-flow showerheads and faucets.

- Collect rainwater for watering plants.

- Only run the dishwasher and washing machine with full loads.

- Use a broom instead of a hose to clean outdoor spaces.

3. Practice waste reduction:

- Recycle paper, plastic, glass, and metal.

- Compost kitchen scraps and yard waste.

- Opt for reusable products instead of disposable ones (e.g., cloth napkins, rechargeable batteries).

- Avoid single-use plastics, such as plastic bags and water bottles.

- Use a reusable shopping bag.

4. Use eco-friendly cleaning products:

- Choose natural, non-toxic cleaning products or make your own using ingredients like vinegar, baking soda, and lemon juice.

- Avoid products containing harmful chemicals that can harm the environment and your health.

5. Grow your own food:

- Plant a garden to grow vegetables, fruits, and herbs.

- Use organic and natural fertilizers instead of synthetic ones.

- Compost food scraps to enrich the soil.

6. Opt for sustainable materials:

- Choose furniture made from sustainable materials like bamboo or reclaimed wood.

- Use eco-friendly flooring options like bamboo, cork, or reclaimed hardwood.

- Select paint and other finishes that have low or no volatile organic compounds (VOCs).

7. Reduce plastic waste in the kitchen:

- Use glass or stainless-steel containers for food storage instead of plastic.

- Replace plastic wrap with beeswax wraps or reusable silicone covers.

- Use refillable water bottles and avoid buying bottled water.

8. Conserve energy in the kitchen:

- Use energy-efficient appliances.

- Cook with lids on pots and pans to retain heat and reduce cooking time.

- Opt for smaller appliances like toaster ovens instead of full-sized ovens when possible.

9. Encourage sustainable transportation:

- Use public transportation, walk, or bike whenever possible.

- Carpool or arrange a car-sharing service with neighbors or colleagues.

- Transition to an electric or hybrid vehicle if feasible.

10. Educate and involve your family:

- Teach your family about the importance of eco-friendly practices and involve them in the decision-making process.

- Encourage everyone to adopt sustainable habits and lead by example.

- Discuss environmental issues and brainstorm new ideas for greener living.

[eluminium]

Skizz Week 2 Day 2! We keep goin' on! Wooo! As always, thank you @skizzlemanweek for the prompts!

Prompt 2: Sun / Storm

Ugh, and there goes his day.

Skizz sighs as he looks out through the one-block gap where the entrance to his base usually is. Outside, a literal waterfall of rainwater pounds into the staircase as it runs off of the crack. He can't see much past that but he can't imagine that it's any less wet. Which makes progress on his projects impossible, unless he wants to work without the ability to fly and while being waterlogged by the server.

"I can't be too mad though, it's not like I didn't know" He reluctantly grumbles to himself, stepping away from the one-wide. Xisuma had warned them all about the power of this storm a week in advance. It's just his terrible luck that the storm came right when he actually wanted to work!

"Just because you knew doesn't make it suck any less" His brain uselessly quips as he sits down on his empty bed. And by "it", his brain means "The Cold". Skizz grits his teeth at the reminder, at the feeling of aching numbness eating at his joints and digging into his chest. He rubs his arms to try and create some friction warmth, but it barely lasts a second before he's cold and sluggish again. He flops down on the bed grumpily.

Every time! Every time he builds a base he forgets to put some kind of heat source, and then it inevitably gets cold and his limbs move like someone injected slushie straight into his bloodstream. You'd think he had learned his lesson the 500th time it happened, but apparently not! He can't even go and try to steal body heat from Impulse like he usually does! Now he has to do stuff like block off his entrance just to try and keep some heat in!

He huffs in frustration. There's gotta be something more he can do to try and keep warm! Heaving himself back up, he drags his feet into the storage room. It's just as cold as the main room, owing to the hole that leads into Breadstick's pasture, so hunkering down here is a no-go. But he does have a decent supply of wool and blankets. He stuffs as much as he can into his inventory and stumbles back out into the main room. That's when he spots it. His savior! The Woe Room! The one place in his base where there aren't any goddamn holes leading to the outside!

He nearly kicks open the door in excitement and starts throwing the contents of his inventory into the small space. After emptying everything out, he heads back to get more from the storage.

"SKIZZ!"

He's in the middle of throwing another blanket through the door but it just drops to his feet as he screams in surprise. With a quick twist and his mitts up and ready, he glares at the source of the voice.

…Which happens to be Tango's bald and wet head sticking through the aforementioned one-wide hole.

"TOP?! What the hell man?! What are you doing?!" Skizz yells in utter confusion. Why is he outside during a massive storm? He, of all people?

"Clearly I'm STUCK in your BLOCKED OFF DOOR! HELP MEEE!" Tango screeches in panic as he tries to wiggle through the hole. Seems like his shoulders are too broad to fit through cleanly. If the situation was less urgent, Skizz would have taken at least 30 seconds to just laugh at Tango's misfortune, but instead, he grips his newly summoned pickaxe and swiftly digs out the block underneath. He then grabs onto Tango's shoulder and drags him into the safety of his base.

"Oh, sweet dryness! Thank you roof!" Tango exclaims with his arms held up in the air like he's praying or something. Skizz snorts at that, and he starts properly giggling when he notices Tango is DRENCHED. The flame on his head is fully out and under him, a puddle of water slowly expands outward.

"What were you doing outside, dude?" Skizz questions with a grin as he grabs a torch from the wall. Tango glares at him.

"What do you think I was doing? Taking a shower in public?" He grumbles, looking extra grumpy with water dropping from his stupid face.

"You shower with your clothes on?!" Skizz giggles as he bonks the torch on Tango's head, which Tango dignifies with a "yeouch!". The flame tries to spread but the lingering water stubbornly puts it out any time it catches.

"No! I- You know what I mean!" Tango huffs while crossing his arms, looking about 75% done with Skizz's giggling.

"Well, you gotta get outta those clothes now anyway," Skizz tsks and hands Tango the torch. He registers that he's supposed to put the torch against his head before he registers what Skizz just said, but really, the difference is in milliseconds.

"DAEYGH- Take me to dinner first, at least!" He barks out, a light blush decorating his cheeks.

Skizz cackles. "Come on, man! We've run through the Nether naked, we've run through an Ancient City naked, and we've run through a Trial Chamber naked! There's nothing under there I haven't seen before, Top!" He puts another blanket and a pillow in the Woe Room. Thank the Void for Impulse gifting him a bunch of beds as a joke.

Tango bristles. "I don't want to add your base to the list of things I've ran around naked in though!"

"Oh, you're such a whiner! Take this and shut up!" Two towels fly through the air and nail Tango in the chest hard enough that he almost falls over. Mumbling some choice but fond words for Skizz, he takes his wet butt behind the chests in the storage room.

Skizz, for his part, starts organizing the pile of soft and warm things in the Woe Room into some sort of massive nest. Every bit of the floor is covered in blankets, wool, mattresses, and pillows, creating a rather cozy atmosphere. The torches on the walls cast the place in a soft light. The storm still rages outside, strong as ever.

Soon enough, Skizz claps his hands together.

"Job well done!" He smiles, already feeling warmer. Tango peaks his now on-fire head in.

"You got room for one more in your mancave here?" He asks, despite already knowing the answer.

Skizz scratches his chin dramatically. "Hmmm, I don't know, Top. Maybe there's not enough room for the both of us…HMMMM…I'll let you stay if you warm up the room!"

Tango rolls his eyes, but dutifully steps in, one of the towels comfortably wrapped around him. It's not like he can choose to not warm the room up unless he wants to pour another water bucket on his head.

He sits down near Skizz, and a little book and quill fall out from the towel. He wastes no time picking them up and flipping through the pages. It must be a notebook of some kind. Skizz snorts, typical Tango to keep working even if he's stuck inside someone's base and only dressed in a towel. In turn, Skizz takes out a Rubik's cube from his inventory. He can't just sit here, after all, then he'll get bored!

They sit in comfortable silence, only occasionally broken up by random noises of frustration or success or confusion. Maybe a few conversations here and there, too. Outside, thunder roars and the rain plows onwards. But it's a lot less annoying and a lot more cozy now that Skizz isn't freezing his nips off and he has a buddy to hang out with. A buddy who happens to be a walking hearth fire, too!

Y'know what, maybe his day wasn't as wasted as he made it out to be.

[cognitivejustice]

A solar-powered house with eco-waste management

Water and energy conservation are also vital elements of Casa Quinchuyaku by Emilio López (see more here). The house collects and stores water from existing decks, while the roof facilitates water collection and houses energy storage batteries for solar panels, which provide 100% of the electrical energy needed. In response to the intense erosion process affecting the slopes of Ilaló, the project focuses on soil regeneration, using gray water from bathrooms and kitchens for tree irrigation and implementing terraces and rainwater infiltration ditches to improve soil conditions. Furthermore, Casa Quinchuyaku incorporates sustainable waste management practices, including a dry bath system that converts human waste into compost for plants and trees, as well as composters for organic kitchen waste. This project serves as a harmonious blend of architecture, landscape, and sustainability, showcasing a holistic approach to environmentally responsible living.

[wicca-foxes]

Witchcraft and recycling

Wicca, and by extension witchcraft, value nature as both a host and a guest in our lifes. Making the most of our resourses is both financially wise and respectful of our believes and values. It is very easy to emast a wide catalogue of stuff in our every day lifes, harvesting what we can to reuse can be a fun way to recycle.

A few examples of using "scraps" for witchcraft:

recycling paper at home, using opened envelopes to write your spells/notes on;

collecting rainwater to use in spells and for watering plants;

using kitchen scraps (like lemon peels, orange peels, used cinnamon sticks) as offerings;

using the coffee zest for fertiliser (do not worry it is around pH7 and it's perfectly safe for plants and/or composting - I have tested it) or lose tea;

using old/damaged chopsticks as a "beginner wand";

the bottles from cooking extracts (vanilla extract, orange extract) or essential oils bottles are PERFECT for storing seeds and for being spell jars (bonus points because they're so small and cute!);

re-melting remaining wax from candles to form new ones;

using old paintbrushes as a "beginner broom" (especially good for a hidden/small-pocket sized altar);

using an old pot as a cauldron, or thrifting one as needed;

using pressed/dried flowers as offerings;

considering a digital book of shadows (Word is excelent for this, combining it with Excel, can be used in browser for free);

using digital libraries for books of study (@coreycore420 mentioned https://z-lib.org and it's a godly recommandation and tool!);

avoiding essential oils;

using dried pine needles as incense sticks (for outdoor use only);

growing a few herbs used in both spells and cooking in tin cans (starters) then thrifted pots is amazing!;

going around your neighborhood, take a look around the dumpsters or glass collectors, people can throw away usable pots, plastic storage boxes, baskets or jars and glass bottles (make sure to properly clean and clense the item);

if avalable - trade and swap local groups on Facebook can help you thrift with ease, especially if you don't have thrift stores where you live;

using old papers/magazines as packaging/wrapping paper (hello holidays).

With all these corner-cutters, you need to be careful to not hoard items. I have made the mistake of holding to items thinking I can find them an use, my rule of thumb is that 1 month is enough to plan a craft/purpose, and 2 months to execute it, ajust the time to your liking, but don't keep it longer than 6 months overall. Also be prudent with what you plan to reuse, as certain ideas can be dangerous (not me looking at my idea to reuse burned out lightbulbs and cutting myself by mistake), so don't force anything.

I want to highlight an important aspect: you doing all these things, bending your way back to have a lesser impact on the environment, is not going to make the big impat you dream of. Take it as "I'm doing my part to respect my host and my believes", or as a challange. Do not sadden youself for your waste, as most of the time it is forced upon you.

Nowadays you can opt out of certain waste (opting for no cutlery if buying takeaway, bringing your own coffee cup/thermos to a coffee shop to avoid the paper cups, bringing your own reusable straws, using trays or silicone ice cubes instead of using the plastic ice-maker packs, etc.). There are little changes you can make, or ask for, in your life in order to minimise your waste, or just to save some money.

Please take care of yourself out there!

[zooeytang]

What you should pay attention when having a meeting with your clients  #designscheme #designschemes #MeetingWithClient #meetingwithclients #rainwatercollecting #RainwaterHarvesting #rainwaterharvestingsystem #designpresentation #businessmeeting #constructionmeeting #constructiondesign #PRESSURETANK #pressuretanks #resevoir #Storagetank #waterreserviour #reservior #reseviour

[queer-crip-grows]

Right-to-buy council houses without specifically only releasing housing that already had a replacement built was of the most notable ways of the *many* that Thatcher et al screwed the UK.

I’d love to have a law put in place that landlords either have to sign contracts to provide housing under council house-type contracts with rent controls to people on housing benefit etc, or sell to the local council at compulsory purchase prices.

Same for all the houses not being lived in - use to house people under contractual controls, or have to sell to the council housing central fund.

Personally I’d start converting all the office units that are no longer needed because so many people are working remotely now into housing too.

Same for the huge city centre shops - I’m not sure if the pattern repeats elsewhere, but I live near Glasgow and the city centre has basically died since Covid. No one is renting the huge retail stores and the place is full of unhoused folk, which is a fucking scandal. So convert them into housing; let the buildings see use, and let those folks get off the streets. Pets and kids specifically allowed too - get families out of one-room shelters and into proper homes of their own.

I’ve heard that there would be issues putting in water infrastructure, but given the place is literally crumbling already and usage in so many areas is so low that having workers digging up the streets to install water lines wouldn’t cause enormous disruption, the time to do this is *now*. Build rainwater catchment and purification systems on roofs too - we get so much rain in the UK it’s kind of ridiculous not to use it! Some of that could go directly to drip irrigation in gardens, but plenty could go right into the houses/flats too. And of course this would provide tons of jobs in construction, architecture, planning etc etc.

Install gardens and green spaces around the place while you are doing this - offer some at low rent, or to buy cheaply, to market gardeners, but specifically put spaces in for communal gardens with the idea of offering allotments and encouraging people to grow their own food.

Put solar panels on every roof and integrate spaces for smaller wind turbines amongst the houses too. Huge storage batteries in basements to make the new blocks as low-footprint and self-sufficient as possible power-wise.

It would be a *fantastic* opportunity to create genuinely accessible housing - office buildings and shops already have lifts and wide corridors ideal for wheelchairs and other mobility devices, so keep that in the design when creating housing. There is a hidden epidemic of houselessness amongst disabled people and older folk with mobility needs, so create low-rent council housing that specifically fits those needs there.

It would regenerate the areas - all the smaller shopfronts not suitable for housing conversion would fill up with people offering the things people in residential neighbourhoods need, with a guaranteed payer base. People on low incomes *use* all of their incomes on necessities, so small businesses selling those necessities will do well. Offer small businesses low rents to provide those necessities. Any that don’t fill up, offer to charities and use for council staff offering the aid and advice people transitioning into housing actually *need*.

Carers are generally low-paid - so this would be an opportunity to offer them cheap housing close to a huge client base in the new accessible housing. No need for low-paid, mostly-female workers to dash constantly between clients in cars. They could walk to work and walk in between clients, who would also no longer be trapped in inaccessible homes, so people who are not actually bedbound would hopefully be less housebound.

Put rooms in the blocks for communal and co-op activities to reduce isolation - with the lifts and wide corridors, even people who are functionally housebound are likely to be able to make it to a room in their own building, and even quite young children could get to those places safely on their own if their parents are working. Wraparound childcare, paid and informal, near where folks actually live.

City centre areas that are now largely dead other than unhoused people, with limited and decreasing zero economic activity taking place and a decreasing incentive for businesses to set up there rather than in out-of-town retail parks people need to drive to, would become vibrant communities with every incentive for businesses to set up there, particularly for the small businesses that still employ the majority of people.

It wouldn’t take a lot to extend this model to transform those out-of-town business parks that are currently largely empty either; nothing says the businesses that are still there would need to move, and they would have a huge new pool of potential employees living within easily walkable distance, though there would need to be oversight to make sure places like Amazon didn’t attempt to buy them up and turn them into company housing. There would need to be a little more investment to provide green transport links like electric buses and trains so that it would be easier for small businesses to move in to provide services, but given the tax income that would result and the reduction in pollution the investment would probably pay itself back within a decade or so.

[the-californicationist]

Granted (SanSan AU)

Sansa Stark inherited her family’s ranch after a series of terrible tragedies. Needing help, she hired Sandor Clegane - a washed out rodeo king. The two of them rescue a cow in the back pasture and roll around in the hay. Warnings: Modern setting AU. Pure smut propped up with the skeleton of a story. Anal. Outdoor sex.

He came in wet, the wooden door banging shut behind him, black hair plastered to his head under his beaten up cowboy hat. The rainwater was dripping from the tips of his hair and running into his worried eyes. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily from his exertion, chest heaving and ribs straining against his shirt. His jacket and jeans were soaked through and clinging to his skin, painted on his body in cold heavy fabric. 

He stared right into her face, unflinching. It was as if he had a whole conversation with her in his mind, silently telling her the deepest secrets and fears and joys he’s ever known, asking her for more and more, begging her with his fiery gaze. She had never seen him attempt such deliberate and fearsome eye contact with her. He usually turned away, stared out into their open fields or down at his boots. 

As if realizing his odd demeanor, when he spoke, none of the kindled flame remained in his voice. His question came out like a smooth, round stone: quiet, cold, unfeeling. 

“Where do you keep the spare blankets?”

She didn’t answer him right away, instead raising an eyebrow to question his motives. He continued without her,

“Cow is stuck on the north corner, giving birth to twins. Vet says he’ll be here in the morning but they won’t last the night in the cold.”

She turned off the stove’s burner and grabbed her coat. Packing quickly, she grabbed her keys and headed to the backyard, leading him to the old barn they only used for storage these days. She flung open the side door and he put his flashlight above her head so she could see. He towered over her, eyes searching the dark barn for movement that wouldn’t be there. She flipped open two chests and hauled out the extra blankets, grabbing a canister of grain as she kicked the door shut. 

Feet squishing through the mud and tall grass, they all but fell into his truck, tossing the blankets and feed into his covered bed. The engine roared to life just as a bolt of lightning split the sky apart. A threatening peal of thunder followed not long behind. 

They rode in silence, and the rattling of the truck did little to fill the void. When her father was killed, and her brothers along with him, she’d been left with the Stark family farm, but she hadn’t had the faintest idea about how to run it, always preferring indoor activities when given the choice between that or shit-kicking. So, she hired Sandor Clegane, the washed up rodeo king of Wyoming turned cowhand. He was too good for the job he did. He fixed the equipment, mended fences, herded cattle, killed coyotes, and dealt with ranch barons who wanted to come in and buy her out for cents on the dollar. 

The burns that scared half of his face and neck were objectively grotesque. The sheen of the healed tissue as it pulled against his jaw reminded her of cellophane, crinkled in all the wrong places. He was a master at crowd control - be it livestock or human beings. His imposing size and animalistic musculature made even the most hardened men think twice about even considering raising a challenge to him. All the better, because his attitude was that of a hungry copperhead. 

He was her opposite in every way. Tough when she was fearful, strong when she was frail, bold when she was meek. But, he had brought out the wolf inside of her over the years, she had to admit. When he had first come to the farm, she could barely meet his eyes, but now she stood beside him as they stared down each challenge that wandered across their ranch’s path. 

They had made more money together in the past two years than the farm had ever turned when her father had been alive, and that was why the other ranchers were trying harder than ever to make her sell. One had even sent his son over, pretending to be wounded, in hopes she’d care for him and eventually be inclined to his marriage proposal - all to find out it was a sham. 

Now, looking at his hulking form across from hers in his truck, she couldn’t imagine waking up without Sandor in her life. She wondered, in more detail on lonely nights, what those huge, rough hands must feel like when they become wrapped around a person’s skin. Would they be rough and certain? Or would they be tender, knowing their ability to cause pain? 

She hadn’t noticed how she was dressed for this excursion, but she was painfully aware of it now that she was shivering on the bench seat. Her yellow cotton dress, dotted with little embroidered daisies, clung to her belly and legs from the rain. Her dad’s old green sweater hung off one shoulder, the neck too worn out to fit right. A woolen shawl she had knitted years ago was wrapped around her chest. A worn pair of socks stretched over her knees, and her muddy duck boots kept her feet warm and dry. 

She looked over at Sandor and caught his eye. He turned the heat up on the console and pointed his vents toward her. 

“You cold, little bird?” 

His voice was so dark and deep; it rumbled toward her like a landslide. He was always yelling at the hired hands and hollering at his horse, Stranger, so it was no wonder he sounded gravelly. 

“It’s really coming down. Thought we were supposed to get a break,” she commented, gazing out the window across the flatlands. 

“Gonna be a long night,” he lamented. 

Forty minutes later and they made it to the lean-to where the cow was holed up and pleading with them through unhappy lowing. Sandor managed to fit a halter on her and keep her tied to the hitching rings, but she was in pain and they could tell. 

“What’s keeping the vet?” Sansa asked him. 

He patted the cow’s big neck and checked her for obvious injuries,

“Said something about going to the city for a big race horse with a broken leg. Probably heaps of money in it for him.”

She nodded, understanding but still sorry there was no recourse. 

The lean-to was big enough for about ten head of cattle, and there was a small room off to the side for hay storage. She watched as the enormous cowboy pulled bales out of their storage with extreme ease and spread it across the floor for the cow to lay on. With the store room now empty, he put a hand on his hip and gestured to the wooden floor,

“Well. It’s not the Hilton. I’d offer to drive you back up to the big house but I know what you’ll say. You’ll chirp and whine about needing to be out here, so you might as well settle in.”

She turned away from the room and looked back at the tired cow,

“I know. I’m sorry, Sandor. I just don’t wanna leave her here.”

She had always called him Mr. Clegane, but after he snapped at her one night, she had finally agreed to go by first names because he was “nobody’s mister.” 

He paused for a moment, thinking about something unseen, and breathed out a hard sigh. The sun was setting fast, so after he organized the cow’s tack, he ran back into the rain to grab their bags. Sandor hung the blankets and put their packs just inside the door. She sat on a hay bale and checked her phone for service. 

“No bars out here, princess,” he said, dryly. 

She powered it off and zipped it into her bag. The oats she took from the barn were still in the large container. She started up her small, beaten up Biolite and got a fire burning. She poured out some water from her pack and mixed in the oats with a little sugar. After a few minutes, she poured out two small cups and handed one to him. He took it carefully, but his big hands made it seem like a child’s teacup. 

“Thanks,” he muttered, mouth full of porridge. 

“You bet,” she returned. 

“You got extra room on that bale?”

She scooted over and brushed away the top layer of straw, as if it wasn’t going to cling to him anyway. 

“I brought you a dry shirt if you want it. I’m gonna change out of this dress.”

He watched as she dug in her emergency bag, admiring her quick thinking. 

“I am gonna make the hands all carry those. They get stuck out here all the time with nothing but their jeans and a can of Skoal.”

She laughed brightly,

“Yeah. It was a trick I learned from dad. He always said you should be able to be what you needed to be when you needed to be it.” 

She threw her hands up at Ned Stark’s family wisdom, showing her confusion and humor at her father’s unrefined lesson. To her relief, Sandor laughed with her. 

“Smart man,” he chuckled. 

She handed him the shirt folded. He traded her back the empty cup of oats and started to strip off his wet clothes. His jacket had almost dried but his button down shirt was still sopping wet. He pulled back button after button and she didn’t turn away at first. His undershirt hid most of the tanned, hairy skin that stretched across his huge, heavy structure. She knew he’d be hot to the touch. Sansa knew his skin would feel slick with rain and sweat. She wanted to reach out into the open pocket of his shirt and touch him and all of his scars, but she didn’t. She turned away from him when she realized her extreme rudeness. 

He laughed again, crueler this time,

“Ain’t never been modest, little bird.”

She turned back to face him at that comment and shrugged,

“It’s fine. There’s just not a ton of privacy in here and I wanted to try and get you some.”

Sandor pulled the button-down over his shoulders with a quick tug. The shirt fell with a wet thud on the dusty floor and he hung it loosely on the wall. His undershirt followed it. 

“Wouldn’t happen to carry my size jeans in that bag of yours, would ya?” He grinned, playing ungrateful. 

“No, but I do have these,” She offered him a pair of joggers.

He eyed them in doubt. Still shirtless, he stepped over to where she was knelt down, forcing her to look up the length of him to meet his gaze. He took the pants and raised his eyebrows,

“A size medium? No way. I got too much goin’ on for that.”

“You could try them. They stretch,” she challenged, “I’ve seen you squeezing through those skinny fence slats. You might fit.”

“Oh, yeah? You been watching me crawlin’ through fences?”

She blushed against her will,

“No, you just- well, I mean you’re always-”

“I’m pulling your leg, birdie,” he winked, taking the cotton pants from her, “but this time you might wanna turn around.”

She turned back to her bag and pretended to look long and hard at her clothing choices. She could have sworn she had another set of pants but the only thing left was a big, long sleeve tee and another pair of tall socks. 

“Damn,” she cursed under her breath.

“What?” He returned to her side, suddenly worried. 

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just gonna change too.”

He didn’t move back as far as she thought he might, and as she began to pull off her sweater and shawl, she still felt his eyes on her. 

Lightning and thunder screamed outside their sanctuary again, spooking the cow. 

Sandor went over to her and petted her nose,

“Easy, girl.”

Sansa was just in her dress now and quite cold from being damp, but she took a handful of oats over to the cow and let her hand fall open. The cow put a big nostril next to her palm and then quickly took the oats into her mouth. 

“She needs a better name,” she lamented, looking at the cow’s tag and then back at Sandor who was staring a little too long at the top of her sun dress, “because number 0557 just doesn’t have a ring to it.”

Her dark cowboy reached out a huge, rough hand and touched the hem of her soaked dress sleeve, feeling the raised threads of one embroidered flower. 

“Daisy?” He suggested quietly, as if telling her a secret. 

He didn’t let go, and she gave him a soft smile. She felt herself reaching out to touch his face, and before she could stop it from happening, Sansa was brushing back the water from his brow and wiping the drops out of his long hair. He grabbed her hand roughly and stood full height against her, making her step back until she met the wall. He pressed himself against her body, and she could feel her wet clothes soak into his borrowed pants. The rain came down in sheets outside the small barn, pounding into the earth. 

“I’m going to get you wet,” she whispered, feeling awkward in the new, minimal space he created with his touch. His breath sped up at her obvious innuendo, the quaintness of it doing nothing to stop his blood from rushing through his legs to his cock.

He dropped her hand and she let it fall onto his neck and down his shoulder, still bare. His skin was heated and sticky from sweat, but before she could get very far with her exploration, behind them the cow loudly belted out a pained moo and shuffled into a prone position. 

Sansa gasped from the shock of the noise and laughed. Sandor laughed with her, suddenly sobered up and now feeling entirely too close to her. She saw his doubt creep up into his face and put her hand back on his neck, curling around it, pulling at the charred skin with reassurance. His eyes returned to hers as they were before, searching her face like he was waiting on her to say something. 

The pause went on for a breath too long, and Sansa began to doubt herself. Embarrassed, she bent to pull her boots off. Suddenly, like a snake strike, Sandor held her on both shoulders, giving her the same fierce expression he had displayed in her kitchen. Without warning, he grabbed the bottom hem of her dress, pulling it off of her slender body. Sansa trembled from the cold and from something else. 

Her panties were wet, and her white cotton bra was soaked through, no longer concealing her pink nipples through the cloth. They ached against the cold, and as Sandor pulled the wet dress over her head, she knew he saw them, too. He bent to kiss her mouth without hesitation, almost forcing her to bend up to meet his lips due to his height. 

He devoured her, sucking hard on her lips and finally on the length of her tongue. She moaned into him, and his hand wrapped around her small throat, begging to squeeze her breath tightly and make her cry out again. But he didn’t. He just held her there, kissing her skin and licking at her mouth like she was a melting popsicle on a summer afternoon. Sweet. Innocently delicious. 

She found the elastic of the borrowed joggers and started to run her fingers along the length. He shuddered, his mouth pausing, interrupted by the shock of her touch. She knew he was as hard as a stone. She could feel the unimaginable length of him pressing against her belly. 

She found his hardness with shaking hands, and just as gently as she could, she rubbed down his shaft with a slow, long pull. It was his turn to moan. Sandor put his head down by her neck and struck the wall with his free fist, slamming it against the wood as if he was in sudden pain. He pushed his cock through her hand again, his hips straining to get some relief. She let go of him, pulling down her panties and snapping her bra away. 

“Seven fuckin’ hells,” he growled. His voice reverberated against her neck; he was bent so close to her. 

He grabbed her hair at her nape and kissed her hard enough that she couldn’t breathe. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and moved his jaw against hers like he wanted to eat her alive. Then, without much warning, she felt his fingers between her legs, and when he found the wetness there, slicker than the rain, he moaned darkly again. Plunging a long, thick finger into her core, he began to fuck her in his hand, his other hand pumping his cock until it swelled even more than when she held it. His pants pooled around his knees, unwanted. 

She hadn’t felt a man’s finger in her core in years. Compared to her soft, lithe ministrations, the ruggedness was so very welcomed. He seemed to know just where to look to find her most vulnerable buttons to press. And gods, did he love to press them. Sandor hunted down each one, digging into her folds and massaging the skin in hungry circles. Sansa cried out as she felt herself coming undone, unspooling like a loose rope. 

After she came, Sansa felt a terrible emptiness within her as he gently removed his skillful hand from her body. But, it gave her a moment to drop to her knees and take some control. She reached out, almost as if not to spook him, and held his heavy cock, feeding him into her mouth. She worked hard to take as much in on the first try as she could. She heard Sandor gasp in a deep breath and let it out raggedly. He pulled himself out of her mouth with his hips and ever so gently pushed himself back in, softly and carefully as to not hurt her. She put her hands on his hips in reassurance, pulling him closer, even though her confidence didn’t match her actions. 

Sandor’s body reacted without his input, his hips pushing his hardness back into her mouth with more force and more depth than what may have been polite. Sansa moaned and tried to suck him in, letting her tongue roll lazily against his soft head. Shocked by her eagerness, he sucked in cold air through gritted teeth. Hungry for her, he pushed himself into her warm mouth, deeper and deeper, until he heard her gagging for a breath. 

He let her breathe and repeated the action. Pulling himself out, sliding himself back in. She felt undone, as if every time she swallowed him, his pleasure was coursing through her veins instead. 

Sandor was a mess. He’d begged God, for many moons now, for just a moment of having her on her knees before him, sucking him, licking him, milking him into submission. And now, here she was. It was better than his manifestations had ever hoped to be. 

He wanted to come in Sansa Stark’s rosy cunt. He wanted to feel her soft walls flutter and clench against his hardness. He wanted her to scream and scream until her pretty little songbird voice was lost. 

Sandor reached down to cup her cheek, pulling his cock from her lips and kneeling down to meet her on the hay-dusted floor. He kissed her again, tasting the precome that she had collected from his body. He pushed a hand up to find her soft breasts and kneaded them desperately, tugging at her nipples and making her writhe beneath his hand. Sansa looked on in awe as he bent down to suck on her skin, leaving tiny bruises behind with his fervor. She was trembling from the need to come again. Unable to voice her desires, completely at his mercy, Sansa cradled his head, fingernails digging into his neck and back, all but begging him to fuck her. 

“Please,” she whispered into his temple, “Sandor. Please. Oh, Gods, please.”

“Please what?” He growled into her neck. 

“Please fuck me. I can’t -”

Those words, like a magic spell, were all he wanted to hear. As soon as he felt his length sink into her wet pussy, he could die happy. 

“Granted,” he promised. 

He pushed her down onto the hay bale they had been sitting on and knealt over her, pushing her legs apart and guiding himself into her pink lips. His head dipped into her gently, painting her clit with her own juices, and then he filled her carefully - inch by agonizing inch. With every breath she took, he went that much deeper. She thought he might go on forever when, finally, a fullness stretched her just that much wider. She had met the base of his thick, heavy rod, and she shivered from it, legs threatening to close together from the intensity. 

He stopped her from closing herself off, forcing her long legs back down and pushing himself into her over and over, the wetness of her making delicious noises as he began to pound into her body. Her bruised, swollen breasts were exposed to the air, dress abandoned. Sandor grasped them tightly, pushing them together and pinning her down. 

She thought she might be coming, but when a true orgasm hit her, she realized she had just been tingling from his girth. Sansa came hard around him, and he pushed into her as if he wanted to feel every pulse of her racing heartbeat in her core. He could feel her fluids coat the base of his cock, the stickiness soaking his skin and matting his hair. When she let out a long moan, he bent down to squeeze and suck on her neck, whispering dark secrets into her skin, 

“Sansa. Little bird. My little bird. Fuck! What a good girl you are. Do you know how long I’ve begged the Gods to give you to me? You are the finest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. My soft little dove. This cunt was meant for me.”

He fucked her faster and harder, spurred on by her screaming his name, pleading with him to come inside of her. He listened to her mantra - come in me, come in me - and he started to lose it. Sandor was shocked to feel so powerless to her command. He started to feel thick bands of searing hot come burst into her pussy. He pushed into her body desperately, his seed leaking out of her from the pressure. He held himself fully encased in her, feeling her tremble around him, burying himself in her as deep and as long as he could stand it. 

When he slid out, he marveled at the beauty of her come-filled hole and reached out to touch it. He smeared it onto her pussy lips and pulled it onto her clit. Rubbing it into her skin like a salve, pushing it into her asshole with a gentle finger, taking some and massaging it into her nipples and breasts, feeding her with his fingers. As she suckled at his index finger he wondered if he would come again right then. 

He sat back on his heels and gazed upon her tired body. She had her eyes closed, hair braided but askew, pussy covered in his slick come, glistening with sweat. He felt like he had been in a fight. His body ached and yet there was a dark voice that told him to fuck her again. Fuck her and do nothing else. Don’t eat. Don’t sleep. Just keep on breeding her in this shitty lean-to until you die. 

She stirred. Sitting up, she reached out and grabbed his face. Whispering his name she kissed him chaste on the mouth. He could smell his scent on her lips. That dark voice screamed inside him that he wanted her to reek of his come all the time. To bathe her in it. Make her yours. She belongs to you. 

He watched her gather her strength and step into the heavy rain, letting it soak her long red hair, braids dripping rivulets down her back and ass cheeks as she experienced the shower. 

Sandor followed behind her and pulled her to him, her ass pushed against his cock. He was nearly hard again. They were both fully naked in the field, rebelliously erotic. He wrapped a hand around Sansa’s pale throat and made her arch her back to him. He took two fingers and stretched her pussy again, pushing at her wet walls. Then he pressed one wet finger into her ass. 

After quite a few gentle thrusts, she relaxed and cried out to him in a new pitch. He pushed into her farther, repeating his insertion - then out, then in, warming her up to this new challenge. The rain fell into his open gasping mouth. She screamed at his thrusting. He pushed a second finger into her, her hole now accustomed to his rhythm. Then, he pulled out of her entirely and she felt that terrible emptiness return. 

Sandor tossed her on all fours in the mud, frantically kneeling behind her, muddy himself, and he began to stuff his head into her asshole. She felt full in a way she never had, and she noticed her body trying to push back into him and meet his thrusts. It was as if she couldn’t stand being without his hardness. 

Finally, after an eternity of stretching out muscles that had almost never been used, he began to fuck her ass with a sure, slow rhythm. He watched the raindrops pool on the small of her pale back, poorly illuminated by the single barn light. She was grunting loudly, yelling with a deep guttural shout at each and every moment his cock slid into her. It made him crazy. He reached down and began to finger fuck her pussy again, filling her, splitting her, and he could feel the intrusion of his own dick through her skin. He watched as her hole stretched open to fit him. She screamed louder, unable to hold back from his assault, enslaved to the onslaught of his pleasure. 

“Sandor, I want you to come in me. I want your come. I wanna feel you come again. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long. Sandor.”

He was thrilled to oblige. Sandor grabbed her hips and started to stuff himself into her ass with a new purpose. He was shouting at every thrust along with her. Her tightness and wetness and warmth was too intense for him to bear. When it was almost time, that shadowy voice returned, telling him to breed her again. To fill her womb with his seed and make her carry his come in her until they drove back to the house in the morning. He didn’t make it, as just the idea of it pushed him over the edge. Thinking about her full of his seed, smelling like him, full of him - it was too much. Her ass took his load from him, and as he removed his cock from her, he watched it mix with the rain and trickle from her asshole, falling into the dip of her cunt and into the cold mud below. 

Sansa fell back against him, panting, needing him to care for her. He lifted her up and carried her back to the blanket, turning to grab a towel from his bag, originally meant for the cow. 

Clean again, she used the towel  to dry off and put on the long sleeve tee and new pair of socks from her bag. She did not put on her wet panties. Instead, she sat back on the blanket cross-legged, letting him watch as his come dripped out of her, laying back as she caught her breath.

“Sandor, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. If I had known -”

“I won’t wait any longer. Be with me, little bird.”

She smirked knowingly at him, crawling into his lap and promising into his ear,

“Granted.”

taking a break from our regularly-scheduled COD programing to celebrate these two menaces <3 <3 don't worry, john price will be right back, i swear.

[greatgigintheskiess]

The whole world at your fingertips

Cw: Cold Whump, Tiny Whump

Word Count: 3.4 k

For all, once again it was winter. Trees had lost their leaves, leaving only bare and naked branches behind, which now stood lonely in the landscape. Snow has fallen, covering every green meadow in pure white, and most animals hibernate in their warm shelters, waiting for the cold to pass. In the late afternoon, the sun already started to set, painting the sky in beautiful colors of pink and blue. Snow on the mountains shimmered in the evening light while icy winds were blowing through a forest of white high pines.

Although Carl would’ve liked to admire such a pretty landscape for a bit longer, he still had to move on through the deep snow in direction towards his home. Probably, it had been a good idea to make his way back a bit earlier, since night would fall very soon. And if it wasn’t for this chatty trader at the market, through whom he became involved in a longer conversation, Carl surely would’ve been home already. The older man kept on walking through the forest, snow crunching under his feet. Soon, he spotted his cabin in the distance, letting out a relieved grunt as his face was stinging from the cold, cheeks and nose reddened. The basket filled with potatoes, which he carried on his back, was getting heavier and heavier with time. Carl finally placed it on the ground beside the front door, grabbing a lantern from inside to bring the basket to his storage.

Just when the cooper passed his small shed, he heard a noise coming from a barrel, which stood next to it outside. First, Carl believed he had misheard, since his ears weren’t the best anymore. But when he came closer to the barrel, which usually was used for rainwater in spring, the man heard it once again. It sounded like a soft whimper, almost inaudible. Carl held the lantern over the barrel, illuminating the darkness right away and glanced into it.

And there was something on the very ground of it, indeed. The man recognized a tiny animal with a striped bushy tail and small ears laying on the wood, shivering from the cold. But on a second glance, that wasn’t just a raccoon, it was a child.

A little boy.

His light brown hair was ruffled and unkempt, his ragged clothes way too thin for winter and the tiny child was curled into a ball, pulling his legs close to his body. He whimpered quietly, still shivering and didn’t even notice the man glancing down on him. Carl has never seen such a little creature before. He knew there were myths about tinies but certainly not about raccoon hybrids. Nevertheless, the man had pity for the poor little thing. The boy probably only looked for a warm shelter and fell into the barrel, being hopelessly trapped in it.

The cooper reached his hand into the barrel, picking up the child which was merely the size of his thumb. "Hey, how did you end up there, little one?” Carl mumbled under his breath, gently opening his fist to look at the tiny boy laying on his palm.

The boy tried blinking his eyes open and slightly shifted on the warm surface but was too exhausted to respond. Only a few whimpers left the child’s throat and Carl could tell that he was freezing terribly by his shivers and chattering teeth.

"You must be really cold, aren’t you?” The older man frowned, glancing down on the raccoon child in concern. "Better get you inside.”

Not sooner said as done, Carl as carefully as possible carried the boy on his palm to the front door, snapping the latch out of the lock and the wooden door opened with a slight creaking. The man slowly entered the cabin, watching every step of his and avoided any harsh movements to not trip and risk dropping the little boy on his palm. In the twilight of the fallen night by now, he could only recognize the silhouettes of his furniture through the gleaming light the lantern provided. Gently, Carl laid the boy on a soft pillow in his cot, covering him with a scrap of fur. His tiny hands clenched into the fabric, the whole body still trembling uncontrollably and his fluffy ears were laid back. The child stirred slowly, whimpering as sleep soon took him. He was unconscious, yet alive and breathing to Carl's relief.

Still he wondered. Where did this little creature come from and what was he doing here all alone by himself?

But right now, the man only hoped he could warm up the child. He lit a fire for the night, guarding the boy's sleep for a while. And Carl was relieved to have finished his purchases earlier because not even an hour later, it started snowing so heavily that no one could even see through. The man sat beside the cot, looking outside a small window in the raging snow while the fire was crackling quietly nearby.

Fortunately though, he had found the child outside just before the upcoming blizzard, Carl thought.

Lost in thoughts, he was snapped out when the man heard the boy quietly groaning, waking up from his sleep. He slightly blinked his eyes open, looking very pale, as if all color had disappeared out of his face. Teal eyes widened in fear, glaring up to the giant man. He winced when Carl carefully neared him, taking a seat on the cot beside the pillow, on which the child lay. He was still shivering, although by now, the room was heated up by the warmth the fireplace contributed.

So might the only reason be that the boy was utterly afraid of him?

Admittedly, he would also be scared of someone twenty times his size. So who was he to blame?

"You don't have to be scared, little one." The man soothed, looking down on the tiny boy. "I won't hurt you."

Staring into Carl's eyes, he was filled with dread and straightened on the way too big pillow. The child tensed, shuddering, as his shoulders rose. He huddled as far away as possible, creasing his forehead. Carl watched the boy and didn't move a muscle to not scare him even more. For a moment, there was silence. The man hesitated, expecting some kind of reaction from the kid, but nothing followed. Frightened eyes met his, the boy's hands gripped so tightly into the soft fur, showing white knuckles. Carl lowered his chin, taking a deep breath and prepared to choose his next words thoughtfully.

"I just took you out of that barrel and saved you from the cold." Carl added, gesturing with his hand. "See, this is my home."

The boy averted his eyes, studying the cozy room for a brief moment until his attention fell back again on the giant man sitting in front of him. He didn't appear to be a threat to the boy, yet he held his breath, expecting the worst to happen. The man still was a total stranger and the boy helplessly small in comparison. However, there was this one question circling in his mind, making him wonder about all of this.

"Y-you saved me...? Why?" The child's voice quivered, his lip trembling slightly.

The boy turned his head, pulling his knees together, and moved his tail closer to his body. Awe glowed in his eyes, furrowing in tension. Maybe replying with such a question could have been a mistake. Even talking back to someone who can easily squish life out of him by one grip. But now it was too late for regrets. If the giant wanted, he could grab and kill him right away.

But to his surprise, the man didn't act like any of this. He looked down on the child and pursed his lips, scratching his forehead. He didn't appear to be angry or vicious, rather…overwhelmed?

"Because you were all alone there, in thin rags and I couldn't just leave you there." The giant replied in a raucous voice, sounding stoic but not intimidating. He shifted slowly on the cot, which made the boy cringe to the sudden movement. The child jerked away, shifting his shoulders in a half-shrug. The growing anticipation for something to happen increased and the boy felt more anxious in every second passing by.

"I-i was always told to stay away from humans..." The raccoon child said timidly.

His little heart was furiously pounding in his chest and he started feeling dizzy that the world was seemingly spinning around him in endless circles. And he didn't know in which direction this conversation might go. Maybe that was all some kind of sick cat-and-mouse game to stall him. Maybe the giant only waited for the moment where he got distracted, losing his temper.

Whatever that was, it became unnerving.

Carl could clearly see that the boy was feeling more and more tense, although there wasn't a single reason for him to feel that way. He just tried moving on with their little conversation and was surprised that the child was even willing to talk to him. But how could he show the boy that he wasn't a threat to him? The whole time, he had wondered what the kid had been doing near his home, anyway. He was also way too young to survive on his own out there, since the boy couldn't be older than ten. Carl hesitated asking the kid about his parents though.

"Did your parents tell you that?" He uttered eventually, tilting his chin.

The child slightly shook his head, struggling to speak. "No, t-the other hybrids." He stuttered in a weakened voice. "A few took me in after my parents died."

"They…" He faltered, visibly in distress, "were killed by a human…"

The boy looked down, unable to meet Carl's eyes. He was too exhausted for this. He felt awful and didn't know why. As if he had lost control of his body, his teal eyes soon filled with tears, a flush crept over his pale freckled skin and his face contorted while the small body was still trembling. Before the man could even respond something like expressing condolences to him for his loss, he was interrupted by a quiet sniffle and a low breaking voice.

"Please, don't kill me too!" The boy trailed off into body-wracking sobs, turning away from the man's glance. "Please, I don't want to die!"

Carl bit his lip. His brows turned into a frown, eyes narrowing in concern. His stoic facade seemed to crumble when he watched the child crying. Seeing the little raccoon boy like this shattered his heart, not only because he lost his family but also that the child expected him to do such awful things too.

"Hey, I would never kill an innocent living being." The man assured, leaning a bit closer to the child. "Especially not a kid."

What was he supposed to do now?

Carl didn't know much about comforting children as he himself barely interacted with any. And this one was so small too, that he feared to hurt him by accident additionally. A bit awkwardly he stretched out his hand, drew it nearer to the little creature until his fingers wrapped around the boy's body, picking him up gently. The kid squeezed his eyes shut, still sobbing and didn't dare to raise his head. Carl held him a bit higher, almost on eye level, to look into the child's flushed face.

"And honestly, I don't blame you for being scared of me but can I at least know your name?"

In response, the man only heard a few further sobs and sniffles that made him feel unintentionally bad about this whole situation. That poor kid must be shocked to the core, completely overwhelmed as he turned into a crying mess now. And that's exactly what this whole thing has been so far: A mess.

Despite this, the boy's crying became more faint soon and he slowly raised his chin, noticing that he had just been asked a question. Carl watched him patiently as he wiped away some of his tears, seemingly calmed down and peered up to the man with reddened eyes, cheeks turned crimson.

"A-arin, sir..." The child replied with a trembling voice.

Carl really had to suppress a chuckle as nobody has ever addressed him like that. Without question, 'sir' sounded very nice. And it did amuse him in the slightest way as his height probably inspired awe in the boy to show his counterpart some respect. Sure, it was no wonder when the kid chose his words carefully; he was sitting right on the man's palm, nervous like a cat on a hot tin roof.

"You can call me Carl."

For a minute he had thought how to put it in words best that he would keep the boy here with him. Because the child certainly didn't look like he would want to stay any longer in the man's company. And yeah, maybe he could also let the kid go into the snow storm, saying that he doesn't care but that wouldn't be the truth. He did care and he had pity for the kid.

"Now listen, Arin, it's not that I'm going to force you to stay here but I can't let you go into this blizzard." Carl pointed at the window beside, where a heavy snowstorm was raging in the darkness, unable to see anything through it. Arin snapped up his head, face pale like a ghost.

Wait, what-

Stay? Here?

The boy expected anything but not this. This had to be a joke. Where's that sudden care coming from, anyway? Shouldn't humans be evil, disdainful creatures? Why did this one save him then? Everything about this seemed off, completely confusing Arin. And even after this conversation he still couldn't come to terms with the idea of being in a human's house, sitting on a human's hand, why, talking to one even!

"But I don't want to be a burden to you..." Then followed quietly, cutting the man off guard. He saw Arin looking down, wiping away some of his remaining tears.

Such a small child? A burden? Nonsense. Apart from this, Carl lived all alone here, a few miles away from the next village, so he had no one to talk to anyway. And a little bit of company sure wouldn't hurt.

"Trust me, you're not." Carl said without even batting an eye.

Arin didn't know what to answer on this and continued on awkwardly staring a hole into the floor. And after he didn't come up with any more excuses, the boy decided to give in, letting it be. Arguing with the human is probably pointless and a waste of time so Arin just accepted the offer gratefully, even with feeling uneasy. In a sudden, he felt the ground moving underneath his body that he flinched slightly, gasping when he saw the giant had started walking. Arin reeled, almost falling backwards but straightened again, sitting as upright as possible. Luckily, the man didn’t carry him far but this short ride was already enough to make Arin's stomach turn. He was glad when Carl stopped, laying out his hand on a wooden surface which appeared to be a table. Arin hesitated, staring up to the man who gave him an expectant look.

"Go ahead, kid." He urged, waiting for the boy to move.

Eventually, Arin understood what he was supposed to do, so he carefully climbed down the man's hand, standing on the table on shaky legs. His body now felt even heavier than before, holding his weight seemed so much harder. Yet the boy tried to hold himself as steady as possible so the giant wouldn't notice that. Arin already appeared to be weak and worn out when he cried in front of the stranger. And he didn't want to embarrass himself even more.

The child turned around to Carl who sat down on a chair beside him. They were staring at each other for a while without a single word. Arin gulbed, feeling how sore his throat was. The boy already felt uneasy and this situation didn't necessarily make it better. Was it strange? Maybe. Awkward? Absolutely.

"So," Carl broke the silence then, shoving a plate of leftovers to the boy. "You're sure hungry, aren't you?" Arin startled at the sudden sound of the porcelain scraping over the wood and peered at the food presented there. It was a slice of bread with few potatoes but so big in comparison to the tiny boy. Carl tore off a small piece of bread, handing it out to the child. Arin still stood there motionless, staring at the man in confusion. Carl couldn't help but leave a slight smirk on his lips.

"Eat, my child, it's not poisoned." He mumbled softly, amused about Arin's cowed attitude.

The kid probably still thinks he's going to harm him intentionally, Carl thought. Sure, that whole situation must be very odd to the boy and he was obviously still struggling to trust him, yet Carl hoped to show him that there's nothing to be afraid of and that Arin was safe here in his custody.

The boy hesitated when he heard his stomach growling, noticing how hungry he actually was. And he hasn't eaten in days, not a single crumble. But could he just accept the giant's offer? What if that's just a trick? Arin was still scared but then finally took the piece with trembling hands and ate a few bites. It tasted dry but was better than nothing. The child tried swallowing down as much of the bread as he could but every swallow only hurt more. And his throat felt so sore that he wondered why that was the case.

Carl's smile soon disappeared when he saw how the boy screwed up his face, struggling with every bite. Also the kid looked unusually pale and sickly in addition to his skinny body. Carl had thought he would do the boy some good by giving him something to eat but now he noticed that Arin probably felt too unwell.

He stopped eating, when the man addressed him in concern. "Y'know, looking at you, you don't look too healthy, kid." And it kinda made sense, since he was only wearing thin clothes, walking through the snow with bare feet in such icy weather. The boy probably caught a cold, no wonder, when he was trapped in the barrel for how long?

"My throat… it hurts." Arin quietly whined in response, looking down sadly on the piece of bread. "But I'm so hungry."

Carl saw a few tears glistening on the boy's cheeks and eyed the poor child with pity. The little one was sniveling, looking so helplessly and scared.

"You probably have fever." The man added, a brow furrowing in concern. "Wanna lay down for a while?"

Arin felt too tired to complain. He felt how his legs eventually gave in, how his head was pounding, cheeks glowing. Only now Carl noticed how he was actually trembling all over.

My, and he thought the kid was still scared.

The boy nodded slightly after the man's question, almost stumbling towards him and looked even more exhausted than before. Carl looked sadly at the child and held out his hand again to let the boy climb on it.

"I'm s-so cold…" Arin mumbled through his aching throat and crossed his arms in an attempt to stay warm. Unfortunately, that didn't help much. The boy curled into a ball on Carl's palm who stood up, carrying him back to the cot.

"I know, kid, I know." The man said in a sad voice and laid Arin back where he once woke up a while ago.

Although Carl absolutely had no idea what to do with such a small child like this, let alone how to nurse him back to health, he still would try to help him. Because if not he, who else? Arin had no one who would look after him, who would care for him.

And somehow Carl felt responsible for this little boy so he would keep him here, keep him safe in his hands.

[bumblebeeappletree]

Did you know that water harvesting is a prevention method for both floods and drought?

Using the free power of gravity along with vegetation, Passive water harvesting is creating a living sponge to capture store and use rainwater to build a resilient, vibrant garden for both wet and dry weather.

Dr Cally Brennan, founder of Canberra Permaculture Design and Education, has practised permaculture and water harvesting for over 10 years.

In this short film, Cally will give you a toolbox of skills from preparation to storage and how to easily (and sustainably) water your garden.

00:00 Intro

1:05 Capture & Drainage

1:45 French Drains

2:40 Swale System

5:02 Tools

8:23 Trench System

8:58 Wicking Beds

9:42 Thank You

https://www.canberrapermaculturedesig...

https://www.canberraenvironment.org/

With assistance from the ACT Government under the ACT Community Zero Emissions Grants Program

[kivaember]

slaps down some more young jupiter walt/mich bc im procrastinating from stuff :v (stuff is apv's act 1 finale bc fight scenes take so much brain power augh)

-

When Michigan stomped into the apartment, it was with much huffing and dripping water everywhere.

"Damn skyfall..." he grumbled, peeling off his near soaked through coat and hanging it up near the door. Puddles were already forming, and he made a note to grab the mop at some point as he untied his boots - a task made more difficult by the wet laces.

Rain was a regular thing on Ganymede - a side product of the method of terraforming used centuries ago - and the infrastructure of the colony was built to withstand the huge deluges that dumped over the various settlements (by directing the water to flow into the slums, letting them deal with the problem). But from time to time, massive "Skyfalls" happened, as they were dubbed, where the rain was so thick and constant that you were basically swimming if you stepped outside.

This skyfall had come out of nowhere. Michigan had been halfway home walking back from the garrison, and next thing he knew, a biblical fucking waterfall crashed down on the colony and soaked him to the bone within seconds.

...made him worried about Walter down below, really. Always were reports of drownings amongst the working class after these things...

Although.

Michigan straightened up, tucking his boots on the shoe rack and seeing a familiar pair that definitely weren't his. Maybe he didn't have to worry about Walter after all.

Giving himself a bit of a shake and shoving his hair out of his eyes, the hairgel not withstanding the deluge it had experienced, Michigan ambled out of the entranceway of his apartment and into the living area. It was a modest home: an open-plan living room and kitchen combo, a storage room and an en-suite bathroom for the one bedroom, but it was warm, cosy and, more importantly, on the top floor.

The curtains were open, but the window was opaque from the thick rain lashing against the glass, creating a continuous drumming noise that echoed over the murmur of the television. On the sofa was Walter, sprawled out on his side and seemingly deep asleep.

Michigan slowly walked over to the sofa and leaned over to peer at his... friend? Whatever the hell Walter was to him. Walter didn't so much as twitch, his face half-buried into the cushion with his arm tucked underneath it. His shoulders rose and fell in slow, deep breaths, and a cursory glance told Michigan that he looked fine.

He was so much like a stray cat Michigan had made the mistake of feeding once. He came and went as he pleased, and took advantage of Michigan's offer to stay in his apartment whenever he needed to escape the choking smog of the slums. Michigan didn't really mind it, though. He'd actually prefer it if Walter moved out the slums entirely and bought a place on the colony proper - he had the money for it - but instead, the ever incomprehensible Walter stubbornly stayed down below, and slithered out to crash on his sofa when things got tough... or in his bed, depending on how the night went.

"Bet you sensed the rain or something wacky like that," Michigan muttered, noting that Walter was as dry as a bone. Definitely hadn't been caught out in the rain. "Or you were hungry."

Walter was predictable like that: very food motivated. Or sex motivated. Yet was the most complicated and inscrutable fucker on Ganymede. Michigan didn't know how he managed it.

Michigan left him alone. He tiptoed around the sofa and vanished into his bedroom. He showered briskly, getting rid of the clammy rainwater and dresed in a pair of loose jogging bottoms while shunning a shirt. It was raining, not cold.

When he went back into the living room, Walter was awake. He hadn't moved from his position, but he pinned Michigan down with a heavy-lidded gaze when he walked in front of the sofa, his expression soft with drowsiness.

"...it's raining," Walter murmured, his voice husky.

"Yeah, no shit. I just swam through that biblical flood," Michigan harrumphed, still a little annoyed by it. With Walter rudely taking up the entire sofa, Michigan sat himself down on the armchair instead. "Is that why you're here? Escaping the mess down below?"

"Mn. Yeah, sure," Walter said dismissively, which meant it was a bold-faced lie. Slowly, he sat up, leaning against the arm of the sofa as he cracked his neck. "Can you make that lasagne thing tonight?"

Michigan gave him a flat look. "Since when did I become your personal chef?"

"Since we roomed together at the academy. You like feeding me."

Damn. Got him there.

"That's because you'd just eat trash like some damn raccoon otherwise." Michigan couldn't help but grimace. "Ever since I caught you eating that mouldy bread..."

"You're too fussy. You just pick off the mould-"

"It's still in the bread- no, I'm not having this argument with you again," Michigan huffed. The last twenty times were enough, and at this point he was certain Walter was sticking his "mouldy bread is fiiiine" guns just to piss him off. "Anyway, I'm not making lasagne."

"Shame," Walter sighed.

"I'm gonna make a toastie later. Cheese and ham. You like ham, right?"

It was a rhetorical question and they knew it. Walter "mouldy bread won't kill you" Kohler could and would eat roadkill if there was nothing else, and Michigan was fairly certain it was a Walter thing and not a slum rat thing. That crazy auntie of his had a more discerning palate, for example, and she was a chain-smoking lunatic that did drugs, he was pretty certain.

"Yeah. Ham's okay," Walter said absently, his gaze fixed on the television. It looked like a press conference - UEG, of all things. Nothing usual. Michigan was certain they did more press conferences than actually running the government they allegedly were.

"...as production is slow on the development of a suitable Coral substitute, it's been decided that all spacecraft installed with a C-Wave Drive will be surrendered to the UEG for appropriate allocation. For those wishing to keep their spacecraft, both corporate and personal, the UEG will allow interstellar assets be petitioned for reclamation-"

"Surprised that they're actually seizing corporate spacecraft," Walter remarked. He seemed oddly focused on the press conference. Usually he ignored the political shitshow that was the UEG. "Thought the corporations would kick up a fuss about it."

"Nah, this is probably what those stock-counting maggots want," Michigan scoffed. "The UEG are the ones headin' all that research into finding a replacement for the Coral, but they need money, and money'll only come from the corporations, but they can't publicly take too much money from the corps because then it looks like they're owned by 'em, and all those accusations of being a corporatocracy will come crawlin' out of the woodwork again. So they pull shit like this, get money from the corps by being all "Oh, we're making them pay for their ships!" but it's already been all agreed between everyone weeks or months before now. It's just a bit ol' pantomime for the public."

Walter gave him a very long, unreadable look.

"What?" Michigan frowned. "What's that look for?"

"I keep forgetting that you're from a business family," Walter said blandly, and a tiny hint of a smirk ghosted his lips. "Looks like that childhood training to become an executive is still rattling about that skull of yours, huh."

From anyone else, Michigan would take those words as a provocation or an insult. From Walter, however, he could hear the slight wryness underneath that bland tone and faint smirk. Out of everyone Michigan had met, Walter certainly understood the disgust at the indelible marks a piece of shit father left on you, whether you liked it or not.

"Unfortunately, it'll take a few more concussions to forget all that," Michigan scoffed. "I only just stopped dreaming of stock markets..."

Walter let out a sort of vague "hrm" noise that was shy of a laugh. His gaze drifted back to the television, where the spokesperson was fielding questions. There was a look in his eyes that Michigan couldn't quite decipher.

"...looks like it's pretty serious, though," Walter murmured. "There won't be any new spacecraft until they figure out an alternative to the C-Wave Drives. The UEG'll struggle to maintain its interstellar trade routes if we have to go back to stasis-hauls"

"I wouldn't worry about it. Those C-Wave Drives don't need any maintenance or refuellin', and there're millions of 'em in circulation." Michigan said dismissively. "Hell, the prototypes made almost a century ago are still going strong. Sure all the eggheads at the various R&D departments will figure something out before they start failing. Only issue is if a corporation manages it and patents the damn thing..."

Walter said nothing. His expression was completely without emotion and impossible to read.

"Might be easier to figure out how to grow Coral outside of Rubicon," Walter finally said. "It's a unique substance. Too unique to recreate in a lab somewhere."

"Eh, maybe that's what the PCA is about." Michigan kept his tone light, all while eyeing Walter. Any time Rubicon came up, he felt like he was dumped in the middle of a nuclear minefield. Walter's mood could turn on a dime. "Keep an eye on that scorched out piece of rock for any Coral, in case it makes a comeback or something..."

"..."

"But it'd be easier if it did. So much stuff isn't as easily accessible now that Coral's rationed out," Michigan sighed heavily. "No more new cars using the C-Engines! The price of the existing ones are going to go through the roof-"

"You don't drive and you hate cars."

"Yeah, but now they're gonna go back to fuckin' combustion engines, or something," Michigan said derisively. "Electric's too boring and bland to market properly. People want unique things. Flashy things. And combustion engines are unique and flashy and expensive because who the hell makes petrol nowadays."

Walter just gave him one of those looks again, the one that said 'your executive upbringing is showing again.'

"You keep giving me those stares. I ain't a mind reader."

"I'm telepathically saying what a dumbass you are," Walter said a little meanly, but Michigan was pretty certain Walter had no idea how to be anything else. "You sure you don't want to be a businessman?"

Michigan rolled his eyes. "For that, you're not getting a toastie."

Walter didn't seem bothered by this. He just lounged lazily on the sofa like he owned it, giving Michigan a look that was like 'yeah, as if you'll stick to that'. Arrogant asshole... he was right, though.

"...what about the quarantine on Rubicon-3? It's been almost fifteen years since the Fires... surely it'll be safe to begin exploratory surveys to see if any Coral wells can be dug?"

Like a hound sensing a rabbit leaping out of the brush, Walter's head snapped around to the television with a laser-focus. It actually made Michigan jump slightly, the easy, relaxed air evaporating into something for more tense.

"Unfortunately, Rubicon-3 is too unstable to lower the quarantine zone just yet. The atmosphere still contains toxic particulates from burnt Coral that'd make any expedition dangerous to-"

"But Rubiconians are still living on the planet just fine, so surely it's safe? The, er, R-L-F have stated frequently that-"

"The RLF are a terrorist group that are not native Rubiconians, but in fact opportunistic smugglers with ties to the Tau Ceti black market and their ilk. I'd thank you not to spread that misinformation about those "Rubiconists" as it complicates an already sensitive issue."

"But if anyone will know how to find a viable source of Coral to address the shortage, it'd be them. Can't we negotiate with them to-"

Walter abruptly picked up the remote and turned the television off. Michigan eyed him warily.

"...I should get going," Walter said. "It's getting late."

"Are you on crack." Michigan nodded pointedly at the window, where the skyfall was still going strong. "You'll drown. None of the trams'll be working right now, anyways."

A muscle worked in Walter's jaw, his eyes stormy. Walter had no idea what was going through that head of his, but it was probably something stupid. He always got stupid whenever Rubicon or the Coral was brought up, though Michigan had no idea why. Had no way to understand the unique trauma Walter went through, as a Rubiconian refugee. Hell, Michigan only learned he was Rubiconian through Sherlock Holmes levels of deduction and harassing. Trying to get Walter to admit it had been like pulling teeth.

"Go take a shower. Relax. Unclench your jaw or something," Michigan said, and stood up from the armchair. "I'll make you a toastie with extra cheese."

Walter didn't say anything, but he did get up off the sofa and stalk to Michigan's bathroom. He took the tense air with him thankfully, and Michigan let out a loud, exasperated sigh, wondering why he had to get attached to the most deranged and emotionally constipated person on Ganymede.