water reclamation

Curecanti National Recreation Area in Colorado is a series of three reservoirs along the once wild Gunnison River. The reservoirs that make up Curecanti today are a destination for water-based recreation high in the Rocky Mountains. Best known for salmon and trout fishing, Curecanti also offers opportunities for hiking, boating, camping and bird watching. Start planning your trip now. Photo by Alex Stephens, Bureau of Reclamation.

@youre-on-a-starship - “I’ve got to get my two cents in for this request event: Can you write a Bones fic in which he and the reader finally meet over a communal meal (a holiday perhaps?) and end up bonding because she’s got a rare medical condition that he’s interested in? I love your writing so much; I am unabashedly jealous of the realism you cultivate in your discussion of medical situations. It’s absolutely mind boggling and your writing is exceptional. Lots of love ❤️ ” I will also need to do a little research on this one, but the thoughts are flying fast already.

Word Count: 1892
Author’s Note: I found researching OI pretty interesting, and I definitely have a better idea about it now. I hope I did your request justice :) (And thanks for answering all my questions!)

“Y/N, were you in medbay today?” Your roommate, a nurse who would have known if you’d been hurt, asked as she came into your shared quarters.

“Obviously not,” you replied. “Why?”

“Bones was reading your chart. I thought maybe you’d gotten hurt,” she offered.

“Uhura to Y/L/N, are you free?” You dug your communicator from your hip and flipped it open.

“I’m kind of precariously balanced on the wire rungs of the J-tube, but sure, Nyota, what can I do for you?” You knew she would catch the sarcastic tone.

“I was just checking on you. Medical accessed your personnel file this morning, and I was worried that you’d had an accident,” she responded. “Back to work, before Scotty finds you goofing off!”

“Y/N, join me in my office,” Scotty gestured to a storage closet. It was the running gag, that he’d converted his actual office into a workshop of sorts. When he needed to have official conversations with any of the crew under his command, he’d pull you aside into a secluded corner, a closet or take you down to water reclamation, where it was so noisy, you were guaranteed privacy. You stepped in ahead of him and waited as he found the lights and shut the door behind himself. It was close quarters, and you arched your eyebrow when he started fidgeting with his hands. It was a lot closer than you were used to.

“Scotty, what’s up? Is it the repair on the -”

“No, no, nothing about your performance,” he cut you off. “Are you quite healthy right now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him.

“Your zero grav sessions are helping?” He pressed. Part of the reason you’d been assigned to a ship instead of grounded was because it was easier to access the therapy your body required to maintain health. As a toddler you’d been diagnosed with a mild form of Osteogenesis Imperfecta. There was a genetic treatment available, and your parents had taken advantage of that, which had strengthened your ability to create the collagen that was absent in OI patients, but you still needed regular physiotherapy to ensure adequate bone density. Space was a crapshoot because the artificial atmosphere meant there was constant real pressure on you and your bones, which was both emotionally and physically draining. But the opportunity to spend a half hour every evening weightless, floating in the safety of an empty cargo bay was one that you were unable to pass up. For a half hour, you were free, with no cares, no worries, no risk. And each session, somehow, for reasons you didn’t understand, strengthened what little collagen you did produce, making your bone density improve enough that you weren’t terrified of scampering up Jefferies tubes when necessary.

“Yeah, Scotty, life is good,” you confirmed. “What’s this about?”

“Doctor McCoy was down here asking questions. I know M’Benga did your intake physical. It made me wonder if you were declining and afraid of telling me,” Scotty explained. “You know you’re too valuable to let go, Y/N. Even if you need to be on light duties for a while, I will be keeping you here in engineering.”

“Really, I’m fine, Scotty,” you asserted. “I trust you. You’re the first person I’d tell if anything were up.”

“I’m not pulling your leg, lass,” he asserted. “If you need extra time away from shift for physiotherapy, or would like reduced duties -”

“Scotty, I’m fine,” you interrupted. “Really. I appreciate all your support. But there’s nothing any worse than usual happening.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he nodded, and suddenly realized how cramped the closet was. “Let’s be out of here before people assume the worst.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you winked as you walked out ahead of him, deliberately adjusting your skirt just to give him a hard time. He sucked in his breath to protest, and then coughed, drawing even more attention to you both. It was a good thing that everyone in engineering was used to Scotty’s unorthodox use of whatever space he could find. No one even blinked. “Are you headed to the Federation Day celebrations this afternoon?”

“If you think I’m going to pass up real food, you’re out of your mind,” you replied. “I saw the quartermaster’s delivery while I was fixing that malfunctioning door in the cargo bay. There were bananas. Real, perfect, honest-to-god yellow bananas. And I heard a rumour about steak.”

“We’ll see you later on then, Y/N. Save some bananas for me,” Scotty laughed.

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Tarim Basin, Xinjiang
Federation of Chinese Nations
206 August 12

Mariemaia had traveled halfway across the world from London to the European Mainland and then onward to Urumqi.  There, she and at least half a dozen other volunteers were greeted by a tall, Icelandic woman, who introduced herself as Eva Mínervudóttir.  Eva told them that she had been working in the Federation on L5 diaspora issues for the better part of the decade, but had joined the global citizenship program several months back, prior to its formal roll-out in June.  

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The Secretary of the Interior on Wednesday decided against releasing water down the Trinity River to ensure the survival of the salmon runs expected this month.  The virtual trickle of water is low, too warm, and clogged with moss, while corporate farms in California’s Central Valley are receiving the government subsidized water.  The people of the Hoopa Valley Tribe and Yurok Tribe on the Trinity-Klamath Rivers are very worried that they will face another massive fish kill, as happened in 2002 under the same conditions.

Here you are, @pokeharvest - Ooh, you should write a Scotty one where the reader is in engineering and names all the little parts of the ship, and at first Scotty is like “woah and people think I’m nuts about the Enterprise” but then he finds himself joining in on it, confusing everyone else

Word Count: 2007

Author’s Note: I took a few liberties with your request. I hope you enjoy it! PS, TOS Enterprise is approximately ⅓ the size of AOS Enterprise. Despite the fact that my blueprints allow for 250 crew on the Enterprise, TOS Bones once said there was 430-ish people on the Enterprise, so there’s obviously some wiggle room in interpreting size. That means AOS Enterprise could have a crew of 750-1200, depending, but I couldn’t find a definitive answer. Also, aside from size, no new specs on AOS Enterprise. So I had to do a little faking. The swimming pool and bowling alley are totally on the blueprints I have of TOS Enterprise though, they just have nothing really to do with the work of an engineer. Also, I hope I didn’t vilify poor Appleton too much. I’ve been dealing with a bully at work, and it just… bubbled over into the story. P.S. The best part of this was trying to find a song about how currents work, and re-discovering School House Rock’s Electricity.

“Mr. Scott, this ship is huge. I’m worried I’m going to get lost,” one of the other newly assigned grads blinked her eyelashes in a show of wide-eyed innocence that made you want to gag. Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer on the U.S.S. Enterprise, quirked an eyebrow and turned to face her.

“Aye, lass. She’s a little over 700 metres in length -”

“725, sir,” you interrupted. You couldn’t help yourself. You’d spent most of your last year at the Academy fantasizing about being assigned to the fleet’s flagship. Studying the Enterprise specs had been your geeky little secret hobby. Stepping off the shuttle onto her had felt like coming home. There was nothing out of place. It looked exactly as you’d imagined, you suspected largely in part thanks to the handsome Scotsman standing at the head of your Engineering bay orientation. His blue eyes flicked over to assess you, and the hint of a smile lit his face.

“I love the enthusiasm of new grads,” he grinned. “Thank you, Ensign?”

“Y/L/N,” you provided. Ensign Eyelashes glared at you for the rest of the orientation, obviously angry that you’d distracted Mr. Scott’s attention.

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PJO/The 100 AU

every moment on the ground has been a struggle

Colors are the first to go. They bleed out of the world around her like venom pulled from a wound and the forest goes from a wash of greens to a smear of blurry gray. Black creeps in from the edges of her vision and Annabeth’s breathing and heartbeat quicken as she turns frantically on the spot. Her failing eyes dart from the darkening trees up to the sky. One by one the stars above vanish. She doesn’t feel her knees hit the earth; all Annabeth is aware of is her chest constricting as the last of her vision fades into an endless, black void.

Breathe, she tells herself, but her lungs won’t cooperate and she continues to gasp sharply in panic. Breathe, just breathe, just breathe.

But she can’t focus, can’t calm herself. It feels like she’s drowning and as she presses her palms to either side of her head she feels something else - tiny, hair-raising touches on her arms - and her blood chills. Annabeth lets out a startled yell, throwing herself backwards and ending up sprawled on the forest floor. Her sight gone, her nerves rattled, her frenzied brain can’t register anything except the feel of spindly spider legs crawling over her shoulders, around the back of her neck, under her collar and into her hair.

And Annabeth screams.

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bkwrm523  asked:

Congrats on the follower milestone!! *hugs* Could I have a headcanon? Leonard McCoy + sex?

Of course you’d want sex. It was you who first got me to write smut on here :D

  • Bones is a man of experience. You figure that out just by watching his body language. The way he carries himself is confident and certain, and he had this practiced ease around both men and women that almost pheromonally assures you he’s knowledgeable and good in the sack.
  • He’s also got a filthy sense of humour. You figure that out by watching his eyebrow quirk when he overhears conversations that could be taken one of two ways. He always takes it the dirty way.
  • He likes the slow burn. He’ll fuck you with his eyes for days before finally making a move.
  • He’s big on touch too. He’ll slowly undress you, letting his fingers trace along the contours of your body; a single fingertip along your collarbone, the pad of his thumb across the swell of your breast. He gets off on the sight of gooseflesh racing across your skin
  • He’ll happily switch. He loves to dominate and hold you down, but you’ve never seen him as turned on as when you turned the tables on him and tied him to the bed. You already knew he was into spanking you. And oh, did you enjoy it. Turns out he quite liked being spanked himself. And oh, how you enjoyed it. You particularly enjoyed the cautious way you both approached sitting for the next couple of days.
  • Not only did he have legendary hands, his mouth was talented for more than just swearing at Jim. He was, ahem, a skillful orator.
  • He always made sure you came first, but sometimes he would torment you and bring you so so close, only to withhold. The first time he did that, you didn’t speak to him for three days. The make-up sex was more than worth it. The next time he did it, you got revenge. The make-up sex was even better. 
  • He liked to distract you at work, either by sending you explicit messages or whispering filth to you when you passed one another. At least once a month, he made a game of getting you so worked up that you would attack him in his office.
  • He also had a thing about strange locations. You’d done it in pretty much every storage closet in the ship, at least twice down in water reclamation, and once in the captain’s chair when you’d pulled watch on the first night of shore leave. But his favourite place to do it was in the observation lounge on deck 14, looking out at the stars.


Happy Birthday, Alex!!

Author’s Note: It’s Alex’s ( @youre-on-a-starship ) birthday! And in case my followers haven’t noticed, I love a good beginning. I love the start of romances, when everything is shiny and new. So while there’s been a number of established relationship fics today, I stuck with what I love best. Beginnings. P.S. I found out what kind of alien Keenser is, just for this fic. Thanks @kilismaiden for making this all happen! <3
Word Count: 1568
Special Note: Scotty x NAMED READER (Alex)

You’d been dancing with excitement since you’d received your transfer papers, a current of electricity dancing under your skin in anticipation. Everyone wanted to get onto the flagship. You’d somehow scored a transfer. You were sad to be leaving the USS Magellan behind. The engineering department had quickly become your second family, and news of your transfer initially had been devastating. But once you’d received that glorious assignment, the bittersweet transfer was more sweet than bitter.

You looked out the shuttle window and saw the Enterprise, docked at the starbase, and felt your heart flutter. It was beautiful. Her sleek lines gave her a fast look. Warp 8, if you remembered correctly. All that power was a heady consideration. And you were going to be part of the team that kept her flying.

Your orders said you were to report to Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott once you were shipside. He would have your quarters assignment and would assign an Ensign to give you an orientation to the ship. You gathered your bags and made your way to Engineering after the shuttle had docked.

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Your poop isn’t just waste! At the Jones Island Water Reclamation facility in Milwaukee, WI they are turning it into fertilizer and energy! And they’ve been doing it for 90 years!

youngfreeradical  asked:

What's your plan for growing plants in Qatar?

I have some images of gardens there from my first trip down on my other blog, the-world-in-gardens.

I talked to a lot of people about land usage, and water reclamation / irrigation strategies when I was there.

We’re lucky in that my partner oz7am is working for the radio society, so all the people we know and socialise with there are local Qataris. Naturally, they have a pretty good handle on how the land works (they also take us out to the coolest places outside of the city).

(That’s me with the son of one of our friends. He took us way out in the desert to show off his falcon in action).

I’ve also been preparing by reading about arid soil amendment strategies, like Zaï soil rehabilitation.

It’ll be a steep learning curve, but I’m really looking forward to trying to hack it in the desert!