#completely disregard stuff packs for kits

[starclove]

no bc ea has completely lost their minds…

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Hngh I want to know what happens next in superhero au so bad

previous part

they have a lair. they have an actual, real life lair. a superhero lair hidden underground about a mile outside the city, underneath an old factory that virgil wouldn't have looked twice at had he not been lead by the others through the gate. in the doors, down hallways, through yet another gate, down a long, long flight of spiral stairs, into a dark room, through a locked mechanical door that whirs open courtesy of codebreaker, and into the huge room that looks like something straight out of a science fiction movie. they have a lair, in 2019. virgil feels like he's just stepped straight into an alternate dimension.

"sit," the ringleader tells him as he walks by, cane tapping and echoing in the huge room at slow, uniform intervals. virgil’s wide-eyed wonder draws a giggle from the medic, of whom comes up to him with a hop in his step and peers at him with knowing eyes. he leans forward with his hands clasped behind his back, rolling back and forth from the ball of his foot to the heel in giddiness. his skirt swishes with the motion, seemingly just as lively as the man himself is, and virgil finds it almost comforting despite the simultaneous annoyance at the cheery disposition.

“want some nutrient-infused water? it’s got lots of vitamins and stuff that’s good for you in it! and it tastes like strawberries!” the medic asks, not stopping to wait for virgil’s answer before producing a small bottle the size of his palm from the inside of his cape. at first, virgil wonders incredulously if he keeps little water bottles hidden in tiny cape pockets for spur-of-the-moment use, but then the medic sticks his fist out to drop the bottle into virgil’s hand and his cape flutters open to reveal something that looks like a fanny pack strapped to his chest just above the bottom of his ribcage. it has a heart and cross symbol identical to the ones on his waist and shoes, and virgil realizes that it must be some sort of first aid kit or medical pack.

“oh, uh--” virgil starts, about to decline, but the small frown that forms on the medic’s face makes him feel too guilty to pass it up. with a laboured sigh, virgil accepts the bottle, bringing it up closer to his face to examine it. it looks pretty normal, like water that’s lightly tinted pink. the bottle itself is more like a vial, just without the rounded bottom. this could easily be poison, but they are superheroes, and virgil doubts that heroes would go as far as to try to kill him, even if they’re not completely convinced he’s not their enemy. 

as virgil pops the cap off sinks into the chair the ringleader provided him, the scent of the water wafts up toward him almost immediately. it’s potent, but it doesn’t smell bad, necessarily. artificial strawberry assaults his senses, overpowering him in a way that reminds him of the awful, cavity-inducing candies he used to steal from his grandma’s purse and munch on when he was younger. it’s not exactly like how he’d expect poison or chemicals to smell, but then again, a lot of poison isn’t supposed to smell like anything, so.

even though he really, really doesn’t want to drink this stuff, the medic is staring him down expectantly, bright blue puppy dog eyes boring into his soul. it’s like those eyes have picked him up and laid him in clouds, pulled a warm blanket over him and wished him goodnight. a crackling fireplace, hot chocolate and marshmallows, fuzzy socks and hardwood floors and fluffy rugs. it’s like looking into his eyes washes all of his worry away, like they pull out all of his sorrow and hardship and leave him with only pure warmth, and virgil realizes with a jolt that he’s already downed the whole bottle without even feeling it.

upon seeing the now-drained bottle in his hand, empty save for a few trace amounts of leftover liquid, virgil winces. he waits for something to go wrong, to feel a burning in his throat or a headache or to faint or even for him to just flat-out die, but there’s none of that. just the effluvious tang of an offensive mockery of strawberry flavouring coating his mouth and throat. virgil wrinkles his nose and glares at the clear bottle as if it personally threatened him.

“hey, med, come check the counter with me, ‘kay?” the prince says suddenly, an unreadable look flashing in his golden eyes as he watches the two of them before being masked by friendliness when his gaze meets virgil’s own. virgil’s suspicion goes nowhere, seemingly dissolves into thin air when the medic lays a comforting hand on his shoulder through the dark cloak. his touch almost burns with warmth, infuses him with calm, and virgil’s lashes flutter under the weight of his sudden onslaught of sleepiness. then the medic is gone, disappears through another one of those weird high-tech spaceship doors with the prince, and the haze over virgil’s mind slowly begins to clear.

“you say you are not the storm. who are you, then?” the codebreaker suddenly speaks up, smooth voice drifting over from his spot at some sort of panel. it glows brightly, so blinding virgil can’t make out any kind of images or words that it might display, and yet codebreaker somehow seems to be interacting with it effortlessly. he floats there in front of it despite there being a chair right beside him, back hunched and knees pulled up to his chest. his head is tilted, rests on his shoulders as if he’s too weary to hold it up, and his eyes only flit to virgil once before returning to observe the panel in front of him through his hologram face-screen thingy.

“don’t look at the console for too long. it’s not healthy. code-y over there is the only one who can actually see what’s on it. his holovisor has some sort of light filter, or something,” the ringmaster remarks to virgil’s left, leaning on his cane with an air of boredom that virgil doesn’t think is very fair to display. he inspects his nails like he has somewhere better to be, but he’s wearing gloves, so it just ends up making him look weird. then again, the michievous look in his eyes has a hint of knowing to it, so maybe he’s trying to look stupid on purpose just to fuck with him. 

“i’m… my name is virgil. im just a guy, man. like i said, i work at a shitty job and still live with my parents. i’m not some… crazy evil supervillain,” virgil tells them, and funnily enough, that desperation he’s been feeling this entire time seems to have completely vanished. he’s wary, but not afraid, which is completely different to how he was feeling just thirty minutes ago.

“virgil altera, born to a liliana altera and a harold whitman. mother is an authour who hasn’t been published in nine years, father is the ceo of an insurance company. you were kidnapped from a local park at age four and stayed missing for five years, until you randomly turned up wandering along a highway outside of a town hundreds of miles away. you were badly beaten and starved, yet were somehow able to walk almost perfectly despite your dangerous condition. you remembered nothing about where you had been, and there was no trail to determine the assailant or where they took you. the case went cold, you returned to your parents, and you were enrolled in middle school by the next year. you graduated from high school with no notable achievements, started working as an office temp, and have been presumably been doing the same thing ever since. an odd story for someone who claims to be a ‘normal guy’, don’t you think?”

okay then. so the codebreaker can just somehow get his whole life story in a matter of seconds. it’s fine. this is fine.

the ringleader raises his brow, the one that’s visible, and lets out a disbelieving snort. “kidnapped? beaten? starved? sounds like a villain backstory to me.”

“yes, well. i suppose we should hear from virgil first before making any rash decisions,” the codebreaker says, finally looking up from the screen and straight at him. virgil draws in on himself, pulse quickening with the amount of information they have on him this easily. the chair is hard underneath his legs, of which are slowly going numb, and virgil can feel the air slowly getting colder as his panic increases. neither of them seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t mention it. the ringleader taps a foot impatiently while virgil just stares, silent and fidgety as he tries to figure out what to say.

“i… i don’t really remember any-- any of that stuff. well, i kinda remember walking on the highway, and someone taking me to a police station, but not the-- not anything before that. i’ve tried so hard to remember but the most i got with my therapist was the word ‘hens’ printed on some sort of paper. that’s really all i remember, i promise,” virgil mutters, swallowing hard under the ringleader’s icy look. the codebreaker says nothing, only narrows his eyes slightly as if he’s contemplating something, and then he turns right back around with his coat flapping behind him as he resumes his position at the bright panel. the ringleader huffs once and rolls his eyes, leaning forward and hoisting himself up onto the raised platform the console resides on instead of walking around to the other side and using the set of stairs there.

the two seem to talk in hushed tones to each other, ignoring virgil’s presence completely, something that both irritates him and relieves him. although he wishes they’d stop being so secretive and just tell him what’s going on and how to fix it, he much prefers the disregard than the intense scrutiny. it gives him a moment to breathe, to try to rein in his frustration and panic. instead of speaking up, he decides to look around the room again, takes in the rows and rows of screens and buttons and switches. it all looks extremely high-tech, futuristic, almost, like he’s just boarded an alien spaceship and is now seeing the ship’s control room. glowing blue light comes from everywhere, enhancing the dim atmosphere with something clandestine.

“alright. if you’re not the storm, then why do you have the same powers? how’d you deflect my whips?” the ringleader asks loudly, snapping virgil out of his reverie. his face is mostly neutral, but there’s a hint of annoyance underneath that suggests a bruised ego. virgil jumps to  his feet and stands at attention, something in the ringleader’s tone making him afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t pay attention. “because from what we saw, the storm was fighting us like normal, and then suddenly stopped in the middle of an attack and just dropped out of the sky. we thought it was a trick, so we all fell in and approached together. but instead of an ambush, you were just standing there on the ground not even acknowledging us. i tried to attack, you blocked it, and then instead of dodging princey’s punch, you cowered. so if you truly aren’t the storm, then why do you look like him? why do you have the same body, the same clothes, the same face and voice? why can you use the same powers?”

and virgil honestly doesn’t know what to say. he fell out of the sky? how is he even alive right now?

“i… i don’t know, okay?! all i know is that i woke up standing on that street. you tried to hit me with those glow-y whip thingies, so i tried to put my hands up so it wouldn’t hit my face, and then fucking lightning came out of my hands! i didn’t do it on purpose! how the fuck am i supposed to know? if i did, i wouldn’t have walked this whole time with these stupid bandages on my feet instead of shoes! and now my feet have rocks in them and i’m bleeding and i think my leg is hurt somehow and i feel like i’m gonna pass out any minute and i’m just tired! i want to go home! i want to go back to my stupid boring desk job and live my stupid boring life! i’m not a villain! i’m not… i’m not a killer,” virgil chokes out, voice breaking before he can truly end his rant. and it’s true, his feet do hurt. they feel blistered, sore, sting with the specific type of pain reserved for a cut. his right leg is throbbing, shaky like it could give out any minute, and his arms are so weak he can barely raise them above waist-level. he’s hungry, and angry, and he just wants to sleep. he probably looks like a zombie right now, and he feels like it too.

“wait! you’re hurt?! why didn’t you tell me? that water just isn’t enough to heal you,” the medic’s familiar voice comes as a worried exclamation from the direction of the door he and the prince disappeared into, and virgil turns to see both of them re-entering the room. the prince looks confused, and the medic immediately jumps into action, fretting over him with small touches here and there that alleviate just a little bit of the ache. virgil is pushed gently back into the chair, and then the medic’s gloves are tapping indeterminable patterns into his blood-stained pant leg. it hurts for a moment, feels like a burning sensation as the little hearts on the pads of his glove fingers glow, but then he can feel an odd numbness taking over everything else. he can feel his skin stitching itself back up, his muscles releasing tension, the nerves calming down. it leaves him exhausted, the medic perhaps even more so, what with the way he lets out a strained breath and wobbles to fall down to sit back on the floor. the prince immediately shoots over and kneels behind the other superhero, propping him up to sit at a more normal angle while he catches his breath, and virgil almost feels kinda bad that he sacrificed so much of his energy to help him.

“hey, are you-- are you messing with my emotions?” virgil asks, and the medic looks at him inquisitively from where he’s sitting on the floor in front of the chair. his skirt is spread out around him, draped over his legs and the glassy, reflective black floor. virgil doesn’t really know how a skirt is practical in battle, but he’s not exactly the expert here, so.

“of course! that’s what i do. you were scared, so i made you relaxed instead!” the medic tells him, happy eyes and happy smiles and despite his previous calm, virgil feels annoyance prick at his chest.

“don’t do that. that’s not cool,” virgil says, voice hard, and this time, he feels even more guilty when the medic shrinks in on himself meekly. the prince narrows his eyes dangerously, posture raising in warning, and virgil doesn’t pay him a single bit of attention despite his own fear. “i get that you’re trying to help, but i don’t want you to do that to me without my permission. it just confuses me and makes me tired. please don’t do it unless i say you can, alright?”

his voice is much softer this time, less accusatory, and his gentler approach is obviously the correct one. the medic perks up again, eyes wide as he nods vigorously, and he squeaks out a small “sorry! i’ll be more careful!” before placing his fingers on another bruise and repeating the process of healing all over again. the prince slumps back, still on guard but less confrontational, and the quiet resumes.

eventually, after a couple more rounds of this, filled with the medic ‘tsk’ing at every scrape and gasping at the state of his soles, virgil feels like he can actually stay conscious again. the medic looks a little rough, like he could pass out any second, so the prince picks him up bridal-style with ease and says something about “saving the damsel in distress”. the medic’s weary giggles echo all the way down the corridor for a few long moments after the two of them leave, presumably to rest elsewhere.

“i have come to the conclusion that you are the villain known as ‘the storm’,” the codebreaker says stoically once the noise completely vanishes. the ringleader’s head snaps over to look at him, surprised enough to stumble a bit on his cane, although he rights himself and resumes his put-together appearance as quickly as possible anyway. the words are like a knife through virgil’s heart, an electrified death sentence. they didn’t listen. they didn’t believe him. there’s no way he’s making it out of here. he’s gonna be a prisoner the rest of his life, paying the price and enduring the punishment for a crime he didn’t commit. “the evidence put together all suggests that you are the storm, and you do have powers. you admitted to using them yourself, albeit unintentionally. by all accounts, you are a powered individual and the villain we have been fighting for the past three years.

“however, i don’t believe that this is the full story. i think there’s more to it, that there has to be something else we’re missing. although i have not come to an agreement within myself on whether i believe you are completely innocent yet, i believe that you believe what you are saying, and that you think your version of events is the truth. if you truly do not remember this, remember being the storm and fighting us and wreaking havoc, then many questions have been raised that must be addressed. why do you not remember your villainous activities? why were you unaware that you have powers in the first place? is this the work of someone else? if so, then who? what is their goal? why are they using you as an intermediary for their influence? there is much to think about, and i cannot waste any more time just standing around,” the codebreaker finishes, ramblings coming to an abrupt halt as his holovisor drops open in front of his eyes again and he starts swiping and tapping at the bright console for the third time. virgil wants to know exactly what it is he’s doing over there, but he doesn’t really think he’s in the position to ask at the moment.

“for now, i’d like you, prince, and medic to train him. show him how to use his powers, and how to fight. he could be a viable asset and potentially act as a stand-in to fight villains while i work,” codebreaker commands pointedly at the ringleader, of whom opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but decides against it and simply nods.

“alright. virgil, right? come with me. i hope you don’t have anyone waiting for you at home, because you’re staying here for the time being,” the ringleader tells him, a snarky grin plastered on his face as he turns to stride over to the same door that the prince and the medic left through. virgil just stands there, mouth agape, unable to process everything that’s happening. he’s staying here? in the weird superhero lair? he’s gonna live underneath an old factory in this weird sci-fi spaceship bunker until they… what? figure out why he’s the storm, why he has powers? are they going to help him finally figure out what happened to him when he was a kid?

“are you coming?” the ringleader asks, voice low and seductive, but not in the way virgil is used to hearing from his misogynist coworkers in the break room. his voice doesn’t promise sex, or money, or fame. it promises adventure, promises answers, and virgil groans internally when he realizes that there’s absolutely no way he could ever say no to that.

small taglist: @illogical-anxieties @kazykazu @sharp-as-hyalus @bookwyrminspiration @thekitchenpan @bunny222

[summervanlife]

08 August

Another day, another croissant for breakfast. Today our pastries were collected by Clare and Cian. We ate our breakfast and drank the daily allocation of coffee (Jay managed to steal a few extra from the service trolley, so we can double our dose tomorrow!) We had a recovery plan and now needed to effect it. Jay called the RAC to find out if they would authorise a flight for him to the UK and get them to allow the garage to let us collect our belongings. On both accounts we were successful. Jay then booked the flight, ensuring that the enlisted assistance from his dad was secure. We also required some help from the extended Petch family; originally we were to visit from the 15th August. Our hope was that we might be able to arrive 2 days earlier. Once the admin aspect of the plan was as sorted as possible, we left the hotel. In the way past reception we asked if it would be possible to store some surfboards there - they very kindly obliged. Next on the list was to sort some additional luggage. All our kit was stored in drawers and cubbyholes in the van - there was no way of transporting it all without some bags. 2 x 80ltr hold-alls and a sponge sleeping mat were procured from the Decathalon that we visited yesterday. The garage was closed between 1200-1400hr so we used the time to get and eat lunch. By 1415hr Jay was using google translate to try and explain to the garage staff what we were there for. Eventually they allowed us to drive the hire car into the pound and alongside the Elgrand (which was unlocked and had the keys in the ignition!) It was baking hot, truly cooking! Every few minutes we had to stop and take shelter in the nearby shade - for a while we ran the Elgrand just so we could use the air-con (which was fine until she started overheating!) We soon realised that there was too much stuff for us to save all of it, sacrifices were needed. First on the abandon list were the mattresses and the table and chairs. A fair whack of food took a bullet, as did a number of books that had already been read. Beyond that, somehow we managed to cram most of our stuff in the car. Admittedly Nia and Cian had full foot wells and items on their laps, in addition we had items hanging from inside straps. The surfboards were strapped directly to the roof with just the camping mat to prevent scratches. The ratchet straps from the van served perfectly. When everything that could go in, was in, Jay went into the office and submitted the V5C document and handed the future of the van to the garage. With a single signature our lovely van was consigned to the crusher! We said our thanks and farewells. Then drove away, things tumbling around the car. Back in Bergerac we pulled up outside the hotel and unloaded onto the pavement. Strange looks received about the surfboards! Cian, Nia and Clare shuttled everything inside - the surfboards being placed in the hotel kitchen for safekeeping! Jay waited with the car on the lookout for traffic wardens. When everything was safely stowed, everyone piled back into the car (still very full, but not with the stuff we needed immediately.) we went and parked, the returned to the hotel. Jay now had swim shorts and, with complete disregard for French protocol, went and played in the pool with the other Haigskews. After the pool we had a video conference with the Petches who reassured us that an early arrival at Sal and Mikes should be OK. By 1900hr it was time to think about dinner. We had decided to go for pizza. Nia cut up some salad for us to take, Clare packed the wine, then we headed for a little take away that we had seen. The couple running the small restaurant were very friendly. They made us fresh pizzas as both parties stretched their respective knowledge of the others languages. Fully laden with food we made our way to the port area, found some shade overlooking the Dordogne and unleashed the banquet! We ate and drank and watched the sky turn pink. Nia and Cian leaped across the hay bales (still remnants from the Talisco gig). The lights of Bergerac came on and signalled that it was time for us to head to our beds. At the hotel we collapsed onto the beds. Forcing ourselves up to get changed and brush teeth so we could sleep. All exceptionally grateful for the air-con!

[slowousbehigh1987-blog]

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[instalash89-blog]

Basic Stuff You Should Have in Your Make-Up Kit

Most ladies spend a fortune on excellence and restorative items and nobody will deny that by and large, they tend to overbuy magnificence stuff than what they truly need. At the point when a stunner item turns out in the market, everybody hurries to get a piece and very soon, the home dresser is stacked with make-up and other excellence devices that truly don't get utilized.

It is essential to comprehend what fundamental make-up stuff is important so you don't tend to overbuy and squander hard-earned cash on magnificence items. So here are a couple of tips to getting what's important for your shifting make-up needs.

In the first place, locate a pleasant coordinator or capacity box to hold each one of those little make-up compartments. One principle motivation behind why ladies purchase more make-up than would normally be appropriate is on the grounds that they will in general reserve an eyeshadow and rouge unit in addition to a couple of lipsticks in a single cabinet and totally disregard them, while the remainder of the make-up stuff are in another bin or bureau. So the most significant activity is to get everything sorted out!

For your home make-up unit, have the essential establishment and concealer that you will requirement for all events. You will likewise require an eyeliner, a lot of your preferred eyeshadow hues, some mascara on the off chance that you will in general have fine eyelashes, cheek become flushed, and a couple of lipsticks in different tones. A few ladies think that its important to have some lip sparkle, however don't pass up free powder to complete out the sparkle after you put eager for advancement up. The fundamental contraptions you ought to have in your home make-up unit incorporate a couple of tweezers, a lash styler, a lot of make-up brushes in addition to a lipliner and a lipstick brush. It is additionally fitting to put resources into a pleasant matte-finish under make-up lotion, some make-up remover or cream, a facial sunblock and some cleaning cushions.more info here instalash

To spare time and bother, it will assist with having a different in a hurry make up unit for any repairs you have to do in the workplace, at a social capacity or on any out of the house trips. Have some oil blotching cushions and a powder minimal for contact ups. Continuously convey your preferred lipstick or lip sparkle, since lip hues will in general grow dim throughout the day, particularly after you take a dinners. To save money on space in your make-up pack, attempt to buy those palette-type units which incorporate eye-shadows and cheek become flushed in a solitary holder.

[allinonemakeupkit]

All In One Makeup Kit

A make-up pack is vital for each lady. It doesn't need to be that extravagant black box with different shades of eyeshades and lipsticks that you never truly like. It can simply be a case of your preferred decisions put together. All In One Make Up Kit what are the minimum essentials that your make up unit ought to contain?

I) Foundation

The Foundation isn't only the base that you work upon yet it is additionally the base of good make-up. On the off chance that you mess it up, whatever else you do will be nothing more than a bad memory. I for one lean toward mineral or powder based establishments. I don't care for the fluid ones as I generally feel they make me look cakey. Also, the brilliant guideline for the correct look is mix... mix... mix!

ii) Blusher

A great many people disregard the become flushed thus do I on typical days. Be that as it may, at whatever point I go out, particularly to party, I think that its vital. What's more, again here, I favor the powder based ones.

iii) Eye-shadow

The vast majority in India overlook the eye-shadow or stick to just pink. Pink looks incredible however I thoroughly consider its opportunity to break of the generalization. A year ago, for my brother by marriage wedding, I wore a delightful terrific pink saree. I completed my make up expertly at VLCC, Chennai.

Veena at VLCC is a genuine master on eyes. It is said that she can give the ideal temples shape to any individual. She began take a shot at my eyes and since they were closed, I had no clue what she was doing to them till she finished the look. OMG! She gave me a smoky eye look with a green eyeshadow.

"In any case, my dress is pink," I screeched.

"Green eyes and pink dress look superb together. Simply keep a watch out," she said.

It was past the point where it is possible to do whatever else, so I left it at that. At the gathering, each and everybody remarked on how extraordinary I looked, with an exceptional notice on my eyes.

iv) Mascara

Mascara includes a quiet 'oomph' to any face and it is an outright basic in your make up unit [http://www.insidewomen.in]. Actually, as per me, mascara and lip gleam are every day necessities.

v) Lipstick, Lip-sparkle and Lip-liner

A lipstick is additionally an incredible embellishment that is a genuine must. The best part is you can wear it anyplace, all over the place and own your expression. Wear a naked shade to a burial service, dark colored to your office, maroon to a basic gathering or red to a wedding. Include a lip sparkle it to give it more changelessness and sparkle. Characterize your lips with a lip liner to give a considerably more clear look.

The above are the most fundamental necessities that you require. Aside from this, you additionally need appropriate apparatuses to apply this. My unit likewise has a kajal, eyebrow pencil, Vaseline and minimal other stuff.

[oakpodcast]

Transmission 2 Transcript

Intro

HOLLY:

If you're just now finding these transmissions, please start with transmission 1. 

MUSIC: "SOLITUDE" BY MUCIOJAD

SOUND: Morse (SOS SOS SOS SOS)

HOLLY:

This is Holly, broadcasting on all frequencies using protocol: MINISTER DELTA. This transmission is intended for Oak, last known location CAESAR casino in PRAGUE. All others please disregard.

Dead

SOUND: a busy McDonald's in the southeastern USA

HOLLY:

I love how you can learn all kinds of stuff from Google. For example, today I Googled myself and learned that I'm apparently dead.

HOLLY:

I know! It was news to me, too. Apparently, I overdosed on Xanax and alcohol the night of the tribunal. The worst part is that that's... frustratingly believable. I mean... this article in our local paper...

HOLLY:

(Reading) The woman's body was found Sunday, March 12th, when a concerned co-worker asked police to conduct a welfare check.

HOLLY:

"She wasn't answering any of my calls," the anonymous woman said. -That's probably Cami- "That wasn't too out of the ordinary for her, but she had promised to answer if I called her three times in a row. After three days of silence, I was worried."

HOLLY:

Another anonymous coworker, I assume Evergreen, said: "She seemed really distressed in court Friday. The cross-examination was pretty intense. They really dragged her through the mud. And that was before they announced she was facing criminal charges of her own."

HOLLY:

Oh look, there's a quote from you. It says they brought you home for the funeral, and... "I'm devastated to lose her. This didn't have to happen. Nothing can ever bring her back, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure she rests in peace."

HOLLY:

Maybe that's made up, but it sounds just like you. Are you in on this, or... do you really think I'm dead?

HOLLY:

It's just so believable. It's exactly how I would have done it. And Friday night was my low point. If I were going to do it, it would have been then. And it would have been that method.

HOLLY:

I can just imagine your face when you got the news. I know you must have been remembering the night you left—2am, me half-asleep in pajamas in the bathtub, you frantically pouring old prescriptions into the toilet while you packed your travel kit.

HOLLY:

I don't remember a lot about the past three months, but I do remember that, somehow, despite how drunk I was at the time. And you, you probably remember shaking the Xanax in my face to wake me up. You told me, "You have to promise me you won't do anything stupid with these," and I said, "I won't, I promise."

HOLLY:

You didn't believe me, but you put them back in the cabinet anyway. And then you left. I did actually keep my promise. You only think I broke it and washed the whole bottle down with vodka.

HOLLY:

But I'm not dead!  You can feel that I'm not dead, right?! We have a connection, I thought, you could... tell...

HOLLY:

I... I need a minute.

SOUND: Morse .- .-.. --- --- ..- .- ... -.. .-.. -.-

SitRep

HOLLY:

Situation report. Date: March 22nd. Time: 11:18 p.m. Weather: indecisive. It's been pretty cold and rainy most of the past week and a half. Not as cold as home, obviously, but cold enough that I've been holing up at the library and some 24-hour McDonald's.

HOLLY:

I'm kind of offended that I ended up somewhere without a Timmy's, tho. Honestly, who's dumb idea was that? I'd like to have a word with them.

HOLLY:

Anyway, it's starting to warm up now, but it's gone from below freezing to basically summer temperatures in a matter of days, which is especially annoying since I don't always have access to air conditioning. That's the downside of being hot-natured, I guess. I'm comfortable in Siberia, but not so much in Alabama.

HOLLY:

I don't want you to think I'm frivolously wasting money on food when I could be dumpster diving. I am doing that, sort of, sometimes... when I can stomach the idea of it. But after a certain point I was dehydrating myself trying to dumpster dive; it just made a lot more sense to go to McDonald's or the grocery store.

SOUND: morse .--- .--. -.-- --.- ..- ...- ..- -.-

HOLLY:

I don't know why I keep talking to you. Deep down, I don't really think you're listening. But... what else can I do? Even if you're not listening, I can't get through this ordeal without pretending you are. I'm only pushing through right now on the off chance that you'll hear this and... do something, if I just talk long enough. Or maybe if I keep talking to you, some other entity will overhear and take pity on me.

HOLLY:

Speaking of which, there are a few people I'd like to thank. First of all, Susan was kind enough to send me enough money for a bottle of acetaminophen.

HOLLY:

It's... a little complicated how I got the PayPal account and bank card to use the funds, but if being dead doesn't absolve you of a little cybercrime, what does? You can find the PayPal button on my Tumblr, which is OAKPODCAST.tumblr.com.

HOLLY:

Is it dramatic to say I wanted to kill myself a little less because of your gift? Well, dramatic or not, it's true. Being in pain makes it really hard to think, and that's kind of critical to my survival right now, so thank you so much for the acetaminophen, Susan!

HOLLY:

Susan wasn't my only donor this week. Adie has been helping me out with meals. Thank you, Adie. I feel completely horrible when my stomach gets too empty, so thank you so much for your help.

HOLLY:

Lastly, an anonymous person also pledged enough funds to get me two nights in the women's shelter. That's right-homeless shelters are not free here. I had no idea until I showed up there like an idiot with no money.

HOLLY:

And tonight I'm back to that same situation. No money, nowhere to go...

SOUND: MORSE --. ..- .--. --. .. -.. -.- ..-

Nuances and Dichotomies

HOLLY:

I wonder what these broadcasts sound like to someone who isn't you. I wonder if a casual eavesdropper would think I'm nuts, or leaving an extremely long voicemail, or praying, or... I'm not sure what.

HOLLY:

You always used to say that I'm smart with science and machines but dumb with people. I think that's a fair enough assessment. Although, in my defense, I'm pretty good at guessing what people will do. And why, even. I just don't understand why they're so stupid!

HOLLY:

I won't insult you and pretend that I've been handling this situation... maturely. Not all the time, anyway. I think we both know I've spent a lot of the past week or two regressing to some less-than-professional behaviors.

HOLLY:

I may or may not have had a meltdown over people being too noisy in the library while I was reading about my own death. So... I'm sort of steering clear of that library for now.

SOUND: Morse .--. .. .--. .-. .--. .--- .--.

HOLLY:

It's so hard to pretend to be a normal human when your life depends on it, especially when you don't have a safe, quiet place to retreat to. I don't even have a safe place to rub my rocks against my face, besides the washroom.

HOLLY:

I find podcasts help. Not the nonfiction ones you like so much. I get so agitated listening to people ramble. Which is hypocritical, I'm well aware, but it is what it is.

HOLLY:

When people are acting, they take on a different cadence. They cut out all the filler words that grate on my nerves, and the stories are a good distraction.

HOLLY:

So this week, I've started listening to a show called Jim Robbie and the Wanderers. It's... soothing. Very Jewish in philosophy, I think. Also, Tango reminds me a lot of you, and Charlie reminds me a little bit of me, so it makes me a little less homesick.

SOUND: Morse .- .--. -.- ...

HOLLY:

Most of the time, I just get so lost in my head that I forget I have a physical body. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a gender or any other traits. I mean, I'm aware that people treat me differently, usually not in a good way because of how they perceive me, but internally? Whenever people call me a woman, there's always this moment of-

HOLLY:

(robot voice) "Yes, human, the pronouns you have assigned me are acceptable. My programming does not specify a preference."

HOLLY:

(laughing) I just got really weird looks for saying that.

HOLLY:

I do have to be careful about that. People mostly leave me alone, but I'm scared if I seem too "crazy..."

HOLLY:

I mean, I do have issues, obviously! But people don't really seem to care if you're mentally unwell if you're just sitting quietly, drinking your coffee and contemplating your own death. They only care if you start getting agitated or violent or you start talking to people who aren't there. Which... technically, I am? But you know what I mean.

HOLLY:

So far I've found that I get significantly fewer weird looks if I pretend like I'm talking on the phone while I record these, so... I guess that helps.

SOUND: MORSE .- .-.. - -.- ...

HOLLY:

Back to my incredibly exciting nuances and dichotomies, because who doesn't love talking at length about themselves?

HOLLY:

Let's see, for any strangers listening...

HOLLY:

Well, I'm the clumsiest person I know who still managed to pass Basic.

HOLLY:

Look, just because I've practiced running laps and firing guns and seducing heiresses doesn't mean it comes naturally. 

HOLLY:

I love horror movies, but I'm afraid to leave the house by myself. I'm also afraid to be inside the house by myself, so you see my dilemma over the past three months.

HOLLY:

Meh. I have rocks that are more interesting than me. I don't want to talk about myself anymore. Sorry, strangers! You'll have to learn my deepest darkest secrets through anonymous Tumblr messages, just like everyone else.

SOUND: Morse -.- ..- ..- --.

Inventory

HOLLY:

Inventory acquired since last transmission: One really worn-out backpack, several assorted plastic grocery bags, a few extra pieces of clothing from the shelter—and thank GOD, because let me tell you, the skirt suit Camellia picked out  was not the most comfortable thing in the world!—some assorted toiletries, one pair of earbuds from the dollar store, a large piece of unpolished quartz, and a smaller piece of pyrite.

SOUND: morse - --- -... ..- -.- ...

HOLLY:

I still don't have money for the papers I need. First thing tomorrow, I'm going to make a new sign and get back out there panhandling for it.

HOLLY:

Any money you can send would be a huge help, but I know I can't count on that, so... trying to be proactive.

MUSIC: Outro theme (Solitude by muciojad)

SOUND: morse -.-. ..- .. --

HOLLY:

All right, I desperately need to sleep. I'll report back soon.

SOUND: morse -.-- - .. ..- / ... ..- .--. .---

Outro

HOLLY:

Oak, please confirm receipt of my transmission. Find me on Gmail, social media, and Patreon under the username "oakpodcast." I would be really grateful for any money you can send to me, as things are getting more desperate every day.

HOLLY:

Patreon is also where I'll be submitting more secure transmissions for you.

HOLLY:

If you're eavesdropping on me without authorization, maybe you can make up for it by rating and reviewing this podcast to help my partner find it. End transmission.

SOUND: Morse -- .. ..- .--. --.- ..- / -.-. ..- .. -- / .--- ..-

MUSIC: Outro fades out

[allineednow]

<p>Self-Reliance, stockpiles, & Survival Skills -- How Some Women Are Preparing For Our Uncertain Future</p>

For the month of October, Bustle's #blessed series will investigate how young girls are trying to find meaning, finding connections to some higher power and navigating spirituality in 2017.

Kristen Tyler, a 36-year-old Portland resident who works as the director of recruitment for a software firm, has spent the past decade learning how to become a successful prepper. If a major disaster happens -- in her country her city, or the world -- Tyler would like to have everything she'd need to survive on her own. Contrary to popular belief, not all preppers are religious folks getting ready for an apocalyptic doomsday. In actuality, they are worshippers of intense and organization planning, who, rather than trusting in a higher power (including the higher power of authorities), place their faith in self-reliance, survival skills and stockpiles -- and many of them are women.

Every one to two months seals a new supply of foods such as quinoa, beans, and rice to eliminate moisture, a process that may extend the shelf-life of their supplies. She does the food for her two pups, a silver lab called a yorkie, Rhaegar and Winston. She also stashes cases of bottled water under the bed and in the closet (in addition to the five-gallon water jugs she keeps in the garage), keeps books on emergency field medicine convenient, and regularly buys new supplies to add to the extensive first-aid and trauma care kits she keeps around the house and in her car.

She then meticulously records everything she's in spreadsheets, which she keeps and in a bodily a binder she updates regularly, just to be safe. It is still a work in progress, but her ultimate goal is to have the ability to survive for a complete year with no outside help if needed -- mainly to be prepared in the event that "the big one" hits.

RONALDO SCHEMIDT/AFP/Getty Pictures

Portland is adjacent to the Cascadia subduction zone fault line, which runs along the coast of California through Oregon and Washington, and into British Columbia's tip. Experts predict that a rupture -- which they they mostly agree is inevitable, though no one knows when it will occur -- would be catastrophic, causing a magnitude 9.0 earthquake that would last roughly five minutes and result in tsunamis along the shore.

"I wouldn't find all that where I live," Tyler tells Bustle, "but here in Portland it would nevertheless be a substantial quake that would take down trees and buildings and cause landslides and some pretty serious destruction."

Early in their relationship, Tyler, who also runs a side business as a photographer, sent articles about the Cascadia fault line to her boyfriend, 28-year-old Aaron. They also watched a documentary about it. However, it was not until the couple had to survive a mini-emergency that is scary together that Aaron became supportive of her efforts.

"It doesn't usually snow here," Tyler explains, "but last winter it did, and we were snowed in for several days."

"It was a reality check for both of us to realize even something as little as being snowed in for 48 hours can be quite scary if you're not prepared."

Aaron was worried that they couldn't drive anywhere. He took advantage of the weather and the time off work to do some snowboarding down their road. It was all fun and games until Rhaegar, who was still a pup at the momentand Aaron's snowboard, collided. The couple was alarmed when they understood his paw had been sliced open.

"It was before I had gotten really serious about first aid kits," Tyler says. "We couldn't leave, and we had this moment of complete panic realizing we had an injured animal and were running low on supplies to help him with. It was a reality check for both of us to realize even something as little as being snowed in for 48 hours can be quite scary if you're not prepared."

Rhaegar needed stitches. They managed to tend with antibacterial cream and gauze out of their small kit before the snow cleared and they could get him but they had trouble.

"After that," Tyler says, "Aaron was like, 'I am so happy to know that you've thought the majority of these things through so we'd be prepared if something bad happens.' He is definitely fully on board with my prepping now."

She adds that they added the spreadsheet column list their available first-aid supplies and 2 pet cones and a dog first-aid kit.

"I don't ever want to be in a position where I don't know what I'm going to feed my kid again."

At a time when the US has only seen multiple catastrophic hurricanes, and major earthquakes and other natural disasters have rattled many parts of the world, many preppers are admitting that they don't trust anyone but themselves, and are taking steps into their own hands to make sure they can look after their needs, including their food stocks, medical care and peace of mind, should tragedy strike.

For female preppers, near-disasters or little emergencies like a badly injured dog, provide the impetus for their desire to learn more about disaster preparedness.

HECTOR RETAMAL/AFP/Getty Pictures

For Daisy Luther, who has authored several books about prepping and runs the website The Organic Prepper, the first scare that pushed her toward prepping was financial.

"When my oldest daughter was only a month old, my husband lost his job," Luther tells Bustle. "That was our sole source of income at the moment, and we had two weeks of complete bleak poverty while we were waiting for unemployment and he was desperately seeking a job."

"It really scared me," she says. "I thought, 'I don't ever want to be in a situation where I don't know what I'm going to feed my kid again. '''

Luther started out only that if something went wrong financially they have food and essentials like toothpaste and toilet paper, buying additional food and household equipment. They also started saving money so they have emergency funds available after her husband got a job again.

Spencer Platt/Getty Images News/Getty Images

In the summer of 2003, the entire eastern seaboard of North America experienced a power outage. By that time, the couple had two daughters and lived in Ontario, Canada.

"It was absolutely miserable," Luther says. "The children were so sexy and so uneasy. Our food spoiled. We had no backup plan for retaining any lights on or maintaining ourselves trendy. All we had was a few scented candles we were using at night."

Following that, Luther, who is now in her late 40s, started to take prepping. She started researching options for backup generators and water distribution and purification systems, growing and preserving her own organic food with the goal of keeping her children as healthy as possible in the case of an emergency, and making sure the family had all of their important documents within reach -- passports, proof of insurance, mortgage agreements -- just in case they ever had to leave town fast.

"You want to practice living without your everyday comforts as you've still got a working thermostat and a refrigerator full of food."

Luther's husband died unexpectedly at the age of 40, and her further encouraged to make sure she and her daughters would be prepared for the future, regardless of what came their way.

They raised goats and cows and lived off the grid with only a wood stove for heat in a cabin in North Central Ontario. Now Luther and her daughters, who are who are 16 and 21 years old, live in a little town in Virginia, where they keep a large garden, do plenty of food preservation, and regularly talk about what they would do in the event of various emergencies.

"Prepping is much more about doing stuff than storing stuff," Luther says. "You want to practice living without your everyday comforts as you've still got a working thermostat and a refrigerator full of food in case it doesn't go as planned. I remember one year, we only got three tomatoes from our garden and a single egg out of our chicken, so we certainly would have starved to death if we'd been relying on that."

Luther also keeps numerous firearms. She says she knows how to use them, and so do her daughters. In a emergency situation, she says, other people could turn into a threat.

"We're not as militant or aggressive as a whole lot of the preppers you hear about in the media." Luther says. "It feels like the ones who get the most attention have a tendency to be the loudest and most outrageous. I guess it's easier to disregard the ones that are out here growing our food and canning our tomato sauce. I believe my approach is very common sense."

"But," she adds, "We're still packing, pretty much everywhere we go. We're not going to be pushed around."

"I want to have a plan of action if or when my 'kind' becomes a target of another Holocaust or something."

"I am a democratic socialist, with specific libertarian factors, such as (mostly) supporting gun rights," Nikki (who requested to only be identified by her first name), 18, tells Bustle. Nikki, who resides with her parents in rural Michigan but is about to to move to a dorm to begin her freshman year of college, says she regularly practices with a bow and a rifle as part of her prepping activities, and sometimes visits a Reddit forum for liberal gun owners.

"I think the books are far more significant than the weaponry."

Since she's about to move into a tiny dorm room where it would be difficult to keep a big stockpile of supplies or food, the main element of her prepping involves analyzing and gathering books on survival skills.

"I think the books are far more significant than the weaponry," she says. "You could have an entire army under your command, but should youn't know how to clean a wound, or get new water, then you may as well be dead. I believe knowledge is far more valuable than any quantity of food or ammo."

Nikki, who is transgender, has been interested since she was 16, in prepping, but says she did not get really serious about it before Donald Trump got elected.

Scott Olson/Getty Images News/Getty Images

"There has always been a whole lot of racism, transphobia, and homophobia where I live," she explains. "There was a church that was burnt down in the 50's for supporting civil rights, and the KKK was an active group here until 2008 or so."

She adds that she knows not all of Trump's supporters are racist or transphobic, but says she has seen her "fair share of harassment," and finds that things seemed to get worse for people of color and the LGBTQ community where she lives after Trump got elected.

"In the event that people such as Trump become increasingly extreme," Nikki says, "I want to have a plan of action if or when my 'kind' becomes a target of another Holocaust or something. I get that such a scenario is unlikely, but I'd rather be prepared and not have a issue, than not be prepared and be trapped in the middle of a genocide or atomic war."

Although Nikki may seem like an anomaly given the stereotypical image of a prepper (straight, male, middle-aged, politically conservative...), Daisy Luther states preppers actually are very diverse.

"It is a common misconception that all preppers are conservative, right-wing Christians," Luther says. "I know pagan preppers, Jewish preppers, atheists and agnostics -- it is a very wide spectrum. I of my friends share those beliefs. A good deal of us are sort of apolitical."

JOSH EDELSON/AFP/Getty Pictures

"I would say preppers are more tight-lipped than tight-knit," Austin tells Bustle. "And there is a very good reason for that. Let us say the lottery is won by somebody. They wouldn't broadcast that they won a lot of money... because if they did, people would line up at their front door with outstretched hands, right? Same is true for preppers. Why announce that you've got a good deal of water or food, then when a catastrophe happens, guess who shows up at your door?" (This also explains why the girls interviewed for this story would not provide Bustle with photos of their stockpiles.)

Lots of preppers do use sites to connect together and exchange suggestions, often anonymously, though they could be tight-lipped. Austin is a fulltime homesteader with her husband in the Appalachian Mountains in Western North Carolina, but she grew up as a self-described "city girl" in Central Florida, also states the transition into self-sufficiency was somewhat lonely at first.

"In an emergency, your neighborhood will be the people in your immediate neighborhood, not people you know from the net."

"I'm a very social person by nature," she says, "and living up on a hill with 60 creatures who don't talk back was kinda tough originally for me. I get my energy from other people."

So she did what most people would -- she seemed for community online. She made the on Twitter in 2011 after having some trouble locating folks to connect with. Now, it remains one of the very hashtags on social media within the prepper community.

There's also a national network of communities called the American Preppers Network. Many people use their forums to connect online, but some chapters organize regular IRL meetups in their communities, rather than all preppers are secretive.

Marc Serota/Getty Images News/Getty Images

"In an emergency," says Daisy Luther, "your neighborhood will be the people in your immediate neighborhood, not people you know from the net who reside across the country or even just too far from your house to walk into."

She points out that with Hurricane Harvey, "What you've seen is that all these men and women are helping their next door neighbors. The people who share a road are those looking after each other."

"They don't need to be preppers," she adds. "I just think it's important to find people you've got something in common with in your physical area."

"The most important component of survival is yourself."

The majority of the girls interviewed for this story just laughed, when asked if they've specifically sought out partners who prep.

While a few dating sites specific to preppers have cropped up over the years, most of them now seem to have expired domains, and Bustle couldn't track down anyone who'd ever used one -- although a couple of women did note that they'd said their interest in preparedness in their online dating profiles, mostly to avoid beginning a relationship with anyone who'd be inclined to give them a hard time about it down the line.

"If you really wanted to date another prepper, you would be better off going to meetups," Lisa Bedford, who has written several books on prepping, runs the website Survival Mother, and functions an internet preparedness school in partnership with Daisy Luther, tells Bustle. "But you can also just put in a dating profile that you're interested in gardening, camping, and hunting, and you may have a pretty good chance of finding someone like-minded."

Spencer Platt/Getty Images News/Getty Images

Bedford resides with her husband and two children in Texas, about an hour outside of Houston. The preparedness efforts of her family include maintaining a healthy savings account in the event of a emergency, keeping emergency kits and maintaining a food and water supply on hand that could last them a few months. In the end, though, she revealed what others told me -- that being emotionally prepared is more important than any of that.

"You could spend tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars getting prepared," Bedford says, "but I believe survival doesn't require all of those kinds of expenses as much as it takes some agility and nimbleness. We've got several months of food on hand, but what if we came home and it had been flooded? The most important component of survival is yourself."

"I don't plan on keeping my children on a tightrope expecting something bad to happen."

Bedford's children are homeschooled, and though the curriculum includes lessons in preparedness, she says she does her best to make sure they feel safer because of this, rather than afraid.

"We don't have things like atomic bomb drills, or anything like that," Bedford says. "We do spend time talking about potential scenarios every once in awhile, and focus on problem solving and quick decision-making skills. And while we do have some things in place in the event of more extreme scenarios so the stuff is there if we need it, I don't plan on keeping my children on a tightrope expecting something bad to happen."

While preppers are dismissed as paranoid, Bedford and many of the girls Bustle and pointed talked into the riots in Charlottesville, Virginia, from hurricanes Harvey and Irene to recent events, to demonstrate they'd rather be safe than sorry.

"Preppers are teachers, moms, models, bank tellers, retail clerks, lawyers, and the list can go on and on," Jane Austin said. "Preppers are not an exclusive group or club...we are just people who understand a tragedy could occur at any moment, and prepare for it."

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