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keldabika · 3 years ago

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Hello! Can I have some hc with a protective mama Reader with Naib, Helena and Bane. They are my precious baby. I haven't play this game since season 13 and I miss them so much ahhhhhhh 😭😭. Thank you, have a nice day ❤❤🌷 (sr, my English is not good)

✨ Your English is wonderful dear ✨

[Naib Subedar, Helena Adams, Gamekeeper] S/O Is Overprotective

✨ As a reminder, my works will always include gn!reader unless specified by the requester! ✨

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[Naib Subedar]:

* You had been at the manor for quite awhile now, and were a rather nice person, getting along with most other survivors, and even some of the hunters to boot.

* It was quite surprising actually. You’d walked in the first day with a tough-guy attitude and gruff personality, and you didn’t seem like a very approachable person.

* Then, some survivors such as Victor and Emily started worming their way into your heart. Liam [Lucky Guy] and Norton were some of the first people to offer you a seat at the dinner table, and from then on you were one of them.

* You had scars, though most could tell they were more physical than emotional, from some sidejobs you used to complete for a gang on White Sand Street—robbing people and competing in fights with rivals.

* You quickly learned that most people fought back. Rival gangs always intruded on your own territory, and you were always left on guard, defending the last remnants of your livelihood and your sanity.

* Maybe that’s why you’re so protective over your things. Never letting anyone enter your room, never letting anyone see the pain you hide. Opening up to people enough to make allies, but never enough to show secrets.

* Now Naib…. Naib helped you out a lot. It seemed he understood you, far more than others. For some reason, he was always there for you, watching your back when needed, acting like a shield at times—sometimes literally.

* You never really understood at first, how he seemed to know you so well. From what you knew, he came from halfway cross the world, from Nepal, in India—a child, a soldier, a weapon.

* You guessed his life was rather similar, and assumed he’d come to the manor for quite the same reasons but, it was hard to see through the scowl on his face.

* At some point, you began to recognize the signs, the irritation, the avoidance. You recognized the silence, and the stiffness that came from Naib when he ate and smiled and nodded at their questions. You saw the signs of a brother, somebody just as lost and broken as you were.

* Children in the bodies of adults, forced to live life too fast and too furiously. Damaged and done in, waiting for someone to save them, but too scared to cry for help.

* Unwilling to hurt others again, unwilling to change.

* You grew wary—observant—of him eventually. You joined in more matches with him as teammate, and sat next to him often at dinner. When you noticed he didn’t eat as much, you grunted in concern. When he fell asleep in odd places, you’d bring him a blanket.

* It got to the point where he found out about your help, and tried to dissuade you from wasting your time.

* You never really listened. In fact, your worries only increased. Others might not have recognized, but you saw the signs of fatigue and death written in the lines of his face. You’d seen it every day back on White Sand.

* He gave up on making you give up, tired of attempted persuasions. Eventually began returning the favours—Naib is the type to have a ‘you watch my back, I’ll watch yours’ mentality.

* Everything you’d do for him is returned in kind. It annoyed the rest of the manor to no end because the giving and receiving eventually reached limits unheard of.

* You’d throw yourself on a rocket chair to save him, and next game you’d have your own personal bodyguard tracking your every move.

* He’d never admit it, but he appreciates all you do for him, and hopes you appreciate his efforts in making your life a little better too.

* Though your protective tendencies know no bounds, he hopes you’re a little more cautious with throwing your life on the line for him like that. This is a death game after all, be more careful…. please?

* At some point, the whole manor hopes you two could just get together and kiss it out in some storage closet. If you’re dating, what’s the need to be so consistent in you’re protective tendencies? Then you’ll always be together, which means nothing can ever happen to either of you!

* To be fair, that’s what most of them thought until an incident after the confession, where Naib wouldn’t let you out of the medical ward for a week due to a few hairline fractures.

* Please Naib! Emily begs you to let her use the examination table! You’ve hogged it for 5 days and she needs it to identify the infection spreading on Aesop’s leg! Vera broke her nose! William sprinted into the gymnasium wall and shattered his kneecaps! Please leave!

* You once set fire to a couch because Naib stubbed his toe on it.

* Please stop it you two, Freddy can’t budget for anymore furniture, and we’re fresh out of chairs.

———————————————————————

[Helena Adams]:

* Oops! Oh no her glasses! Aww shucks, Norton knocked them right off her face and onto the hardwood floor. She can’t find them because she can’t see, whatever shall she do?

* [S/o]! Please, she needs your help!

* You come in running with a pair of pliers, five bottles of anti-grease spray, and a box of extra lenses and a screwdriver.

* Oh how wonderful! You fixed her glasses—again—and saved her from the task of shuffling herself on all fours looking for them! Her hero!

* Helena…. praises you to say the least. You’re her best friend, her confidante, her…. big and strong, sometimes dumb partner!

* She adores everything you do for her, and tries equally as hard to do things for you that make your life necessarily easier, though it’s harder with her condition.

* She met you around the same time as everybody else, during your first days in the manor. Really, she didn’t actually know you were there until she bumped into a voice she didn’t recognize and became surprised.

* You quickly learned about her blindness, and made it your goal to form a friendship with her based on your willingness to help her around and get closer to her—she was very kind after all.

* Your protectiveness stemmed from the inherent feeling of a need to help guide and provide for Helena, much like a spouse would… jk, unless 👀….

* At some points, you were berated by her for your incessant protections, most of which made her feel highly dependent, which she didn’t like.

* She liked the feeling of being independent of others and being recognized as an autonomous, capable being. Especially considering what she came there for, it was a blow to her pride to be led around and pushed aside all the time.

* When she revealed these feelings to you, you had surprisingly promised her to cease in most areas of monitoring—however you still consistently check up on her—and settled into the realm of a relationship with her.

* Helena meets somebody who respects her opinions + acknowledges her intellect + isn’t a dingy asshole? Sign her up and slap on a ring, she’s marrying this person (eventually).

* She knows that your tendencies stem from a place of need and want, and tolerates most of them. Deep down, she likes being taken care of by someone who knows she can take care of herself. She really does love you.

* When you’re actually in a relationship with each other, you make sure to watch each others backs, more so you than Helena (because she can’t ‘watch’ per say), but you get the point.

* There was once an incident in a duo’s match where Helena became stranded on the Lakeside Fishing map. The terrain is rough, with piles of fish everywhere, randomly placed boxes and walls, and the barrels are bad enough when they don’t form a blockade.

* Her navigational skills, as good as they are with all her previous experience and staff, couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to move her way around a mess of box paths, pallets, and fishing stands.

* Most other survivors were occupied or dead—it had been a hard match against Jack the Ripper and Guard 26—and she was barred from reaching any form of help.

* So she screamed your name as loud as she possibly could across the map, and ended up attracting the attention of BonBon instead. During those moments where she could hear his clanks and heavy metalloid footsteps stalking towards her, the tick of a time bomb in hand, she heard a screech in the distance.

* A fierce battlecry—you came raging from around a windmill, propelled by William’s football and packing heat with a flare gun. BonBon, now stunned twice, stood there in astonishment, before chasing after you, who had grabbed Helena in your arms, running off at full speed.

* Your stamina bar, indicated by a small tab on your character, was running low, and you wouldn’t be able to run at full speed for another minute or two, having used your ability to buy time. Stopping near a closet, you lean down to place Helena on her feet, telling her to hide.

* Her blood trail was invisible from not actually having run anywhere, and she did as you said, making you promise to come get her when it was safe.

* You gave her a smirk and a small nod, assuring her that you would, before leaning in for a peck on the forehead as you shoved her into the locker.

* If only you could see her flushed in embarrassment.

* Leaving her to fangirl in the locker, you form a decoy in your arms—result of your max rescuer ability—and ran off once more, taking off around a corner just as Guard 26 reached your previous location, chasing after you and ‘Helena’ in hopes of landing two more kills.

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[Bane the Gamekeeper]:

* How does it feel to love a deerman? Good? Okay!

* Bane as you know is a little…. rough around the edges so-to-speak, and he has a lot of edges.

* Once you get around all the hooks, chains, and bear traps, and beneath that creepy-looking deer head of his, he really is such a sweet guy!

* At least you think so. In reality, he still acts like a complete dick to everybody else, and only shows his soft side around you, but that’s because he knows he can trust you with his lands, animals, and secrets! All those others out there only wish to hurt what he—you—have, and he’ll make them pay for it.

* Honestly, in order for him to have fallen for you so hard to have let his guard down around you, you probably would have had to be at your most vulnerable point in life, or a hunter yourself. Like a scared prey animal, uncertain of its future, waiting for something to happen, and somebody to help, or a huge predator, ready to strike out at any moment.

* Once you worm your way into his cold dead heart, there’s no way out for you. He’ll keep you close, as he doesn’t want you to be poached away like his precious animal friends from the past. He knows how cruel humanity can be sometimes.

* When you come to find out about his less-than-kind history, it’s all you can do to pity him. Your sympathy knows no bounds, and you become clingier, though he quite honestly likes it.

* You don’t want what happened to him to occur again, and with all these other traitors and murderers in the manor, you’re afraid of what the others could do.

* You keep to his side a lot more, take walks with him in the garden, and enjoy tranquil picnics from time-to-time on Lakeside. Anything to keep him close to you and away from all the pain.

* Bane can obviously see what your doing, and noticing that your protectiveness doesn’t yet border on the insane, he allows you to continue in your devotions.

* It’s honestly sweet sometimes how you both adore each other so much, even if you know that one day one or both of you will have to leave. Whether it be through death, disappearance, or another means such as escape is a question of time, and one that neither of you know the answer to.

* If you’re also a hunter, than both of you know that while you two are happier now than either of you were in life, that your individual deaths and worths will eventually determine your fates—whether that be a happy afterlife, or an eternity of endless wandering.

* It’s well known that you’ll both disappear the day the game ends, your souls being put to rest as they should’ve been however long ago. Until then however, you’ll continue to hold on to and vehemently protect the relationship the two of you have, and you’ll fight until your soul vanishes from the earth for what you have to remain that way.

* Now, if you’re a survivor, this is where the relationship can be a bit difficult.

* Avidly defending the actions of your boyfriend during and after a match to the rest of your survivor buddies isn’t a very good look for you, or your reputation. It’s been many times where you’ve almost been chased out of the dining room because somebody was pissed at you for costing them the match, or being the only one spared instead of convincing Bane for a win or tie.

* As they say, if you can’t beat em’, join em’. Some survivors, such as William, Kreacher, and Freddy, have more than once suggested that if you loved a hunter so much, you should become one to be with him. Dating the undead almost crosses the line of what is humane. Aesop thinks you’re kind of cool.

* The hunters over on Bane’s side hate you more. Are convinced that you’re the sole reason that Bane goes friendly sometimes (even in matches without you in them), and that your relationship takes away from his brutal and violent persona and nature.

* Violetta and Michiko are the most tolerant of you, mainly because you gifted them silk and a hand fan for Christmas once when they wished for them in their letters.

* All-in-all, basically everyone blames you, but you keep going forward because who cares about all the nasty bi*ches in the world, am I right?

* Once, to prove the integrity and devotion of your relationship, you set Freddy’s room on fire and locked Kreacher in a closet. You looked Bane directly in the eyes and kneeling before him stated, “I have committed arson for you m’lord.”

* You couldn’t see it because of his deerish head and all, but Bane really went “Heart eyes motherf*cker.” on you in that moment.

* You love animals and set things on fire to prove your loyalty to him? Ticket for one please, he’s riding the simp train all the way to the station.

* Just, please don’t accidentally burn down the manor, he wants to spend as much time with you as possible before he disappears.

* Also don’t joke around with your life, it’s too precious, even when you tackle your own teammate or risk getting hit by Ganji’s cricket ball to save him from being stunned.

* He doesn’t want you dying before he does—has already he supposes—or disappearing without a trace.

* You promise you’ll stick with him until the day you finally leave this wretched place.

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✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

#gaming #idv #idv blog #idv x reader #idv fanfic #idv headcanons #idv imagines #writing #identity 5 #identity v #identity v naib #naib x reader #naib subedar #idv helena #idv helena x reader #mindseye x reader #identity v gamekeeper #gamekeeper x reader

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pocketpepper8-blog · 4 years ago

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The way to make Your Own Ring Light

Here is clearly really just a tutorial on the ring light that I made I utilize for the majority of my portrait focus on 500px. I have produced a couple DIY lights since making my very first ring light, but I favor the very first 12 lights onto a 24″x 24″ plywood to function as top lighting for my very own portraits.

It is not tricky to construct, but a warning since you are coping with power, I would recommend having an electrician to create it for you or provide you with some guidance. In the event that you cable something wrong, you will undoubtedly wind up electrocuting yourself, so please be safe and simply take each of the essential actions. You can certainly accomplish this job for about $50-$100, dependent on the particular substances you choose using. My cost for this occupation would be 70. It takes approximately 1-3 hours in order to complete. MATERIALS 14-gauge house wiring (roughly 10 feet) Conventional lighting sockets x 12 24″x 24″ plywood. I used 1/4″ fir, 3/8 will be stronger A mild shift. I selected a 600-watt skinnier switch 1-2 bulbs. CFL or incandescent endeavor alright. Bear on mind . Ensure that you don't move your switch may be able. I used regular household bulbs. Power cable Small tote of cable connectors Zipties Bracket Together with spigot for mounting in a gentle rack Electric tape Electric box TOOLS Jig Saw Drill Screwdriver Pliers Box-cutter Measuring tape Pencil String Guidelines Measure and mark at the centre of a person's plywood at 12 inches. Connect to a own pencil to draw on. Utilize one of the outlets to assess. Do the specific same. Use the ribbon and cut on your outer and inner circles. For your circle, then leave a large part tact, this means you've got a location for mounting bracket along with your own setting. You will have a teardrop shape with a pit within it, once you're finished. You're ready to indicate and measure 1-2 points into the sockets. I conspicuous that which and thrown out my sockets. Drill the 12 holes out having a 7/16″ slice, or anything is near enough that you are able to nourish 4 cables. You will need to strip the cable. Eliminate the outer shield and then cut 8-10″ pieces of those black and white pairs. You'll want 1 two pairs because a whole. You then may have to strip the endings of each cable, approximately 3/4″ bare cable and use the pliers to create hooks onto the empty cord. You'll feed 4 cables through each of those 1-2 holes that you just cable and drilled each light outlet. I wired mine. You will wish to require some own time and effort, and also be certain the polarity isn't mixedup by to. Both white wires move in to the two gold contacts on the light outlet. Both black wires go to the silver connections. Ensure to feed the cable and so once the screws turn, the cable does not twist . Check your job, and don't clutter this up. You also ought to obviously have 1 black and 1 white cable Since you cable round the ring. Don't cable those you've begun --these will be wired by you in line with. For my dimmer shift: White cable extends straight to the electricity cable The shameful has squeezed in to the Shift The floor from the turn expands into the ground on the green power cable Secure your cables and set them. Now is a wonderful time. Screw a lamp at the light socket that's beyond, and examine driveway that out. It should act like a light switch. Then you definitely awakened, in case it will not perform and you also ought to unplug your lighting and check your plumbing. It is maybe not plugged in to the socket also When you understand that your wiring works, zip tie every thing. Drill holes into the zip-ties. You might choose the end with this tear drop, and that means you get a flat border for the mounting bracket. Critical: make sure that you aren't attached to the wall once you're working in your lighting! I ziptie every thing, for instance, bracket along with switch. Make certain there isn't any cable coming from the back of the other turn or the sockets. Throw your ring light screw in your own bulbs and then examine drive that all out!

#photo #photographic equipment #photography #selfie

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Puzzling Concepts (baon)

Summary: Edge has always enjoyed a puzzle, even if it’s his own, and Stretch is always eager to lend a hand.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Fluff, Sexytimes, Lemony Goodness, Scurvy Prevention Fic

Notes: Naughtiness in this one, I do love it when Edge pushes against his own comfort boundaries to try something new. part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

Storms in the Aboveground tended to be a source of both fascination and fear for many Monsters.

There was nothing to compare them to in the Underground. The constant drizzle of Waterfall couldn’t possible match the snarling ferocity of a real storm, lightning scrawling wildly across the sky and thunder booming afterward. Monster generations new and old were being taught to count from each lightning flash to the thunder crack, learning to tell when a storm was moving away.

Thunderstorms fascinated many of them, including Stretch. The drizzling rain of a cloudy day, however, only held the interest of children eager to test their new rain boots.

When it became apparent that a lightning show was not imminent, Stretch sulkily flung himself on the sofa to mindlessly channel surf. His restlessness was obvious in his fidgeting, bare boney toes digging at the cushions and his hands twitching between the remote and his lighter.

It was a fair guess that eventually that restlessness would involve Edge in one way or another. Until then, he could focus on his own indoor entertainments.

A grey, rainy day gave him an excellent opportunity to work on his action figures. He’d purchased a new lot on eBay only a week before, broken, mishandled figures to put back together. It was an interesting challenge to find limbs and heads that were close to the originals, swapping out parts and carefully repainting them. A puzzle of a different sort.

It didn’t take long to gather his tools. Everything was laid out on a tray with meticulous care; a set of small screwdrivers, tiny brushes for cleaning away years of accumulated dust and grime, a magnifying lens, and needle-nose pliers.

Most of his days were spent crowded into an office chair and so today Edge settled to sit on the floor on the opposite side of the television, away from the flashing distraction. At the very moment he reached out to pick up a tragically abused Cliffjumper, the lights flickered and went out, leaving them in darkened silence.

Edge let out a long suffering sigh even as he pushed his work tray back out of harm’s way. Either it was a thrown breaker or the entire neighborhood was out, best to check which one.

But the sudden sound of movement kept him sitting, waiting suspiciously as he listened to his husband’s conspicuously loud attempt at stealth.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to feel Stretch settle behind him, legs on either of his sides. Where his hands landed, however, gave Edge a bit more of a jolt. "What do you think you are doing with those?" Edge thought his voice was remarkably even, considering where Stretch's sneaky hands ended up. "what, these?” The fingers slithering up the insides of his femurs paused, tweaking at the bone through his trousers hard enough to make Edge hiss. “eh, they have a mind of their own, babe." “I could give them a piece of my mind,” Edge said dryly. He could hear the grin in Stretch’s voice, his pointy chin settling on Edge’s shoulder. “could. but are you gonna?” Not likely. Not when those hands were a great deal nimbler than Stretch as a whole, neatly unbuckling his belt by touch alone. The purr of his zipper was loud in a room where the only sound was the muffled patter of rain and their own breathing.

With his trousers peeled open, there was no barrier to stop Stretch from delving in, slender bones briefly tracing his iliac crests. His magic was already stirring, a soft glow in the darkened room as that teasing touch moved along his sacrum, then lower yet.

“c’mon, baby, give me somethin’ to work with,” Stretch crooned, and his deep, husky voice was a touch of its own, shivering through Edge’s auditory canal.

Stroking fingertips coaxing their way along his pubic symphysis, gliding persuasively along his pelvic inlet, and Edge gave in, allowing his magic to take form. Stretch's fingers went briefly still, a cool touch against heated pseudoflesh. Edge couldn’t help being smug at catching him by surprise as his fingers pressed not against a hard cock but the soft folds of a cunt. "oh, you want to play like that, do you?" Hot breath gusted against the back of his skull as Stretch shifted to hook his feet over Edge’s knees, dragging his femurs further apart. "i can play this game." "Prove it." The challenge would have been better if it hadn't broken off on a moan.

Slim phalanges that were already growing slippery from his arousal explored soft folds, thumb rubbing teasingly close to his clit while a single slender finger pressed inside. It slid in easily, gliding through the growing wetness, quickly followed by another, the pair of them scissoring inside him, stretching him gloriously. The sensation was still a little strange to him. Edge wasn’t quite familiar with using these genitals yet, especially not with a partner. It had taken a decent amount of time working on his own to figure out how to make that sensation truly pleasurable with his cunt. Not that Stretch had ever complained about the lack or tried to pressure him for it. But it was something he wanted, not only for Stretch, but for himself, to be able to enjoy the forms of sexuality his body could offer him. Time, research, a carefully chosen variety of toys that he had yet to share with his husband, and he’d puzzled through the best ways to appreciate the feeling of something inside him. Learned how to relax into it, teaching himself how to come. He tilted his hips now to better angle the glide of those fingers into him even as Stretch added a third, a fourth, and the tight pressure of them moving inside his pussy was exquisite. Once, he might have been embarrassed at the sounds escaping him, low, needy whimpers and grunts, once, at a time long before he'd learned how enjoyable it was to hear Stretch making similar ones. Now Edge could gift him that, allow his husband to know exactly how good his touch felt. He couldn't help rocking his pelvis back against him, trying to speed that rhythm and Stretch obligingly chased after him, his fingers moving quicker, making obscene, wet sounds as they thrust into him. Close to his auditory canal, Stretch said, roughly, "fuck, you're gorgeous, you’re so wet, baby, so tight, can’t even know how much i want to fuck you right now…that’s it, honey, take it…” He was panting, his skull dropping to rest against Edge's and the sound of bone scraping contrasted with his ragged breathing. Against Edge’s tailbone, his own hips were moving, shifting and rubbing the hardness in his shorts against him. Those thrusting fingers moved faster, settled into a quick-quick rhythm. His thumb pressed firmly against Edge’s clit, moving in tantalizingly abrupt little circles, sending electric flashes of pleasure tingling through him. He was close, so close, and for one brief, panicked moment, Edge thought he wouldn't be able to reach it, climax dangling just out of reach while he strained after it. Then the pressure of Stretch's thumb was perfect, paired with the fingers inside him and Edge tipped over, clutching at Stretch's femurs as he shivered and whimpered, coming hard. It was different than coming with his cock, he’d learned that much on his own. Less focused, more diffused through his body, but no less intense. He shuddered with the pleasure of it, Stretch’s fingers still moving inside him, curling and thrusting in him, drawing it out until it bordered on an exquisite pain and Edge closed his femurs around that hand, stilling him as he rasped out, “No more.” Gently, Stretch pulled his fingers free. The dribble of wetness following them made Edge squirm uncomfortably and Stretch gasped out, “fuck, don’t move.” That was nothing more than an invitation to squirm again, grinding his tailbone against the front of Stretch’s shorts. There was a brief moment of quivering stillness, Stretch’s hands fruitlessly clutching Edge’s pelvis. Then a quick scrabble of movement behind him, the sound of rolling elastic, and Stretch was hissing out a quavering moan through his teeth while a hot splash of wetness spurted against Edge’s spine, soaking through his clothes all the way down to the sagging waistband of his trousers. “fuck,” Stretch rasped, and he flopped back. The sudden lack of gripping hands let Edge turn, blinking through the darkness at the gorgeous disarray behind him. The residual glow of magic was enough to see shorts awkwardly pulled down to the tops of Stretch’s femurs, exposing the sturdy angles of his pelvis. His t-shirt rucked up past his sternum, all the visible bone gleaming with sweat. Stretch had one arm thrown over his sockets while he panted, bright orange burning in his cheekbones, and his fingers were still tinted pink with the residue of Edge’s magic.

So very beautiful and Edge wanted nothing more than to taste every delicate inch of him.

But first things first. “If this is you playing the game, I think you lost,” Edge told him. The arm over his sockets lifted enough for a single pale eye light to glare out. “excuse me? i’m pretty sure i just made you come hard enough to loosen that stick up your ass.”

“Is that what you were searching for?” Edge teased. Very gently, he reached out to straighten the waistband of Stretch’s shorts, mindful of still-sensitive bone. His breath still hitched, pelvis lurching up into his touch. “You were certainly dedicated to finding it.”

“that was okay, right?” Stretch asked suddenly. He shifted to lean up on his elbows. “i mean, i know it was okay, but—“

The concern was exasperatingly charming, but unnecessary.

“It was very good, love,” Edge crawled up his prone body to press a gentle kiss to his teeth, stifling that uncertainty and murmuring between their mouths. “Thank you.”

“okay, no, no thanking for orgasms,” Stretch chuckled, tilting his skull and sighing as Edge kissed a path down his jawline. “save it for the dinner table. seriously, i’m not gonna turn it down, but if you aren’t comfortable changing it up like that, you don’t need to.”

“I’m perfectly happy using my cunt on occasion,” Edge assured him. “It was simply a matter of puzzling out the best technique.”

“you always do like a puzzle.” Cool air touched his spine as careless fingertips drew up his shirt to trace the bony ridges. “you know, with the power out we can’t take a shower yet.”

That was true, and Edge was rather liberally decorated with the drying remnants of Stretch’s magic as well as his own. They could use a washcloth and a few judicious splashes of bottled water. Or…

Edge settled more of his weight on top of his husband, parting his femurs with one knee. “I suppose we better find a new puzzle to work on while we wait.”

“what’s that?” Stretch broke off on a distracted gasp as Edge tugged down the collar of his shirt to nuzzle at the slender bones of his clavicles.

“Why don’t we see how many times can I make you come before the power comes back on.”

“that’s not a puzzle, that’s a—ah! ah, fuck, ah, babe, you…oohhh!”

As it turned out, they lost count before Edge found an answer, but that was all right. He’d never minded working on a puzzle a second time.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name #lemony goodness

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a-sprinkle-of-geeky · 5 years ago

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12 Hours (Part Three)

Welcome. Part One. Part Two.

This story contains blood, murder and quite a bit of violent angst.

This particular part contains torture and blood. Be cautious when reading if you are sensitive.

He had tried calling for help but it was fruitless and now all he could do was listen to the dripping pipes as he shivered from the cold and the fear.

At this moment his eyes are fixed on the bottom step of the staircase, his mind drifting into daydreams picturing his escape. He is praying that any second a miracle will occur - that the rope will fray or Lucas will come running to the rescue but it remains silent. Clyde’s mind has focused on his breathing, he knows that keeping calm is the one thing he can do in this situation because he must save his energy. His breaths escape like clouds due to the freezing temperature and disappear into the air shortly afterwards, reminding him to keep the rhythm of his heartbeat steady to remain warm.

The sound of the door unlocking throws that rhythm out his head and his breath hitches.

Clyde lifts his head as he grips the arms of the wooden chair and stares up at the door as light pours in, making his eyes strain to adjust. A giggle echoes down the stairs and makes a shiver rip down his spine as Flinar descends the staircase with Zyren close behind.

“Your first hour’s up, doc,” Flin says, jumping from the last four steps and landing an inch from Clyde’s face, “How’re you feeling?!”

He cries in fear, his words muffled by the gag which just makes the psycho laugh even more. “That’s great to hear, I’m happy you’re enjoying yourself!”

Zyren steps into the darkness and wheels a tool cart - which Clyde previously thought was a desk - under the single lightbulb with a cold expression. In his hand is a phone with an audio recorder opened. The doctor almost faints when he views the cart. Upon it are tools ranging from hammers to plier, nails, screwdrivers and various sized coping saws hung on the sides. Knives, scalpels and long screws were organised in size order on the second row whilst on the third, there are brass knuckles, a taser and many other nightmarish tools that sicken him. All of the devices of torture are polished, sharpened and organised by insane hands.

Clyde stares at the tools, whimpering as his gaze travels up to meet Zyren’s. He holds eye contact perfectly with no emotion, his hand lifting off the cart where Flinar then leaps at it and starts ravenously observing each one with insane laughter. Clyde starts to struggle again, desperately trying to escape but the rope only starts to tear into his flesh and tears spill down his cheeks.

“What’re you thinking, Zy?” Flin asks, giggling, “Beat him up? Gouge his eyes out!?”

Zyren doesn’t respond, only pulls a cigarette from his pack and lights it as he observes his nails as if he’s bored. Flinar watches him do this and grins widely. “Oh...good idea...” He snatches a pair of pliers from the cart and turns back to Clyde with a flurry. “How ‘bout a manicure?”

The doctor’s eyes go wide with horror and he screams, struggling so much that the chair starts to jolt and the rope trapping him splits his skin. The moment he sees him come closer, Clyde balls his hands into fists and tries to kick his legs desperately.

“That’s no fun!!” Flin tries to pry his hand open but it doesn’t work and he pouts, “If you don’t show your fingers I’ll chop your whole hand off!” He threatens.

Clyde weeps in terror, shaking his head desperately as if these monsters are capable of feeling empathy. The demon growls, his spiked tail swishing in agitation as he snatches a tool that looks to be a vector corkscrew and without giving him another chance he stabs it into his left hand and starts twisting it.

He screams in pain, throwing his head back as the metal coils grind into his flesh and through his hand. Clyde’s fist opens in defeat yet the maniac doesn’t relent and twists the corkscrew deeper until it stabs through his palm and into the chair. Pain begins to tear up his nerves and blood starts to trickle between his fingers as he whimpers and sobs.

“I didn’t have to do that, idiot, stop sobbing!” Flin snarls, irritated but still horrifically overjoyed as he picks up the pliers. Zyren blows out the smoke of his cigarette and turns on the audio recover, tugging the gag from Clyde’s mouth. “Alright, let’s get started then!”

“Please! Let me go!” Clyde begs through his cries, his voice full of fear as he then starts to speak in German.

“Can’t. Ya husband isn’t giving us what we want,” Flinar winks and inspects his nails, “You have such nice nails...you clearly get them done a lot, don't ya? Rich prick! Oh, I’m sure you know a lot about how the nerve ends are attached to your nails.”

He clicks the pliers playfully before holding down his index finger and clamping them around the quick of his nail. “I wonder how much it takes to tug it off in one go...” Flinar looks back up at Clyde’s terrified face with a giggle. He doesn’t say anything else, letting the audio pick up the doctor’s terrified noises.

“No.. no please don’t...” He pleads as he tries to struggle but he cannot move his hand. Flinar doesn’t give him another moment and tugs mercilessly. The small sound of flesh being torn is drowned out by Clyde’s shriek as the fingernail breaks off from the veins which spurt blood and burn with pain as the nerve end is broken. He holds it in front of Clyde and giggles maniacally but the doctor is still screaming and struggling desperately. Sweat has beaded on his forehead and his breathing is out of control, the colour has drained from his face and he is crying for help.

Flin moves on to the second nail and tugs it free, yet it was caught and ends up snapping and sticking upwards which just makes the doctor grit his teeth and wail. “Ugh, dammit...” He mutters, grabbing the jagged end of the nail and frowning in frustration. It takes another tug and the rest of the nail pulls away with a tiny spot of skin to join it. “Ooo, bonus points.”

This goes on until all of Clyde’s fingernails have been removed and the doctor is left doubled up sobbing and begging for Lucas to save him yet Zyren only holds the phone closer to pick up more sound.

“Lucas...h-help me...please...” He got out through his sobs, his body shaking with pain.

Zyren looks satisfied with the ordeal and promptly stops the recording, filing it and sending it off to Lucas.

Clyde then lifts his head to see the elf set an alarm on his personal phone for another hour and left it on the desk, wheeling it far away from the doctor. After that, he picks up the rope and ties it tightly around Clyde’s mouth, gagging him again and looking amused at the sight. Zy puts his arm around Flin and mumbles something to him as they walk up the stairs and leave him locked in the cold, the corkscrew still twisted through his hand. He looked down at his bleeding fingers and his fingernails lined up on the ground in front of him. His breath escaped in foggy wisps.

Lucas listened to the audio recording sent by an untrackable number and by the end of it he was in shambles. His teeth were gritted and his claws had scraped into the fine wood of his desk with anguish, his stomach twisted in a knot. The love of his life was being tortured horrifically and it was his fault. He was letting this happen. All it would take is just one wipeout of Flinar and Zyren’s records then Clyde would be back in his arms... but he couldn’t. It was tearing him to pieces having to resist it.

Those last four words his husband uttered before the recording ended were going to haunt him no matter if Clyde was back with him. He knew how strong the doctor was but he also knew how terrified he can be. He works well under pressure but the moment he’s in danger or he’s isolated or being hurt is the moment he breaks down in panic. The first time he officially joined the mafia he had a month’s worth of therapy to come to terms with the fact he saw one of his co-workers be shot in the head. Lucas couldn’t imagine the mental trauma this is causing him...

It is all his fault... He should’ve never of allowed Clyde out of his sight. He felt to blame. Because before he was taken he had entered Lucas’ office seeking to talk to him about his medical records but he was in the middle of a phone call. “Could you come back in an hour, my darling?” He had requested with a loving smile, “I’m just working on more efficient transport.”

He should’ve hung up that damn phone and kept Clyde from cleaning the medical office so he didn’t take that damn flowerpot outside!

Lucas leaned over the paging microphone, set the location to Austin’s office and pressed his finger into the button. He shakily asked how the decrypting was coming along but Austin replied negatively, saying there was no progress so far. The leader sent his brother the audio file, telling him not to listen to it but to try tracking that instead.

Each hour passed by like they were mocking him and every time, without fail, there was another audio file. Six more hours crept by.

On the second hour, Flinar strangled him with his bare hands until Lucas could hear him on the brink of suffocation.

On the third hour, Zyren beat him mercilessly using his fists, a crowbar and brass knuckles for five minutes. The sound of Clyde spitting out a tooth knocked him sick.

On the fourth, they tied a shock collar around his neck and shocked him five times. Flinar was in fits of laughter by the end, mocking Clyde for “being so weak over a few shocks” but Lucas could hear him struggling to breathe.

On the fifth, Zyren lit a fire on a torch and held it right near Clyde, knowing full well that he - as he was a water element - was incredibly sensitive to fire so it burned him worse than it would to an average person and could’ve been fatal.

On the sixth hour... they let one of the men working with them have their way on Clyde. For half an hour. Lucas broke down into sobs hearing it, hearing his lover have a panic attack and try to escape.

He listened to his soulmate be defiled. He felt the safety of their marriage was violated, he couldn’t get the sounds or the thoughts out of his head. Lucas had flinched at every new message, breaking down further. He wanted to drown away that pain with whiskey however he knew he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. When Austin gave the location, he would head straight there and tear them all apart.

Lucas’ hand hovered over the button on his laptop that would wipe out Zyren and Flinar’s records, gritting his teeth and heaving air in and out in distress. His hand shook violently but he couldn’t bring himself to press it. He couldn’t do it.

A sudden surge of rage struck him and he lost control, picking up the laptop and throwing it into the wall, watching it shatter to pieces. The anger and turmoil took over and he started to shriek in grief. Lucas swiped everything off of his desk, overturned the sofa and tore books from their shelves, kicking the bookshelf to pieces and crushing a statue under his foot. He tugged down the drapes and ripped the cushions to shreds, throwing all of the whiskey glasses into the door so tiny pieces of them sprinkled everywhere.

There was a flurry of papers, files and documents flying through the air at that moment. He turned around and punched the wall until there was a gaping hole and his knuckles bled before the rage soaked away. The demon looked around at his destroyed office and took in a breath, stumbling as he picked up a few things. The paging microphone, his mobile phone - which was now cracked - and a photo of Clyde. He set the phone on his desk, plugged in his microphone and collapsed in his chair with the photo frame hugged to his chest.

Lucas’ lilac eyes were brimming with tears as he looked into the photo’s happy face. He couldn’t help but rest his fingers on his rosy cheek and trace it gently as if he were really there. Two tears drip onto the frame. Lucas tried to escape into that memory, that warm summer evening he took the photo at a picnic on the beach where minutes later Clyde fed him sweet berries. He tried to escape. But he stayed trapped in reality.

Clyde had broken. His entire body was aching with wounds and violation, his voice hoarse from screaming and his legs numb. He felt freezing cold and sick, stripped to his briefs from the guard’s lazy attempts to return him back to the way he was.

He was scared and upset, sobbing with anguish and trauma. Out of all the torture he’s endured throughout these hours none were as wicked as the last one. There was nothing else worse to him. Clyde couldn’t get the pain or memories from his mind; the feeling of that guard’s hands on his body singed into his flesh. Every part of his body felt disgusting. His neck and hips were covered in revolting marks, his hair messy from being tugged, his lips burning from forced kisses and his lower half violated.

When they left him alone in this dark room he raised his head, gazing upon the phone left on the desk counting down with a timer. That phone was different from the one Zyren used to send the audio. It was his personal phone. It was set upon the tool desk from the dark elf’s complacency and over each hour that the alarm went off, he unlocked his phone and turned it off.

Each time, Clyde watched closely at his fingers sporadically tapping the numbers and slowly memorised his password over the six hours. It took subtle staring and by the second hour, Zy had grown lazy from confidence and knew that the doctor could not escape.

However, that was until the guard was assigned with tying him up again.

The guard, as disgusting as he was, was incredibly careless when it came to him tying up Clyde and - to his benefit - did not bother to hold him down when he struggled and thus one wrist was tied loosely.

The password was 02101996 and he had repeated it religiously whenever the pain settled down enough so he could think. It was a birthday - Flinar’s birthday - and he knew that for definite because it was on his criminal records.

The doctor struggled his arm and gritted his teeth, his aching body pulsing with agony at the slightest movement. His right wrist, sore and battered, was shifting loosely with the rope as he searched for a solution. Fraying and sawing was not an option; especially with the chair edges being blunt. Dragging the rope off of the chair arm was also not an option as the arm’s width expanded so the rope could not pass. Clyde was left with only one option.

It was so painful with all of the aches in his body yet he was so determined. This was his only chance to get help. This was his only chance to break their cycle and go home again to see his family. He thought of his children, his parents and Lucas, trying to force himself to carry on.

He tugged his arm back continuously to either snap the rope or pull his arm free and to his relief, the rope just about gave him enough room to do so. Forty minutes dragged by and his skin was torn and split from tugging and struggling. He was thankful that it was not his left hand as the plan would’ve most definitely had been too painful to execute due to the now scabbed and raw corkscrew wound through his hand.

Time was creeping by and he grew ever more frantic, his sense of reality distorted and forgotten. His heart was hammering for the countless time and sweat layered his brow and body; whether from his frenzy or sickness, he could not tell. Every noise made him flinch violently, believing that the slightest creak in the pipes was actually the door swinging open and Flin would come dashing through with more sadistic ideas.

Flinar and Zyren would return any minute and he would lose his chance. With cries of desperation and pain, Clyde gave his last exhausted tugs and with a jolt, his arm flew free and gave a pulse of aching to express it.

Instantly, the doctor grabbed at his left wrist and started to wrench at it yet having no fingernails made the job harder in ways he could not describe. His stomach was churning and he felt his heart in his mouth as he pulled the rope from the buckle and slid his left arm free.

He dared not triumph nor smile, his mind focused only on the potential punishment he’d face if they caught him attempting to escape. The thought terrified him and he even considered tying himself up again to prevent this from happening. He could not handle another session, his mind was teetering on the edge of breaking his body was in so much pain that he’d forgotten what normality felt like.

After nearly fifteen minutes of struggling, Clyde kicked his left leg free and was now even more panicked. Adrenaline was coursing through him painfully and there was nothing that could calm him down. With tugs and desperate pleas, the climbing rope fell away from his right ankle and he collapsed forward onto the freezing ground, whimpering.

Clyde breathed heavily and opened his eyes, finally comprehending that he could not properly see because his glasses were smashed hours ago. Blurs of grey and red were all he could see. His body shook violently as he heaved himself up onto all fours, coughing up blood and spotting his lost tooth by the step.

He knew better than to try and escape. There were definitely guards up above that would all spot him in an instant but that was if he could even make it upstairs. Clyde pulled himself up onto his feet and swayed, doubling up and groaning.

Despite the trauma that would permanently haunt him from that guard, there was one glimmer of hope that he gave to him. After the rapist was satisfied and was forcefully pulling Clyde’s briefs back up, the doctor quietly pleaded to know where he was. At that moment he was pathetic and helpless, curled up and hugging himself on the cold ground with tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he wanted to know but he did, at the time he had no hope. He didn’t know if that guard pitied him or wanted to “return” the favour for that session but he told him quietly.

“The abandoned cotton factory. Now shut up.”

With as much haste as he could muster, the doctor staggered the desk and practically collapsed upon it, snatching the phone in his violently shaking hand and switching it on. There was a picture of Flinar as Zyren’s background, he looked normal and was cuddled up on the sofa with blankets and a mug of hot chocolate. It was so innocent, but Clyde felt sick to the stomach. He knew what that grinning monster was capable of.

He opened the screen and the keypad appeared. Having to focus intensely, he entered each number with precision and wiped away the blood from the reopened cuts on his fingers. As the phone unlocked, the latch on the door rattled and he could hear Flinar giggling. Clyde’s heart almost burst from panic and he was near hyperventilating as he frantically swiped through the many menacing-looking apps.

He could hear Flinar asking for the door key as he found the messages tucked away in the third slide. Clyde didn’t have time to call Lucas like he had planned and the most he could do was text him. The door swung open as he frantically typed out Lucas’ phone number in a new contact, refusing to mistype a single number despite his trembling hand. His breathing hitched and his feet shuffled with panic, his brain begging for enough time to succeed.

Flinar was yelling something but he couldn’t comprehend what he said as he desperately entered the contact and typed out what he could. The maniac was running down the stairs and he had spotted him like a wolf on newfound prey, a wolf-like smile widening on his face. Flin vaulted over the bannister as the phone alarm went off and Clyde started crying in terror, staggering to get away so he could send the text that would save his life.

Clyde just barely typed out “cottn factor” before he felt Flinar grab him with a hysteric laugh. He screamed and tried to struggle, attempting to press send but to his dismay the phone was snatched from his hand and thrown into the wall, smashing into little pieces.

Flin tackled him to the ground, seizing his throat and strangling him again as he smacked Clyde’s head into the hard ground repeatedly. “You think you can escape, huh!?” He stared into his eyes with his own wide, manic ones and laughed. His tail coils around the handle of the tool desk which he then tugged down so the tools went scattering in all directions. “You think we’re stupid?!”

The psycho grabbed something whilst his other hand throttled Clyde and held it up, revealing it to be a hammer. Without a second of hesitation, he brought the hammer down onto Clyde’s knee with such an inhumane amount of force that his kneecap shattered.

The doctor wailed in agony and arched his back, his legs jerking outwards. Zyren jogged downstairs to witness the situation.

“You want the other one smashed, huh?!” Flinar squeezed his throat and pulled Clyde up slightly as he grappled his wrist through sobs.

“No, no!” He begged, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, no more!”

“Flinar,” Zyren called out, making the maniac look up at his partner, “Enough.”

Without another comment, he backed away from Clyde, leaving him to roll onto his side and wail in pain.

“He was about to text that stupid leader where we were!” Flin pointed at him like a tattling child, “He made me break your phone, Zy!”

“I said enough,”

There was nothing in Zyren’s voice; it was just as cold and emotionless as ever. Still, Flinar went silent and burned with what can only be in embarrassment. The dark elf walked forwards and picked the crying doctor up by the neck, his eyes menacing.

“Did you honestly think that would work?” Zyren asked coldly and Clyde shook his head in fear, “I see here that the little doctor believes he is smarter than us. I think a lesson must be taught.”

“Let’s cut off his leg!” Flin suggested with excitement, “That’ll stop him from getting away!”

“We can on the next hour,” Zyren concluded and Clyde tried to scream in protest, “For now... I believe that lashes should be a suitable punishment.”

Flinar burst into fits of excited laughter, bouncing around like a puppy as Zyren shackled Clyde’s wrists together and walked behind the staircase with him in tow where a hook had been drilled into the ceiling. Like a slab of meat, the doctor was strung up on the hook with his feet inches from the ground.

His head hung limply, in too much pain to struggle whilst Zyren picks up a metal rod. “Speak a word of our location and the next thing we amputate will be your eyes,” The dark elf handed the audio recorder to Flinar.

“You’ll let me have a turn though, right?” Flin pleaded with a pout.

“As long as you record correctly,”

“Okay~!”

Flinar began recording with his terrifying shark-like grin and giggling as seconds later the first lash strikes Clyde’s bruised back. The doctor cried behind his teeth yet swallowed the rest of the pain with a whimper, his back arched and his hands shaking. He wasn’t going to give them any more satisfaction. The second lash tore into his stomach and he doubled up, whimpering again but forcing down his cries.

Zyren’s face flickered with agitation and the lashes only become more heartless. Clyde glanced at him to see him frowning due to his reluctance to scream. Despite all of the pain they inflict upon him, nothing was worse than the sixth hour. His entire body pulsed with agony yet nothing could compare to the pain of being raped.

The sound of the metal slashing against his skin snapped at his ears and the overwhelming pain caused him to cry soundlessly, the hot feeling of fresh blood seeping from open gashes. Clyde tried to escape reality by thinking of Lucas and their children. He thought of their smiles and their laughs, the mornings he’d wake up to a quiet household so he could cook them breakfast. As the tenth lash struck against his spine, he felt a sudden pain and his body lurched as the feeling below his waist dissolved.

The pain was gone but so was the feeling, leaving him heavy and numb as he broke into a panic. Clyde tried to struggle, letting out another sob.

“L-Lucas!” He cried, “I-I’m in..t-the c-!”

Clyde couldn’t finish.

Zyren’s hand plunged into Clyde’s chest using a type of dark magic known as Soul Reaping; a spell that allowed the user to remove a being’s soul without wounding their body. The doctor gasped and his eyes went wide, unable to move as the dark elf closed his fist around the form of his soul and tore it from his chest. As Zy retracted his hand, Clyde went deathly pale and limp, the colour draining from his eyes. In his last moments, he thought of his family as a tear trailed down his cheek. The edge of his husband’s name was whispered before he was reduced to nothing but a Husk. An empty shell of a person who feels nothing until their soul is returned.

Zyren stepped back, holding the soft mint orb in his grey hand and frowning. Wisps of misty blue trailed from its surface and it flickered with fear.

Flinar had stopped recording the moment Zyren reaped his soul and sent it to Lucas accordingly, pouting with sass. “You said I could have a turn! It’s no fun when he’s a Husk!”

“I will return his soul,”

“When!?”

“Before the next hour so you may amputate his leg,” Zyren turned around and found an old jar, dropping the floating soul inside and screwing the lid on before he stuffed it in his bag. “Do not whine.”

Flinar groaned, slumping his shoulders as he stared at the rasping Husk drenched in blood.

Monster.

You’re a monster, The voices hissed, A psychopath. A stupid, stupid puny psychopath.

Stupid. Stupid. Pointless and stupid.

Flin gripped his hair and gasped for breath.

You took your medication.

You’re going to hell.

Stupid. Stupid.

He’s an innocent little lamb. You tortured him.

Stab yourself. Do it.

Where’s your knife?

Zyren’s arms were around him and his fingers were stroking his head soundlessly. Flin closed his eyes and whimpered, his arms wrapping around his back. He shivered and let the voices fade away, vanquished by his partner. His fingers closed around the fabric of his flannel as he nuzzled his head into his shirt, breathing in his comforting smell of fabric softener, cigarettes and cologne.

When he saw he was calm again, the dark elf pulled away and set about returning the Husk back to its chair. Flin quietly reached for him and gulped, a twinge of guilt flickering in his own soul.

You’re a monster.

The seventh hour struck on the cracked clock and Lucas nearly hyperventilated. The video was late and he paced around his destroyed office waiting for it. Waiting for something. Anything.

The night outside was cold and the skyscrapers outside glowed with smudged iridescence with the dribbling raindrops cascading down his floor-to-ceiling windows.

When the buzz of his phone finally reached his ears, his stomach twisted itself yet he couldn’t help but stumble up to it. It was another audio file but it was shorter than the others. The familiar sense of dread washed over him as he listened, flinching at the sound of inhumane whipping wounding his husband.

Lucas doubled up because he could hear Clyde trying to hold back. He was using every ounce of his energy not to scream and it was only making what could only be Zyren angrier. His eyes widened when his husband spoke, crying out something before being cut off by his own gasp. It sounded like he’d been impaled. The audio ended with Lucas lost for any kind of reaction.

He only stared at the audio bars as his hand started trembling, the phone falling out of his hands as he let out a shriek. Lucas collapsed onto his knees and clutched his head, screaming his lungs out with grief.

He screamed until his throat was sore and the tears were blinding him. Lucas heaved air in and out of his lungs in a desperate attempt to regain control but it was useless. His mind was torn apart by countless emotions that he did not want to resist. The rage, grief and sorrow were swelling in his body like a mutating storm, loud and unpredictable. After a minute he could not muster another scream, the thoughts in his head buzzing with such commotion that he could not focus.

The paging microphone was the only thing that snapped him out of the whirlwind of his breakdown. Struggling to breathe, the mafia leader staggered to his feet and collapsed in his chair once more as he pressed the flashing button. It was from Austin.

“What is it, Austin?” Lucas was doubled up at his desk with exhaustion.

“I’ve got the location!” Austin exclaims in a frenzy, “I tracked their vehicle and reversed the sender’s-”

“Where is he!?” Lucas couldn’t control himself anymore.

“He’s in the old cotton factory seven miles east of the city-” He paused to tap away on his laptop- “I analysed the building from my drone and there are twenty-seven heat signatures including those maniacs’. I think they’re keeping him in the basement!”

That was all Lucas needed to hear. Unable to feel any more remorse, he cut Austin off and spoke over the microphone to the entire facility.

“The location has been breached,” He held no emotion in his voice besides rage, “Team One in all departments must report to their vehicles immediately! We depart in ten minutes!”

Lucas closed the order off and stood up, his face dark and full of menacing intentions. As he stood, his chair went flying back and he shoved his desk to one side, fuming with anger.

He would make every single one of them pay.

Oof, this was a long time coming!

Clyde really suffered here so I hope I wrote it out well enough. This was still fun to write despite the angst!

Stay tuned for the next part because that’s when shit goes down. ;)

See you later! <3

Part Four

#story #oc story #oc #oc writing #writing #a sprinkle of geeky #please don't judge me i'm just a writer #geekyfox1 #angst writing #oc angst

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christinaengela · 4 years ago

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There are many reasons why LED lights are better in a car than the older bulbs, starting with their much lower need for power. For example, if you forget your car’s lights on, it’s unlikely to run your battery down as quickly. Heat generation is another – I’ve had to replace more than a few interior light covers made brittle and cracked and even broken by extended exposure to heat from incandescent bulbs over their lifetimes! They’re also tougher and last longer. They also come in different colors, if you’re that way inclined. LED bulbs – if you’ll forgive the pun – are just cooler.

I have a fairly old car, a 1962 VW Beetle, and it’s what some people call “old school” – in fact, most of its equipment is still original factory machinery! You might want to upgrade the old bulbs on your old car to something shiny, brighter and new, and you may be wondering how. Let me tell you what I did.

The only upgrades I performed on this car when I inherited it from its original owner in 2015, was to change the 6 volt electrics to 12 volt so that I didn’t have to push-start it every morning or spend nearly R3000 on a new 6 volt battery! All this entailed was to swap the 6 volt generator with a 12 alternator, and of course, all the light bulbs.

Recently I decided to upgrade the standard, dim incandescent light bulbs to LED replacements. For the most part, this went perfectly fine and without a hitch. I started in the interior of the car – and almost immediately ran into a wall – aside from finding a replacement LED light for the roof light fitting easily enough, I was unable to locate a single LED light replacement for the instrument bulbs! In the meantime, satisfied with the brighter, cooler interior light, I decided to replace what I could with what I could find – and work on the trouble-children later.

The standard indicator, brake/night light bulbs are easily replaced with a wide variety of LED equivalents that you can buy for not much at virtually every car accessory store in PE – and then some!

I even found LED park-light bulbs – but, when it came to the headlights bulbs, that’s where I seemed to hit a wall!

First, the standard three-pin fitting (labeled H4 by the peeps who looked at me like I was from Mars when I asked for a set of LED headlight bulbs with the “regular, ordinary 3 pin plug fitting”) is apparently easily available – when it’s in stock!

As with everything nowadays, LED headlight bulbs are available in a diverse variety – you get the ones that look almost exactly like the original incandescent items, being the same size – and then you get the ones that have fancy heatsinks complete with miniature cooling fans built into the back, with the connector on the end of a short cable behind!

In fact, as it turned out, I had to do a little digging to find some. For example, when I asked around, one car accessory shop (the one everybody seems to think of first and is named after a king with the golden touch) was completely sold out – across town – and didn’t know when they would restock.

Another place I tried had some high-end bulbs for sale – to the tune of nearly R2000 for a pair! “Well, we do cater for people who enter car-shows, y’know.” The guy apologized when he saw me turn pale and lean on his counter for support.

I guess he felt a little sorry for me, because he was nice enough to invite me into his workshop, where he demonstrated the awesome power of the expensive bulb on his test bench!

“Look,” I said, blinking furiously while still seeing spots, “all I want is a pair of nice bright headlight bulbs with the right fitting – LED ones – not something that could be weaponized or fry eggs from across a garage!”

“Ah.” He smiled, and then referred me to a small shoppie on the Bridge that sells everything from snow-globes and mp3 players to train-sets and crossbows. “Try them, they have some Chinese-made ones there for R150 a set. Of course, they’re not as good as these.”

Of course not, Bob, of course not. But I could live with R150 a lot easier than I could with R2000 – even if the fancy ones could probably yset the car in front of Dolly on fire.

So that’s what I got – a set of very nice looking LED headlights for R150 in a neat, stylish box – with the H4 fitting at the back, even though it was attached to a cable on the back of the bulb. They had little heatsinks topped with cute miniature cooling fans too! I went home, feeling very pleased with myself!

That afternoon, I set about taking the bug’s headlight units out in preparation to fit my new acquisitions. Dolly is a 1962 model, so she has the more stylish sloping oval-shaped headlights, and a slightly different bulb-mounting fitting than most later models post 1967. As it turned out, taking the old bulbs out was the easy part. I was in for a bit of a surprise.

The brand new LED bulbs were very shiny and pretty and high-tech looking – but there were a few problems. They didn’t have the right collar plate that seated the bulbs into the reflector opening firstly, and secondly, the heatsink and fan built onto the back was too big to fit through the bulb-mounting ring!

The bulb’s H4 plug worked just fine alright – I plugged it in and tested the lights – they were nice and bright and switched between dipped and beam as they were supposed to… but how the Edgar Allan Poe was I supposed to get them to fit the headlights?

Horrifying visions of duct tape and nightmares involving bits of wire and cable ties filled my head! No, I don’t work like that, I chided myself… Definitely not! Or, wait a minute, or I could just put the old bulbs back and return my hard-won wares to the shop in the hope of a refund? Er… no. I didn’t want to do that either. There had to be a way, I thought.

I took the whole lot inside with me and sat on the couch beside my love to have some coffee while I mulled over the dilemma. How the hell was I going to make this lot work? About half an hour later, after holding this part against that and postulating ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybe I coulds’, I had an idea or two, and took the first headlight and bulbs new and old with me to the workshop.

The problem was the cable – it came out via the side of the rear of the heatsink unit, as opposed to directly out of the back – where there was a small fan intake to aid in cooling the heatsink. This prevented the ring housing from passing over the top of the bulb.

I overcame these issues by addressing one at a time. I removed the collars from the LED units easily – they slipped off without any fuss. Next I took the correct collars off a pair of old headlight bulbs – you can see how I did it in the photos, using a screwdriver handle and light hammer – and cleared the center holes so that they would allow the LED part of the new bulbs pass through as far as they could without being actually fitted to the bulb.

Why not dispense with the collar entirely? Well, because the mounting ring contains a spring with presses against the back of this collar in order to hold the unit to the reflector housing. Without that, the whole lot would be loose and might need something like duct tape to hold in place – and I didn’t want that!

With that out of the way, I looked at ways to make the mounting ring fit over the heatsink – which was about the same girth as the hole in the center. Trouble was, it wouldn’t pass over it from the rear due to the position of the cable, and for a moment I considered cutting a gap through the ring to allow it to do so, but decided against it. I didn’t want to make any irreversible changes to the originality of the car. Headlights like that are either very rare or very expensive to replace y’know!

Instead, I simply adjusted the edges of the hole in the ring with pliers and did the reverse – inserted the bulb unit into the hole from the back, and adjusted the edges of the hole so that it had a fairly firm grip and wouldn’t just fall out again.

With a bit of tweaking and refitting and more tweaking, I got the first headlight together, and then did the same thing on the second. Both went into the bug without a hitch, despite a reduced gap behind the headlights in the headlight buckets. I wondered how that would affect the new-fangled cooling fans in the back of the headlights… but in the time since I fitted them, several weeks ago now, I haven’t noticed any problems. The best thing about doing it this way, is that it makes no permanent changes to your older classic car – if like me, that sort of thing worries you! If the fancy took me, I could whip out the new LED bulbs and replace them with stock units without a problem.

Incidentally, you might want to remove these little things from your headlights (if they still have them) – they basically serve no purpose other than to make your headlights even dimmer!

Dolly now has nice bright LED headlights, and I feel a lot safer in driving on overcast or rainy days when other road users drive like they’re the only cars on the road! Driving at night is now also much less stressful an experience!

Dolly’s feeling all bright-eyed and bushy tailed – see you later, we’re going for a drive!

Pictures included – enjoy!

Have a DIY day!

Cheers!

#gallery-0-4 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 16%; } #gallery-0-4 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-4 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

If you’d like to send Christina Engela a question about anything on this site, or her life as a writer or transactivist, please send an email to [email protected] or use the Contact form on her author website.

Show your appreciation for Christina’s work!

Easy DIY Fit LED Headlight Bulbs To An Older Car There are many reasons why LED lights are better in a car than the older bulbs, starting with their much lower need for power.

#adapt #Beetle #cheap #DIY #easy #hack #headlight #innovate #LED #overcome #preserve #upcycle #upgrade #workaround

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owlaholic68 · 7 years ago

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If at first you don’t succeed...Chapter 3

Read it at AO3 here.

Hakunin’s tent has always felt odd to Carla. Now, seated across from the eccentric shaman, she feels even more uncomfortable.

“You’ve always offered me solid, though sometimes incomprehensible, advice,” she starts. Hakunin nods and gestures for her to continue. “I’m just not sure what I should do.”

“Explain the cloud choking out your heart, child, and I will channel the spirits to help guide your path.” Hakunin takes a sip of some foul-smelling brew. Carla doubts it’s tea; more likely, it’s straight-up drugs.

“I’m going to sound crazy.” Though I can’t sound any crazier than you. Fuck it.

Carla explains, to the best of her knowledge. Hakunin stays silent, nodding thoughtfully at some of the more unbelievable parts.

“You walk a troubled path, an endless one you must walk again and again. You say that we will be spirited away by metal dragonflies?”

It takes Carla a second to decipher that metaphor. “Yes. I’ve tried time and time again (seventeen times, of course she counts) to stop them and save the village.”

“But that’s not what happened the very first time?”

“No?” Carla frowns. “I mean, yes, the Enclave did come and take everyone. But it didn’t end there. They took you southwest to an Oil Rig in the ocean. I,” she’s never spoken of her dilemma to anyone else, and the words are starting to stick in her throat at the thought of her first death. “I made it there, but security was so tight. I wasn’t able to get anyone out. The Elder suggested trying to blow up the reactor, but with everyone still in there,” she swallows hard, “I just couldn’t. I couldn’t. Then I got caught. So I tried to run, but…”

“There, there, child,” Hakunin puts a hand on her shoulder. “You tried your best. And it seems as if some spirit has given you the opportunity to try again. Let me tell you what I think.” He sits back and inhales the steam from his cup of probably-not-drugs.

“There are some things in life you just can’t change, no matter how you try. If the fates really did give you this chance to fix your mistakes, it seems as if our untimely kidnapping was not what you’re supposed to worry about. After all, you can still save us afterwards, right?”

Carla avoids his eyes. “Of course. I even know how to do it.” She forces a smile. Hakunin’s never made it. He died the first time, and he’ll die every time. “So you’re saying I should just let them come, and focus on trying to rescue everyone instead?”

Hakunin nods and smiles gently at her. “Yes. If the spirits let you get that far in the first place, that is the path they wish you to take.”

She sees the sense (for once) of what he says. But to just give up on saving the village… I’m not sure I can do that. I’d be abandoning them, knowing full well what would happen. And not everyone makes it alive. The weight of the last seventeen cycles weighs heavy on her young shoulders. It’s not like anything I’ve done has helped, though. Maybe he’s right. I’ll try a few more times to find a way to stop the Enclave, then I’ll just have to…give up.

“Thank you, Hakunin.” Carla hugs him before she heads off under the hot wasteland sun.

Smiley the Trapper must have been a nutjob to get past all these geckos. Carla frowns and peers around a corner of the cave. The Toxic Caves, just outside of Klamath, are far more perilous than she had anticipated. Around the corner, three fire geckos sniff at a pile of bones. Silently, as slowly as she can, Carla unhooks a grenade from her belt.

All three geckos turn at the soft plink of the grenade hitting the cavern floor. One spots her and hisses. Carla steps back as the grenade explodes.

The good news: it eliminates all three lizards.

The bad news: apparently these caves were not only toxic, but unstable as fuck.

The walls around her start to shake and crumble. Carla scrambles to her feet, but doesn’t make it very far. A heavy beam hits her back; she hits the ground hard, breath knocked out of her lungs in a dusty gasp.

“Help!” she shouts, in the vain hopes that someone, anyone, will hear her. Her arms are pinned down too. As she wiggles and struggles to escape, the rusting machinery next to her creaks and groans.

Carla barely has time to think grenades fucking suck before a steel crane crushes her skull.

She finds a pair of pliers in Smitty’s locker. The Den is still lively at this time of night, people standing outside of Becky’s Bar and laughing loudly. But the junkyard is still and quiet, so she pockets the tool without problem. There’s a nugget of guilt in her stomach at the theft, but it is just a pair of pliers. Smitty won’t even miss them.

The screwdriver, surprisingly, she finds on a shelf in Skeeter’s workshop. She’s still trekking out to Gecko to fix their reactor; despite the hostile reaction from Vault City, it feels like the right thing to do. Lenny is sitting on a countertop while she pokes around, regaling her with some pre-war story she’s heard five times already. But she nods and hums in all the right places, even asking a few questions out of habit.

“Hey, Skeeter, you mind if I borrow this?” she calls out to the ghoul tinkering in the adjacent room. He only briefly looks up at the tool before grunting in affirmation and returning to his work.

Two tools. Now to find a wrench.

The Vault City slums are, well, just that- a slum. Disheartened farmers and out-of-luck laborers mingle in the local bar, drowning their misfortunes in the best moonshine the wasteland has to offer. As Carla nears the door, intent on asking the bartender for information, a small child catches her eye. He’s sitting by the corner of the building and quietly crying. Carla looks around, desperate for a responsible adult and parent to help. But no one seems to take notice of the child.

“Hello,” she kneels down in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

He sniffs. “I lost my doll. Mr. Nixon was my best friend and he promised he’d stay with me forever and ever. But he’s a big fat liar!”

Carla inwardly sighs. Of all the things she was expecting to do this cycle, helping a kid find his lost doll was not one of them. But why not? She’s done enough bad the last few months, might as well try to do some good.

“Come on, then,” she adopts a gentle tone and holds out her hand. “Let’s go find him. I bet he just got lost.” The little boy takes her hand. She leads him around the side of the bar. “Did he get lost around here?” He nods. So Carla spends an entire five minutes looking for the toy before finding it in a dark corner, half-covered by rocks.

“Thank you so much, ma’am!” The child is, as expected, delighted. He hugs the doll close and peers into its beady eyes. “I thought you were just a big fat liar. But you’re my bestest friend! Listen,” he leans in real close to it, “I won’t tell Mom you got lost, if you don’t tell her I took one of Dad’s wrenches and hid it behind some rocks over there! Okay!” he runs off into a house.

Carla runs over to the nearby pile of rocks and hastily uncovers a dusty wrench. She slips it into her pocket and fast-walks to the gate of downtown Vault City. It’s almost sundown; if she wants to give Valerie the tools, she’s going to have to book it as fast as she can to her office.

After giving the grumpy mechanic the tools, Carla stays overnight in a grimy tent. Bright and early the next morning, she gets back into the city and collects the super repair kit.

Skeeter is overjoyed when she unveils her find.

“I’ll go get that part you needed, right away!” he scurries off to the garage, leaving Carla alone with Lenny, her ever-present companion in Gecko. The skinny ghoul opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by Skeeter, who flies back into the room and drops a fist-sized gadget into her open hands.

The sun is setting, deepening Lenny’s gaunt face even further. They’re sitting in his room: him on the bed, her on a mattress on the floor. It’s an unspoken agreement now, one that Carla has lived time and time again. She happens to be in Gecko for the night, Lenny lets her crash on his floor. But this time, he speaks up, startling her from the repetitive monotony she’s fallen into. During the last six cycles she’s visited Gecko, they’ve never had this conversation.

“You r-remind me of them s-so much.”

Carla looks up from her magazine. “Of who?”

Lenny looks lost in thought. “The Vault Dweller. They c-came to Necropolis one day – that’s w-where I used to live, before it w-was overrun with Super Mutants – and fixed our w-water pump. Saved the w-whole town.” He stares into the distance, looking his age for once. “I wanted s-so badly to go with them, but I never w-worked up the courage to even ask. I w-wish,” he chuckles, “if I c-could do it all over again, I w-would take a chance and at least try. But s-second chances don’t c-come easy these days.”

“No.” Tears well up in her eyes; she blinks them away. “They really don’t.”

Lenny notices her distress and starts to say something.

“Come with me,” she blurts, the words ripping from her mouth without thinking. An image rises unbidden of the last time she travelled with anyone: Sulik, dead on the wasteland dirt.

“What? R-really?” Lenny sits back in surprise.

Carla almost hopes he’ll refuse. The idea of opening up to someone is like holding a knife over her own heart. It’s just a matter of time before she messes up, and now it’s not only her who’ll face the consequences. I’ve lost so much. I’m not sure how much more I can take. But maybe I don’t have to do this alone any more. It’s not like it’s worked out all of the other times. And it if it all goes south this time, I’ll have learned my lesson.

Of course, he doesn’t refuse.

The next morning, when she heads out of Gecko for the long journey back to the Den, she’s not alone. Not anymore.

The first drive in the Highwayman is exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Lenny coaxes her through the motions of driving a car, but she still almost hits the junkyard gate a few times. For a few hours, they cruise in silence until they reach the outskirts of Redding.

It’s already December. Only five months left. Hakunin’s words echo in her head, a piece of advice she can’t seem to ignore. With that in mind, she doesn’t stop in Redding like normal, but continues south. She has half a mind to head for New Reno, but decides to breeze past it, leaving the twinkling lights of the vice-infested city far behind. She’d visited it once, the very first cycle, and had almost immediately turned around and left.

Now, the mountains turn into flat desert. The sun sets, and she keeps going. Lenny nods off, and she keeps going, still heading towards the south. She lets him sleep until the sun rises again. His eyes flicker open when she stops the car near a cave. She stretches out on the backseat while he takes watch.

For the first time in days, Carla sleeps soundly, even for a few hours.

“Oh m-my god,” Lenny’s alarmed face fades in and out of her blurry vision. Carla tries to sit up. “N-no, no!” He’s too late to stop her. She screams and collapses back on the dirt, her entire torso a fiery mass of pain. I was so close to San Francisco. Guess I’ll have to try again next time. And I’ll know to keep an eye out for slavers.

“Stimpacks?” she croaks. He shakes his head, tears welling up in his sunken and pale white eyes.

“C-Carla,” he gently lifts her onto his lap. “I’m a s-shit doctor, I c-can’t even s-s-save you, I c-can’t do anything to h-help.”

“Hey,” she reaches up and puts a hand on his cheek, wincing despite herself. “Stomach wounds are pretty fatal without stimpacks. It’s not your fault.” Even speaking this much is shooting sparks of pain up her chest. She drops her hand to her lap; he grabs it and squeezes tightly.

“C-Carla, what am I going to d-do now?” Lenny is openly sobbing now, one hand holding hers, the other supporting the back of her head.

“Ha,” she chuckles. Laughing hurts. Talking hurts. Even breathing hurts. Soon, though, it will all be over. “Don’t worry about that.” Suddenly, guilt joins the other, more literal, daggers piercing her stomach. “Lenny,” her voice trails away, but she fights to stay conscious. I have to know. I can’t die until I know.

“Hush,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

“If you had a second chance,” Carla coughs up some blood and knows her end is quickly approaching. “Would you still want to come with me? Even knowing that one of us could die?”

He stares at her, eyes wide and brimming over.

“Yes, a thousand t-times over, yes.”

“Good,” her eyes slip shut.

I’m sick of dying alone.

#fallout #fallout 2 #fo2 #death tw #chosen one #fallout stuff i've written #chosen one carla #oc

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mintylilacs · 5 years ago

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So I hoisted my sewing machine from the depths of the downstairs pantry today

I quickly learned that was not a particularly good idea.

Literally every problem I could have I do have. My thread keeps breaking because the set up makes it just... impossibly hard to pull thread off a cardboard tube cause the thing that keeps the tube from coming off the stick makes the thread just catch at an odd angle and break so I ended up just taking it off and taping the other end down so it wouldn’t fall off. But I do t know if that worked cause immediately worse shit happened.

(This was after my bobbin threader just... accidentally fell out of place and made it look like my machine was broken cause I’d press the pedal and it would do like one stitch and then just whir and not go anywhere.)

Then my entire bobbin system just... self destructed and I had to put the whole thing back together with no guide because when you look up “singer tradition bobbin” you get normal tutorials about how to thread and insert a bobbin, not what to do if the ENTIRE MECHANISM FALLS APART MID STITCH BECAUSE A SINGLE LITTLE PIECE OF PLASTIC GOT JOSTLED OUT OF POSITION AND LET THE ENTIRE THING CAME LOOSE, BREAKING YOUR NEEDLE IN THE PROCESS

So of course I did the only logical thing, I went upstairs, got a slice of chocolate cream pie from the kitchen, grabbed some matches and an incense stick and vibe checked my fucking sewing machine cause clearly SOMETHING got ahold of it while I wasn’t paying attention. And I cried, just a little. Cause here I am holding half the bobbin system in my hands and my needle is broken and I JUST WANTED TO UPCYCLE A SHEET INTO CLOTH NAPKINS WITHOUT HAVING TO HAND STITCH THE FUCKING EDGES DAMNIT

And then, between me running back and forth to the garage for various tools (a screwdriver -cause I thought the bobbin threader problem was an internal issue so I took part of the cover off to make sure things were moving alright-then two separate pairs of pliers cause I lost the little key you use to change the needle and the first pair of pliers I grabbed was too big) I LET BUGS INTO THE HOUSE. WEIRD BUGS.

Well ok one was weird, the rest were garden variety, little mosquitoes that don’t even bite that often cause they’re stupid and tiny, one of those big ol scary looking ones that eats the tiny mosquitos, a couple tiny flies, all good prey for my cat who needs to exxersize more and wanted to come down and hang out with me anyway.

But then there came The Thing.

It LOOKS like a wasp or wasp adjacent entity. But mind you this is happening at 11:30 pm. One does not often see those in the middle of the night, it’s one of the reasons I’m partially nocturnal, even without the adhd night is just far more pleasant for someone who is triggered by the sound of bees and wasps.

But here’s the thing. That triggering sound? That horrific buzz that activates my fight or flight response of one of those tickets cones within like... fifteen feet of me? This bug didn’t do that.

The only reason I didn’t think it was just a particularly large fly was because of how fast it moved and how much noise it made slamming into the lights.

My downstairs has the ceiling of a classroom, with those big plastic-y panels that cover the lights? And when large bugs crash into those going full tilt, it THUMPS.

So here I am, the damn thing lands on the ceiling, and I squinting up at it trying to figure out WHAT THE FUCK IT IS.

Cause it kind of looks like a wasp sized black ant with wings. I’ve NEVER encountered such a creature in all my years (and believe me, I’ve encountered a few, where do you think I got the phobia from? Those fuckers went right for my crotch and my crime? Standing. Literally just standing and WHOOP up my pants they went! From that day I trusted no bitch.)

So anyway I got Lilly and I upstairs and now we’re chilling. And I left a note for my dad telling him to not let the weird bug upstairs.

I’ve half a mind to think this is some fae bullshit. I mean the sewing machine definetly is and I can fix that up but like that bug just does not look right.

Still, that room has so many iron antiques and the garage, hooooo boy. Maybe it came through a gap in the screen door?

I don’t care how it got in or what it is I want it out.

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mikebrackett · 6 years ago

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Things Your Parents Didn’t Tell You About Living on Your Own

“Why did no one ever teach us this?” is a common question among young people experiencing the grown-up world for the first time.

Being out on your own for the first time can be tough. It comes with a whole suite of new responsibilities, and they all fall on you.

Once you move out of your childhood home and into your own place, there’s no one to pick up your slack. Even if you live with a roommate, you’re still responsible for keeping your space, your finances and yourself healthy and in order. Taking this all on at once can feel overwhelming, especially if you’re not quite sure how to handle a lot of this stuff.

If you’re living alone for the first time and aren’t sure how to cut a potato properly let alone create a budget that allows you to save for your 401(k), fear not. Everyone figures it out eventually, and we’ve got some tips that will help ease the transition.

What to Stock

First things first: there are some items you’ll need to keep on hand if you want to have a successfully-run home or apartment. You know the basics – chairs, tables, a place to sleep – but there are some odds and ends you might not realize are essential.

Because most people who are just starting out on their own usually don’t have a ton of money to furnish a perfectly-stocked apartment, we’ve broken down what you’ll need, organized by the room. Supplement this list with any items you know you can’t live without.

Kitchen

Pots and pans: Get at least two of each, one large and one small

Cooking tools: Some basics to get you started include a chef’s knife, a paring knife, spatulas (both a metal and rubber one), measuring utensils, a mixing bowl, a colander and a can opener.

Spices: Start with salt and pepper. Add others to your collection as recipes call for them.

Tableware and eating utensils: No paper plates and plastic cutlery! Get a dinnerware set that includes plates, bowls and cups. Or you can save money mixing and matching individual pieces from the thrift store. Just make sure they’re in good condition. You don’t need a huge set unless you plan on hosting large dinner parties. But get a few of each so you have some wiggle room when it comes to doing the dishes. Make sure you have a set of forks, knives and spoons as well.

Cookware can be expensive, and if you’re having trouble pulling together the cash for these items, let the people in your life know you’re moving into a new place and see if they’d be willing to donate any stuff they don’t use anymore.

Bedroom

Two sets of sheets: One to go on your bed, one clean and ready to go for when the other set needs to be laundered.

A bed: Not just a mattress on the floor. Not only can placing a mattress directly on the floor be bad for the mattress, it can expose you to dust and other allergens.

Bathroom

Toilet paper: Buy it in bulk. It doesn’t expire and there’s no chance you’re not going to use all of it. In fact, pack it with your belongings and bring it with you on move-in day. You’ll probably need it before you get a chance to run to the store.

Non-slip bath rug: Not only is a colorful bath rug a cheap and easy way to brighten up your bathroom, but if you get one with non-skid treads on the bottom you’ll give yourself a safe place to dry off your feet after a shower. You’ll prevent a slippery and potentially dangerous floor.

Miscellaneous

Multipurpose cleaner: A spray bottle of cleaning product that works on almost any surface is a must-have for lazy and budget-conscious cleaners alike. Just don’t use it on any surfaces that need special treatment, like wood floors.

Cleaning cloths: You can also use paper towels, but for an eco-friendlier route, buy a pack of reusable microfiber cloths to do your cleaning with.

Basic tools: Having a few commonly-used tools on hand will be helpful for hanging pictures, fixing leaky faucets and the like. For basic projects, get yourself a few different sizes of both slotted and Phillips-head screwdrivers, a hammer, a tape measure, pliers, a utility knife and an adjustable wrench.

Scissors: Easy to forget, but you’ll really feel it when you need a pair and don’t own one.

A step ladder: Don’t climb on kitchen chairs (or worse, rolling desk chairs) and risk hurting yourself when you need to reach something that’s high up.

How to Budget

When you move out on your own for the first time, you’ll likely have to take on a lot of new costs that you aren’t used to having. Between rent, bills, groceries and all the annoying unexpected costs that inevitably come up, you’re going to need to have a plan for how you spend your money.

Thanks to the plethora of budgeting apps available, managing your money is easier than ever. However, you can download as many apps as you want or spend hours painstakingly crafting a personalized budget that accounts for all your expenses, but it won’t help if you don’t actually stick to the plan. That’s why it’s so important to find a budgeting method that works for you.

One popular method is the 50/20/30 rule, where you allocate 50% of your income to living expenses, 20% to savings and debt and 30% for the things you want but don’t necessarily need. You could also craft a budget that prioritizes paying off debt, or one that puts all your extra money toward investing.

If you’re new to budgeting and doubt your organization abilities, start small. Start tracking your spending and evaluate what types of things your income goes to. Learn about what it means to live within your means. Utilize money-saving tricks, like setting up a direct deposit into your savings account or cutting back on your electricity use. Avoid racking up credit card debt.

The most important thing is that you find a budget that fits your specific needs and goals and is realistic. Budgets are like diets: the best one is the one you can stick to.

Whatever your budget, the two most vital things you should prioritize (if you’re not deeply in high interest debt) are building an emergency savings fund and saving for retirement. For your emergency fund, the goal is to have three to six months of living expenses saved up, so if you run into a big life change such as losing your job, you have time to get yourself back on track without being in immediate financial danger. Retirement, though it may seem far off, is equally important. The earlier you start saving, the longer your money has to grow.

How to Keep Clean

When you live alone, there’s no one else to blame when things get messy. There’s also no one else to blame you, which is why so many people who are out on their own for the first time fall into the habit of letting their place get a little – or a lot – messy.

You shouldn’t let stuff build up just because you or your roommates don’t mind living in a messy space. It’s not super difficult to keep your place tidy if you stay on top of it. Plus, some of the things that come along with a poorly-cleaned house like mold and pests are health hazards that can be a serious pain to get rid of.

The best and easiest way to keep your space neat is to clean as you go. Don’t let stuff pile up for “later” (which we all know really means until I have guests coming over and it’s embarrassing). Wipe down the counter as soon as you’re done cooking. Break down pizza boxes for the recycling as soon as you’ve put away your leftovers. Do your dishes as soon as you finish dinner. Re-hang clothes you try on right away. When you let piles of mess build up, cleaning becomes an even more daunting task, making you want to do it even less.

You don’t have to be perfect. People have busy lives. Sometimes, your place will be messy. If you have trouble keeping tidy, here are our basic cleaning tips for the days (or weeks) where you can only do the bare minimum:

Regularly wipe down the items and surfaces you use every day, disinfecting where necessary (this is where a good multipurpose cleaning spray will come in handy).

Food products need to be stored properly or thrown out. Cooked food shouldn’t be left sitting out for more than two hours, as room temperature is the ideal temperature for bacterial growth (the USDA refers to a temperature range between 40 – 140 degrees as the danger zone for food). Leaving food out can also attract pests. Clean up spills and crumbs right away.

Don’t allow dust to collect for too long, especially if you have a respiratory condition.

At least once a week, set aside some time to put things away. Tackle the pile of outfit rejects in your room, sort the mail and return your shoes to their rack. Get rid of any clutter.

If you don’t have time to do the dishes right away, rinse them off as soon as you go to put them in the sink. If you made something that has a tendency to crust, pour some dish soap on the dish and submerge it in water to soak. This will make doing the dishes a million times easier when you get to them.

While you don’t have to do all the dishes right away, any utensils that were used to prep raw food such as meat should be cleaned as soon as you’re done with them.

How to Stay Safe

If you’re out on your own the first time, you’re likely renting your place, meaning that a lot of your security is left up to the rental community you live in. When you’re first searching for places to live, make sure to inquire about a place’s security features before you sign a lease. Are the areas surrounding the building well-lit? Can anyone enter buildings, or do doors require a key? Do they change the locks when a new renter moves in?

While it’s good to live in a place that provides security for its residents, there are ways you can secure your individual unit against intruders.

If your door has a peephole, use it. If it doesn’t, see about getting one installed. If your lease allows for it, install a deadbolt and chain lock if you don’t already have one. Make sure the locks on the windows are in good condition. Consider investing in renter’s insurance, and get to know your neighbors.

One great way to ensure your safety when you’re living on your own is to cultivate a local support system, especially if you don’t have a roommate and are living away from your family and friends. Making friends with a trustworthy neighbor can be invaluable. They can keep an extra set of your keys in case of an emergency and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity while you’re out of town.

When you live alone, it’s important that you keep the people in your life updated on what you’re up to so they know to check in when they haven’t heard from you. If you don’t have anyone in your life you care to share those details with, make friends with a local and make a deal to check in on each other regularly or to let each other know when you’re going somewhere outside of your usual routine.

Be sure you’re staying safe inside your home as well and watch out for common household hazards. Check regularly that your fire and carbon monoxide alarms are working, keep a first aid kit on hand and avoid creating tripping hazards.

Make sure you’re observing basic kitchen safety rules when cooking. Never leave cooking food unattended and know how to use a fire extinguisher. Also, use oven mitts and wash your hands frequently, especially after handling raw meat. Finally, double check that you turned off the burners or stove after you’ve finished cooking.

How to Stay Healthy

This may be one of the more difficult aspects of living alone for the first time, because the only person you’re accountable to on this is yourself. But just because you can get away with neglecting your health doesn’t mean you should.

Visit your doctor at least once a year for a physical. Visit the dentist twice a year. See the eye doctor every one or two years. If you’re at risk for any specific conditions, make sure you’re getting screened as often as is recommended.

At the very least, don’t put off calling and making an appointment when something is wrong. Waiting for an ailment to get better on its own can end badly. By being proactive, you could be saving yourself lengthy and costly treatment, or you could very well be saving your own life.

Educate yourself on how to eat a balanced diet – cooking healthy and affordable meals for one isn’t easy. While conventional wisdom states that it’s generally cheaper to cook your meals than get them at a restaurant, that truth is a little more complicated for single diners who face challenges shopping and cooking for one person when very little food is sold in single-servings. Making unique and healthy meals each day can actually become quite expensive.

To work around these challenges and save money, try cooking one big meal once a week and portioning it out into individual containers for a daily meal. If you need more variety, plan out your weekly meals using recipes with similar requirements. For example, one week you could plan to make mostly chicken-based dishes, using different spices, sauces and sides to have a different dish each night.

Another way to keep your food costs down while eating healthy is to stock your freezer with some basic meal components, like chicken and bagged vegetables, and thaw individual servings as needed. Always keep staples like pasta, beans and rice on hand.

Who to Call

Being the boss of your own household can be a great feeling, but it also means you’re the one who has to step up when everything hits the fan.

From pest infestations to burst pipes and life-threatening emergencies, adult life offers all kinds of unexpected and stressful situations that will pop up when you’re least expecting it. The key is to be prepared and know how to deal with it ahead of time. This is often a matter of having the right phone number.

If you live in an apartment, you already have a great resource when it comes to many of these situations: your landlord or management office. If you’re ever dealing with a non-emergency apartment issue, give them a call and they’ll likely send out their handyman to fix it. If it requires a service not provided for in your lease, they can still let you know who can help you with your issue, and might even be able to provide recommendations.

If you own your home or have a less-than-helpful landlord, you may be stuck dealing with problems on your own. If it’s a simple repair or issue, try using the internet to educate yourself on how to fix it. Or, get some recommendations for a repair professional who can help you (yet another reason to build a local support system – they can give you the lowdown on the best repairmen and mechanics in your area).

Keep any phone numbers you need close by. This includes any numbers you received upon move-in, which will likely tell you who to call if you have repair issues. Get a number for someone you can call for after-hour issues. You probably know to call 911 in an emergency, but find out your locality’s number for reporting non-emergencies, such as a burglary that has already happened, as well.

What to Do When You’re Scared/Lonely/Overwhelmed

When you move out on your own, you become responsible not just for your logistics of living, but for making yourself feel better when you’re not doing well emotionally.

Living on your own, especially if you don’t have a roommate, can feel really great and freeing, but it can also be overwhelming and lonely, particularly when you first move in.

Know that it’s OK to feel overwhelmed or even scared. You will adjust, even if it takes a little while. Eventually, you’ll get into a routine that works for you. You’ll get used to the strange noises your home occasionally makes. You’ll feel confident in caring for yourself.

Don’t be afraid to reach out and ask for help. Don’t let geographical distance get to you. Your friends and family, even those who live far away, are really never more than a phone call or video chat away.

Consider talking to a therapist. Moving out on your own is a big transition, and dealing with the emotions that come with that – both positive and negative – can be overwhelming. A mental health professional can help you sort out your feelings of fear, anxiety or loneliness.

Make sure you’re getting out of the house regularly. Even the most introverted homebodies can start to feel isolated if they only ever leave to go to work or the grocery store. Make sure you’re inviting others over every so often as well. It will feel good to host friends in your space, whether it’s for an elaborate dinner party or a chill movie night.

Most importantly, remember to relish in the freedom of living on your own. If you want to eat dessert for dinner occasionally, no one is there to judge you. If you want to throw a one-person dance party, dance away. Celebrate your independence.

What are your tips for living on your own? Share them in the comments!

The post Things Your Parents Didn’t Tell You About Living on Your Own appeared first on ZING Blog by Quicken Loans.

from Updates About Loans https://www.quickenloans.com/blog/things-parents-didnt-tell-living

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aaronsniderus · 6 years ago

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Things Your Parents Didn’t Tell You About Living on Your Own

“Why did no one ever teach us this?” is a common question among young people experiencing the grown-up world for the first time.

Being out on your own for the first time can be tough. It comes with a whole suite of new responsibilities, and they all fall on you.

What to Stock

Kitchen

Pots and pans: Get at least two of each, one large and one small

Cooking tools: Some basics to get you started include a chef’s knife, a paring knife, spatulas (both a metal and rubber one), measuring utensils, a mixing bowl, a colander and a can opener.

Spices: Start with salt and pepper. Add others to your collection as recipes call for them.

Bedroom

Two sets of sheets: One to go on your bed, one clean and ready to go for when the other set needs to be laundered.

A bed: Not just a mattress on the floor. Not only can placing a mattress directly on the floor be bad for the mattress, it can expose you to dust and other allergens.

Bathroom

Miscellaneous

Cleaning cloths: You can also use paper towels, but for an eco-friendlier route, buy a pack of reusable microfiber cloths to do your cleaning with.

Scissors: Easy to forget, but you’ll really feel it when you need a pair and don’t own one.

A step ladder: Don’t climb on kitchen chairs (or worse, rolling desk chairs) and risk hurting yourself when you need to reach something that’s high up.

How to Budget

The most important thing is that you find a budget that fits your specific needs and goals and is realistic. Budgets are like diets: the best one is the one you can stick to.

How to Keep Clean

Regularly wipe down the items and surfaces you use every day, disinfecting where necessary (this is where a good multipurpose cleaning spray will come in handy).

Don’t allow dust to collect for too long, especially if you have a respiratory condition.

At least once a week, set aside some time to put things away. Tackle the pile of outfit rejects in your room, sort the mail and return your shoes to their rack. Get rid of any clutter.

While you don’t have to do all the dishes right away, any utensils that were used to prep raw food such as meat should be cleaned as soon as you’re done with them.

How to Stay Safe

While it’s good to live in a place that provides security for its residents, there are ways you can secure your individual unit against intruders.

How to Stay Healthy

Who to Call

Being the boss of your own household can be a great feeling, but it also means you’re the one who has to step up when everything hits the fan.

What to Do When You’re Scared/Lonely/Overwhelmed

When you move out on your own, you become responsible not just for your logistics of living, but for making yourself feel better when you’re not doing well emotionally.

Living on your own, especially if you don’t have a roommate, can feel really great and freeing, but it can also be overwhelming and lonely, particularly when you first move in.

What are your tips for living on your own? Share them in the comments!

The post Things Your Parents Didn’t Tell You About Living on Your Own appeared first on ZING Blog by Quicken Loans.

from Updates About Loans https://www.quickenloans.com/blog/things-parents-didnt-tell-living

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thecoroutfitters · 7 years ago

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Written by Wild Bill on The Prepper Journal.

In my planning I am confident that I not only know where everything is but also how everything works in my home, the place I am most likely to encounter a disaster. Useful knowledge when I have to be responsible for myself and anything that might have crawled in when I wasn’t paying attention.

I had a friend who’s neighbors dog had figured out where their dog door was and where their dogs food dish was and would, on a regular basis “drop by” for a free meal since their small dog was always overfed and there was food always in its bowl. A habit I thought only in-laws developed. IAC my Homeowners Insurance Policy states “I am responsible” for all who enter legally.

Yes, like EVERYONE else on the planet I forget things and I have “brain farts” – now where was that thing? But I am better than most as no job is done UNTIL all the tools and materials used are put back where they belong. As a result I have been called “anal” often, and I take pride in this label for that reason. I swear my kids as teenagers used this against me to see how often they could “screw Dad into the ceiling” as a prank. Little time-bombs set by simply moving a tool, or placing it in the wrong drawer of the tool chest. They had it down to a science, and I admit I was wound a little tight on this subject.

So I know all the basics:

Water shut off valves (there are always two – at the intake from the city to the house and in that box that is on the cities easement by the curb. Though some contractors are “clever” in disguising the ones on/in the house

Electrical panels (locked with a padlock with several keys available)

Gas shut off – one at each appliance by code and one at the intake from the city system or the on-property storage tank

Alarm systems, motion-sensor light locations, ammo storage, food and water and medical supplies and on and on

But what if I am not there when an emergency occurs, be in somewhat minor – overflowing toilet, to major – a 6.2 earthquake and the smell of natural gas. And I will concede that if the overflowing toilet is on the second floor it changes to major rather quickly.

Well, like most preppers I write things down, take and add pictures to the document, show them to the family, try and keep their attention – “leave your cell phone in your room UNLESS you plan on taking a picture for your own use”, etc. I stress that this is important. I note a toilet has two water sources and the first, connecting it to the water line right there is the “first step” and enough unless this is where the malfunction has occurred. If it is, then the second is here and you need to go directly to it and turn off the water to the whole house. And NOT do this as a prank to your older sister when she is in the shower!

Children, boys and girls both, need to be shown these things, as do spouses and roommates. This is probably making most preppers smirk, and is assuredly making every farmer and rancher smirk but urban/suburban kids/people don’t really know these simple things. Live in an apartment? Do you know where to cut these things off? The “I’m not responsible because…” does not cut it in an emergency. Honest. I blame video games, and the cell/mobile phone. And looking for a video on YouTube on how to fix something while it is gushing water or showering sparks is akin to learning to drive a stick-shift while driving yourself to the hospital while you are bleeding to death.

On a visit to my sons new house recently I noted that he did not have the self-closing toilet seats on his toilets, and with two small boys post potty-trained, well, this could be life-altering. So I dragged the kids from their electronic devices, took them to the big-box store and forced them to go through the whole process. Finding the items in the store, picking ones that would work. Paying for them and making it clear that they could have bought two new games for their xBox for the price – you have to speak their language.

Then the fun started. As soon as we got back home their tendency was to head straight for their electronic additions. While it was like keeping kittens in a circle I managed to corral them and make them go through the WHOLE process. Then the shock set in. I sent the oldest, 11 years old, to their fathers tool chest in the garage to get a pair of pliers, and a slot and Phillips screwdriver. Blank stare. I might as well have been speaking Latin, I though about Klingon but they would understand that better than me. So, a diversion to the garage where we went through the tools. Of course, the small computer tools they knew and they could swap out a motherboard or video controller with ease, but had not taken the step to transfer this learning to the larger physical world in which we all exist. In any case I forced them to go through each of the installs, to deal with the “yuck” proper disposal of the replaced seats and then released them back to their virtual world. Now all of those who have read this can be witnesses in future lawsuits over the abuse.

Well, the same process needs to be done with every preppers family, etc. in that they need to know the things you know so they are prepared. Not just the utility and structure things BUT how to use all the supplies in your medical kit properly because YOU may be the one needing medical attention and you may not be conscious to give instructions. Start as simple as a band-aid. When should one be used? Sound silly? In a SHTF world even these will become a sought after commodity, so know when not to waste one. Teach the ABC’s – Airway, Breathing, and Circulation. Once they can recognize how to deal with a wound, minor to yucky to OMG, then move on to how to use a tourniquet. Nothing has been more misused in the movies and on TV that the tourniquet, with the possible exceptions of guns, hunting, and reporting actual news. Sharing the knowledge is ALWAYS the right thing to do. But one caution, know what you are talking about.

Stored ammo boxes. I have some. I don’t broadcast their location. They have locks on them, the keys are in my gun safe, who has that combo? At this point only me. They will be useless if family members need them when I am not around for an emergency however the combo is in trust documents that my kids have, I trust them and they do not live with me, and it is buried in the text. I know, anal, but my position is an unloaded firearm is a club that swings poorly compared to a baseball bat, so some of the guns in my safe are ready for use as they sit, all are treated as if they are ready to shoot.

Have a generator for backup power? Does everyone know how to safely use it? How about power tools? Left best to the parents to determine when to introduce these to others, some would be quite useful should you have to hunker down in place or deal with an emergency without the alpha in the picture.

What your family knows can save both them and you.

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The post Does the Family Know? appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

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lesbianrewrites · 8 years ago

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The Martian Chapter 4

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

CHAPTER IV

LOG ENTRY: SOL 32

So I ran in to a bunch of problems with my water plan.

My idea is to make 600L of water (limited by the hydrogen I can get from the Hydrazine). That means I’ll need 300L of liquid O2.

I can create the O2 easily enough. It takes 20 hours for the MAV fuel plant to fill its 10L tank with CO2. The Oxygenator can turn it in to O2, then the Atmospheric Regulator will see the O2 content in the Hab is high, and pull it out of the air, storing it in the main O2 tanks. They’d fill up, so I’d have to transfer O2 over to the rovers’ tanks and even space suit tanks as necessary.

But I can’t create it very quickly. At 1/2L of CO2 per hour, it will take 25 days to make the oxygen I need. That’s longer than I’d like.

Also, there’s the problem of storing the hydrogen. The air tanks of the Hab, the rovers, and all the space suits add up to exactly 374L of storage. To hold all the materials for water, I would need a whopping 900L of storage.

I considered using one of the rovers as a “tank”. It would certainly be big enough, but it just isn’t designed to hold in that much pressure. It’s made to hold (you guessed it) one atmosphere. I need vessels that can hold 50 times that much. I’m sure a rover would burst.

The best way to store the ingredients of water is to make them be water. So what’s what I’ll have to do.

The concept is simple, but the execution will be incredibly dangerous.

Every 20 hours, I’ll have 10L of CO2 thanks to the MAV fuel plant. I’ll vent it in to the Hab via the highly scientific method of detaching the tank from the MAV landing struts, bringing it in to the Hab, then opening the valve until it’s empty.

The Oxygenator will turn it in to oxygen in its own time.

Then, I’ll release Hydrazine, VERY SLOWLY, over the iridium catalyst, to turn it in to N2 and H2. I’ll direct the hydrogen to a small area and burn it.

As you can see, this plan provides many opportunities for me to die in a fiery explosion.

Firstly, Hydrazine is some serious death. If I make any mistakes, there’ll be nothing left but the “Maia Watney Memorial Crater” where the Hab once stood.

Presuming I don’t fuck up with the Hydrazine, there’s still the matter of burning hydrogen. I’m going to be setting a fire. In the Hab. On purpose.

If you asked every engineer at NASA what the worst scenario for the Hab was, they’d all answer “fire.” If you asked them what the result would be, they’d answer “death by fire.”

But if I can pull it off, I’ll be making water continuously, with no need to store hydrogen or oxygen. It’ll be mixed in to the atmosphere as humidity, but the Water Reclaimer will pull it out.

‘I don’t even have to perfectly match the Hydrazine end of it with the fuel plant CO2 part. There’s plenty of oxygen in the Hab, and plenty more in reserve. I just need to make sure not to make so much water I run myself out of O2.

I hooked up the MAV fuel plant to the Hab’s power supply. Fortunately they both use the same voltage. It’s chugging away, collecting CO2 for me.

Half-ration for dinner. All I accomplished today was thinking up a plan that’ll kill me, and that doesn’t take much energy.

I’m going to finish off the last of “Three’s Company” tonight. Frankly, I like Mr. Furley more than the Ropers.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 33

This may be my last entry.

I’ve known since Sol 6 there was a good chance I’d die here. But I figured it would be when I ran out of food. I didn’t think it would be this early.

I’m about the fire up the Hydrazine.

Our mission was designed knowing that anything might need maintenance, so I have plenty of tools. Even in a space-suit, I was able to pry the access panels off the MDV and get at the six Hydrazine tanks. I set them in the shadow of a rover to keep them from heating up too much. There’s more shade and a cooler temperature near the Hab, but fuck that. If they’re going to blow up, they can blow up a rover, not my house.

Then I pried out the reaction chamber. It took some work and I cracked the damn thing in half, but I got it out. Lucky for me I don’t need a proper fuel reaction. In fact, I really, super-duper don’t want a proper fuel reaction.

I brought all the Hydrazine and reaction chamber in. I briefly considered only having one tank in at a time to reduce risk. But some back-of-the-napkin math told me even one tank was enough to blow the whole Hab up, so why not bring them all in?

The tanks have manual vent valves. I’m not 100% sure what they’re for. Certainly we were never expected to use them. I think they’re there to release pressure during the many quality checks done during construction and before fueling. Whatever the reason, I have valves to work with. All it takes is a wrench.

I liberated a spare water hose from the Water Reclaimer. With some thread torn out of a uniform (Sorry, Johanssen), I attached it to the valve output. Hydrazine is a liquid, so all I have to do is lead it to the reaction chamber (more of a “reaction bowl” now).

Meanwhile, the MAV fuel plant is still working. I’ve already brought in one tank of CO2, vented it, and returned it for refilling.

So there are no more excuses. It’s time to start making water.

If you find the charred remains of the Hab, it means I did something wrong. I’m copying this log over to both rovers so it’s more likely it’ll survive.

Here goes nothin’

LOG ENTRY: SOL 33 (2)

Well, I didn’t die.

First thing I did was put on the inner lining of my EVA suit. Not the bulky suit itself, just the inner clothing I wear under it, including the gloves and booties. Then I got an oxygen mask from the medical supplies and some lab goggles from Vogel's chem kit. Almost all of my body was now protected and I would be breathing canned air.

Why? Because Hydrazine is very toxic. If I breathe too much of it I'll get major lung problems. If I get it on my skin, I'll have chemical burns for the rest of my life. I wasn't taking any chances.

I turned the valve until a trickle of Hydrazine came out. I let one drop fall in to the iridium bowl.

It un-dramatically sizzled and disappeared.

But hey, that’s what I wanted. I just freed up hydrogen and nitrogen. Yay!

One thing I have in abundance here is bags. They’re not much different than kitchen trash bags, though I’m sure they cost $50,000 because NASA.

In addition to being our commander, Lewis was also the geologist. She was going to collect rock and soil samples from all over the operational area (10 km radius). Weight limits restricted how much she could actually bring back, so she was going to collect first, then sort out the most interesting 50kg to take home. The bags are to store and tag the samples. Some are smaller than a Ziploc, while others are as big as a Hefty lawn and leaf bag.

Also, I have duct tape. Ordinary duct tape, like you buy at a hardware store. Turns out even NASA can’t improve on duct tape.

I cut up a few Hefty sized bags and taped them together to make a sort of tent. Really it was more of a super-sized bag. I was able to cover the whole table where my Hydrazine mad scientist set-up was. I put a few knickknacks on the table to keep the plastic out of the iridium bowl. Thankfully, the bags are clear, so I can still see what’s going on.

Next, I sacrificed a spacesuit to the cause. I needed an air hose. I have a surplus of space suits, after all. A total of seven; one for each crewmember and one spare. So I don’t mind murdering one of them.

I cut a hole in the top of the plastic and duct taped the hose in place. Nice seal, I think.

With some more string from Johannsen’s clothing, I hung the other end of the hose from the top of the Hab's dome by two angled threads (to keep them well clear of the hose opening). Now I had a little chimney. The hose was about 1cm wide. Hopefully a good aperture.

The hydrogen will be hot after the reaction, and it'll want to go up. So I’ll let it go up the chimney, then burn it as it comes out.

Then I had to invent fire.

NASA put a lot of effort in to making sure nothing here can burn. Everything is made of metal or flame retardant plastic and the uniforms are synthetic. I needed something that could hold a flame, some kind of pilot light. I don't have the skills to keep enough H2 flowing to feed a flame without killing myself. Too narrow a margin there.

After a search of everyone’s personal items (hey, if they wanted privacy, they shouldn’t have abandoned me on Mars with their stuff) I found my answer.

Martinez is a devout catholic. I knew that. What I didn’t know was he brought along a small wooden cross. I’m sure NASA gave him shit about it, but I also know Martinez is one stubborn son-of-a-bitch.

I chipped his sacred religious item into long splinters using a pair of pliers and a screwdriver. I figure if there’s a God, they won’t mind, considering the situation I’m in.

Ruining the only religious icon I have leaves me vulnerable to Mars Vampires. I’ll have to risk it.

There were plenty of wires and batteries around to make a spark. But you can’t just ignite wood with a small electric spark. So I collected ribbons of bark from local palm trees, then got a couple of sticks and rubbed them together to create enough friction to…

No not really. I vented pure oxygen at the stick and gave it a spark. Fucker lit up like a match.

With my mini-torch in hand, I started a slow Hydrazine flow. It sizzled on the iridium and disappeared. Soon I had short bursts of flame sputtering from the chimney.

The main thing I had watch was the temperature. Hydrazine breaking down is extremely exothermic. So I’d do it a bit at a time, constantly watching the readout of a thermocouple I’d attached to the iridium chamber.

Point is, the process worked!

Each Hydrazine tank holds a little over 50L, which would be enough to make 100L of water. I’m limited by my oxygen production, but I’m all excited now, so I'm willing to use half my reserves. Long story short, I’ll stop when the tank is half-empty, and I’ll have 50L or water at the end!

LOG ENTRY: SOL 34

Well that took a really long time. I’ve been at it all night with the Hydrazine. But I got the job done.

I could have finished faster, but I figured caution’s best when setting fire to rocket fuel in an enclosed space.

Boy is this place a tropical jungle now, I’ll tell ya.

It’s almost 30C in here, and humid as all hell. I just dumped a ton of heat and 50L of water in to the air.

During this process, the poor Hab had to be the mother of a messy toddler. It’s been replacing the oxygen I’ve used, and the Water Reclaimer is trying to get the humidity down to sane levels. Nothing to be done about the heat. There’s actually no air-conditioning in the Hab. Mars is cold. Getting rid of excess heat isn’t something we expected to deal with.

I’ve now grown accustomed to the alarms that are blaring at all times. The fire alarm has finally stopped, now that there’s no more fire. The low oxygen alarm should stop soon. The high humidity alarm will take a little longer. The Water Reclaimer has its work cut out for it today.

For a moment, there yet another alarm. The Water Reclaimer’s main tank was full. Booyah! That’s the kind of problem I want to have!

Remember the spacesuit I vandalized yesterday? I hung it on its rack and carried buckets of water to it from the reclaimer. It can hold an atmosphere of air in. It should be able to handle a few buckets of water.

Man I’m tired. Been up all night and it’s time to sleep. But I’ll drift off to dreamland in the best mood I’ve been in since Sol 6.

Things are finally going my way. In fact, they’re going great! I have a chance to live after all!

LOG ENTRY: SOL 34

I am fucked and I’m gonna die!

Ok, calm down. I’m sure I can get around this.

I’m writing this log to you, dear future Mars archeologist, from Rover 2. You may wonder why I’m not in the Hab right now. Because I fled in terror, that’s why! And I’m not sure what the hell to do next.

I guess I should explain what happened. If this is my last entry, you’ll at least know why.

Over the past few days, I've been happily making water. It’s been going swimmingly. (See what I did there? “swimmingly”)

I even beefed up the MAV fuel plant compressor. It was very technical (I increased the voltage to the pump). So I’m making water even faster now.

After my initial burst of 50L, I decided to settle down and just make it at the rate I get O2. I’m not willing to go below a 25L reserve. So when I dip too low, I stop dicking with Hydrazine until I get the O2 back up to well above 25L.

Important note: When I say I made 50L of water, that was an assumption. I didn’t *reclaim* 50L of water. The additional soil I’d filled the Hab with was extremely dry and greedily sucked up a lot of the humidity. That’s where I want the water to go anyway, so I’m not worried, and I wasn’t surprised when the reclaimer didn’t get anywhere near 50L.

I get 10L of CO2 every 15 hours now that I souped up the pump. I’ve done this process four times. My math tells me that, including my initial 50L burst, I should have 130L of water added to the system.

Well my math is a damn liar!

I’ve gained 70L in the water regulator and the spacesuit-nowwatertank. There’s plenty of condensation on the walls and domed roof, and the soil is certainly absorbing its fair share. But that doesn’t account for 60L of missing water. Something was wrong.

That’s when I noticed the other O2 tank.

The Hab has two reserve O2 tanks. One on each side of the structure, for safety reasons. The Hab can decide which one to use whenever it wants. Turns out it’s been topping off the atmosphere from Tank 1. But when I add O2 to the system (via the Oxygenator), the Hab evenly distributes the gain among the two tanks. Tank 2 has been slowly gaining oxygen.

That’s not a problem, it’s just doing its job. But it does mean I’ve been gaining O2 over time. Which means I’m not consuming it as fast as I thought.

At first, I thought “Yay! More oxygen! Now I can make water faster!” But then a more disturbing thought occurred to me.

Follow my logic: I’m gaining O2. But the amount I’m bringing in from outside is constant. So the only way to “gain” it is to be using less than I thought. But I’ve been doing the Hydrazine reaction with the assumption that I was using all of it.

The only possible explanation is I haven’t been burning all the released hydrogen.

It’s obvious now, in retrospect. But it never occurred to me that some of the hydrogen just wouldn’t burn. It got past the flame, and went on its merry way. Dammit, Jim, I’m a botanist, not a chemist!

Chemistry is messy, so there's unburned Hydrogen in the air. All around me. Mixed in with the oxygen. Just... hanging out. Waiting for a spark so it can blow the fucking Hab up!

Once I figured this out, and composed myself, I got a Ziploc-sized sample bag and waved it around a bit, then sealed it.

Then, a quick EVA to a rover, where we keep the atmospheric analyzers. Nitrogen: 22%. Oxygen: 9%. Hydrogen: 64%.

I’ve been hiding here in the rover ever since.

It’s Hydrogenville in the Hab.

I’m very lucky it hasn’t blown. Even a small static discharge would have led to “Oh the humanity!”

So, I’m here in Rover 2. I can stay for a day or two, tops, before the CO2 filters from the rover and my spacesuit fill up. I have that long to figure out how to deal with this.

The Hab is now a bomb.

#the martian #the martian andy weir #lesbian rewrites #lesbiansafe #lgbt

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