#their water heaters bursting. so i figured mine would end up breaking down at some point too.

[orcelito]

OK so the thing that made this morning kind of a shitshow. Well there's the waking up early and whatever after a night of shit sleep. But I got up and went to the kitchen... and found water on the floor!!! Coming from the water heater :/

I put in an urgent maintenance request, got ready, then left for my appointment (bc this had to happen on the ONE DAY I had somewhere to be). Came back just a bit ago & the maintenance guys are here.

They managed to catch it before it turned into massive flooding thankfully, but the water heater needs replaced. So I currently am without running water until they get that dealt with. Which HOPEFULLY won't take too long, bc I am rather sleep deprived and would like to shower and then nap. But in the meantime, I am here as they work on cleaning up the water & get the dehumidifier running.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair 

Chapter 13: A Good Touch

Chapter Summary: Claire learns one of Jamie’s secrets.

Read on AO3

Read chapter 13 on tumblr below the cut

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a/n: We take another foray into Claire’s brain!! The last Claire POV chapter was Chapter 7 (if you want a refresher on where she's at, maybe take a glance back there). I'll just remind you that it ended with "In that moment, she knew she loved him." :))

Chapter 13: A Good Touch 

***

Claire was lost in the heavenly feeling of water rushing over her skin— hot and soothing to her muscles, easing all the tension out of her. It wasn’t often that she felt truly warm these days. The few occasions included being wrapped in the soft (what was it called… blankit?) and sitting in front of the “space heater.” Or being wrapped in Jamie’s arms... 

As much as she loved all the human conveniences for warmth, nothing compared to the feeling of Jamie’s ever-present heat seeping into her as he clasped her securely to his body. Just the thought of his arms— unreasonably big but still soft, making them the perfect place on which to rest her head— twisted her belly and made her flush a bit. 

She tangled her fingers through her curls, letting the water flow down to her scalp. Her head fell forward in pleasure and a sigh escaped her lips.

But her luxuriating was interrupted by a woody bang from outside and Jamie’s voice calling, “are ye doin’ alright, lass?” 

She startled a little and then nodded before remembering that of course he couldn’t see that. 

“Better than alright. I’ll be out in a second,” she replied cheerily. 

Feeling a sudden haste (that may or may not have had anything to do with her human), she stepped out of the shower and grabbed the soft (also a blankit?-) thing... and used it to dry herself off. She wrapped it around her middle and then made to open the door. 

A bit of disappointment tugged at her when she saw that Jamie was nowhere in sight. Figuring he was taking care of whatever it was that he needed to, she padded down to her room to change. 

The collection of dresses they had gotten were delightful. She hadn’t had a chance to put them all on yet (especially after their hasty departure from Mrs. Fitz’ place), but just looking at them made her feel excited. Her favorite was by far the white one— it was most reminiscent of what the fair folk of the seelie court wore— but seeing the darker colors piqued her interest. She chose a dark blue one for now and quickly pulled it over her head. Her curls were still drying, but she didn’t think it’d be a problem. Peeking behind her to make sure her wings were covered (though it probably didn’t matter if Jamie was the only one seeing her), she decided it would do. 

As she wandered back into the hallway, meaning to go down and maybe find Adso, she suddenly caught sight of Jamie and her jaw dropped. 

He must have just finished with the shower because he was bare save the blankit wrapped around his hips and there were drops of water smattered over his chest and shoulders. There was no indication that he’d seen her, busy as he was doing… whatever it was that he was doing— but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. When she had told him he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, she hadn’t been exaggerating. Looking at his smooth, tanned skin— dotted with occasional freckles that gave Claire the sudden urge to run to him and kiss every last one— she felt a heat rise in her cheeks. If only she could run her hands along every inch, to feel how smooth and soft it was under her fingertips...

But then he turned a little, getting ready to head toward his room, and she caught sight of his back. 

All the air was punched out of her. 

The skin of his back was marred terribly, the flesh criss-crossed by silvery-white lines that stretched all across it, healed laboriously from being brutally torn some time ago. Some indents were deeper than others, making divots in the skin, but others were barely visible other than faint lines. The scars made a terrible spider’s web across what should have been a perfect canvas. 

“Jamie.” 

It was completely inadvertent as she suddenly found herself rushing toward him and a sigh of his name tumbling from her lips. 

He turned and saw her, his eyes widening, and then he hastily angled himself to make sure she couldn’t see his back. His cheeks flamed red— not with the sweet color of embarrassment, but rather the hue of shame that sent Claire’s insides twisting all the more.

“I didna ken ye were there,” he forced out. 

Claire couldn’t be bothered with words at the moment. She reached out for him, feeling her heart break at the expression on his face and the thought of his old wounds. First, she gently cupped his face, feeling the stubble rough against her palm. 

“Let me see?” she entreated in a whisper. 

He looked reluctant for a second, but then nodded against her hand. 

With as much gentleness as she could possibly convey, Claire took him by the shoulders and turned him. He went willingly, and then his entire back was on display for her. All the trauma. The evidence of raw pain now healed but forever etched into his skin. 

As if drawn by a magnet, her hand raised and just barely brushed over the marred skin. He tensed at first, which almost made her draw back. But in the next second, he was relaxing to her touch. Her fingertips brushed across shoulder blades and down the plane of his back, hardly any contact. She could feel— not just sense, but actually feel in her body— the echoes of his pain. 

“What happened?” she whispered. 

“Dinna fash, it was a long time ago—” he started, but she wouldn’t let him get away with dismissing this as if it didn’t matter. 

“Tell me,” she pleaded. 

She placed her whole hand over his back and pressed gently in reassurance that she was here. He wasn’t alone. 

“It was a car accident,” he began, a slight tremor in his voice, “ye ken, what we rode in the other day? Sometimes they crash. I dinna mean tae scare ye, lass—“  Claire almost laughed aloud at this. Even in re-living his trauma, he still was so concerned about her. “—but sometimes things happen. Infrequently, mind ye. They’re verra safe. But this time it wasna. Another car hit mine. I was jes’ a foolish lad of 19, and I wasna strapped in properly. I flew through the front window and went skidding on my back across the ground wi’ all the shards of glass and pavement tearing up my back.” 

Claire wasn’t sure what half of those words meant, but she could imagine well enough. She felt sick to her stomach with how well she did understand. It took great willpower to keep her hand steady where it lay on his back. 

“I lay in agony for weeks. It took me so long to recover that sometimes I thought I couldna bear to live.” 

Tears were beading at her eyes and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. The force of the pain she felt for his suffering hit her like a wave. As much as she didn’t want to add to Jamie’s discomfort, she found she couldn’t stop the tears from falling. 

“I wish I had been there,” she choked as she resumed gently tracing over his scars, “I wish desperately I could have healed you. Eased your suffering. I wish—” the tremor in her voice halted all words. 

Her vision was so blurred that all she saw was a flash of skin as Jamie turned toward her so he was facing her again. 

“Ye’ve the kindest heart, mo nighean donn,” he said quietly.  

She felt his hands gently cupping her face, and his thumbs swiped over her falling tears. She cursed herself for making him comfort her in a moment like this, but the onslaught of emotion radiating from him had overtaken her. But if she was being honest with herself, it was far more than her sensing his suffering and emotions. It went beyond empathy— the thought of him in agony hurt her directly because of the force of her love for him. 

Looking up at his face through the gathered tears in her eyes, she said, “I’m sorry you went through that, Jamie.” 

“It only made me who I am today,” he answered.

There was such strength in his voice. A man wise beyond his years. 

There was a strength in his heart as well— one that soothed the surge of emotions and brought calm to Claire’s reeling mind. 

“Are you ashamed of them?” she suddenly burst out, “You turned away from me when I saw...” 

“I dinna-” he swallowed, “I dinna show them to anyone. I have no use for pity. I hate it when people look at me differently when they find out. It’s jes’ no’ somethin’ I talk about anymore.” 

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” she breathed, understanding the gravity of his trust, “I could never pity you, and you should never feel ashamed. They’re a part of you, Jamie. And everything about you is perfect.” 

The air had never returned to her lungs during this whole conversation. Her insides were still knotted up with the strength of her emotion for him, making it hard to force words out. But she needed him to know. She loved every part of him. And she wanted his heart— complete with all the wounds and scars. 

“Ye have a good touch,” he commented softly as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, “I’ve never let anyone touch the scars before, save the doctors and nurses or my family. But— I didna mind when you did...” 

The force of the last statement made it quite clear that he more than didn’t mind, he’d liked it, and Claire made a note to touch him as often as she could until he no longer thought of the scars as something ugly. 

“I like when you touch me too,” she suddenly found herself saying. She didn’t remember the words leaving her mouth, let alone deciding to say them, but she heard the echo of them in the air and saw quite clearly his reaction. 

Jamie’s whole body seemed to tense. He withdrew from her as if he suddenly couldn’t be near her, and her hand on him fell away to hang limply at her side. His downward glance as he avoided her eyes made her wonder if it had been wrong to say. The distance between them was like a blow, and the absence of his touch ached inside her. Perhaps she’d crossed a line with him? But for the life of her, she didn’t know what she’d done that was wrong. His energy had changed in an instant— one second they were sharing a connection, and the next, he was pulling away from her. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll— leave you to get dressed,” she stuttered out a bit helplessly. 

“Aye,” came his awkward response. 

When she gave him one last look before departing, she found his ears were red and he couldn’t seem to meet her eye. 

She went downstairs with a stone in the pit of her stomach, hoping desperately that she hadn’t inadvertently created a distance between them. 

***

The rest of the night passed with a soothing easiness. Jamie came down from his shower seeming quite his usual self again. She’d watched him make food while trying not to get entranced by the shapes of his muscles shifting underneath his shirt. They sat and talked for a while as he ate— him telling stories of his childhood and family. Jamie was quite the storyteller, and Claire found herself getting lost in his enthusiasm. His face lit up as he told her animatedly about his parents meeting, about his awkward years as a boy, and about an incident involving him, Ian, and an owl (at which she couldn’t stop laughing until her sides ached). Claire thought she would never tire of listening to him talk about his passions. She could tell he loved fiercely and felt things deeply, and that brought such a well of affection bubbling up in her chest that she had to get up and give him a hug. 

They sat on the odd, tall stumps, so she slipped off a little clumsily before bridging the distance between them, Jamie’s eyes wide as he watched her while he attempted to finish speaking. 

He chuckled as she looped her arms around his neck and squeezed— right at the end of his story. 

“What was that for, lass?” he asked, adorably breathless. 

His big hands came up to rest on her back, smoothing down it in response. 

She ran her fingers through his curls, enjoying their softness, and then answered without letting go, “you’re just so passionate, Jamie.” 

He had no response for her, but she didn’t mind. With one last squeeze to the nape of his neck, she let him go. But before she withdrew completely, she ran a tender hand along the length of his back. A silent reassurance of her acceptance of the scars— just as she promised herself she would at every opportunity. 

It was late. When she drew back from him, her gaze caught sight of the darkness outside, and she had to stifle a yawn. Seeing the distant stars (the familiar gleam making her bones ache with a sudden homesickness), she wandered closer to the clear square that let them view outside. 

“Tired, lass?” Jamie asked, craning his head to look at her from his spot. 

She nodded; there was no point in insisting otherwise (Jamie always could read her). As much as she would have loved to stay up to listen to more of his stories and look out at the stars, she was more than ready to sleep. 

“Will you lay down with me?” Claire asked, feeling suddenly shy. She didn’t turn around to look at him when she asked.  

There was absolutely no desire within her to spend any time away from him. She longed for the warmth and comfort of his arms— the long planes of his body against her. It was only with that safety and security that she found real rest. 

“Aye, give me jes’ a moment, lass.” 

Relief flooded her at his acceptance. 

Jamie rose, gathering his things, and she hovered behind him as he puttered around in the kitchen. The moment his hands were free and he started to turn toward her, she slipped her hand into his. He rewarded her with a soft smile that made her feel warm inside, and then took her up with him. 

Before long, she was under the blankits and waiting for Jamie to join her. She tossed and turned several times, her mind sorting through all the things that had happened that day. The argument, Jamie’s injury, learning about his past… there was so much to digest. In the unnatural quiet, her mind was racing with the assaults of too many things she didn’t wish to think about. It sometimes felt to her that life was moving so unbelievably fast. She wished it would slow down and give her a moment to breathe. 

That breath came when Jamie slid in beside her. Instead of laying down flat like he usually did (giving her the perfect opportunity to rest her head on his chest) Jamie fitted himself along the length of her back and pulled her close to him. The moment his body came in contact with hers, peace descended on her. A feeling took hold of her, a sensation that was indescribable and something she had never experienced before Jamie. 

“Is this alright?” Jamie asked with the sweetest sincerity that made her love him all the more. 

“Perfect,” she breathed, shifting back so she was fully encapsulated in his astonishing warmth. 

She drifted to sleep under the solid anchor of Jamie’s arms and the security of his presence.

***

a/n: So if you're wondering about the progress of this story... There are only 3 more chapters left in the first arc, ahh!! Things are about to ramp uppp, stick with me. But don't worry, I would very much like to continue with the arc II once we finish arc I. I prewrote all 16 chapters of the first arc, but the second arc only exists in my brain currently. I'm trying to get over some major writer's block + real life, but if you guys are interested, I hope to get working on arc II soon. 

Thanks so much for your support of the story, love to you all!!

Next

[imawhoreforkpop]

Keep me warm

Jackson (got7) x reader

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

AU: friends to lovers

Word count: 1.5 K

Summary: when a snowstorm hits unexpectedly over the city, two friends become closer. 

A/N: This my first fanfic being posted on here so forgive me if it's bad, I’m still getting used to typing in this and figuring out how everything works. (1-7-19 re-edited)

Seems like had been months since I’ve last  seen him. It was nerve-racking when he had call me to met him up, the diner he had picked was bursting with warm colors giving the small area a friendly feeling. Tugging on my f/c sweater sleeve to cover the exposing skin on my right arm as my eyes scan over the dinning area in hopes that I'll spot the brown haired boy.

E/c eyes lighting up as my feet rush over to the back of the room, plopping down into the pale orange booth where he sat. He looked perfect in every way, the light reflecting off his hair giving it a soft look, his brown eyes full of life and happiness never once showing sadness when we were with one another. His outfit was simple, an plain white shirt with some jeans seemed like no matter what he wears, he looked like a model on the walkway.

A voice snaps me out of my daydreaming, laughing out in embarrassment when Jackson looked at me. “huh, sorry I was spacing out” My voice cracks a bit as I look over where the napkins were sitting. “I was just saying what do you wanna eat” he repeated what he said earlier. “oh! Some chicken noodle soup would be good” I answer him, “okay, I'll get an waitress over here then” he flashes me a quick smile. My heartbeat quickens over the small interaction he gave me.

A small bleached blonde haired woman comes over to us, her brown eyes burning holes in Jackson face as if she was mapping out his features into her mind. I knew better than to get jealous over a friend but my emotions overpowered me. “yeah, so I'll  have the chicken soup along with some water. Oh and can you bring me some crackers please?” I loudly speak out while handing her my menu. “yeah, sure.” she pops her gum while jotting down my order, “how about you, handsome?” she asks Jackson making sure to bat her eyelashes. “I would like the chicken salad please and a root beer” he smiles at her while passing her the menu he was just reading from. “I’ll get that out to you as soon as I can.” The waitress winks at him before heading off somewhere.

“She was hitting on you, you know that right?” my voice laced in slightly annoyance as I push my hair back behind my ear as I pretend like I'm interested in the sugar packets by the napkin holder. “No she wasn't” Jackson laughs, “yea, sure whatever you say” I push out my words trying to keep calm. We didn't speak much after that, little bits here and there as we waited for our food. The young waitress popped up with our orders, after handing us our food she lingered around trying to catch Jackson's attention. My patience was running low with her, out of nowhere my brain came up with a great idea.

“Jackson, scoot over a bit.” I tell him as i push my food over to other side before getting up to sit next to him. Pushing my body close to his as i possibly could, smiling at the waitress who was watching us from afar. Her eye glaring at me but it was only fueling up my ego that i could have something she couldn't. We finished up our meals and paid before taking our leave.

I watch Jackson push open the glass door making sure to hold it open for me to walk through. Large clouds had moved over the city casting a shadow over our surroundings, “hey, is it supposed to snow today?” I look up to the sky as I ask Jackson, “No, the forecast said it's supposed to be cloudy” He tells me, I feel his large hand softly grasp my wrist and tug me towards his car. “hey, it is okay if we go to your house for a bit?” Jackson gives me puppy eyes, I nod a yes to him.

The car ride was oddly peaceful, music softly dance around us as the heater kept us warm on the way to my place. Stepping out of the small vehicle, I begin pulling my keys out from my purse to unlock the oak door to my apartment, shoving the door open to let the impatient boy into my living room. I watch him automatically go straight for the couch pulling the red blanket that once was covering the sofa over himself. Laughing softly at the boy i had fallen in love with. We had met through some friends at a birthday party a few years ago. Our friendship blossomed into what it is today, over a story i told him about me climbing an apple tree in my backyard and getting my pant struck on a branch. That story helped us become best friends, we were always doing stupid stuff together like seeing how long we could hold our breath until one of us passes out or trying to burp the Abc's without throwing up. I was there through every break up he went through giving him an shoulder to cry on and help him piece himself back together.

The day I realized My heart had fallen for the brown eyed boy, He had came to my house with teary eyes and a broken heart about this girl named Jenna, he had poured his soul out to, he told me they had been dating for a few months now and that he had confessed his love to her and that she didn't feel the same and ended their relationship that same very night. I envy the woman who stole my best friend’s heart. I knew it was wrong to feel this way about him but i wanted to prove to him that i could treat him better than anyone in this whole world if he would give me the chance.

Snapping myself out of my trance to the real world around me, “hey, you wanna watch a movie?” I plop down next to him, flipping pass shows on Netflix. “sure” he smiles, “we should watch Nemo again” he tells me while getting cozy next to me. I click the movie before i glance over the window to see the earth was whited out with snow. “geez, that snow came in fast” I tell Jackson while standing up to check the crazy weather happening outside. “oh dang, I don’t  think i could drive tonight with this weather” he informs me, “That's okay, you can crash here for the night” I pat his back before heading back to the couch as he follows behind me.

I feel his arms wraps around my torso pulling me towards his warm body. “You should keep me warm, Y/n” he pulls me down onto the sofa with him in a cuddling position. My face flashes red for a second as I process what happening. I laid there for a moment battling whether or not i should tell him about my feelings.

Fear pacing self around my mind, what if i lose him over this crush i developed and it destroy our friendship or what if he feels the same about me but I chickened out and lost my chance with him I think to myself. I huff out a breath, “i'm going for it, I've already waited a year might as while tell him before it's too late” i tell myself. I look up at him taking in every facial structure and imperfection he has before taking his hand into mine.

“Hey, I need to tell you something” my voice slightly shakes as I continue on with my sentence, “I'm in love with you” I puff out, feeling the weight off my chest be lifted. His eyes search my face for a moment, his fingertips run across my cheeks before finding themselves under my jaw. He pulls my face closer to his, his minty breath grazing upon me as he opens his mouth only to close it again trying to figure out what to say. “You..what?” he barely whispers, “I love you” I repeated myself fear choking me. “How long?” his brown eyes place themselves onto mine. “About a year now” I squeak out trying to break the eye contact. “I love you too” he breathes out as if he's been holding it in. “Really?” I placed my hands on his arms, “Yes, I always believed in love at first sight and when I saw you..” he puts his forehead on mine softly, “I knew that I had to have you.” he finishes his sentence waiting for me to respond to what he just dropped on me. “well why didn't you make a move then?” I lifted up my eyebrow. “you were beautiful, with the world bowing down at your feet.” his thumb brushes my bottom lip, “Funny to think, she loved me this whole time when I did nothing but  ran away from my feelings” he sighs, his brown eyes filling up with sadness. “Jackson Wang, Kiss me” I whisper to him pulling his face to me, catching his lips with mine. Our emotions pouring out into the kiss, pulling away for a moment. “Please be mine.” his voice calls out to me, “Yes” I smile at the boy I've gave my heart. “Thank you” He smiles.

[lesbianrewrites]

The Martian Chapter 5

*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 V

LOG ENTRY: SOL 38 

I’m still cowering in the rover, but I’ve had time to think. And I know how to deal with the hydrogen.

I thought about the Atmospheric Regulator. It pays attention to what’s in the air and balances it. That’s how the excess O2 I've been importing ends up in the tanks. Problem is, it’s just not built to pull hydrogen out of the air.

The regulator uses freeze-separation to sort out the gasses. When it decides there’s too much oxygen, it starts collecting air in a tank and cooling it to 90 kelvin. That makes the oxygen turn to liquid, but leaves the nitrogen (condensation point: 77K) still gaseous. Then it stores the O2.

But I can’t get it to do that for hydrogen, because hydrogen needs to be below 21K to turn liquid. And the regulator just can’t get temperatures that low. Dead end.

Here’s the solution:

Hydrogen is dangerous because it can blow up. But it can only blow up if there’s oxygen around. Hydrogen without oxygen is harmless. And the regulator is all about pulling oxygen out of the air.

There are four different safety interlocks that prevent the regulator from letting the Hab’s oxygen content get too low. But they’re designed to work against technical faults, not deliberate sabotage (bwa ha ha!). Long story short, I can trick the regulator in to pulling all the oxygen out of the Hab. Then I can wear a spacesuit (so I can breathe) and do whatever I want without fear of blowing up. Yay!

I’ll use an O2 tank to spray short bursts of oxygen at the hydrogen, and make a spark with a couple of wires and a battery. It’ll set the hydrogen on fire, but only until the small bit of oxygen is used up.

I’ll just do that over and over, in controlled bursts, until I’ve burned off all the hydrogen.

One tiny flaw with that plan: It’ll kill my dirt.

The dirt is only viable soil because of the bacteria growing in it. If I get rid of all the oxygen, the bacteria will die. I don’t have 100 billion little spacesuits handy.

It’s half a solution anyway.

Time to take a break from thinking.

Commander Lewis was the last one to use this rover. She was scheduled to use it again on Sol 7, but she went home instead. Her personal travel kit’s still in the back. Rifling through it, I found a protein bar and a personal USB, probably full of music to listen to on the drive.

Time to chow down and see what the good Commander brought along for music.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 38 (2)

Disco. God damn it, Lewis.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 39

Well I think I’ve got it.

Soil bacteria are used to winters. They get less active, and require less oxygen to survive. I can lower the Hab temperature to 1C, and they’ll nearly hibernate. This sort of thing happens on Earth all the time. They can survive a couple of days this way. If you’re wondering how bacteria survive long periods of cold on Earth, the answer is they don’t. Bacteria further underground where it was warmer breed upward to replace the dead ones.

They’ll still need some oxygen, but not much. I think a 1% content will do the trick. That leaves a little in the air for the bacteria to breathe, but not enough to maintain a fire. So the hydrogen won’t blow up.

But that leads to yet another problem. The potato plants won’t like the plan.

They don’t mind the lack of oxygen but the cold will kill them. So I’ll have to pot them (bag them, actually) and move them to a rover. They haven’t even sprouted yet, so it’s not like they need light.

It was surprisingly annoying to find a way to make the heat stay on when the rover’s unoccupied. But I figured it out. After all, I’ve got nothing but time in here.

So that’s the plan. First, bag the potato plants and bring them to the rover (make sure it keeps the damn heater on). Then drop the Hab temperature to 1C. Then reduce to O2 content to 1%. Then burn off the hydrogen with a battery, some wires, and a tank of O2.

Yeah. This all sounds like a great idea with no chance of catastrophic failure.

That was sarcasm, by the way.

Well, off I go.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 40

Things weren’t 100% successful.

They say no plan survives first contact with implementation. I’d have to agree. Here’s what happened:

I summoned up the courage to return to the Hab. Once I got there, I felt a little more confident. Everything was how I’d left it (what did I expect? Martians looting my stuff?)

It would take a while to let the Hab cool, so I started that right away by turning the temperature down to 1C.

I bagged the potato plants, and got a chance to check up on them while I was at it. They’re rooting nicely and about to sprout. One thing I hadn’t accounted for was how to bring them from the Hab to the rovers.

The answer was pretty easy. I put all of them in Martinez’s spacesuit. Then I dragged it out with me to the rover I’d set up as a temporary nursery.

Making sure to jimmy the heater to stay on, I headed back to the Hab.

Buy the time I got back, it was already chilly. Down to 5C already. Shivering and seeing my breath condense in front of me, I threw on extra layers of clothes. Fortunately I’m not a very big girl. Martinez’s clothes fit over mine, and Vogel’s fit over Martinez’s. These shitty clothes were designed to be worn in a temperature-controlled environment. Even with three layers, I was still cold. I climbed in to my bunk and under the covers for more warmth.

Once the temperature got to 1C, I waited another hour, just to make sure the bacteria in the dirt got the memo that it was time to take it slow.

The next problem I ran in to was the regulator. Despite my swaggering confidence, I wasn’t able to outwit it. It really does not want to pull too much O2 out of the air. The lowest I could get it to was 15%. After that, it flatly refused to go lower, and nothing I did mattered. I had all these plans about getting in and reprogramming it. But the safety protocols turned out to be in ROMs.

I can’t blame it. Its whole purpose is to prevent the atmosphere from becoming lethal. Nobody at NASA thought “Hey, let’s allow a fatal lack of oxygen that will make everyone drop dead!”

So I had to use more a more primitive plan.

The regulator uses a different set of vents for air sampling than it does for main air separation. The air that gets freeze-separated comes in through a single large vent on the main unit. But it samples the air from nine small vents that pipe back to the main unit. That way it gets a good average of the Hab, and prevents one localized imbalance from throwing it off.

I taped up eight of the intakes, leaving only one of them active. Then I taped the mouth of a Hefty-sized bag over the neck-hole of a spacesuit (Johanssen’s this time). In the back of the bag, I poked a small hole and taped it over the remaining intake.

Then I inflated the bag with pure O2 from the suit’s tanks. “Holy shit!” the regulator thought, “I better pull O2 out right away!”

Worked great!

I decided I not to wear a space suit after all. The atmospheric pressure was going to be fine. All I needed was oxygen. So I grabbed an O2 canister from the medical bay. That way, I had a hell of a lot more freedom of motion. It even had a rubber band to keep it on my face!

Though I did need a spacesuit to monitor the actual Hab oxygen level (The Hab’s main computer was convinced it was 100% O2). Each spacesuit knew how to monitor its own internal air, of course.

Let’s see… Martinez’s spacesuit was in the rover. Johanssen’s was outwitting the regulator. Lewis’s was serving as a water-tank. I didn’t want to mess with mine (hey, it’s custom fitted!). That left me three spacesuits to work with.

I grabbed Vogel’s suit and activated the internal air sensors while leaving the helmet off. Once the oxygen dropped to 12% I put the breather mask on. I watched it fall further and further. When it reached 1% I cut power to the regulator.

I may not be able to reprogram the regulator, but I can turn the bastard off completely.

The Hab has emergency flashlights in many locations in case of critical power failure. I tore the L.E.D. bulbs out of one and left the two frayed power wires very close together. Now when I turned it on I got a small spark.

Taking a canister of O2 from Vogel’s suit, I attached a strap to both ends and slung it over my shoulder. Then I attached an air line to the tank and crimped it with my thumb. I turned on a very slow trickle of O2; a small enough that it couldn’t overpower the crimp.

Standing on the table with a sparker in one hand and my oxygen line in the other, I reached up and gave it a try.

And holy hell it worked! Blowing the O2 over the sparker, I flicked the switch on the flashlight and a wonderful jet of flame fired out of the tube. The fire alarm went off, of course. But I’d heard it so much lately I barely noticed it any more.

Then I did it again. And again. Short bursts. Nothing flashy. I was happy to take my time.

I was elated! This was the best plan ever! Not only was I clearing out the hydrogen, I was making more water!

Everything went great right up to the explosion.

One minute I was happily burning hydrogen; the next I was on the other side of the Hab and a lot of stuff was knocked over. I stumbled to my feet and saw the Hab in disarray.

My first thought was “My ears hurt like hell!”

Then I thought “I’m dizzy, ” and fell to my knees. Then I fell prone. I was that dizzy. I groped my head with both hands, looking for a headwound I desperately hoped would not be there. Nothing seemed to be amiss

But feeling all over my head and face revealed the true problem. My oxygen mask had been ripped off in the blast. I was breathing nearly pure nitrogen.

The floor was covered in junk from all over the Hab. No hope of finding the medical O2 tank. No hope of finding anything in this mess before I passed out.

Then I saw Lewis’s suit hanging right where it belonged. It hadn’t moved in the blast. It was heavy to start with and had 70L of water in it

Rushing over, I quickly cranked on the O2 and stuck my head into the neck-hole (I’d removed the helmet long ago, for easy access to the water). I breathed a bit until the dizziness faded, then took a deep breath and held it.

Still holding my breath, I glanced over to the spacesuit and Hefty bag I’d used to outsmart the regulator. The bad news is I’d never removed them. The good news is the explosion removed them. Eight of the nine intakes for the regulator were still bagged, but this one would at least tell the truth

Stumbling over to the regulator, I turned it back on.

After a two second boot process (it was made to start up fast for obvious reasons) it immediately identified the problem.

The shrill low-oxygen alarm blared throughout the Hab as the regulator dumped pure oxygen in to the atmosphere as fast as it safely could. Separating oxygen from the atmosphere is difficult and time consuming, but adding it is as simple as opening a valve.

I clambered over debris back to Lewis’s spacesuit and put my head back in for more good air. Within three minutes, the regulator had brought the Hab oxygen back up to par.

I noticed for the first time how burned my clothing was. It was a good time to be wearing three layers of clothes. Mostly the damage was on my sleeves. The outer layer was gone. The middle layer was singed and burned clean through in places. The inner layer, my own uniform, was in reasonably good shape. Looks like I lucked out again.

Also, glancing at the Hab’s main computer, I see the temperature rose to 15C. Something very hot and very explodey happened, and I wasn’t sure what. Or how

And that’s where I am now. Wondering what the hell happened.

After all that work and getting blown up, I’m exhausted. Tomorrow I’ll have to do a million equipment checks and try to figure out what blew up, but for now I just want to sleep.

I’m in the rover again tonight. Even with the hydrogen gone, I’m reluctant to hang out in a Hab that has a history of exploding for no reason. Plus, I can’t be sure there isn’t a leak.

This time, I brought a proper meal, and something to listen to that isn’t disco.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 41

I spent the day running full diagnostics on every system in the Hab. It was incredibly boring, but my survival depends on these machines, so it had to be done. I can’t just assume an explosion did no long-term damage.

I did the most critical tests first. Number one was the integrity of the Hab canvas. I felt pretty confident it was in good shape, cause I’d spent a few hours asleep in the rover before returning to the Hab, and the pressure was still good. The computer reported no change pressure over that time, other than a minor fluctuation based on temperature.

Then I checked the Oxygenator. If that stops working and I can’t fix it, I’m a dead woman. No problems.

Then the Atmospheric Regulator. Again, no problem.

Heating unit, primary battery array, O2 and N2 storage tanks, Water Reclaimer, all three airlocks, lighting systems, main computer… on and on I went, feeling better and better as each system proved to be in perfect working order.

Got to hand it to NASA. They don’t fuck around when making this stuff.

Then came the critical part… checking the dirt. Taking a few samples from all over the Hab (remember, it’s all dirt flooring now), I made some slides.

I took them over to the microscope and checked up on my beloved bacteria. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw healthy, active bacteria doing their thing.

Then I set about cleaning up the mess. And I had a lot of time to think about what had happened.

So what happened? Well, I have a theory.

According to the main computer, during the blast, the internal pressure spiked to 1.4 atmospheres, and the temperature rose to 15C in under a second. But the pressure quickly subsided back to 1atm. This would make sense if the Atmospheric Regulator were on, but I’d cut power to it.

The temperature remained 15C for some time afterward, so any heat expansion should still have been present. But the pressure dropped down again, so where did that extra pressure go? Raising the temperature and keeping the same number of atoms inside should permanently raise the pressure. But it didn’t.

I quickly realized the answer. The hydrogen (the only available thing to burn) combined with oxygen (hence combustion) and became water. Water is a thousand times as dense as a gas. So the heat added to the pressure, and the transformation of hydrogen and oxygen in to water brought it back down again.

The million dollar question is: Where the hell did the oxygen come from? The whole plan was to limit oxygen and keep an explosion from happening. And it was working for quite a while before blowing up.

I think I have my answer. And it comes down to me brain-farting. Remember when I decided not to wear a spacesuit? That decision almost killed me.

The medical O2 tank mixes pure oxygen with surrounding air, then feeds it to you through a mask. The mask stays on your face with a little rubber band that goes around the back of your neck. Not an air-tight seal.

I know what you’re thinking. The mask leaked oxygen. But no. I was breathing the oxygen. When I was inhaling, I made a nearly airtight seal with the mask by sucking it to my face.

The problem was the exhale. Do you know how much oxygen you absorb out of the air when you take a normal breath? I don’t know either, but it’s not 100%. With every breath, I was taking in oxygen, my lungs grabbed some of it, then I was breathing it out into the Hab. Every time I exhaled, I added more oxygen to the system.

It just didn’t occur to me. But it should have. If your lungs grabbed up all the oxygen, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation wouldn’t work. I’m such a dumb-ass for not thinking of it! And my dumbassery almost got me killed!

I’m really going to have to be more careful.

It’s a good thing I burned off most of the hydrogen before the explosion. Otherwise that would have been the end. As it is, the explosion wasn’t strong enough to pop the Hab. Though it was strong enough to almost blast my eardrums in.

The Water Reclaimer did its job last night and pulled another 50L of water out of the air. Long ago before hydrogen became the focus of my life, my problem was the 60L shortfall in water production. 50L of it is now in Lewis’s spacesuit, which I’ll call “The Cistern” from now on because it sounds cooler. The other 10L of water was absorbed by the dry soil.

Lots of physical labor today. I’ve earned a full meal. And to celebrate my first night back in the Hab, I’ll kick back and watch some shitty 20th century TV courtesy of Commander Lewis.

“The Dukes of Hazzard, ” eh? Let’s give it a whirl.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 42

I slept in late today. I deserved it. After four nights of awful sleep in the rover, my bunk felt like the softest, most profoundly beautiful featherbed ever made.

Anyway, I dragged my ass out of bed and finished some post-explosion cleanup.

I moved the potato plants back in today. And just in time, too. They’re sprouting. They look healthy and happy. This isn’t chemistry, medicine, bacteriology, nutrition analysis, explosion dynamics, or any other shit I’ve been doing lately, this is botany. I’m sure I can at least grow some plants without fucking up.

Right?

You know what really sucks? I’ve only made 130L of water. I have another 470L to go. You’d think after almost killing myself twice, I’d stop screwing around with hydrazine. But nope. I’ll be reducing hydrazine and burning hydrogen in the Hab, every 10 hours, for another 10 days. Let’s hope I do a better job of it from now on.

I’ll have a lot of dead time. 10 hours for each tank of C02 to finish filling. It only takes 20 minutes to reduce the hydrazine and burn the hydrogen. I’ll spend the rest of the time watching TV.

And seriously… It’s clear the General Lee can outrun a police cruiser. Why doesn’t Roscoe just go to the Duke farm and arrest them when they’re not in the car?