#and Chimney goes “actually he’s a hot pilot”

[unrealisticlea]

I want to hear Buck say “My boyfriend’s a pilot” so bad. Just picture it. He’s on a call and he rambles about winds for two minutes and the victim asks “how do you know all that?” and he stops and goes “my…uhm…my boyfriend’s a pilot” and then he does that thing where he ducks his head and smiles to himself because he can’t believe he just said that.

[elvensorceress]

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed. 

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself. 

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons? 

So Buck answers. 

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice. 

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?” 

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up. 

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen. 

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there. 

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door. 

~

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney. 

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both. 

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. 

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.” 

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening. 

It can’t be happening. 

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops. 

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him. 

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter. 

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me—  fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach. 

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay. 

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him. 

He knows. 

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this. 

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him. 

Eddie’s blood was all over him. 

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them. 

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together. 

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie. 

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie. 

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several. 

They give him five minutes. 

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something. 

It’s something. 

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie. 

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive. 

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to. 

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters. 

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

[tommys-evan]

Taking him home

[ post 07x06, general audience, tw: buck's parents don’t approve but who knows whether that's homo/biphobia or just their usual buckphobia ]

Not long after the wedding party had cake, the hospital staff kicks out everyone who is not Chimney's immediate family.

Buck hugs Maddie tightly. "Do you want me to wait outside for you?" He mumbles into her long, brown hair.

Maddie smiles. "Thank you, but I'll be alright," she replies, "You go home with your hot-ass pilot."

He actually giggles softly. Maddie looks at him, in surprise. She has never heard him giggle like that before. Before she can say anything, Buck's face gets serious again.

"I'm glad this day ended the way it did," Buck says with a sincere smile on his face.

"Me two, Buck," Maddie sighs and goes in for another tight hug, "Me too."

She looks at Tommy who just said good-bye to Chimney and is now coming up to stand closely next to Buck. "Are you staying?" He softly asks Buck.

"No, he's not," Maddie answers for her little brother and grins up at the man who is even taller than Buck himself, "Take him home, Tommy."

Tommy nods. "Happily," he smiles and looks at Buck. For the fracture of a second, hunger flashes over his face but he quickly schools his expression. Buck saw it, though, and he revels in it. He cannot wait.

While Tommy hugs Maddie goodbye, Buck's mother appears right in front of Buck. Her facial expression is controlled but it is evident to both of her children that she has quite a lot to say.

"Can we talk?" Margaret asks, looking at Buck before she shoots Tommy an openly disdainful look. "In private."

"There’s no need to talk, mom," Buck says faking nonchalance.

Maddie eyes the scene for the fracture of a second, before she pats Tommy's arm, and quietly whispers, "Better take him outside right now if you want to enjoy the rest of the night."

Tommy doesn’t have to be told twice.

"Nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Buckley," he intervenes and introduces himself shortly but politely, "I don’t mean to be rude but the hospital staff wanted us out of the room about five minutes ago and to be frank, I really need a shower." Without missing a beat, he turns to Buck, "Ready to go?"

He offers a hand. Buck takes it in his and follows his lead without hesitation.

"Buck," Margaret hisses, but by the time his name leaves her lips, her son is already guided halfway out of the room by his boyfriend.

"Was that okay?" Tommy asks quietly once they are outside in the hallway.

"More than okay," Buck lets out a breath and tucks himself safely against Tommy's side.

Tommy eyes him curiously. "Did your mom just call you 'Buck'?" He asks as he pulls Buck closer.

Buck chuckles drily. "Yeah, I hate when my parents call me 'Evan'."

Tommy stops short and looks at him in shock. "I call you 'Evan' all the time!"

Buck smiles and nods. "I know," he says softly and gently pats Tommy's arm, "And I love it." Then he changes the subject. "Your place or mine? Or... you know, separate ways... I could call you an Uber."

Tommy shakes his head. "Back to the station first to get my stuff and then my place? Only if you want to, of course."

Buck wants to, of course.

When they finally turn to leave for good, Buck meets Bobby's eyes from across the hallway. There is a proud smile on Bobby's face as he sends them an approving nod. That is, in fact, all Buck needs.

[sardinesandhumbugs]

i would be very interested in learning more about horwood (derogatory) if you're interested in explaining?

okay so

so William Horwood was is (apparently he’s still alive and kicking in his 70s) a writer who wrote perhaps the best-known sequel to The Wind in the Willows in 1993: The Willows in Winter. (He wrote three more following after it: Toad Triumphant, The Willows and Beyond, and The Willows at Christmas, but the first one is the one most will be familiar with due to the 1996 movie.)

(He wasn’t the first person to write a sequel to WitW; that honour goes to Dixon Scott in 1983 with A Fresh Wind in the Willows although that had some funky copyright issues) 

The Willows in Winter does its best to mimic the style of the original book, and to some extent it does succeed. It is, however, still essentially published fanfiction and, as such, it has some wonderful ‘misses’ that I will mock this 27-yo story for. (I admittedly kinda love the movie it was adapted into, so this is all done with the same kind of ribbing my friends lovingly bestow upon me after I walk into glass walls or eat notably dodgy apples like some modern-day snow white)

These misses include but are not limited to:

awkward character decisions 

These Characters Are Aggressively Not Gay 

But Sometimes It Will Read Very Gay Anyway 

hilarious character names

I Will (Almost) Kill Mole Multiple Times

Sometimes Twice In The Same Book

you will read “The Water Rat” more than you ever did in witw

Rat has river-speaking abilities now  

Badger has one (1) response to “someone has vanished” and it’s to organise a funeral

Rat sees heaven for, like, a moment

Toad nearly gets hanged 

Anyway, because I have A Lot of thoughts about the book, here’s a spoiler-inclusive breakdown of the plot for your enjoyment below the cut: 

The story starts with Mole’s nephew who we will call “Nephew” for the sole fact that Horwood never deigns to give him any other name. (I have been reliably informed that the next story has Badger’s grandson creatively named... Grandson, just in case anyone thought this might be a one-off.)  

It has been... an indistinguishable number of years since the original book, and Horwood decided the natural character development for the polite and loyal Mole is for him to have become a grumpy old soul who has been passing his recently orphaned Nephew around his friends because he doesn’t like company. 

The biggest issue Mole has is that he erroneously told Nephew that he could stay “as long as [he] wants” and, well, you have to see this for yourself: 

...for ‘as long as you want’ soon feels like a life sentence to a bachelor like Mole, unused to sharing his home with another for more than an evening at a time. 

(Mole is a Bachelor, okay? He’s definitely not accustomed to living whole seasons with Ratty, to the point that he nearly forgets what his own home looks like.)

So Mole is beginning to think that perhaps Nephew isn’t The Worst Thing Ever when Portly turns up in the middle of a horrible snow storm and, in attempting to warm him up, Nephew gives him too much alcohol and promptly sends Portly off to sleep, but not before he imparts that he came running all this way because Rat said that he needed Mole. 

So Mole heads out into the terrible snow storm, gets to the River, and carves his will into a tree because this is Horwood’s fanfic and he can write angst if he wants to, dammit! And, naturally, everything goes wrong. a la Don’t Carry It All style.

You may be saying, oh plot! This sounds dramatic! I regret to inform you that Rat was not, in fact, in danger, but was actually just snowed in with Otter and drunkenly remarked that it’d be so much jollier if Mole joined them (no homo), and then carried getting so drunk that neither of them realised that Portly was gone until three days later. 

[A helpful comic illustrating Otter’s parental abilities]

(This is, of course, the same Portly for whom Otter spent days trying to find in The Piper At the Gates of Dawn chapter of the original book. Turns out his  parental approach has drastically changed since then.)  

After some searching, they find Mole’s will carved into the tree and deduce that Mole attempted to cross the frozen river and failed and they decide to leave off searching until it’s light again. In the meantime, we get this lovely passage that I actually adore for how tender it is: 

The Water Rat knew a night of shadows and half-dreams, memories of Mole in the hot afternoon sun of summer, reflecting upon life. Such remembrances tormented the poor Rat till dawn came once more and he stared bleakly out of the window, tears trickling down his face, listening to the quiet bustle of the other three round the corner in the kitchen. 

During all of this, Toad has discovered a love of flying machines (biplanes, to you and me) and the Riverbankers claim use of his newest one to search for Mole. Long story short, Toad tricks his way into being the pilot, flies so badly that he unseats Rat (who manages to deploy his parachute in time, but has a near-death experience beforehand) and then crashes the plane into a greenhouse in town. 

The other Riverbankers find Rat, who has survived his fall (even if he has seen Beyond the Veil) and he’s currently Talking to the River (Horwood decided to take the “water” part of Rat’s name as a personality trait) and Rat assures the Riverbankers that Mole isn’t dead because the River Said So.

Badger is like, cool, cool, okay he’s suffered a mental break from losing Mole, and possibly Toad too, so we’re going to do the sensible thing and host a funeral for Mole. (Have I mentioned how much they are definitely straight?) 

Anyway, in a move that would make any soap opera green with envy, Mole manages to find his way back to the Riverbank just in time to crash his own funeral, scaring everyone witless until they realise their mistake. (I did say this was published fanfiction.) Everyone is happy, Mole is not dead, and life goes merrily on. 

Meanwhile, Toad has had a few misadventures, that include: 

crashing into a greenhouse that belongs to the judge who sentenced him in the original book

somehow no one realises he’s Toad, so he stays in bed as the heroic pilot who risked life and limb to stop his plane from crashing into the town

escaping disguised as a chimney sweep

turning up to a wedding that the judge was attending and getting arrested

being accused of murdering the missing chimney sweep 

being sentenced to be hanged for murdering the missing chimney sweep

being acquitted from the crime when it turns out the chimney sweep is still alive

(Yes, Horwood really went, hey I should raise the stakes from the original, and then put Toad on trial for murder under threat of hanging.) 

(If what I’ve heard about the later books, Horwood decided that what the Extended WitW Universe was missing was an overarching antagonist, which he rectifies by having the judge return several times.)

Toad is set on his way and he slowly returns back to the Riverbank, mostly because he’s under the impression that not only is Mole dead, but that he probably killed Rat too (this is a Fun Kid’s Book) whereupon he eventually discovers that, uncared for, Toad Hall has fallen into flooded ruin. He mopes and drinks and lights candles before toddling off to Badger’s home, where Badger is having a thoroughly miserable party that has pretty much turned into a Mourning Toad party and they all celebrate Toad’s return. There’s even a sweet moment:

Toad, very drunk and sad: What am I, Badger? Badger: You are home, Toad.

And then in the last two minutes of the book, Toad Hall burns to the ground because Horwood couldn’t resist a last-minute sprinkling of drama into the story.

(Also, also, the last few lines of the book seems to imply that the name of “The Mole” is something that’s inherited like the title of Caesar was, and Nephew will one day be The Mole and I can’t get over that.)

The End. 

Anyway, Horwood is evidence that fanfic writers have always gone, “I can add angst to this,” and that you really shouldn’t feel so bad about that edgy OOC fanfic you wrote when you were 13 because it turns out some people go and get theirs published.

And that’s why some of us have “Horwood (Derogatory)” as a meme. 

[bloglumfia]

A Modulating Boiler Can Give You More Than Only Energy Savings

But now furnaces and boilers have electronics doing the majority of the work. You can find only a couple of issues that something computer wants to accomplish in the current furnaces and boilers so far as a "clean and check always" goes. In the days of the past when a support man (politically right expression nowadays is "company technology" that term began about 21 decades ago) when from a "clear and check always," he'd all sorts of what to do.

First he taken out most of the burners and blew them out with co2, then he examined heat exchanger for cracks using a mirror, then vacuumed up any soil he found. Following he taken the fan, and if it was a strip travel blower, oiled the squirrel cage bearings, generator bearings, and examined the gear for cracks. On a "strong push fan" furnaces & boilers he had to complete was just fat the bearings on the motor.

He also changed the "thermocouple" (on a standing pilot, where in actuality the pilot relationship burns up all the time, the thermocouple shows the gas device there's a pilot gentle, and it's OK to start, and begin the warmth sequence) on the "pilot light" and blew out the pilot light assembly to ensure it'd burn up clear and that the pilot relationship was located properly on the thermocouple, and on the burner pilot runner.

Now all the writers are cleaned and the warmth exchanger has been checked for cracks and everything is back in place, including the blower.On to the next step. Today, if the service man was value his sodium, he checks the main area of the heater, the "limit change ".There's a limit move atlanta divorce attorneys; gasoline, gas, electric, or gas furnace, or boiler.

It's principal purpose would be to start the fan (usually 200') and closed it down (around 110 or 100'any colder, and you would feel like there is a draft) and the most crucial work it has is to tell the "fuel device" to power down the burners incase the blower fails. It keeps the furnace or boiler (boilers also provide a "security reduction valve" like hot water heaters) from around heat and beginning a fire.

What the better people did was move the fan cord off the restrict move and begin the furnace burners. With the fan wire taken off the restrict move, the blower can not begin, and when the furnaces gets to about 200 levels, the writers should shut off and not relight again before furnaces cools and decreases it's heat to about 140 degrees.

Some guys just tested the limit switch by turning the switch on the limit change and blower controls before writers closed off. I liked using the cable down the limit change and testing it this way because it was more true to life functioning problems in case of fan failure. One of many last points, and just like important as examining the limit change, was to check on the "flue pipe" to ensure it, or the chimney, hasn't been plugged by soot or birds.

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 4

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

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

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

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

CHAPTER IV

LOG ENTRY: SOL 32

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOG ENTRY: SOL 33

This may be my last entry.

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

I’m about the fire up the Hydrazine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here goes nothin’

LOG ENTRY: SOL 33 (2)

Well, I didn’t die.

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

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

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

It un-dramatically sizzled and disappeared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then I had to invent fire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Point is, the process worked!

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

LOG ENTRY: SOL 34

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOG ENTRY: SOL 34

I am fucked and I’m gonna die!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well my math is a damn liar!

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

That’s when I noticed the other O2 tank.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Hydrogenville in the Hab.

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

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

The Hab is now a bomb.