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leggomylino · 5 years ago

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Pushing Up Daisies | Seo Changbin

Genre: fluff, crack, comedy, college au, secret admirer/stalker au

Pairing: Seo Changbin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.7k

A/n: Masterlist(s) linked down below and in bio!!! | Requested by @hanniiesuckle17 <3

— ✔✘✔✘ —

Darkness fell like a cloud over the room, a hazy mist where Changbin found the most comfort. It was a place where he felt calm, collected, cool, and accepted.

It was also the place he resided to watch Y/n L/n. The cute new transfer student from out of town.

Now, he didn’t think what he was doing was creepy. Or weird. Or immature. Not by any means; he was simply keeping an eye on her to make sure she was safe; the library could be a dangerous place, and there were all sorts of sick and twisted weirdos running around at this late hour of six p.m. that purposely targeted nice foreign girls like Y/n. He’d seen it happen all the time. It was more common than he’d like to admit. Which is why it was up to him to keep an eye out for her, since Chan was working late (again) at the studio and the mighty Lord knew Han Jisung wasn’t gonna do jack squat, especially not after Hyunjin had to go mentioning the grand opening of some new restaurant called...Factory Cheesecake? Cake Factory? Something like that.

That only left himself to rely upon. The only one truly trustworthy and qualified to keep Y/n safe. Even if it meant having to—

“Changbin!”

Clank. “OW!”

Rubbing his now slightly swollen forehead, he turned around the cramped space to peer over his shoulder. “What is it? What are you doing up here?”

Felix bowed his head, an apology hanging in the air. “Sorry. Seungmin sent me to get you. He said he’s clocking out in five minutes and he doesn’t want to get in trouble for your…“deed.”” He blinked. “He used other words I’d rather not repeat, though.”

Changbin scratched his chin. Ah, yes. The perks of having a roommate that worked part-time at the campus library: free access anywhere, so long as they’re on duty. And you don’t get caught. Like that one time he and Han scoured the back storage room for vaults holding the answer key to Mr. Kim’s final, and...well, that wasn’t important now. “Tell him I’ll be down in ten. I think she’s almost done.”

Felix glanced through the slits of the metal air duct, then back at his buddy. “...Are you sure you’ve really thought this through all the way?” His face scrunched up in an awkwardly distasteful matter, and he looked away, as if he couldn’t bear to commit such a crime. Like what he was doing was even criminal. “Why don’t you just talk to her? Instead of...y’know…” He blinked, gesturing to the cramped space around them. “Hiding in the air duct? It’s kinda creepy, is what I’m saying. And unethical...actually, very creepy and very unethi—“

“Okay! I got it already!” Changbin waved his hands. He didn’t need to hear this from someone he cared about. “Shoo, shoo! Go have dinner with Hyunjin and the bottomless cake pit.”

“You mean Han?”

“Duh.”

...Sighing, Felix left without another word.

Finally—

“...I really think you should just talk to her!” His voice echoed. Changbin sighed.

...Okay, a few words. “Go!!!”

His harsh command bounced around the narrow chamber, spiraling down out of the air duct. Gasp. He covered his mouth, praying to heaven no one heard him; peering down, the study corner Y/n was in— if not the library itself— was nearly vacant, with only one other student reading at a far table and a few stragglers making their final choices.

It would appear his voice had gone unnoticed. Phew.

Y/n was still standing at the same shelf. She’d been standing there for over twenty minutes, occasionally pacing back and forth a few steps, side-to-side, trying to make up her mind. Most guys hated that, but Changbin couldn’t help but find it cute and endearing; like a lost little star trying to find her way home, calculating the best route, hesitant, waiting to shine. Most guys took it as a lacking sign to confidence, but to Changbin, it just showed that she was smart. She didn’t want to barrel straight ahead; she gathered data, took notes, and made the best option that would satisfy both her needs and her interests. And to Changbin, there was nothing hotter than that...

Suddenly, her hand moved. The one with the leather watch she wore, rumored to be a gift from her father. It was worn and frayed, the inseam splitting at the ends. Brown; tan. A simple clock face encased in basic sterling silver. She wore it everyday, but it’d been a while since he’d seen the pleated pink skirt that swayed above her ankles, or the matching floral-printed scarf—

Her hand brushed against the spine of a worn old poetry catalogue. Oh no. This is it. She’s really going for it. His letter…

She was so close to finding it. Twice a week, Changbin would rush down seven flights of stairs and across five blocks of campus property to make it to the library an hour before Y/n was set to arrive, as she always visited the library after English 1302 on Mondays and Wednesdays. Something about departing from that class must have left her longing for more, he figured; she was a writing major, after all. He didn’t do well under too much pressure, so after panicking about what he was going to say this time, he’d steal borrow some of Seungmin’s fancy calligraphy paper in order to write her a poem, something soft and...what was that word he’d looked up last week...lilting, which he was pretty sure meant the same thing as uplifting and...happy. Then he’d have Seungmin (one time Han; big mistake) hack into her leasing record in order to find out which books she was currently into, or which ones she had on hold. He’d carefully and strategically place the handwritten poem inside the book’s first few pages.

The book was in her hands now. She’d chosen his book! Again! She was examining the cover...flipping it over…...now, she was…?

...She put it back.

Again. He lowered his head with a sigh. Game over. You lost again. He gripped his hands into fists; when? When would he learn? When would it be his turn to win?! …!

Oh? What was this…?

A figure turned the left corner too fast, crashing into Y/n. She stumbled to the right, dropping said book as well as her belongings and sending them somersaulting to the pale blue carpet.

The letter he’d tucked between pages four and five spiraled out a foot away. Unopened, still sealed securely in a crisp white envelope with a Molang sticker. He’d heard she liked him.

Some Shady Guy was now talking to Y/n. “I’m so sorry! Let me help you— I’ll get—”

Y/n picked the book off the ground, dusting and checking it for damages like her first priority. She was so selfless, caring more for a damaged old tomb rather than her shiny new laptop and fancy water bottle. “Oh, no, that’s okay, don’t worry about it…”

Her eyes fell upon the letter. Changbin held his breath. Oh no. Not now. Not with some punk watching! The moment would be totally ruined!!!

Shady Guy beat her to it, his undeserving fingers tainting Changbin’s craft. “Here. Is this yours?” He examined it. Smirked. Disgusting. “Cute. Aren’t you a little old for cartoons, though?”

Who here gave you permission to judge her?! ...Wait.

Y/n took the letter, frowning. “I don’t think so...Molang is for girls and boys of all ages. He’s cute. But, this isn’t mine…someone must have left it as a bookmark.” Her eyes swept the room. “I’ll go return it to the front desk.”

The… The front…

His face hardened. What?! No!!! That’s your letter! URGH!!! Were girls always this frustrating?! ...And why is this guy still standing so close?! … …

It couldn’t be helped; with defeat, he watched the two of them walk away.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The next day at lunch, Minho squinted at him in anger.

“I can’t believe you skipped out on dinner with us again to go stalk the new girl.”

Beside him, Hyunjin huffed his agreement over a juice box that was meant for a five year old. Changbin groaned. “It’s not stalking. You make it sound like I’m a pervert or something...I’m not, I’m just…”

...His voice trailed off into a long, steady exhale. Beside him, Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Next time, at least quit using the air vent. I’m tired of growing a collection of ulcers in my gut because I’m afraid you’re going to make one wrong move and come crashing down through the ceiling like doom over Narnia, and then we’re both going to get in trouble for it.” He practically slammed down his bowl of soba. “I need this job, Bin.”

Across the outdoor picnic table, Minho froze halfway through unwrapping his sandwich, Hyunjin nearly choking on his orange juice. The former of the two cast a chilling glare while Hyunjin fought through a coughing fit. “You…”

Crap. And just when he’d thought Seungmin would be the least likely to open his big mouth. Changbin pressed his lips into a hard line before speaking. “...It’s not what you think—”

“Isn’t it, though?!” Hyunjin blurted. His juice box went flying into the nearest trash can as he pointed drastically in the direction of the library a few blocks down. Dance majors. “You’re telling me you’ve been bailing on dinner with us at the best new restaurant in town to go crawl through the dusty library airways and spy on a girl who doesn’t even know you?!”

“Say it a little louder, why don’t you!” Changbin hissed. “And hey,” he added, leaning over his ramen. “We’ve talked before. We’re in the same writing class.”

“Over a project!” The Dance major roared. “That hardly counts!”

He and Changbin both fell back into their seats with a thud, exhausted with each other. Minho sighed. “Well,” he mumbled, “I guess we’re just going to have to show him.”

At this, everyone gave Seoul University’s one and only Bundle Boy a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” Seungmin asked.

Bundle Boy smiled, already stacking his leftovers. “Come on. Finish eating already and we’ll show you.”

Hyunjin blinked, gesturing back and forth between the two of them. “We…?”

Smack. “Just do it already. Let’s go. Quickly.”

Stunned, he had no choice but to inhale his soup on the way over.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The library was ironically closed for renovations that day; something about a generous donation from some well-to-do politician wanting his name engraved along the school walls. Whatever.

After bribing Seungmin into using his key, in the very same room where Y/n had been pondering her next private adventure surfing amongst old worn pages, Minho placed his hands on his hips, taking the roll of stage director. “Okay, now.” He pointed left. “Hyunjin, you go backstage. Pick a book off the shelf and get yourself ready. You two,” he piped, startling the remaining cast members, “will sit over there. Watch how it’s done.”

“......” Side-eyeing the other, Changbin and Seungmin took their seats at a nearby study table. The former could tell the latter was regretting his decision to let them in already.

Minho smiled. “Great,” he said, taking what was supposed to be Center Stage. “Now—”

Seungmin raised his hand. The director sighed.

“Yes?”

Seungmin lowered his hand with a soft plop. “Do I really have to be here for this? Don’t we all have better things to be doing right now?”

...It was a fair question. But Minho didn’t really seem to care much for fairness. “Yes, this is a team effort. I’m telling Chan you said that at our next rehearsal.”

The boy groaned.

“Now,” Director Bundle began. “Watch and learn how the pros do this. I’ll be Changbin, and Hyunjin is Y/n.” He turned his head to the side. “Cue!!!”

The lights suddenly dimmed, shocking the audience as they looked around curiously. “I could have sworn no one was on staff today,” Minnie mumbled.

Then the lights rose again, slowly in escalation, as a far-too-tall and far-too-muscular Y/n entered Stage Right. His eyes blinked wildly from atop the horizon of an encyclopedia about frogs. “Look,” he cooed, voice far too high and squeaky. Changbin and Seungmin both cringed. “I’m Y/n! I love books and boys and all the many girlish wonders that girls like me enjoy! Teehee!”

...Dear Lord, strike him now. Changbin rose from his seat. “Stop!!!”

His cry fell on deaf ears as the show went on, Minho turning and giving his best, dreamiest, disgustingly playboy-ish smile. “You’re Y/n?”

Hyunjin giggled (to which Changbin felt sick), the book never leaving the lower half of his face. “That’s me!”

“Changbin” (Minho) cocked his head aside, shifting his bangs to the right. Seungmin gagged. “That’s a cute name. A cute name for an even cuter gi—”

Fzzt! ...The power went out.

From the far corner, the real Changbin glared a storm across the room, holding the power extension cord too tightly. “That’s enough,” he grumbled, tossing the extension aside. “I didn’t come here for you to mock me. Or her. I’m not sure what I’m more angry about: the fact that you dare mock an innocent girl, someone I care about, to my face...or the fact that the two of you are supposed to be my friends.”

Hyunjin tossed his book on the table, doing his best sassy Dance major pose: a hand on his hip, knee slightly bent, head tilted to the side. Dance majors. “You can’t say you care about her, Changbin. You hardly know her.”

“I told you we’ve spoken on more than one occasion!”

“Over a project! That doesn’t count!”

“You said it hardly counts before!!”

“Yeah?! Well now I’m changing my answer!!!”

“Okay, okay…” Seungmin rose from his seat, wading between the two. “That’s enough. Fighting never solves anything.” He peered over his shoulder, focusing his gaze between the shelves. “Also, you need to keep your voices down— I’m not losing my job over something this dumb.”

“......” With a grunt, Changbin marched his way toward the exit; Screw these guys, whatever. He didn’t need their help and never asked for it anyway. He was doing just fine in his relationship with Y/n that...didn’t quite exist…

He’d almost made it to the door until Hyunjin stopped him. The should-have-been Drama major’s long fingers curved harshly over Changbin’s bulky shoulder.

“...Just face it, Bin,” he whispered. “Y/n...she’s one of those girls. A bookworm. She’s out there. Way out there.” He sighed. The whole room seemed to. “Girls like her live on another planet. You’ll be pushing up daisies before she agrees to go on a date with you.”

“......”

Changbin scoffed, carrying his storm out of the room.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

At 2:46 a.m that night (morning?), Changbin lied awake in his dorm room, pondering many things. Too many things that shouldn’t have had any connection whatsoever, yet did all the same. Because life was messy, and love was fornot.

What is it with girls? He thought. I’ve never put so much thought into one before. They were just...there, and then Y/n showed up, and suddenly it’s like I forgot how to read. I saw her smiling, looking all pretty by the lecture hall window...I know I’ve written a song about her before.

Shift. The gray wall facing him gave no comfort.

...And what about them? Hyunjin, Minho, Seungmin...criticizing and judging me like that… Hyunjin… He had no right to say that to me. “You’ll be pushing up daisies before she agrees to go on a date with you!1!1!” ...Pfft. Please. What does he know?! Who does he think he is giving me advice? About Y/n?? After his horrible misrepresentation of her?!? ...Man, I miss Jeongin. I wonder when he’ll be back from his field trip...

Toss. The ceiling was no help either.

Then again… Is it really that strange? I was just keeping an eye on her. She should be grateful, right? Who doesn’t like having protection throughout the day? … …

Sigh. ...Maybe… Maybe it is kinda weird what I’ve been doing...how I’ve been acting...my behavior… … …

Turn. The ticking of the far clock mocked him. All his lost hours of sleep...tormented by his own thoughts...

… … …

“...Hnnn!”

Shift. Toss. Sigh. Turn. Watching the seconds pass him by Changbin rolled about in agony, puzzled and tried over the last few weeks. Perhaps, as Hyunjin had said, even before his most recent insult, Changbin’s behavior as of late really had been “ugh.” …

A pillow fell over his face. He didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe, as ridiculous as it all was, Minho and Hyunjin had been onto something; maybe all he needed to do was introduce himself. Start fresh, simple, anew. Maybe, this whole time, all he needed was to treat Y/n like a person he was interested in, rather than a science experiment he had to guard from afar. Maybe, just maybe, all he needed to do was say “hello”...

Unfortunately for him, “hello” was currently the word he was most afraid of.

“Changbin…”

He rolled over, peering down at the lower bunk; what could he say, except, Music and Photography majors didn’t make that much? At least not as undergrads. “Hm?”

Seungmin squinted up at him with sleepy eyes. “Turn off the light. I have two exams tomorrow…”

Shoot. Changbin grimaced, reaching for the switch. “...Sorry.”

Chink. Lights out.

“...Changbin?”

Chink. Lights on. “Yes?”

“......” Seungmin sat up, trailing his drowsy behind to the guest couch on the other side of the 12 x 10 room, the one Chan or Han sometimes crashed on during late nights producing or editing soundtracks. He pulled a blanket over his head, curling up beneath it like a puppy. “...Do you wanna talk about yesterday?”

Changbin scoffed, shifting his gaze to glare anywhere else. “...Like I’d wanna spend my precious time talking about those two.”

“So it is bothering you.”

Changbin fell silent.

“...The fact that you’re awake right now tells me that you’re letting them get to you. You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not! I never said they were bothering me!”

“It’s what you didn’t say that tells me otherwise.”

Changbin huffed. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

“I have two, actually,” the boy answered. “One at eight and one at nine.”

“Then go to bed. Quit worrying about me and mind your own business. Class starts in a few hours.”

Chink. Lights out.

...But though he rolled over, pulling the sheets above his head and facing the gray wall, the annoying brat missing from the lower bunk didn’t move. In fact, Changbin could feel his eyes burning a rash on his skin, spelling out the words, you’re lying; accept your feelings. Talk to me.

Chink! He swung back up into a sitting position.

“Okay, fine! Sheesh…” he groaned. Below, Seungmin almost bounced in delight, were he not engaged in a battle of fending off certain unconsciousness.

“Great...tell me what’s troubling you.”

“...That’s…”

Good grief. That was far easier said than done. He’d become so defensive, the automatic response to escape Changbin’s lips were always, “That’s none of your business,” “It’s none of your concern,” “Quit asking me about it.”

Now, here he was, at confession hours. He adjusted himself, the words swirling in his gut; hissing at the proposal of facing sunlight, wishing to remain buried. “...I just…” He began picking at the fabric around his legs. “...I don’t feel like myself lately. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so tired… Everything was fine until Y/n came here. Now…” He breathed. “...It’s like I can’t do anything properly anymore, and I’m not myself at all. I lost myself the moment I walked into class, and she was standing there, smiling under the sunshine and fluorescent lighting. ...Argh, listen to me! I never said crap like this before she came! It sounds so stupid!”

Seungmin continued to listen, patiently, as Changbin spilled his thoughts. Every waking thought he’d had since a few Monday’s ago. He nodded his head...starting to sway…

“...And it’s like, I’m saying all these words I’ve never even heard of before, y’know? You’ve noticed it too, right? Like my vocabulary is proliferating. It’s a nightmare! But...what really scares me is…”

He paused. On the couch, Seungmin fell over, beginning to snore softly.

“...I don’t like the person that I’ve become. I heard it said before that when you fall in love, or some garbage like that, you’re supposed to...become a better person? That learning from that person is supposed to help you mature? … All I’ve learned to do is become...some creepy stalker. I never saw myself becoming like this, not for a minute, but with her it’s like...I totally…”

“...Zzzk!” Seungmin sat up. “...Hm? What? ...Oh, uh…” He rubbed his eyes. “I heard you, I swear I did. Hang on…” He yawned, squinting upward. “...You’re not learning from her.”

Changbin turned toward the couch. “What?”

Seungmin adjusted himself, working at removing a year’s worth of sleep in his eyes. “You haven’t been following her example. You’ve been letting your unchecked emotions run all over you. It’s an act of immaturity and being insecure. Also, what you said before is only true if you and the other person are both mature, and share an intimate relationship. You don’t. And you’re not mature.”

To this, Changbin opened his mouth to give back some witty reply he’d stored in his new-found vocabulary somewhere, but of course, the boy dozed off, getting away with the last word like he usually did.

Pssh. Even his internal clock is in sync with his antics. Spoiled brat. That sure was a lot of words for three a.m...

… … …

He let those words reside with him. “You haven’t been following her example. You’ve been letting your unchecked emotions run all over you. It’s an act of immaturity and being insecure.”

… … …

“Also, what you said before is only true if you and the other person are both mature, and share an intimate relationship. You don’t. And you’re not mature.”

… … …

...Bah! He hated it. Hated hearing it, the way it sounded out loud, directed at him.

But perhaps it was a bitter truth he had to overcome.

“Tomorrow, you can always start anew.” ...That was a lyric from one of his favorite songs, from a rapper he admired all too well. Perhaps...maybe…

Tomorrow, I too, can start anew. … …

...Reaching over, he turned out the light.

— ✔✘✔✘ —

The next day was Wednesday. The climax of every week. Shouts of “hUMP DAYYYY!!!” could be heard echoing around campus corridors, with students and faculty scurrying this way and that, some walking with direction and purpose, a few jogging, and others moving to a slow, leisurely pace, just getting out of class or having nowhere in particular to be.

For Changbin, it was a day of change. When the sun rose, after ignoring it for a few extra hours in defiance toward the clock that mocked him, he got dressed, ate a waffle, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair with his fingers as he hustled out the door.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him outside the door. “Ready for—”

“Busy,” he called over his shoulder.

English 1302 wasn’t until 3 p.m., but seeing as it was currently noon and he only had three hours to set himself straight, well...setting yourself straight was a daunting task. He’d need all the time he could get. Ignoring the fact that Chan and Han followed him out of the dorms and down two blocks while muttering precariously puzzling things, he set his focus solely on his current destination.

“I’m here,” he announced, slamming his bag on the front desk. Behind the library counter, Seungmin sighed, tilting his head back.

“I’m not letting you into the air vents anymore. I told you, I’m done.” He glanced at the clock behind him. “Aren’t you a little early? Your class hasn’t even started yet. I thought you’d still be sleeping.”

“Can’t. No time.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his English textbook, the one with a soda stain he’d have to pay for later thanks to Yours Truly (Han Jisung). Seungmin observed it curiously.

“What’s this?”

“My textbook.”

“...We don’t have stain remover. Try the laundry room.”

Changbin rolled his eyes, biting his lip. Don’t let pride get to you right now. “...I uh…” He cleared his throat. “...It’s not that. I want you to help me study. I’d like to have something to fall back on, when talking to Y/n. In case things fall flat.”

When he looked up, the expression on Seungmin’s face was that of a thousand suns. Like the skies had cleared, and the war was over. It looked like something Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss would write about. “At last,” he said, “the drought has ended. Seeds have sprouted. There really is a brain in there.”

Changbin swatted at him. “Just shut up and tell me when your next break is.”

— ✔✘✔✘ —

“Y/n?”

Her name came rolling out of Changbin’s mouth like a stone. It started light, yet gained velocity and fell into the pool of sweat at his feet with a heavy thud.

The moment she turned around, sitting up a little straighter, a little taller, looking him right in the eyes, his mind went blank. “Yeah! What’s up?”

… … …

He had no idea what was up. What was up? What was down? Which way was it to the nearest train station so he could use the last of his tuition money to board a train and haul it all the way to the highest bridge so he could— …

Cool, Changbin. Play it cool. The sun has risen, so you’re Mature Bin now. “Uhh…”

“......” She listed her head. “Yeah?”

“......”

“...Cake!” he blurted.

She blinked, shifting herself back while the surrounding pews started. “I’m sorry?”

“Ahh…!” Changbin adjusted himself. Took a deep breath.

Still cool. Roll with it.

“......” He smiled. “...Cake, uh...there’s a new cake shop that opened downtown.” He pointed...somewhere towards the door. “I was wondering if...maybe you’d...like some?”

The kindness that radiated off her features made his heart soar. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

“......” He nodded, looking away. But from the corner of his eye, he could still see her smile.

“Okay! I’d love to. Say, after class?”

He nodded again, more fervently. “...But aren’t you going to the library after this?”

Her gaze turned a bit sour and peculiar. “You...know about that? You must have seen me before.”

Having walked in right on cue at 2:59, Hyunjin made an irate sound that wasn’t unusual of a sassy Dance major such as himself. Dance majors. “Oh, he’s seen you, alright. He—”

The nearest pencil went flying towards his head, marking his pretty boy face.

“Ahh! Seriously?!” He rummaged through his bag. “I have practice after this!”

Having turned away before, Y/n examined both men curiously before clearing her desk space for class. “Well, it can’t be helped. I do spend a lot of time there, so you were bound to pick up on it subconsciously, I’m sure.”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.”

He and Hyunjin shared a glare.

She giggled, shaking her head. “Alright then! How about this: we’ll stop by the library, and then we can go to the cake shop from there. Sound good?”

He grinned from ear to ear; blissfully, simply, politely. But most importantly: in control. “Yeah, sounds good. Oh, and Y/n?”

The clock struck three, the professor walking in right on cue. As his voice took hold of the classroom atmosphere, the two lowered their heads, voices tumbling into whispers. “Yeah?” she asked. “What is it?”

Mature Bin held fast to his smile. “Hello.”

— ✔✘✔✘ —

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stronghours · 4 years ago

Text

THREE QUEENS OF DOMESTICITY

Ava’s husband Reuben, as Ava informed Domme Lux in the unfinished basement beforehand, had only contributed to the collaring ceremony through draping the gaping drywall with swags of lavender gauze and twinkle lights from Christmas, which blistered the fabric in a damp whimsy Lux hadn’t thought the man capable. But then, Ava said, she had never brought a boy into the household before, and she thought it was only fair to respect Reuben’s distance in the matter. Where he was, she didn’t say. Evey, one of the four usual girls, was already naked but for papery hospitality slippers and trying to tame the blank concrete with a shredded mop. She squeezed the handle to a thin, practical breast each time she lost hope. Her clavicle was tense with little red marks.

Ava sat on her own padded stool applying lotion to her arms as she held court with Lux, Celeste and other colleagues regarding the guest list and particulars. She possessed downy Marilyn Monroe skin and her expression was luminous, while Lux, simultaneously underdressed, clammy, and overheated (it was summer, high noon outside, but Halloweentown below) started to feel the depression sink in. She’d chosen to wear a sleeveless mock turtleneck cinched in via a skintight pencil skirt and knee-high chunk pumps, and it all looked charming enough to her when she texted a picture to Jules. Sexual language arts teacher or Lorelai Gilmore season 1-2? She’d typed. But Jules had been AWOL since Thursday and now Lux had no chaperone and no wisdom. Ava didn’t let it go unremarked.

“It’s June,” she informed, like Lux didn’t know. “So, he’s sucking up to his leather daddies and his drag queens, while the rest of us behave like grown-ups. Correct?”

Guests arrived. Lux decided on strategic retreat and glued her spine to a far swampy corner and gradually became happier to have interpreted the dress code on the conservative side. Ava sent out the invite via her personal newsletter, with the esoteric instruction to dress within the modes of business or pleasure and it became clear of the basement filling nobody had made a collective interpretation. Celeste, shivering underneath her partner’s bomber jacket had prevailed on a frail sundress and the man in front of Lux wore a boxy Uniqlo blazer on top and a polyester jockstrap that read PIG BOY in an eternal ring around the waist. His white ass loomed beneath her line of vision, a sobering reality check to Evey and the other girls kneeling like wraiths up front, their smudged outlines harkening more toward Salo than Ava would ever intend.

Candles were lit. Lux could not get rid of the haunted house excess bringing her mood down, even as Ava, up front on her dais and methodically strapping her bagged up new boy onto his striker frame, vamped in a costumy corset of sectional purple brocade (Jules) opera-length latex mittens (Jules) and slick black shoulder plate and hood of indeterminate material (no doubt made by an enemy of Jules), and if Jules himself would ever show up, as promised, Lux could decide what was worse: Ava mixing materials or mixing designers.

But what was worst above all, she already knew, was that three poems had already been read and Ava was reading one still. She read one stanza per one buckle. Her new boy, before being lowered into his body bag, had read one himself to clarify his submission. His face had been beaky and palling. He had flat blue eyes. She liked him much better totally hidden from view and wondered how a hardline heterosexual like Ava could entertain delicate styles in women but such insipid taste in dudes.

A ray of light split the room like a knife and vanished. A couple people moaned, blinded in one eye. The crowd to Lux’s left grunted and spat, ruffled, then parted. She didn’t notice Jules until he had a cold hand behind her neck. Even with walls on both her sides, he found a blind spot.

He stuck his tongue in her ear, knowing full well she couldn’t shout him down in this scenario. “What’s up sugar,” he said, barely acceptably hushed. “How many poems has it been?”

“And the moonrise over the hill,” Ava recited, yanking a new strap, “Rises in tune – to your mind upon my person – to your body upon my person – to your devotion to my person –”

“It’s been this one for a while,” Lux said. She grabbed him and squashed him to her side. You had to meet Jules nuisance per nuisance when he felt energetic, or he’d trample you to death. When he was overbearing, she preferred him coldhearted, and when he was frosty, she preferred him needy. It was wedding season, and he hadn’t had enough brides to wear him out. “What took you so long?”

“Stopped for food. I’ve been up for uh…thirty-six hours.”

PIG BOY’s head turned back fractionally, then he thought better of looking and faced front.

“Wedding?”

“Shereen Allure made the Miss Continental Elite lineup. She got her hooks in me. She needs an evening gown, an interview moment, talent outfit that’ll stay together through the twenty fucking backflips I know she’ll want to do – baby, sweetie, honey, let me just stone you a fucking leotard, but no, she wants everything to sweep the toes. Insanity.” Jules craned his head around PIG BOY’s shoulder, and, seeing the wild look on his face, she wormed her hand underneath his shirt and pinched his ribs before he could think of speaking above sotto voice.

“Work function,” she warned. “Work function!”

“I wouldn’t go to my boss’s wedding,” Jules said, but he shriveled back into her shoulder obediently. “Gross. What’s she wearing?”

“A couple things of yours.”

“Against medical advice.”

Ava’s boy was buckled in midway up his ribs. They had to last to the neck. Somebody close to the front of the house darted forward to re-light the tea candles extinguished in their little glasses, scattered among Ava’s stilts. Lux thought: Suck-up.

“Cocksucker,” Jules hissed into her neck.

Profound is your sacred neck –

Ava claimed.

And affectionate, my lips, on its nape –

The boy in the bag didn’t judder or wince or squirm or move an inch. If Lux hadn’t been around to watch him step inside it, she would have considered him a mannequin. More guests arrived, fashionably late, and she and Jules alternately jostled the roach hotel between her ankles as they bandied to stay upright. PIG BOY had enough of them and forced his way further into crowd.

“What’s his name, anyway?” Jules asked, of bag-boy.

“Shawn. Mark. Uh…Jake.”

“Fucking John Donne up there has a boner for a goddamn Cody.” Jules wiped his nose on her shoulder. “I can’t breathe down here. Come on, ta-ta.”

The basement door opened into a little cairn staircase and led them blinking into the lawn (a lawn!) a black walnut tree dripping with green baubles (a tree!). Jules assisted her over the porch railing (a porch!) and spanked the dust from the seat of her skirt. They entered the gleaming kitchen, already occupied by Ava and Rueben’s straightest friends who, thin-lipped, met their sangrias with unenthusiasm.

“One thing I will say for Ava,” said a woman wearing a mock turtleneck similar to Lux’s own, “She certainly has…flair.”

A man turned to Jules and asked, helplessly, how long these things lasted. The preliminaries, Jules asked, or the mingling, or the primary ceremony, or the potluck or the afterparty? And while he laid out the etiquette Lux stared at the dustless countertops and the seafoam green cabinets, smooth to the touch, and their silver handles and the tile floor and the padded breakfast nook with its stained glass overhead light and the jazzy track lights situated over the looming kitchen island. Lysol lingered underneath the tawny fumes of a candle labeled CARMEL TRUFFLE SUNDAE and the photo pasted to the candle, she was ashamed to say, made her hungry. A kitchen-aide, which Lux had seen featured in some of Ava’s private photoshoots, gleamed, an untouchable ruby atop a mounted wall cabinet.

Jules’s conversation partner said he had tried to muscle through the ceremony but one of Ava’s slaves (the man himself hedged, politely, and referred to her as Ava’s housemaid) had accidentally brushed him with her nude bosom and he thought, well, better safe than sorry and beat it to safer pastures. “I don’t want to get her in trouble,” he claimed. The sangria was doing nothing to free him from this downward spiral of nakedness.

The mock turtleneck woman held the pitcher out to Lux for a sniff. “It’s virgin,” she pronounced, disgusted.

Jules shifted his backpack into the nook. He removed a pair of purple Easy Spirit pumps, a wad of pantyhose cut off at the thigh, two rolls of duct tape, a greasy paper bag from a Vienna Sausage, a Ziplock of loose bronze eyelets, a lacy bridal bralette and ouvert panty set Lux thought she had permanently lost and finally a half-empty bottle of white rum, which he handed around.

“She and Reuben,” the mock turtleneck woman confided, tit for tat, “Had two cash bars at their wedding.”

“I get it’s a private residence,” the man continued, wide eyed, as he tilted the bottle drop by tiny drop into his cup. “But is the nudity like – mandatory?”

“Don’t be shy,” Jules suggested, happy in his eternal revolving door from Bitch to Hostess. “Really tip that bad boy in there.”

The man turned on Lux, aghast. “Mandatory nudity?”

“Jules,” she said. “Bathroom escort, please.”

The floors were fake grey wood and if they’d been in socks, they would have slipped and slid like newborn colts through a framed gauntlet of Ava and Reuben’s documented civilian life. On the right, a picture of Reuben T-posing against the horizon of the Grand Canyon. On the left, Ava’s Reiki Master III certificate from Sat Nam. A family reunion and matching T-shirts (Ava’s side of the family). A newlywed embrace at the foot of an anonymous waterfall in the Upper Peninsula. She’d seen all this before, well acquainted with the ground floor of Ava’s house, but now she wondered if Zach-Cody-Jake-Shawn, petrified below her feet, was feeling the weight of the roof on his chest like she felt.

Jules, on his own agenda, bypassed the bathroom door which was modestly shut and tugged her toward the staircase.

“Oh shush,” she warned preemptively. “We’re not allowed!” They’d never been upstairs before.

“What? They don’t have a bathroom up there?”

“She’ll know,” Lux said as they tiptoed upward. She imagined their footfalls pounding through the ceiling of the basement and Ava, coolly, directing her eyes toward the ceiling and right up Lux’s skirt.

“If you quit being so aware of her, she wouldn’t be aware of you,” Jules counseled.

Every door upstairs was closed, sanded and paper-smooth and plumbed correctly in their jambs. Her apartment had more in common with Ava’s basement. Melancholy prevented her from noticing Jules bypassing the obvious bathroom door where the shadow of a jailed cat paced and opening another. It was Ava’s and Rueben's bedroom.

“Uh-oh,” Jules said. “What an honest mistake.”

“Stop, stop, stop,” she begged, dancing backward, but the arrested step of somebody entering the downstairs hallway had her shoving him inside. Jules grabbed her wrist before she could slam the door shut in panic and guided it closed himself, soundlessly.

“Somebody’s coming!” She hissed.

“Nobody’s coming,” he said. “Not upstairs, at least.”

Next door, the cat mewed piteously.

The bedroom, to her surprise, held no accoutrements of Ava’s work at the club, not a stocking on the ground or a corset thrown over the back of a chair. The only suggestion of her taste for grandeur Lux recognized was the four-poster bed and the plum carpet. Even the makeup mirror standing up on the desk was just an electric plastic-framed Conair. The same kind Lux, at 14, had hidden underneath her bed.

Jules touched one of the bedposts. “You think she ever spread-eagles ol’ Rueben on these babies?”

Reuben worked in software. He had a crew cut, no distinguishing features, and upper veneers. When grouped together, he referred to all of Ava’s dommes as you kids. Alone, he called Lux Little Lady and Jules Hey, It’s My Man! Before thumping him with lethal force between the shoulder blades. Lux didn’t want to imagine Ava and Reuben fucking in the four-poster bed. But, on contemplation, she realized it was an impossible task.

She peeked into the master bathroom long enough to confirm Ava installed a whirlpool tub. Jules had already thrown open her closet and was sifting through hangers. He stood rumpled in his flip-flops and she was worried his hands would leave marks.

“She’ll know someone was snooping.”

“Did she ever notice when you and Celeste moved everything in the dungeon three inches to the left on April Fools?”

Lux sat gingerly on the desk chair. The Conair makeup mirror was still lit, and she checked her hairline, her face, her cleavage (she’d been paranoid for two months that she was shrinking) in the mock turtleneck. In a silver stand-frame was a black-and-white of Ava alone, on her wedding day. She posed in black-and-white before a crumbling brick wall, body positioned forward but facing right, absurdly fresh, and nearly sweet-sixteen in a sweetheart neckline and ruffled cap sleeves.

Jules loomed like a vulture over her shoulder and judged for himself. “Not what I would have picked for her,” He decided.

But Lux couldn’t look away from the picture. Ava, pre-Entrance, pre-homeowner, pre-stable-of-subs, pre-whirlpool tub. In the sterile silence of the bedroom, she had nothing to cloud her thoughts. “Ava always knew,” she announced. “Look at her expression. She knew all along.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was always going to work out. That she was always going to lock this down.”

“Lock what down?”

Lux tried to set the picture frame exactly where she’d left it but couldn’t quite recall. She pushed Jules away from her, annoyed, and tried a different a different route. “Do you think he really loves her?”

“Reuben?”

“No, Zach – Jake – Shawn – whatshisname. In the basement.”

She felt Jules descend into sulky silence, that his magpie-plan of breaking and entering was not rendering hilarious fruit. She heard the bedsprings creak and two little claps as his sandals hit the floor.

“We make fun of her,” Lux insisted. “But she’s got the husband who loves her, and four full-timers cycling in and out of this beautiful house with a beautiful tree and green grass underneath and now this new kid. He wrote her a poem. She can inspire people to do things like that.”

Jules huffed.

Lux prodded: “Remember her interview in the Reader a few Prides ago? She said she owes it all to her Unapologetic Femininity. A successful woman constantly births this psychic potential in observing bodies.”

“He wrote a shitty villanelle and climbed into a gimp bag in front of twenty-three perverts, so Ava’ll suffocate him with her titties for three years. That’s psychic potential?”

“And what about Carmen, and Robin, and Deanna, and Evangeline?”

“What about Analise Petro? She split from the coven pretty fucking publicly.”

“Years ago. And she was immature. You and her were the same age.” At that time, Lux hadn’t made the decision if Jules, then a furious little boy-twink, would be nemesis or pal. She’d half-believed Jules poisoned Analise against Ava on purpose.

Jules, blissfully not thirty, ignored her. “Evey is my age,” he claimed.

“Carmen is thirty-six.” Lux, thirty-two, fretted, twisted her fingers. “Think of the responsibility. It’s all in her hands and she just…molds it.”

“Because of her essential femininity? You’re out of your mind.”

Downstairs, the sliding glass door to the backyard rattled. A few hoots of laughter drifted ghostly through the walls. Then the doors rattled twice, and silence seethed.

“They change until they stay the same,” Jules said, too self-assured for someone sylphing on a strange bedspread with dirty feet. “And they’ll stay until they go away. Right about when Ava stops making them feel safe.”

“With –?”

“With her social nets and her two-story house and her dual income,” Jules said, sitting upright. He was all the sudden blank-faced, voice poisonous, and she wondered automatically if his mother had been calling him late in the night. “With her sex gear she commissions from me. With the soothing atmosphere that Carmen interior designs, that Robin cleans, and the fucking homemade meals with the kitchen aide that only Deanna knows how to use. And you want me to think she’s this red-hot all-natural Madonna? You know better.”

Jules was rumpled beyond repair. He wore a tank top she’d gifted for his 27th birthday. It had ITALIAN FILLY printed on the front, and already the letters were starting to peel. He glared. Lux questioned the sincerity of his anger, if he only played it up because he noticed she was too sad to dig up anger herself, anger she felt all the time when she was perfectly alone, but she decided she was too pleased being noticed at all. Maybe in half an hour, she’d be happy enough to preen.

She got up and went to him on the bed and he sat up like a human being so she could clap his face in her hands. But he wasn’t done yet.

“She’s only a woman because she’s surrounded by one hundred sycophants who let her be one,” he sneered, and she felt the little muscles in his jaw. “Sisterhood is powerful!”

She slapped him on the mouth, but only a little bit. “What does that make me?” She asked, houseless, sycophant-less, suspicious her only sisters were biological.

“A woman who doesn’t need her yeast infections to remind her that she’s a woman.” He squirmed in her grip, for her enjoyment only, and his face reddened where it usually got red, close to the ears before it began to band his big nose. It was almost enough to make her forget she was only attracted to him when he was worn down to a nub of exhaustion. Usually, he was belly-up on the floor, with one arm thrown over his eyes, and one of his wrists in his carpal tunnel brace. Something about that brace lit her ass on fire. It made her want to pull down the blinds and eat him alive through his armpit. “Are we going to do something horrible to this bedspread or what?”

“Close your eyes.” He had an insane habit of kissing with his eyes open, and even she, the honorable first girl who’d ever fucked him, hadn’t trained him out of it. “Close your eyes,” he countered, and pulled the zipper on the back of her skirt so he could pull out her turtleneck out of her waist. It jammed. They struggled.

“Suck it in,” he ordered thoughtlessly, and the second she pulled in a deep breath she every inch of him sprang, alert, into a frenzy she couldn’t understand. He caught her around the waist and rolled them both off the bed and into the space between the wall and the gap where the bedclothes hung. She was just about to shriek at him when she heard bare feet pat-pat outside the bedroom door. Jules swept her under the bed (you could stack three bodies on top of each other, under there) and followed her himself just as the door opened.

Lux curled into a little ball. Jules elected to lay flat like a tapeworm.

A woman’s voice cooed. Lux waited. Doom squeezed her heart. But the voice wasn’t Ava’s.

“Sugar-pants, sugar-pants,” the voice caroled sweetly.

Then she saw the bare feet tip-tapping over the carpet, and she clocked the voice as Evangeline’s. She had freed the cat from the bathroom, and presumably held it in her arms, sweet-talking it. Lux dared to roll over to face Jules. He pinched his nose shut against a sneeze.

“I know baby, fluffy-baby,” Evey said. The desk chair scraped when she settled down into it. “You don’t like it in there. I know. I know. No huggle-wuggles for baby in there. You’re claustrophobic. So am I! Ugh!”

Evey gagged. She sobbed wretchedly for five whole minutes (Lux counted). The cat’s purr reached torrential volumes of pleasure. Near the end she reached for Jules’s hand, and they lay, foreheads together, too shy to look each other in the eye as Evey opened a drawer somewhere for tissues and was paralyzed by an attack of hiccups. Lux had to put all her muscle into not echoing her in sympathy.

Evey muttered to herself. “I’m claustrophobic, so I can’t let Her put me in the bag. If I can’t go in the bag, then I don’t get a poem.”

Click. Tap. Click. The drawer shutting. The lights of the makeup mirror turning off.

“I don’t get a poem,” Evey asserted. “I don’t get a poem.” And lower – “I’m not allowed to have a poem. I can’t have a poem. Or a tattoo.”

The cat gurgled.

Evey fled, down the hall, where a door slammed. Then, as if to fix the breach of discipline, the door opened again, and was closed so quietly Lux wasn’t sure it was closed at all.

She and Jules waited, then parted and unearthed themselves on either side of the bed. Jules zipped her skirt and together they patted down the bedspread. He had the faraway look in his eye he usually had when he was thinking about pattern-drafting and Lux replayed in her brain Evey’s Ugh! She wondered if one of her clients had ever gone home, away from her, looked in their bathroom mirror, stuck out their tongue and gone Ugh!

“Come on,” Jules said. The cat, abandoned again, eyed him from the desk chair. “Let’s go down and pay our respects to King Tut.”

And to the cat: “What the fuck are you looking at?”

If he’d acted smug at having his cynicism proven, she might have hit him for real. She’d hit him for real – which in their shared experience, meant purely out of anger – twice. The first time he’d deserved it. The second time he punished her, said she hit like a nelly fag and blocked her phone number for a month. Then he reemerged as swiftly as he’d removed himself, but pointedly, with an uncharacteristically physically proximate boyfriend who lasted exactly three months. She considered that his way of informing her she had been on probation.

“I’m lonely,” she said, because that was the problem.

“I’m literally right here, idiot.”

But when they reached the staircase the noise of the swelling party in the kitchen reached their ears. They decided to go down separately, for the sake of modesty, and Jules went first. He kissed her ear, conciliatory, and she watched the high yoke of his shoulders descend until she was alone again.

Who needed it, she thought, the fifteen-dollar candles and the floors constructed so they do not have to be waxed, the fleet of morose women and the sexless men? Years ago, she’d walked into Jules’s squalid, long-gone basement apartment with a frayed leather harness and been shocked at the sight of the missing Analise Petro sleeping on his futon. Split by her own precarious position in Ava’s club at the time, she’d whipped out her phone, as if to rat them both out then and there. Jules never even looked up from the dress form he was taping.

He asked: What do you give a cunt to convince her a community matter is a private matter?

He clipped off the tape with scissors longer than his hand.

A house!

Lux wanted a house. She wanted to jam her hooks into a hunk with big delts, and huge tits, and chain him up under the bed, somebody the opposite of Jules in every way, and she wanted to bake a successful quiche and she wanted, most of all, her and her sisters’ beloved childhood mutt Chessie, who had leapt off the family pontoon one 4th of July weekend on Indian Lake to his idiot death, to be revived and come trotting up the staircase and into her arms, panting with joy, not because he had been resurrected, but because he loved her best of all.

#the end! no moral #like 4000 words of overworked bitches being grim at parties im trying to ride this wave of suckage out #SAFEWORLD

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clearkoalacollective · 5 years ago

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Game Giveaway, COVID-19 Edition

Hey, everyone! If you’re stuck at home with nothing to do, I’m here to help! The usual rules apply: first come, first served, be nice to each other, don’t be greedy. You'll need to do your own research on the games to make sure your computer is capable of running them. I'm not giving any recommendations because I don't know anything about the vast majority of them, and I don't want to point out the "good ones" so they get snatched up quickly. I will update the list as games are claimed, so every title on the list should still be available, but I'm only human, so I apologize in advance if you request something that's already been taken. Multiple titles on the list mean I have multiple keys for that game. Send me a message with the title you’d like and I’ll send you the key!

1 Screen Platformer

11-11 Memories Retold

A Glider’s Journey

Aaero

Acceleration of SUGURI 2

Action!

Action Henk

Adventure Boy Cheapskate DX

The Adventure Pals

Almost There: The Platformer

Ame no Marginal -Rain Marginal

Ancient Planet

Animal Super Squad

Anna’s Quest

Anomaly 2

Anomaly Defenders

Anomaly Korea

Anomaly: Warzone Earth

Anomaly Warzone Earth Mobile Campaign

ARMA Gold Edition

Artemis: God-Queen of the Hunt

Ashes of the Singularity: Escalation

Assault Android Cactus

Auto Age: Standoff

Avernum 2: Crystal Souls

Avernum 3: Ruined World

Back to Bed

Balancelot

BalanCity

Battle Riders

Battlevoid: Harbinger

Beckett

Bezier

Bit Blaster XL

Black the Fall

Blackwake

Black Mesa

Black the Fall

Blackwake

BlazBlue: Chronophantasma Extend

Bleed 2

Blockstorm

Bomb Defense

Border Force

Borderlands 2 Ultimate Vault Hunter Upgrade Pack 2

Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel

Bounty Train

Carcassonne - Inns & Cathedrals

Carcassonne - Tiles & Tactics

Cathedral

Chasm

Chime Sharp

Chivalry: Medieval Warfare

Chronology

Clatter

ClusterPuck99

Colt Express

Company of Heroes

Copoka

Cosmonautica

Crawl

Crazy Machines 3

Crusader Kings 2: Dynasty Starter Pack

Cthulhu Realms

Cursed Castilla (Maldita Castilla EX)

Dead Island Definitive Edition

Dead Rising 2

Deadlight: Director’s Cut

Death Squared

Deep Dungeons of Doom

Defend Your Life: TD

Deponia Doomsday

Dimension Jump

Distance

Distrust

Downtown Drift

Draw Your Game

Dreadlands

DreadOut

Dreaming Sarah

Duck Game

Duskers

The Dwarves

Emily Is Away Too

Endless Legend - Classic Edition

The Escapists - Alcatraz

The Escapists - Duct Tapes are Forever

The Escapists - Escape Team

The Escapists - Fhurst Peak

Euro Truck Simulator 2

Evergarden

Everything

FaceRig

FaceRig Pro

The Fall

fault - milestone two side:above

fault milestone one

Fearless Fantasy

Feather

F.E.X. (Forced Evolution Experiment)

Fidel - Dungeon Rescue

Fight’N Rage

Figment

Filthy, Stinking, Orcs

Finding Paradise

Flat Heroes

Flinthook

Fluffy Horde

Forged Battalion

Forts

Framed Collection

FreeCell Quest

Frog Detective

Full Throttle Remastered

Galactic Civilizations III

The Gardens Between

Gloom: Digital Edition

God’s Trigger

GoNNER - Press Jump To Die Edition

Grey Goo Definitive Edition

Guild of Dungeoneering

Guilty Gear Xrd REV 2

Guns of Icarus Alliance

Gurgamoth

H1Z1

Hacknet

Hacknet Labyrinths DLC

Hand of Fate 2

Hard Reset Redux

Headlander

Hearts of Iron III Collection

Her Story

Hero Defense

Hexcells Complete Pack

Highway Blossoms

HIVESWAP: Act 1

Holy Potatoes! We’re in Space?!

HoPiKo

Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number

How to Survive 2

Hurtworld

Husk

Idol Magical Girl Chiru Chiru Michiru Part 1

Idol Magical Girl Chiru Chiru Michiru Part 2

Immortal Redneck

The Incredible Adventures of Van Helsing

The Incredible Adventures of Van Helsing: Final Cut

Infested Planet

Invisible Inc.

The Journey Down: Chapter Three

Jump Stars

Kalaban

Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes

Kentucky Route Zero

Kero Blaster

Kimmy

Kingdom: New Lands

Kona

Lakeview Cabin Collection

Lara Croft GO

Laser League

Last Day of June

Layers of Fear: Masterpiece Edition

Lion Quest

Loot Rascals

Lost Castle

LostWinds

Love is Dead

Love Letter

Machinarium

Machinarium Collector’s Edition

Magicka

Maize

Majesty 2 Collection

Marooners

Masquerade: The Baubles of Doom

Master Spy

Memoria

Memory’s Dogma CODE:01

MetaMorph: Dungeon Creatures

Metrico+

Mimic Arena

Minecraft: Story Mode

Minion Masters

Mirage: Arcane Warfare

Misadventures of Laura Silver: Chapter 1

Monstercat Gold 1 Year

Moon Hunters

Moonlighter

Motorsport Manager

Mr. Shifty

Must Dash Amigos

Mysterium - Hidden Signs (expansion)

Mysterium - Secrets and Lies (expansion)

NAIRI: Tower of Shirin

Narcissu 10th Anniversary Anthology Project

NBA Playgrounds

Nemo Dungeon

Neon Chrome

Neon Drive

NeuroVoider

Nex Machina

Ninja Senki DX

No Time To Explain Remastered

Offensive Combat: Redux!

Okhlos

Old Man’s Journey

On Rusty Trails

Outlast 2

Override: Mech City Brawl

Oxenfree

Pac-Man Championship Edition 2

Painters Guild

Paper Fire Rookie

Paperbark

Paradigm

Paratopic

The Park

Partial Control

Passpartout: The Starving Artist

Pirate Pop Plus

Planet Alpha

Pony Island

Pool Panic

Potatoman Seeks The Troof

Pretzel Rocks Premium (1 year)

Primal Carnage: Extinction

Project CARS

Project CARS 2

Prototype 2

Pumped BMX+

Purrfect Date - Visual Novel/Dating Simulator

Puss!

Q.U.B.E.: Director’s Cut

Q.U.B.E. 2

Quest of Dungeons

Rapture Rejects

Rebound Dodgeball Evolved

Red Orchestra 2: Heroes of Stalingrad

The Red Solstice

Refunct

Regular Human Basketball

Resident Evil 5 Gold Edition

Resident Evil Revelations

Restream (1 year)

ReThink

Rising Dust

Rising Storm 2: Vietnam (includes 2 DLCs)

RIVE: Wreck, Hack, Die, Retry

Road Redemption

Rock of Ages 2: Bigger & Boulder

Rogue Rocks

Running with Rifles

Rusty Lake Hotel

Samorost 3

Sanctum 2

Satellite Reign

Scanner Sombre

Scrap Garden

Scythe: Digital Edition

Seasons After Fall

Serial Cleaner

SEUM: Speedrunners from Hell

Seven: The Days Long Gone

Shadow Tactics: Blades of the Shogun

Shadowrun: Hong Kong - Extended Edition

She Remembered Caterpillars

Shiness: The Lightning Kingdom

Silence

SimplePlanes

SkyScrappers

Sleeping Dogs: Definitive Edition

Slime-san

Slipstream

Snake Pass

Sniper Elite

Sniper Elite V2

Songs of Skydale

Sonic Mania

Sorcerer King: Rivals

Soul Axiom

Space Run Galaxy

Spectrum

The Spiral Scouts

Splasher

The Stanley Parable

State of Mind

Staxel

Steamworld Heist

The Stillness of the Wind

STRAFE: Millennium Edition

Stronghold Legends: Steam Edition

Styx: Shards of Darkness

Subterrain

Sudden Strike 4

Sundered

Sunrider: Liberation Day - Captain’s Edition

Super Chicken Catchers

Super Daryl Deluxe

Super Rude Bear Resurrection

SuperLuminauts

The Surge

Swords and Soldiers 2 Shawarmageddon

Tales of Berseria

Team Racing League

THE TEAR

Teslagrad

Think of the Children

Thomas Was Alone

THOTH

Throne of Lies: The Online Game of Deceit

Ticket to Ride: First Journey

Tiltagon

Tiny Echo

TIS-100

Tom Clancy’s The Division + Survival (uPlay)

Tormentor X Punisher

Tower of Guns

Tower Unite

Toy Odyssey: The Lost and Found

Train Valley

Tricky Towers

TumbleSeed

Tumblestone

The Turing Test

Twilight Struggle

Uurnog Uurnlimited

Verdun

Victor Vran

Virginia

Void Bastards

Wargame: Red Dragon

Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus

Wasted Pizza

Wasteland

Wasteland 2: Director’s Cut - Standard Edition

We Were Here Too

The Window Box

Witch It

Wizard of Legend

WORLD END ECONOMiCA episode.01

WORLD END ECONOMiCA episode.02

WORLD END ECONOMiCA episode.03

World to the West

Wurm Unlimited

XSplit Premium (1 year)

XSplit VCAM

Yoku’s Island Express

Yume Nikki

YUMENIKKI -DREAM DIARY-

Zero Reflex: Black Eye Edition

Ziggurat

Zombie Army Trilogy

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sparrowrider · 6 years ago

Text

I don’t know what to title this but it’s Peter x borrower!reader

I swear this was just supposed to be a drabble—then, well, my imagination sorta took off. :P I did get tired after about 2k words, though, so sorry if it cuts off at a weird spot!

I hope this is what you’re looking for, Nonnie! It turned out a little different than I had expected it to, but I hope y’all enjoy nonetheless!

(Also, if you can think of a title, let me know because I got tired.)

» @misfitsgalaxygt

Warnings: mentions of injury; (brief) allusion to death; panic/spiraling thoughts

It was supposed to be just another borrowing run.

Just another trip down your handy fishing line across the expanse that was the bean’s floor—around discarded socks twice your size and old, chewed-up pencils and other bits and bobs that had permanently made their home there. It was routine for you to scramble around a room that could easily fit thousands of you, collecting up armfuls of paper clips and thimbles and wires that had long since been strewn into the corners; that was, after all, how you survived.

It was pure fate you found yourself in your current predicament. Just a misstep and a boatload of rotten luck. But that didn’t exactly matter now, did it?

Your leg was screaming in pain. Tremors were rippling throughout the entirety of your body, and despite the blackness hovering around the edges of your vision, you were forcing yourself to remain awake. Your tear ducts had already emptied themselves out, leaving only long-dried streaks on your face.

You wanted to badly to go to sleep; exhaustion had already begun taking its toll on you. But you knew that if you let your guard down now, there was no telling what sort of danger you would wind up in. The human may be slumbering now, but eventually he’d be roused from his slumber—and if you were lucky, you’d manage to escape his prying eyes.

If only you hadn’t slipped on your way down. If only you hadn’t landed oddly on your leg, rendering it completely useless—and robbing you of your ability to move.

You pressed your palms into the dust-coated floor, gritting your teeth as you pushed with all your might. For a moment, your body shifted upwards, and you thought maybe you had a chance of getting to safety after all—but just as the momentary spurt of strength graced you, it vanished, and you toppled downwards. Your already injured leg seized up with pain, and it took every ounce of your remaining energy not to cry out in anguish.

Fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes. It really was hopeless now.

Suddenly, your heard something—a quiet gasp, and the sounds of sheets rustling. Your blood ran cold as you cautiously peered out from underneath the desk under which you were currently trapped, and your worst suspicions were confirmed: the bean was awake.

You immediately broke out in a cold sweat. How could he be awake? There was no way you could have woken him up, was there? Beans couldn’t hear that well, especially not in their sleep. The bean sat up wearily, his hair sticking out at odd angles, and ran his fingers over his arms. Then, he shifted once more: his feet slid to the ground, and the bed creaked gently as he heaved himself upwards.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the bean began creeping forward. His footsteps, though slow, sent miniature earthquakes rippling through the ground, and you stifled a gasp of pain as your leg was jostled uncomfortably. With dawning horror, you realized the giant was walking towards you—had you alerted him to your presence somehow? You were only a few inches tall and cloaked in darkness—there was no way he could have noticed you. Could he? Maybe you’d underestimated beans. Maybe they were much more perceptive than you’d initially imagined.

Shivers racked your form as you attempted in vain to push yourself backwards. Your hands were clammy with sweat, and simply slid across the wooden floor, as the human neared. From his perspective, he looked even more daunting than he usually did—the gentle rumbling reverberating throughout the floor as a result of his slow, steady footsteps were certainly not helping the matter.

Frozen in both pain and terror, you opted simply to squeeze your eyes shut and remain as still as possible, hoping the bean had simply wandered over to the desk to fiddle with the computer or his phone for a few minutes before going back to bed.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped. The floor was still. Everything was still. You held your breath, afraid to even exhale lest it alert him to your presence.

Then, a voice sounded directly next to you—a voice that, though not particularly deep, rumbled through the air, accompanied by a gentle gust of warm air. “Um...hello?”

You jolted upwards, your breath hitching in your throat, and your eyes fluttered open—the bean’s billboard-sized face was hovering directly in front of you, his deep brown eyes wide with curiosity. It was all over now—somehow, you’d been discovered, and now you were going to be locked away or hurt or even worse—

“Whoa! You’re not, uh...oh, geez...hey, please calm down, little guy,” the bean pleaded gently, his voice rising in volume. Your hands curled into fists as you focused on the floor in front of him, trembling with pain and fear. “I’m not...I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Yeah, right. Still, you didn’t respond. Maybe he’d think you were a hallucination wrought by his sleep-hazy brain and go back to bed—it was a far-fetched hope, but you clung onto it like your life depended on it.

Then again, it did.

“Uh...can you...can you talk?” the bean squeaked uncertainly. “I’m, er, my name is Peter…”

A moment of silent stretched out between the two of you; the air was thick with tension so palpable you could practically reach out and touch it.

“So...is that a no?” The bean’s voice cut through the eerie silence, and you flinched out of instinct, glancing up at him with wide, panicked eyes.

“Oh, geez...I’m sorry,” the bean—Peter—quickly added, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—of course I’d be too loud…”

You were still quivering; it felt as if all of your strength had long since been sapped out of your body, leaving behind an empty, aching husk. A sob rose up in the back of your throat, but you forced it down; you still couldn’t show weakness, no matter what—there was no telling what the bean might do.

“Uh...are you...hurt?”

Your gaze snapped back up to him, eyes round with surprise.

“It’s just...you’re not moving or anything. Actually, I knew something was probably wrong, because my Spidey Sense sorta...drew me here? Uh, not that that would make sense to you...” Peter faltered, his fingers drumming the ground absently—an action that sent miniature tremors throughout the ground. “I can...I can help, I think...please don’t be scared—”

Suddenly, a hand larger than your entire body swooped forward, monolithic fingers looming over your frame; panic surged through you, and this time, you couldn’t force down the scream that welled up inside of you. With all of your might, you pushed yourself backwards further into the darkness, your muscles quivering from the exertion—and at the same time, a single, desperate syllable was ripped unceremoniously from your throat.

“NO!”

The hand froze in midair. Your heart was threatening to pound its way out of your chest; your breaths came out shor, sharp puffs, and darkness seeped into the edges of your vision. The room felt as if it was tilting and whirling wildly around you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling tears well up in their corners.

“Oh geez...oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m so...I wasn’t thinking, really...I just wanted to, er...I just wanted to help…”

You paid little attention to the human’s ramblings. Your fists clenched, then unclenched, then clenched again, your fingernails digging into your skin as you slowly, laboriously forced yourself to exhale.

Even as you felt yourself shrinking back from the human, however, a deeper, more primal part of you urged you to move forward. Your leg had only worsened over the past few minutes; the hard, dusty floors and tomblike darkness surely hadn’t helped anything. And the bean...well, if he had wanted to grab you, he could have.

But he stopped.

He listened to you.

He had offered help. There was no way you could attain help on your own; with your leg as messed up as it was, you could hardly move, meaning you had no way of acquiring food or water or even bandages. If you refused his help, well...you wasn’t sure how long you’d be stuck under the desk, or even if you’d make it out alive.

On the other hand, he was so big—if you made him angry, he could simple squeeze his fist, and—

No. You shook your head vigorously, forcing yourself to inhale once more.

You knew what you had to do—that didn’t, however, make it any easier.

Peter was still rambling soft, heartfelt apologies, his brown eyes downcast, as you wriggled your way forward. As you made your way across the floor, however, he stopped, eyes widening as he glanced down at you. His intense gaze wasn’t making the task any less stressful, but you persisted nonetheless, forcing yourself to concentrate on the floor.

“I’m...um,” you began, your voice hoarse from disuse. “I...if you’re still offering help, um...I, uh, maybe wouldn’t mind…”

“Oh!” the human exclaimed, his sudden interjection causing you to recoil backwards in surprise. An apologetic look quickly overcame his features as he hastily added, “Uh...sorry, sorry. I keep forgetting...but, um, yeah, I’d love to help. I mean, I don’t wanna see you stay hurt, you know?” He twittered an odd, high-pitched laugh after he had finished speaking.

“Oh. Um, alright, then. If you, um, wouldn’t mind, then…”

Peter nodded vigorously, his messy brown hair flopping about his face. “I’ll help! But, er, it’s a bit difficult for me to get to you down there...would you mind…”

“I’m not sure if...if I can move forward any more,” you confessed, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It’s...it’s difficult.”

“Well, uh, in that case...okay, uh, I know this may not be the best thing, but, er, would you mind if I...picked you up? It’d only be for a moment, just so I could put you on the bed or something—and only if you’re comfortable with it, of course!”

Nerves wormed their way beneath your skin, and your stomach churned. The idea of putting yourself at the mercy of fingers longer than your entire body sent a shiver down your spine. Still, if it was the only way you could attain help…

You nodded.

“Okay,” Peter squeaked out, sounding just as nervous as you felt. “Okay, just, um, hang on. I’m gonna...yeah…”

The hand came forward once more, but this time, it came much more slowly. It rotated in midair, so that its back was lying flat on the ground, and as the outstretched fingers crept forward, you forced yourself to remain still. A heartbeat later, the human’s fingers were grazing your form, and you found your muscles tightening as they slowly slid underneath you. It was an odd feeling, though not unpleasant; the hand was blissfully warm and surprisingly soft, and as it slowly scooped you up, you found yourself instinctively nestling into it.

Then, the hand rose—your stomach dropped as you watched the floor shrink away, and you focused instead wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“Is this okay?”

You jolted upwards, you head whipping up to see the human’s brown eyes hovering directly in front of you. He winced at your reaction, an apologetic look dawning his enormous features—when he spoke, it rumbled through the air around you.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He shifted, and the hand trembled, forcing you to place your hands on either side of you for support.

“So, uh—I’m gonna bring you onto the bed now, if that’s okay.”

You nodded, unable to force words past the lump in your throat.

As the human slowly moved his hand, you found yourself relaxing for the first time in what felt like forever—the warmth and softness of your surface coupled with the human’s heartbeat made it all too easy.

You wasn’t sure what would happen next—but a sprig of optimism had forced its way into your heart, and you knew things would be okay. Leaning back against the fingers that were curled gently overhead, a smile slipped onto your weary features.

Regardless of what happened next, things would probably never be the same—but you didn’t necessarily mind.

#YEE #my writing #peter parker #mcu #spiderman #borrowers #giant!peter #tiny!reader #idk what else to tag this um #reader insert

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hvacrepairserviceweb · 2 years ago

Text

How to maintain the HVAC unit

If you have a heating, ventilation and air conditioning (HVAC) system, you know how expensive they are. That is why taking care of them is necessary. This way you can prevent costly repairs and excessive energy bills. It can also extend the life of your HVAC equipment.

However, maintaining your HVAC system can seem like a daunting task at first. But since you use them all year round, you must learn how to care for them. Below are some guidelines to help you maintain your HVAC:

Change air filters The air filters in your HVAC unit are responsible for improving air quality. They filter out particles and impurities in the air, keeping your system clean.

But if they build up in your air filter, your HVAC system will become clogged, causing airflow to become obstructed. Therefore, your hvac repair waccabuc needs to work harder to keep up. As a result, your energy costs will increase and the efficiency of your device will decrease. Consider replacing your air conditioner filter every 30 days or three months at the most. Any longer can restrict the air flow in your system, create additional stress and possibly lead to costly repairs.

Clear the air ducts Air ducts in your home circulate air from the HVAC system to the rooms. If not properly cared for, they can become clogged with debris, dirt, and mold.

Unmaintained air ducts lead to air conditioner (AC) inefficiencies and increased energy costs. To avoid this, check the air ducts regularly, checking the accuracy of the room temperature in each room. Also check that air flows freely through the vents. If you feel like something is wrong, it's time to clean them with hot soapy water.

Tidy up the capacitor The condenser is the external device of your HVAC system and is responsible for generating and collecting heat.

As they are exposed to the elements, capacitors can quickly become clogged with dirt, dust, and other airborne particles, causing internal components to fail.

Clean the condenser regularly with a spiral brush to remove large particles such as leaves and grass. After that, rinse the device from the outside with a hose to remove any remaining particles.

Finally, spray a generous amount of cleaner onto the coils and let them sit for ten minutes before gently rinsing them with water. Avoid using high pressure condenser cleaners as they can permanently damage your device.

Clean the condensate drain line The condensate drain line is a metal pipe that exits through the outer wall. This pipe collects the condensate that forms in your unit. It then transports water outside of your home while your system is running. And since water usually passes through it, your condensate drain line is prone to mold and algae growth.

If the air in the room smells moldy or musty, or there is water near the indoor unit, this may indicate that the drain line is clogged. Pour it with white distilled vinegar and leave for half an hour to clean. Perform this process every 30 days to ensure that your system performs at its best.

Keep the gap clear Inspect the area around the outdoor unit for plants, grass, leaves or fallen branches that may prevent proper exhaust air discharge. Also, check to see if dirt has accumulated around the area.

You should have approximately two feet of free space on all sides of the outdoor unit to avoid clogging the condenser. So whenever you take on yard work, include the fields around your house in your cleanup.

The same can be said about your indoor unit. Do not place too many objects around the indoor unit, as they can easily collect dust that can eventually enter the ventilation system.

Invest in a smart controller In addition to reducing energy costs, the smart AC controller will also help you monitor the condition of your air filter. It will alert you if your air filters need to be cleaned or replaced.

The smart AC controller also has a geo-fencing feature that automatically turns off the device when you leave. It can also turn the device back on when you return to a pre-defined area.

Also, some AC controllers include a sophisticated feature that can tell if your air conditioner is not working properly or if there is an issue with indoor air quality. This allows you to quickly determine if there is a problem with your HVAC system and prevent it from getting worse.

Output The HVAC unit is expensive; it is in your interest to maintain and maintain it in optimal condition. So you can extend its lifespan and use it longer.

By following these HVAC maintenance and repair recommendations, you and your family can benefit from the improved air quality and temperature that this system provides.

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larkwinters-a · 7 years ago

Text

It was a nightmare that woke him up.

There was, however, no jerking up, no screaming. He was simply forced awake by the images he had seen, the actions he’d seen himself carry out, and it’d been too much, so much so that he had to force himself back into consciousness too soon.

It couldn’t have been more than three or four hours since they had settled into the too big bed, the events from that day heavy on their minds, but they had gone about ignoring it for as long as they possibly could. It’d worked, because they had both managed to fall asleep, their room was only illuminated by a sliver of light, from where the heavy curtains weren’t fully closed.

Right now, however, the room was dark. Fear struck his chest in a way Lark didn’t want to think about and one thought rang in his mind; you’re back there.

And he might have believed it, if it were not for the bed beneath his back and the girl sharing said bed with him.

Ruby was still asleep, would still be asleep four another three hours or so, and was something solid against him. He’d forgotten what it was like to share a bed with someone and it was something he had sorely missed. Their tangled bodies might not have been tangled like they had been before, with them both changed in different ways -- he could see the light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks -- and how only his left arm was tucked around her, holding her close to his chest. She was breathing softly, sleep rendering her features soft and neutral.

He moved his arm from around her and lifted it to her face. His fingers barely touched her hair as he brushed them through it. His hand came to a rest at her cheek, his thumb stroked along her cheekbone. They were small gestures that would have meant nothing had this just been another day of them waking up in one of their dorm rooms, with them having crashed there because it had been too hard to separate even for a few necessary hours of sleep.

The kids they had been back then would have had no idea what they would have to go through. The Lark he was then had no idea the pain he would cause her, despite how hard he had tried not to. The Lark he was now understood the pain he had caused her as much as he could and he couldn’t -- wouldn’t think about how she still had chosen him. If he thought about that, he would take himself down on a spiral he wouldn’t be able to get back up from.

As much as Lark was scared of her seeing the parts of him he was trying so hard to keep hidden, he knew he would never have been able to live without her. Especially now, when he needed her more than he could care to admit. More than he was able to admit. In all of the bad things that had happened over the past year, the things he had forgotten and the things he could remember in vivid detail, there had only been one person he had wanted, one thing he had wanted, and that had been her and her embrace. He wouldn’t have chased that away, no matter how badly he was pushing his feelings down, sealing them into a bottle that was already spilling over.

He needed her around, he couldn’t live without her.

But right now, he had to.

He was quiet and careful as he slipped out of the bed. His bare feet padded softly against the marble floor as he crossed the room and pulled open one of the wardrobes that were built into the wall of the room. There was nothing inside and he wasn’t exactly in the mood, or right activity, to put on his sweater again. A plan formed in his mind.

With one last glance in Ruby’s direction, to where she was still sleeping in bed, he slipped out of the room. The door closed with a soft hiss and Lark quietly made his way down the corridor. No lights were on and he could see that each door of the four rooms they had been given were tightly shut. The rest of their group were still sound asleep and he knew it’d stay that way. They had just travelled light years in a day, they had just spent the day collecting their lions and having their time filled with non stop action. It was only natural that they would need plenty of sleep.

Lark should have needed plenty of sleep too but he had been conditioned so thoroughly to run on only three hours of sleep, that getting any more felt like it would have been an act of destruction. Why should he sleep any longer than he needed when his mind could be alert and functioning on only three hours?

The joke here was, that he was never alert or functioning on only three hours of sleep, he was always running on fumes, always mere moments from his engine giving out. It was something that needed hidden, because he had already been stripped back to his shell. He was nothing but a bare structure and mechanics that had been badly duct taped together in a vain attempt to make him resemble a human being.

Lark wasn’t sure what he was anymore.

A pilot or a leader or a friend or a boyfriend? None of the titles seemed to fit him correctly anymore, they were masks, strapped onto his face, to hide the cracked and torn apart mess underneath it. If he let one slip, they would see his true self, they would look through his skin like it was transparent. They would see right into his inner organs and they would see bruises and scars and injuries he couldn’t explain without wanting to puke.

And perhaps, the worst part of this, was that his question was answered when he stumbled upon his destination.

He moved into the gym. It was a large white room that was a few meters big, large enough to rival the gym at the Garrison. On the far side of the room, there was a observation centre, for people to observe those who trained in here and that made Lark feel sick. He decided not to dwell on it and he crossed the room, dust swirling around his feet as he walked across the mats. They were squishy yet cracked under his weight, they hadn’t been used in years.

On the same wall that held the window for the observation centre, there was two large double doors. One the side, there was a plaque that was written in an alien language, but Lark guessed it said equipment. The other door in the gym wasn’t nearly big enough. He yanked one door open and walked into a cupboard the size of a room. There was many shelves, a sort of translucent blue in colour, and Lark walked along it until he found the two things he needed.

The first of which was the work out gear. Official Altean training uniforms that he plucked a t-shirt from. It was supposed to be his typical size but he found out fairly quickly that he has grown in the past year. His muscles were bigger, his scarred chest and stomach were more firm, firmer than he’d ever been. The t-shirt was tight, stretching over his chest and one wrong move would allow anyone who looked at him to see his stomach muscles. His arms were left exposed, the t-shirt was sleeveless. He didn’t have many qualms about that in the moment, no one else was awake. They wouldn’t find him in here and they wouldn’t stare.

The second item he had retrieved was athletic tape. He idly wrapped it around his left hand and wrist as he left the cupboard, making his way back into the gym. The once dark room lit up then, the artificial lights flickering on. The wall across from him remained dark, panels closed over it. Lark squinted and walked over to it. He pressed his newly wrapped hand -- the right one didn’t need it now -- to one of the panels and they shuddered and creaked before opening.

Lark took a few steps back and watched for the few seconds it took for the panels to recede completely. What he was now looking at was a wall made up completely of arched windows. There was a meter or so of brick at the top, meeting where the windows curved. Lark sucked in a sharp breath, it’d been a long time since he’d last seen a view like this. His eyes flitted over the view of the new planet, the green horizon and the trees that lined it. It was beautiful and he was about to tear his gaze away, when he saw it.

The sun had begun to poke it’s way out, slowly rising up in the sky. It was a sunrise. He hadn’t seen one in a year.

The sky was a spread of colours; a pale yellow where the sun was rising that mingled in with the pinks and oranges that spread through, tinged towards the top with purple were the darkness of night was receding into a pale blue. It looked surreal, it looked just like how he could vaguely remember the ones on earth looking and he felt his heart begin to race. He couldn’t breathe.

Lark took a step and then another two back. It was overwhelming, it was too much all at once. He had seen the sky, a pale blue outlined by the rocky perches of the Arizona desert, when he had stepped outside of Ruby’s cabin, he had seen the sheet of blue, barely marked with a cloud, and that had been fine; he was used to a monochromatic sky, one colour covering the entire base. But this, this was colourful and vibrant and full of life and it reminded him just how much he had lost and missed in a year.

His lungs squeezed painfully; tears pooled in the corner of his eyes and then --

“Please select a training method.”

Lark spun, his hands instinctively curling into fists and they were held up, ready to attack. With wide eyes, he searched for the enemy but there was no one in the room with him. It was just himself, with the sunset behind him, casting shades of pink and orange on his pale skin.

Seconds passed and Lark didn’t budge, he waited for a sign that someone was about to attack, perhaps they were hidden, when the message repeated itself. Robotic and lacking life, Lark realised it was an AI. His hands dropped to his sides and he felt foolish for reacting in such a manner. He shook his head, the momentum brushing his hair from his eyes.

“Just uh, --” His voice was hoarse, a result of the sleep. “-- I just wanna hit something.”

“Training method 002 selected.” The AI responded.

A moment later, the wall on the far end of the room shifted, a door sliding open and Lark tilted his head to the side. It was too dark to see inside but a moment later a _ appeared. A small huh left him as it shuddered to a stop two feet in front of him. The energy holding it up was a beam of blue light, that looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t pin point why, and he walked over, pressing his wrapped hand against it. He pushed the it and it shook but the beam didn’t budge. It was some kind of alien technology.

A small smile twitched at his lips. “Oh, that’s cool.”

“There are different ways in which the Altean training routines can help improve your physique.” The AI said. “May we suggest --”

“I’m good,” he said. “Thanks.”

The AI fell silent and Lark’s fist shot out and hit the bag. It swung back at him and he met it with another hit. And then another, the sounds of skin and metal hitting the vinyl in a rain of pent up emotions. He didn’t break a sweat, it would take more than some physical exertion to make him do that now. It was almost funny to him just how much he had changed, both mentally and physically. Almost.

He hit it for what seemed like a while, truthfully, he still had no idea how time passed, he had no idea what time it was save for it being early. He didn’t know if this planet had a different way of calculating time. It threw him through a loop or two. Maybe it was a good thing he was back in space, now he wouldn’t have to bother people with his inability to readjust to natural gravity and oxygen and a time scale. He was less of a burden in space.

His first struck the bag again and it rattled in place, swinging wildly and he had to step to the side, to avoid being hit by it. It was back and forth a couple of time and when it began to slow down, he got it with his hand, his black fingers digging into the vinyl in an vain attempt to rip it apart. He was still trying to suppress those urges, he had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t expected to fight here. At least, not in the way he had previously.

“You seem like a great fighter,” The distinct accent filled the room. “How long have you been training for?”

Lark slid his gaze over to Hunter. His fingertips dug deeper into the bag. “Garrison. Combat Training. It was mandatory.”

Hunter nodded and a smirk toyed at his lips. “I was a Military Combatant for many years back on Altea. I would have been a great Troop leader, if I hadn’t become King Alfor’s right hand man.”

“You must miss Altea a great deal.” Lark said.

Hunter shrugged. His eyes flicked down, to the scars on Lark’s arm and then back up, like he had remembered it was impolite to stare. “Ten thousand years goes by like that,” he clicked his fingers. “I’m focusing on the present. Do you miss Earth?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t dwell on the notion that Earth was still there, that he hadn’t been there for a year and when he had been, it’d only caused him to be treated like Patient Zero in an outbreak, it had only been for a few hours. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to see his family. That hurt more than he wanted it to.

“You must have people you miss, though?” Lark asked. “Friends, a family?”

“I found friends and a family with the royals.” Hunter said. “I do remember the day Maia was born, it was such a big celebration. I got far too drunk. There was a lot of brawling. I mostly won.”

Lark raised an eyebrow in disbelief. He didn’t answer, but someone else did.

“As I recall,” Maia’s soft voice said. “You were punched a dozen or, was it, a hundred times that day?”

“It was a celebration.” Hunter scoffed. “I was celebrating!”

“Mhm.” Maia nodded, a sly grin on her face.

Lark looked between them for a moment and felt a burst of concern. “What are you guys doing up so early?”

“It’s only 9am.” Hunter said, incredulously. He didn’t realise how glad Lark was to have the time. “Us Alteans don’t require as much sleep.”

“We went to bed early.” Maia said. “Yesterday was a long day for all of us and I got up early to start scanning for the Red lion. Hunter got up because he’s, well, Hunter.”

Lark nodded, slowly. “You shouldn’t sacrifice your sleep for that. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I can take care of myself.” Maia said. “I’ll be fine. I just want to have all of the lions here, to be able to have Voltron once more.”

Lark licked his lips. He hadn’t given much thought to the lions since he had woken up. He couldn’t, not without fearing the inevitable. The Black lion has been described as everything Lark wanted to be, the things his heart wanted him to be. But he wasn’t those things and he couldn’t pretend that he was. And everyone would find out, they would see when they got their lions and he presented himself to Black. She would reject him. She wouldn’t want a monster piloting her.

“Voltron back in the playing field?” Hunter asked and then barked a laugh. “The Galra won’t stand a chance.”

“It won’t be that simple.” Maia reminded him. “This isn’t a bar fight during the Juniper berry celebrations.”

“And I did great in those bars fights!” Hunter protested. “You should have seen my mean right hook.”

Maia glanced to Lark. She rolled her eyes and he flashed her a false, small smile before casting his gaze elsewhere. To anyone else it would have been extremely fascinating to hear two aliens talk about their lives, about their culture, but Lark had heard it before, so many times within the past year. And usually, they were arguing about his life.

“My father wasn’t too happy about you getting into those fights,” Maia told him. “You were a joke.”

She began to leave, making her way out of the room. Hunter turned around to look at her, his hands on his hips.

“I’ll have you know I was a champion bar fighter!” he called after her. “Everyone wanted a piece of me!”

A sharp, involuntary gasp left Lark then. His gaze snapped to Hunter. It was too late to say or do anything, however, because he was scurrying after Maia, no doubt arguing his case. Lark, in the meantime, felt like someone had just punched him in the chest. And he knew exactly what that felt like. He took a step back and the mat squished under his footsteps.

One simple word shouldn’t have gotten to him like that, he knew it. He felt pathetic, for being so weak that he was taken out like that. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the panic and memories to leave him alone. A voice in his head told him what he needed but instead of listening to it, he balled his hands into fists and then lashed out.

His right fist hung where the bag hand, where it had hovered from it’s previously thought unbreakable hold, and it was gone, swallowed up by the ground -- which, what the fuck? -- and Lark let out another breath.

A second later, he fled the room.

He walked quickly back down the route he had come down hours previously, tugging the tape from his hand and he was back at their room quicker than he had left. The door slid open, he walked in, and dumped the tape on the floor. He shook his hand out as he crossed the room, going back to their bed.

Ruby was still there, still asleep and the sight was enough to calm him down. The panic fled from his mind and he slid back into the bed with her. And unlike when he had first woken up, he couldn’t wait for her to do so. He reached out, with his left hand, and gently shook her, stirring her from her sleep. He should have and did feel bad for it. She needed sleep, she was accustom to the short time he was, and it was selfish of him to put his needs before hers.

“Hey,” he said, when she turned to look at him, brown eyes deep and clouded with sleep. She’d still be groggy. “I missed you.”

I need you, he didn’t say, I need you to tell me it’s okay.

He slid down onto the bed then, his right arm tucked under his head and his left wrapped around her once more, bringing her to his chest. For a moment, he did nothing. He felt his nerves continue to burn and so, he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, softly. “Looks like we’re not on Earth anymore, Roo.”

#1802

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spiralmfg-blog1 · 11 months ago

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Explore a World of High-Quality Ductwork Solutions

Embark on a journey of innovation and reliability with Spiral Manufacturing. Our diverse range of high-quality pipes, blast gates, dust collection systems, and more redefine industry standards. Whether you're a professional in the industry or a DIY enthusiast, find what you need with just a few clicks.

#Hvac spiral pipe #Duct manufacturers #Hvac duct manufacturers #Spiral duct suppliers #Dust collection blast gate #Blast gate damper

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flexaflexhosesindustries · 2 years ago

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PVC FLEXIBLE DUCT HOSE - PVC Duct Hose Suppliers -FlexaFlex

FlexaFlex Hose Industries is the leading PVC Duct Hose Manufacturer. PVC Flexible Duct Hose is made of spiral reinforcement rigid PVC into fine grade soft PVC. PVC Duct Hose made of spiral reinforcement of rigid PVC into fine grade soft PVC.

Made available in Grey / Transparent / Blue colours. A moderately flexible light duty hose for collection and conveying of air, dust and light materials. Quality PVC compounding and production techniques have made the hose with better flexibility and service life than other commercial brands.

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dustlessmachine · 4 years ago

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Dust Collector | Dust Collector Manufacturer in India

From: dustless blasting machine

Dust collectors are used to collecting dust and other solid impurities from the air or gas in industries. They help in providing a better working and cleaner environment to employees of an industry and also increase the manufacturing efficiencies. The quality of air released can also be enhanced with the help of dust collectors. Industrial dust collectors are different from that air purifiers because air purifiers use disposable filters to remove air pollutants whereas dust collectors have different components that help in improving the air quality.

Types of Dust Collectors

Inertial dust separator is a type of mechanical dust collector which uses inertial, gravitational, and centrifugal forces to remove dust from the object. By using these forces the dust is get temporarily collected in the hopper where the effect of these forces is minimal. This hopper is used for collecting dust particles temporarily.

A cyclone dust collector is a type of inertial dust collector which mainly uses centrifugal force for its dust removal operation. The cyclonic action of the centrifugal force makes the dust to get separate from the gas stream. The dusty air enters through the inlet and with the help of centrifugal force at the helical baffle; heavy dust moves to the interior sidewalls and goes to the base unit. Then the clean air spirals upward and exits at top of the cyclone through the exhaust fan. Here, the centrifugal should be higher so that all the dust particles can be removed easily.

Fabric bag dust collector collects the dust into a filter bag chamber and a dust hopper. Air enters through the inlet and suction is created by the exhaust fan. Due to the loss of momentum, heavy dust particle falls into the hopper and fine particles go to the inner surface of the fabric bag. During this process, all the dust particles which are accumulated in the fabric bag deposited into the hopper from where they can be separated out. Through the blower dust-free air is conveyed out. Fabric bag dust collectors do not need the high voltage, unlike electrostatic precipitators, hence their maintenance cost is much low.

Pleated bag dust collector uses pleated bag elements through which dust-laden air passes. Clean air flows out of the pleated bag through the blower and released into the atmosphere through ducting. After this process, the pleated bag is cleaned through air purging. Dust particles released from pleated bags go to the hopper and collected into dustbins from it. Pleated bag dust collectors mainly look like cartridge dust collectors also functions like it. They provide more areas for the dust removal process.

Cartridge dust collector uses a cartridge chamber to collect dust particles. The dust-air enters through the inlet and passes from the cartridge chamber. The dust-free air collected into the exhaust chamber and then goes out through the blower and chimney. After this cleaning process, the cartridge is cleaned by the high velocity compressed air which extends against the inner surface of the cartridge.

Dustless blasting machine manufacturing company supplies a variety of dust collectors at affordable prices as per the customer requirement. Here, sand blasting machines, shot blasting machines, thermal spray guns, abrasives are also manufactured and supplied to other industries at low prices.

#Dust Collector #manufacturer #supplier #exporter #jodhpur #rajasthan #india

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demon-of-the-crow-fics · 8 years ago

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Welcome Back

Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes

Summary: After the alleged suicide of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson isn’t ready to give up the ghost of his best friend.

Warnings: Minimal Swearing, Detailed Death.

A/N: Before I begin, this story is based upon a post that I stumbled across on another social media website that had been posted by @doctorwhoatson and I would like to give the story idea’s credit to them. I was unable to locate the post on this website so unfortunately I will not be able to add a link to the original post. That said, if this post is deemed unacceptable by @doctorwhoatson I will be more than happy to take it down if you send me a message. As always feedback is appreciated!

Three years. It had been three years since Sherlock Holmes had taken the plunge. It had been three years since he had stood staring at the marbled tombstone, pleading for his friend to return. Three years since the papers had reported the death of the infamous consulting detective--the one with “the funny hat”. Three years that he had been forced to live without his best friend.

How many times had he sat in his chair, eyes glued to that leather seat, imagining that his friend was sitting across from? How many times had he heard the phantom melody of a violin, once used to create such beauty, but now sat collecting dust? How many times had he convinced himself that the door would creak open and Sherlock Holmes would stride in, rambling on about a case? How many times had he reached for his gun, his knife, something--anything, that he could use to find a way to see his friend again.

Despite these cursed memories that haunted him, despite the darkest of hours, there was always one thing of he which he was absolutely certain; one thing that kept him from taking that last step that would send him spiraling into oblivion: Sherlock Holmes was still alive. He was--is--and Dr. John Hamish Watson was going to be the one to bring him home. The only question was how; how to bring back London’s famous detective?

Obviously, the pleading of a heartbroken friend wasn’t enough, so he would have to dig deeper. Think Watson. THINK! The answer, of course, became apparent almost at once. If you want to grab the attention of a detective, you give him a case.

A bubble of hysteria trickled from John’s mouth in the form of a manic chuckle. It couldn’t be just any case--an ordinary case wouldn’t capture the attention of the Sherlock Holmes, no, it had to be something big, something too interesting to be ignored. The idea took root within minutes and in a matter of months everything had been set into motion. It was time for the final piece of the puzzle to fall into place.

The strong scent of chlorine and perspiration filled John’s lungs as he inhaled deeply, widening his crazed eyes to take in the scene before him. Three men, all approximately forty years of age, of a slight build, and bound with ropes. Each man had a silvery strip duct tape covering their mouths to prevent any loud noises that might have otherwise escaped their lips.

He had never been more proud of his work. Tonight was the night, he could feel the knot in the pit of stomach coil with a mix of anticipation and excitement. Watson had made sure that he covered his tracks well enough to keep the Yard away from his scent but leaving just enough evidence to keep the trail warm. Just enough evidence for Holmes to catch on. Now, for the finishing touch.

Moving forward he grabbed the first victim, giving him a twisted grin as he threw him to the floor. A muffled scream sounded from the fallen man as his body slammed against the tiles of the poolside. Within seconds Watson had climbed atop the man, holding the knife against the jugular vein, considering giving him a swift death, after all he wasn’t a monster--or was he? No, no he wasn’t, he was only doing what he had to, he needed his friend. He needed Sherlock. He hesitated, gazing into the frantic eyes of the man beneath him, sobbing in terror as he fought to flee. John’s hand fell away from the throat of his victim, his gaze softening in a moment of doubt. Was he really doing the right thing?

Taking advantage of the situation, the man heaved his thighs upwards into John’s backside, forcing him to throw his hands out to avoid a skull cracking blow on the wet tiles. The knife slid away from the grappling men as the victim attempted to roll John over; but by then the former military doctor had regained his balanced. Using his opponent’s weight against him, Watson slammed the man’s head to the ground.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he breathed maliciously, continuing to slam man’s head to the ground until a pool of blood had formed beneath them, settling into the lines of the grout. Startled yells were erupting from the other two gentlemen who still remained on the side lines. Watson looked up, snapping his head in their direction. “Don’t worry, you’re next.”

Standing slowly, John strolled to where the knife had slid and bent down leisurely to examine it before taking it up in his grasp. He turned back to the two remaining men, determined to take care of them swiftly. It wouldn’t be long before he found them and everything had to be perfect. With this in mind he finished off the two men with frightening accuracy and in record time. Dipping his hand in the amassing pool of blood, John began putting together the last details required to complete his preparations.

He had just finished with the last of the “decorations” when he heard the tell tale footsteps click against the tiles behind him. “Well,” said a gruff voice, his voice, “you’ve certainly put in quite the effort.” John remained crouched as excitement sent tremors through his hands. “And to think, it almost worked.”

“Oh, but it did,” John rose slowly from the ground, keeping his back towards his long overdue guest. “It did work. I’ve waited quite some time for this Sherlock.” Slowly, he turned to face his old friend, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “It has been far too long.”

Sherlock’s face remained blank but his eyes swam with pain and disbelief. In truth, he had suspected this but had so desperately wished that he were wrong. Watson gazed at his best friend as euphoria settled in, making the whole thing feel like a dream. “I knew you’d find me,” he beamed.

“Of course I did,” Holmes spared a glance around the room, taking in the scene before him. John clutched the knife which dripped blood into the oozing river that had formed at his feet. His trousers and shirt were drenched in the ichor that fouled the air with it’s metallic stench. “I have been keeping tabs on you. John, what have you done?”

Watson looked baffled. “Isn’t it obvious? I did what I had to do. I always--always-- knew that you were out there, somewhere. Still alive and hiding from the world. Do you know how hard it was for me to live in that flat with your ghost haunting me? I begged you to come back, asked you not to be dead--”

“I heard you. I was there.”

“That is exactly my point,” he gestured to Sherlock with the knife, “and yet, it still wasn’t enough. No, if I wanted you back I would have to give you a d*** good reason. I had to find a way to lure in and what better way--,” he spread his arms to encompass the scene, “--than this?”

For the first time, Sherlock noticed the blood behind John. It wasn’t pooled together like the rest, but deliberately spread in gruesome letters. He looked to John, who smiled as he stood amidst his pile of corpses, before returning his attention back to the letters, scanning them once more and taking in their sick message--

“Welcome back, Sherlock.”

Tags:

@oakdragon253 @white-gerbera

#sherlock #holmes #sherlock holmes #john #watson #john watson #plot twist #au #one shot #sorry not sorry

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andrewbertolucci · 7 years ago

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How Do I Clean A Clothes Dryer?

Welcome to the How Do I Do This? series from Bounce Energy. Each month, we’ll dive into what it what you need to know to shop for, install, or repair those things in your home to keep your life affordable and convenient. Plus, you’ll (hopefully) learn some useful tips for other projects along the way.

How Do I Clean A Clothes Dryer?

Whether they’re gas or electric, clothes dryers use lots of energy to get your wet clothes dry. How exactly do dryers work? Most dryers work by pulling dry, heated air through the back of the rotating drum filled with your damp clothes. Then, the damp, warm air is exhausted through a lint screen just below the door assembly. The air is sucked into a blower fan (usually driven by the appliance’s main motor) and is then blown out of the machine into the exhaust hose and exits the vent outside.

However, all that heat, moisture, and tumbling action creates lots of lint. Lint is the accumulation of cloth fibers that are pulled or separated from your clothes when they are washed or when they tumble and rub against each other in the dryer. Unfortunately, in spite of dryer lint traps, cloth fibers are often small enough pass through the lint trap mesh and move further down the length of the dryer hose. Because these fibers are also moving along in a current of very humid air, they are more likely to stick hard when they run into some sort of obstruction such as a bend, or in the case of vinyl, a flex duct where it sags. This builds into a pile of lint that grows by capturing even more lint.

Over time, lint build up will begin restricting the dryer’s air flow. In some cases, the reduced air flow will prevent clothing from drying at all, forcing the dryer to run longer, costing you more money. The more frequently you use your dryer, the quicker the dryer’s ductwork will become clogged.

Why should I clean out my dryer?

Periodically cleaning out all that lint is THE most important dryer maintenance job there is to do. Yes, it’s dusty and messy, but it does these important things for your home:

It improves your dryer’s performance and energy efficiency.

It saves you money.

Keeping the outside vent clear and functioning reduces drafts and keeps out pests.

You only need to do it once a year.

It reduces the risk of fire.

What d’ye mean, FIRE?

Lint blockages can trap heat and raise the temperature in the dryer ductwork until it’s hot enough to ignite the lint —which burns like crazy. According to a National Fire Protection Association (NFPA) 2017 report, there were over 15,000 fires each year between 2010 and 2014 involving clothes dryers or washing machines. Clothes dryers alone were responsible for 92%. In those cases, 27% of the time the source of the ignition was lint. For one third of these cases, the leading factor contributing to the start of a lint fire was failure to clean!

Clean out your dryer with these 6 steps:

Unplug the dryer’s power cord. For gas dryers, you’ll next need to turn off the gas supply valve to the dry. Most gas dryers have a flexible gas supply hose attached to them.

Inspect the lint trap inside the dryer door. Heavy concentrations of lint around the trap as well as just below it indicate reduced airflow, and that lint is very likely building up inside the dryer hose. Clean out as much of the lint as you can. Using a vacuum cleaner with a crevice attachment will help you get deep down into this part. Now it’s time to put on the dust mask and work gloves because it’s going to get really messy.

Pull the dryer away from the wall and get behind it to disconnect the dryer from the exhaust duct or hose.

Clean out the dryer’s duct connection. Inspect the dryer’s duct opening in the back of the dryer with a flashlight. This part of the dryer duct usually runs all the way to the front of the dryer where the blower is located. Begin by removing as much lint as you can by hand, reaching in as far as you can. You can also use a dryer hose cleaning brush to loosen and pull out the dust and lint. Be careful NOT to push the brush so far inside that it gets caught in the blower. Move the brush carefully inside and stop pushing when the brush hits an obstruction.

Clean out the duct. Because lint and dust build up thickest in elbow connections or where ever flexible dryer hoses sag, ideally, the whole duct run should be as short and straight as possible. If your home has flexible plastic dryer hose, check for clogs by scrunching it up to shorten its length as much as possible. Again, clean out as much as you can with your hands and then switch to using the dryer duct brush tool to pull out even more. The more you clean out, the better the dryer’s airflow.

Clean is the outside dryer vent. Even if yours is equipped with a flap or some kind of door, after a few years of reliable service, sticky, wet lint and dust will collect on it and prevent it from closing. With the vent stuck open, damp outside air will get into your home and increase humidity in your home. This can lead to higher heating and cooling bills as well as add to mold problems. Plus, it also provides a way for mice and other pests to enter your home. Cleaning the outside vent controls this problem. Don’t for get to lubricate any pivot points for flaps or doors with a squirt of silicon lubricating oil. Unlike petroleum oil, silicon is vinyl friendly and it doesn’t collect as much dust and dirt.

A note on duct brushes: Hand powered duct brushes work well on foil dryer hoses but you’ll need to take a little extra time to clear the dust and lint from the duct hose’s spiral wire-ribbing. Some brushes can be attached to a power drill and snaked through the length. Drill powered duct brushes work best on metal ducts because the metal can easily withstand the friction better. They’re not such a good idea to use on the cheap vinyl hoses because they can tear through the vinyl.

If your home has the cheap vinyl dryer hose, seriously consider upgrading it to metal ductwork. It will trap less lint, be less likely to wear out from heat and age, and is far easier to clean.

Over a number of years, you might need to clean the blower’s fan blades. Because the blower is usually located deep inside the dryer, you’ll need to disassemble the dryer to get at the blower. For that, you’ll need to look up a repair manual for your dryer’s make and model. YouTube has many helpful videos that take you step by step to do this. However, if it’s something you think is over your head, don’t hesitate to hire a professional.

One other thing you can do is to install an energy saving dryer vent hood. Available on Amazon from different manufacturers, this vent has a small plastic cup inside that opens when the dry is blowing. When the dry stops, the cup drops to seal and close the dryer vent. Not only does this reduce clogging problems, it virtually eliminates problems with outside drafts getting into your home and keeps out pests. It can also be used for bathroom fan and kitchen hood vents.

TIP— While this vent’s plastic is generally resistant to the suns’ UV radiation, if you’re installing it in a location that gets lots of sun, I’ve found it’s good idea to disassemble it and spray on a couple of coats of white enamel. It will last years longer.

from http://ift.tt/2mNVCJe

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