#Plastic cistern

[raajrajasharma]

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[coldpenguintaco]

Water Storage Systems Market to Surge: Steel, Fiberglass, Concrete, and Plastic Solutions Lead the Way

The global Water Storage Systems market is poised for significant expansion in 2024, driven by increasing demand for efficient water management solutions, climate change concerns, and rapid urbanization. The Water Storage Systems Market size is projected to reach USD 25.1 billion by 2027 from USD 16.5 billion in 2022 growing at a CAGR of 8.7%. The market encompasses various technologies designed…

[taskmastercaps]

[ID: Seven screencaps from Taskmaster. Andy Zaltzman says, "It's a very, very flexible storage device." The studio screen shows an open, unplumbed toilet, containing items including a plastic lobster, billiard balls, and a thick book (Wisden Cricketers' Almanack, 1982). Andy says, "And obviously, the cistern... that's your prime storage area in your average toilet, I would say." The screen shows the open cistern, which contains items including a bottle labelled "Elixir of Eternal Life", a doll of a bearded man, and flat files labelled Motivational Poems, Legal Cases (Pending), T.M. Contestant Weaknesses, World Domination Plans, and Non-Disclosure Agreements. Andy says, "You see, you've got your filing... You've got pens, er, and... a model of the 19th-century cricketer W.G. Grace." End ID.]

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A circle of overlapping semi-circular bright pink pickles arranged on a plate, viewed from a low angle. End ID]

مخلل اللفت / Mukhallal al-lifit (Pickled turnips)

The word "مُخَلَّل" ("mukhallal") is derived from the verb "خَلَّلَ"‎ ("khallala"), meaning "to preserve in vinegar." "Lifit" (with diacritics, Levantine pronunciation: "لِفِتْ"), "turnip," comes from the root "ل ف ت‎", which produces words relating to being crooked, turning aside, and twisting (such as "لَفَتَ" "lafata," "to twist, to wring"). This root was being used to produce a word meaning "turnip" ("لِفْتْ" "lift") by the 1000s AD, perhaps because turnips must be twisted or wrung out of the ground.

Pickling as a method of preserving produce so that it can be eaten out of season is of ancient origin. In the modern-day Levant, pickles (called "طَرَاشِيّ‎" "ṭarāshiyy"; singular "طُرْشِيّ" "ṭurshiyy") make up an important culinary category: peppers, carrot, olives, eggplant, cucumber, cabbage, cauliflower, and lemons are preserved with vinegar or brine for later consumption.

Pickled turnips are perhaps the most commonly consumed pickles in the Levant. They are traditionally prepared during the turnip harvest in the winter; in the early spring, once they have finished their slow fermentation, they may be added to appetizer spreads, served as a side with breakfast, lunch, or dinner, eaten on their own as a snack, or used to add pungency to salads, sandwiches, and wraps (such as shawarma or falafel). Tarashiyy are especially popular among Muslim Palestinians during the holy month of رَمَضَان (Ramaḍān), when they are considered a must-have on the إِفْطَار ("ʔifṭār"; fast-breaking meal) table. Pickle vendors and factories will often hire additional workers in the time leading up to Ramadan in order to keep up with increased demand.

In its simplest instantiation, mukhallal al-lifit combines turnips, beetroot (for color), water, salt, and time: a process of anaerobic lacto-fermentation produces a deep transformation in flavor and a sour, earthy, tender-crisp pickle. Some recipes instead pickle the turnips in vinegar, which produces a sharp, acidic taste. A pink dye (صِبْغَة مُخَلَّل زَهْرِي‎; "ṣibgha mukhallal zahri") may be added to improve the color. Palestinian recipes in particular sometimes call for garlic and green chili peppers. This recipe is for a "slow pickle" made with brine: thick slices of turnip are fermented at room temperature for about three weeks to produce a tangy, slightly bitter pickle with astringency and zest reminiscent of horseradish.

Turnips are a widely cultivated crop in Palestine, but, though they make a very popular pickle, they are seldom consumed fresh. One Palestinian dish, mostly prepared in Hebron, that does not call for their fermentation is مُحَشّي لِفِتْ ("muḥashshi lifit")—turnips that are cored, fried, and stuffed with a filling made from ground meat, rice, tomato, and sumac or tamarind. In Nablus, tahina and lemon juice may be added to the meat and rice. A similar dish exists in Jordan.

Turnips produced in the West Bank are typically planted in open fields (as opposed to in or under structures such as plastic tunnels) in November and harvested in February, making them a fall/winter crop. Because most of them are irrigated (rather than rain-fed), their yield is severely limited by the Israeli military's siphoning off of water from Palestine's natural aquifers to settlers and their farms.

Israeli military order 92, issued on August 15th, 1967 (just two months after the order by which Israel had claimed full military, legislative, executive, and judicial control of the West Bank on June 7th), placed all authority over water resources in the hands of an Israeli official. Military order 158, issued on November 19th of the same year, declared that no one could establish, own, or administer any water extraction or processing construction (such as wells, water purification plants, or rainwater collecting cisterns) without a new permit. Water infrastructure could be searched for, confiscated, or destroyed at will of the Israeli military. This order de facto forbid Palestinians from owning or constructing any new water infrastructure, since anyone could be denied a permit without reason; to date, no West Bank Palestinian has ever been granted a permit to construct a well to collect water from an aquifer.

Nearly 30 years later, the Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip (also called the Oslo II Accord or the Taba Agreement), signed by Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) in 1995, officially granted Israel the full control over water resources in occupied Palestine that it had earlier claimed. The Argreement divided the West Bank into regions of three types—A, B, and C—with Israel given control of Area C, and the Palestinian Authority (PA) supposedly having full administrative power over Area A (about 3% of the West Bank at the time).

In fact, per article 40 of Annex 3, the PA was only allowed to administer water distribution in Area A, so long as their water usage did not exceed what had been allocated to them in the 1993 Oslo Accord, a mere 15% of the total water supply: they had no administrative control over water resources, all of which were owned and administered by Israel. This interim agreement was to be returned to in permanent status negotiations which never occurred.

The cumulative effect of these resolutions is that Palestinians have no independent access to water: they are forbidden to collect water from underground aquifers, the Jordan River, freshwater springs, or rainfall. They are, by law and by design, fully reliant on Israel's grid, which distributes water very unevenly; a 2023 report estimated that Israeli settlers (in "Israel" and in the occupied West Bank) used 3 times as much water as Palestinians. Oslo II estimations of Palestinians' water needs were set at a static number of million cubic meters (mcm), rather than an amount of water per person, and this number has been adhered to despite subsequent growth in the Palestinian population.

Palestinians who are connected to the Israeli grid may open their taps only to find them dry (for as long as a month at a time, in بَيْت لَحْم "bayt laḥm"; Bethlehem, and الخَلِيل "al-khalīl"; Hebron). Families rush to complete chores that require water the moment they discover the taps are running. Those in rural areas rely on cisterns and wells that they are forbidden to deepen; new wells and reservoirs that they build are demolished in the hundreds by the Israeli military. Water deficits must be made up by paying steep prices for additional tankards of water, both through clandestine networks and from Israel itself. As climate change makes summers hotter and longer, the crisis worsens.

By contrast, Israeli settlers use water at will. Israel, as the sole authority over water resources, has the power to transfer water between aquifers; in practice, it uses this authority to divert water from the Jordan River basin, subterranean aquifers, and بُحَيْرَة طَبَرِيَّا ("buḥayrat ṭabariyyā"; Lake Tiberias) into its national water carrier (built in 1964), and from there to other regions, including the Negev Desert (south of the West Bank) and settlements within the West Bank.

Whenever Israel annexes new land, settlers there are rapidly given access to water; the PA, however, is forbidden to transport water from one area of the West Bank to another. Israel's control over water resources is an important part of the settler colonial project, as access to water greatly influences the desirability of land and the expected profit to be gained through its agricultural exports.

The result of the diversion of water is to increase the salinity of the Eastern Aquifer (in the West Bank, on the east bank of the Jordan River) and the remainder of the Jordan that flows into the West Bank, reducing the water's suitability for drinking and irrigation; in addition, natural springs and wells in Palestine have run dry. In this environment, water for drinking and watering crops and livestock is given priority, and many Palestinians struggle to access enough water to shower or wash clothing regularly. In extreme circumstances, crops may be left for dead, as Palestinian farmers instead seek out jobs tending Israeli fields.

Some areas in Palestine are worse off in this regard than others. Though water can be produced more easily in the قَلْقِيلية (Qalqilya), طُولْكَرْم (Tulkarm) and أَرِيحَا ("ʔarīḥā"; Jericho) Districts than in others, the PA is not permitted to transfer water from these areas to areas where water is scarcer, such as the Bethlehem and Al-Khalil Districts. In Al-Khalil, where almost a third of Palestinian acreage devoted to turnips is located [1], and where farming families such as the Jabars cultivate them for market, water usage averaged just 51 liters per person per day in 2020—compare this to the West Bank Palestinian average of 82.4 liters, the WHO recommended daily minimum of 100 liters, and the Israeli average of 247 liters per person per day.

As Israeli settlement גִּבְעַת חַרְסִינָה (Givat Harsina) encroached on Al-Khalil in 2001, with a subdivision being built over the bulldozed Jabar orchard, the Jabars reported settlers breaking their windows, destroying their garden, throwing rocks, and holding rallies on the road leading to their house. In 2010, with the growth of the קִרְיַת־אַרְבַּע (Kiryat Arba) settlement (officially the parent settlement of Givat Harsina), the Jabars' entire irrigation system was repeatedly torn out, with the justification that they were stealing water from the Israeli water authority; the destruction continued into 2014. Efforts at connecting and expanding Israeli settlements in the Bethlehem area continue to this day.

Thus we can see that water deprivation is one tool among many used to drive Palestinians from their land; and that it is connected to a strategy of rendering agriculture impossible or unprofitable for them, forcing them into a state of dependence on the Israeli economy.

Turnips, as well as cabbage and chili peppers, are also grown in the village of وَادِي فُوقِين (Wadi Fuqin), west of Bethlehem. In 2014, Israel annexed about 1,250 acres of land in Wadi Fuqin, or a third of the village's land, "effectively [ruling] out development of the village and its use of this land for agriculture." Most of this land lies immediately to the west of a group of settlements Israel calls גּוּשׁ עֶצְיוֹן ("Gush Etzion"; Etzion Bloc). Building here would link several non-contiguous Israeli settlements with each other and with القدس (Al-Quds; "Jerusalem"), hemming Palestinians of the region in on all sides (many main roads through Israeli settlements cannot be used by anyone with a Palestinian ID). [2] PLO executive committee member Hanan Ashrawi said that the annexation, which was carried out "[u]nder the cover of [Israel's] latest campaign of aggression in Gaza," "represent[ed] Israel’s deliberate intent to wipe out any Palestinian presence on the land".

This, of course, was not the beginning of this strategy: untreated sewage from Gush Etzion settlements had been contaminating crops, springs, and groundwater in Wadi Fuqin since 2006, which also saw nearly 100 acres of Palestinian land annexed to allow for expansion of the Etzion Bloc.

All of this has obviously had an effect on Palestinian agriculture. A 1945–6 British survey of vegetable production in Palestine found that 992 dunums were devoted to Arab turnip production (954 irrigated and 38 rain-fed; no turnip production was attributed to Jewish settlers). A March 1948 UN report claimed that "[i]n most districts the markets are well-supplied with all the common winter vegetables—cabbages, cauliflowers, lettuce and spinach; carrots, turnips and and beets; beans and peas; green onions, eggplants, marrows and tomatoes." By 2009, however, the area given to turnips in Palestine had fallen to 918 dunums. Of these, 864 dunums were irrigated and 54 rain-fed. This represents an increase in unirrigated turnips (5.8%, up from 3.9%) that is perhaps related to difficulty in obtaining sufficient water.

Meanwhile, Israel profits from its restriction of Palestinian agriculture; it is the largest exporter of turnips in West Asia (I found no data for turnip exports from Palestine after 1922, suggesting that the produce is all for local consumption).

The pattern that Ashrawi called out in 2014 continued in 2023, as Israel's genocide in Gaza occurs alongside the continued and escalating killing and expulsion of West Bank Palestinians. The 2014 annexations, which represented the largest land grab for over 30 years and which appeared to institute a new era of state policy, have been followed up in subsequent years with more land claims and settlement-building.

Israeli military and settler raids and massacres in the West Bank, which had already killed 248 in 2023 before the حَمَاس (Hamas) October 7 offensive had taken place, accelerated after the attack, with forced expulsions of Palestinians (including Bedouin Arabs), and harassment, raids, kidnappings, and torture of Palestinians by a military armed with rifles, tanks, and drones. This violence has been opposed by armed resistance groups, who defend refugee camps from military raids with strategies including the use of improvised explosives.

Support Palestinian resistance by buying an e-sim for distribution in Gaza; donating to help two Gazans receive medical care; or donating to help a family leave Gaza.

[1] 918 dunums were devoted to turnips according to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS) report for 2009; the 2008 PCBS report attributes 253 dunums of turnip cultivation to Al-Khalil ("Hebron") for 2006–7.

[2] Today, Gush Etzion is connected to Al-Quds by an underground road that runs beneath the Palestinian Christian town of بَيتْ جَالَا (Bayt Jala).

Ingredients:

Makes 2 1-liter mason jars.

500g (4 medium) turnips

1 beetroot

1 medium green chili pepper (فلفل حار خضرة), halved

2 small cloves garlic, peeled

1 liter (4 cups) distilled or filtered water

25g coarse sea salt (or substitute an equivalent weight of any salt without iodine)

Some brining recipes for lifit call for the addition of a spoonful of sugar. This will increase the activity of lactic-acid-producing bacteria at the beginning of the fermentation, producing a quicker fermentation and a different, sourer flavor profile.

Instructions:

1. Clean two large mason jars thoroughly in hot water (there is no need to sterilize them).

2. Scrub vegetables thoroughly. Cut the top (root) and bottom off of each turnip. Cut each turnip in half (from root end to bottom), and then in 1 cm (1/2") slices (perpendicular to the last cut). Prepare the beetroot the same way.

If you need your pickles to be finished sooner, cut the turnips into thinner slices, or into thick (1/2") baton shapes; these will need to be fermented for about a week.

3. Arrange turnip and beet slices so that they lie flat in your jars. Add garlic and peppers.

4. Whisk salt into water until dissolved and pour over the turnips until they are fully submerged. Seal with the jar's lid and leave in a cool place, or the refrigerator, for 20–24 days.

The amount of brine that you will need to cover the top of the vegetables will depend on the shape of your jar. If you add more water, make sure that you add more salt in the same ratio.

[auspicioustidings]

The way Price would try to keep the plucky little Sustainability officer away from his team because they know you'll get eaten alive.

NON-CON/ABUSIVE CONTENT

He thinks you're a ditz, head in the clouds presenting more sustainable fibres to use in uniforms, better ways to recycle old gun parts, initiatives for getting period products from social enterprises in all the barracks bathrooms.

He lasts about a month of hiding you from them, but Ghost can sniff out a soft thing with naive ideas and an innocent worldview from miles away. He fully indulges you, nods along to all those bright ideas in that cute little head as he thinks about how much more sustainable it would be of you to stop using that expensive and plastic bound protein powder and start getting your daily intake from his cock down your throat instead. His cum is the definition of a circular economy, it's really a win win. You laugh at him saying so until he gets you on your knees and rams himself into your mouth. He visits everyday after to give you your protein.

He teases Soap with you for a while, gets him all riled up for weeks until he finally tells him where your office is. The man is there like a shot, swaggering in and telling you that he'd love to work with you on recycling those old gun parts. He can think of lots of toys they can be turned into. He keeps cornering you and forcing you to test his little recycled creations, fucking you with some awful mishmash of old gun parts in the store cupboard and filming it on his phone for "research and development" purposes.

Gaz doesn't fuck around with teasing you and embarrassing you before getting his dick wet. He just crowds you into a stall when you're putting your nice, ethically sourced tampons in the men's bathroom. Gets you from behind right enough so you never know exactly who pinned you to the cistern and fucked you stupid. You come to know the feeling of his hand covering your eyes intimately as he continues to ambush you in any of the bathrooms or showers (the showers are shared and he will fuck you with other people in there enjoying the show).

Ah well, Price did try his best. He does sign off on your silly little initiatives though, so would it be so difficult to show some gratitude rather than coming to him with all these fantasies that you've been getting abused? His boys would never be so mean, but since you're in his office bitching away he supposes he'll have to show you what real fucking mean looks like.

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 ao3

When Robin and Eddie return to the trailer, Steve is still unconscious.

“Fuck, should we be worried that—how long can someone…?”

Eddie trails off, goes to check his watch reflexively before remembering that it’s stopped.

Robin shakes her head.

“This kinda thing happened, um. Before. I didn’t see much, but I… I don’t think… Billy Hargrove was completely—well. Steve had to, like, crash a car into him, and I, uh, sorta blacked out? For a bit of it? But he just walked it off, I think. Eventually. Billy, I mean. Like his body wasn’t fully… Like he didn’t really feel it.”

Eddie stares at her, reeling. A dozen thoughts scramble to be heard, many not helpful in the slightest—namely that Billy Hargrove stalked the basketball court like there was something seething within him every goddamn school day, so he can’t even imagine what that combined with the uncanny strength of The Mind Flayer would bring.

And the real major concern is—

“But Hargrove died.”

Robin looks up from where she’s been checking Steve’s head. Her fingertips are flecked with blood.

“He didn’t die from—he wasn’t killed by. By a person,” she says jerkily. “So we… we should be fine to…” She eyes the cistern lid, but her face drains of colour again.

Eddie exhales. “One problem at a time.”

He grabs Steve underneath the armpits, Robin holding his legs up.

They take him to the bedroom. Set him down, back leaning against the cabinet.

Eddie finds the handcuffs and gingerly attaches one end to a drawer handle, the other around Steve’s wrist.

Steve doesn’t even stir at the touch. His head lolls down unnaturally.

“They better not be the shitty plastic kind,” Robin says. “I’m not having him escape cause all you had was a Baby’s First Magic Set.”

Eddie’s startled into a weak chuckle.

“Excuse you, Buckley, these are the bona fide, genuine article.”

It had become a joke in the first place, actually keeping them. A year ago, maybe two. A girl from Loch Nora with a college boyfriend had either naively or intentionally thrown an open invite party—Eddie had only gone out of curiosity, wanting to see just how impressive the living space was.

He’d barely lasted an hour there, because a shithead of a ‘concerned’ neighbour called the cops on young people ‘loitering sinisterly’—as if their precious hydrangeas were in danger of being uprooted and sold.

Eddie got grouped in with a select lucky few accused of stealing. He hadn’t been, but he figured he might as well try and get something out of it. It was either Callahan’s wallet or his cuffs; Eddie picked the wrong pocket.

Now he thinks he actually lucked out, in a grim kind of way.

They take stock of everything they’ve got: lighter fluid; a couple space heaters discovered in the RV, another one found next to Wayne’s folding bed. A few bottles of alcohol along with cloths and spears. One walkie. Lighters.

Rope.

-

Nancy had left with Dustin in the RV. The plan had been for her to drop him off at the Creel House before returning to the Gate at the trailer.

But Eddie caught the steely glint in her eye as she readied herself in the driver’s seat.

Dustin sat by the table. He pinched his bottom lip between his fingers and tugged, harsh enough to draw blood. His hand was shaking.

Eddie couldn’t look at him.

He turned to Nancy.

“You’re not coming back,” he said in an undertone.

It was only once he’d spoken that he realised it didn’t come out as a question.

Nancy grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him close to whisper in his ear.

“Going to another Gate. Where Fred…”

Eddie understood: it was a last-minute change that she alone was in control of. One that Steve didn’t know.

And if Steve didn’t know, then…

The engine rumbled into life.

Eddie got out—had one last look, hand on the door. There were tanks of gasoline wedged behind Nancy’s seat.

Dread chilled him. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t be alone. That when she burned it all down, she needed someone to pull her back lest she get caught in the flames, too.

He didn’t say any of that.

Because Nancy just looked at him with something close to sympathy, as if she could tell everything he was thinking; it was already clear that whatever he said, it wouldn’t make a difference.

It didn’t stop him from trying.

“Nancy. Be careful.”

She nodded. “You too.”

Eddie shut the door behind him.

He was halfway back to the porch when he realised that the RV hadn’t pulled away. He heard the door opening again, began to turn, and was almost bowled over by the force of Dustin’s hug.

“Hey,” he said softly, once he’d caught his breath.

He ruffled Dustin’s hair and then stopped near the end of the motion, kept his hand there. Just held him.

He didn’t say it was okay, because it wasn’t.

Dustin sniffed. He pulled back and finally looked Eddie right in the eye.

“We’ll get him back,” Dustin said.

His voice wavered in the middle. But his determination was much stronger than the falter had been.

Eddie put his hands on Dustin’s shoulders. Nodded.

It was obvious that when it came to Steve Harrington, Dustin would go to the ends of the earth for him. And here he was, doing the hardest thing in the world: leaving Steve behind.

Compared to everyone else, Eddie thought, his job was simple, really. All he had to do was prove Dustin’s trust in him.

-

Steve’s face twitches when Robin shuts the window.

Eddie watches closely, holding his breath.

One eye opens, barely a slit. Moves sluggishly before finding Eddie.

“Hi,” Steve says.

He sounds… normal.

“Hi,” Eddie echoes cautiously. “Are you—um. Are you…?”

He trails off, feeling immensely stupid. What was he even gonna ask? Are you okay? Like he honestly was expecting Steve to say, Oh, could be better, but the malevolent entity inside me is a fucking bummer, man.

“How’re you feeling?” he settles on, because Steve still hasn’t moved, at least seems in control, and Eddie’ll take any semblance of normality he can get.

“M’okay,” Steve says, after a pause.

He lifts his head up slightly, notices the handcuffs. Gives a faint nod of approval. With his free hand, he gestures vaguely to the back of his skull.

“Feels… distant. I dunno.”

“Good, uh, that’s good,” Eddie says conversationally, like that will take away the reality of what he’s currently doing: tying Steve’s legs together with rope.

Both of Steve’s eyes open, his gaze turns sharper, calculating, and Eddie tenses—

“Eddie,” Steve drawls. He sounds supremely unimpressed. He shifts his legs and the knot Eddie made goes slack. “Tighter, dude.” “Oh, I’m sorry, not of all of us got our Scout’s badge.”

“Here,” Robin says. She nudges Eddie out of the way and binds Steve’s legs; the knots don’t budge. She gives a half smile. “At least Starcourt was educational.”

Steve laughs through his nose, but he grimaces a bit, like something Robin’s said is distasteful.

She puts a hand on his knee, peers at him. “Still here,” she says.

It isn’t a question, but Steve answers anyway. “Still here.”

Robin ties his free hand to another drawer handle.

Eddie catches a glimpse while he’s turning on the heaters, and his stomach twists—unbidden, thinks of Christ on the cross.

Steve nods at the heaters. “Put ‘em closer.”

Eddie does. He keeps waiting for a change, ready to leap back, but it doesn’t come. The only difference is that the pulse point in Steve’s neck starts to jump rapidly when the heaters are tilted towards him, but even that’s nothing like before, nothing like the frenzy in the bathroom.

Eddie puts his palm in front of one of the grilles. It’s only just been turned on, sure, but he can’t help thinking that it’s not nearly strong enough.

He stands in front of Steve, Robin by his side.

No-one moves.

Then Robin speaks out the side of her mouth. “Should you still…?”

Her fingers curl, palm up, and Eddie realises that she’s mimicking fret positions.

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie can answer, and Robin jumps. “Should still work.” His cuffed hand twitches. “S’in… Vecna. Me. Not enough… can’t control bats, too. Not—not all of ‘em at once.”

His throat clicks as he swallows, like the words are getting stuck.

“Should follow. Like… like, um.” His eyes widen for a split second, as if in panic, before he swallows again and says, a little clearer, “Pied Piper.”

Eddie glances between Steve and Robin. “Okay,” he says eventually. He steps back while Robin remains where she is. “I’ll—”

“No,” Steve says, and this time the panic remains; he shakes his head urgently. “Not alone. Don’t—not alone with—with me.”

“Steve,” Robin says.

“No,” Steve repeats, and there’s a fierceness to the word—Eddie feels it thrum in his chest, and he somehow knows that it’s not from any unnatural force, that the power is being drawn from Steve alone.

“Buckley,” Eddie says reluctantly.

She squares her shoulders. Takes a step back, eyes never leaving Steve.

Something in Steve unwinds, relaxes. His head droops, almost like he’s falling asleep. A stark vein in his neck pulses.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Robin pauses at the door. Her eyes dart to the heaters, then Eddie.

“Are they…?”

“Highest they’ll go,” Eddie says.

Robin bites her lip.

Eddie knows what she’s thinking: that Nancy said unbearable, and right now barely one corner of the room is being warmed.

“It just takes time to, uh, kick in,” Eddie says.

It doesn’t sound convincing—sounds like he’s free-falling, desperately searching for something to hang onto.

But Robin accepts it, Eddie thinks, because what choice does she have? What choice do any of them have?

“Eddie,” Steve says, just as Robin’s stepped out of the room.

“Yeah?”

Steve wets his lips. Swallows again. It looks painful.

“It’s gonna… make him mad.”

Fear seeps down Eddie’s spine.

“We’ll come back,” he says, because right now, it’s the only promise he can make. “We’re not leaving you alone.”

“S’okay,” Steve says. He’s starting to slur his words. “Better this way.”

-

They tumble through the Gate as quickly as they can, then immediately set up the trailer defences.

“We’re lucky this is here,” Eddie says when they’re done, as he picks his electric guitar off the wall, untouched by vines.

“Yeah,” Robin says. “Lucky…”

She abruptly gasps and runs from the room.

Eddie curses, follows her—flinging the guitar across his back.

But there’s nothing in the living room, no bats to fight—just Robin pulling something out from behind Wayne’s bed, laughing with a touch of hysteria.

“Jesus,” Eddie breathes, “you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

Then he actually processes what he’s looking at. Robin’s brought out a space heater, a bulky kerosene-fuelled one, much larger than what they’d originally rustled up.

“But that—that broke last winter,” Eddie says, bewildered.

Robin doesn’t say anything, just turns it on. The effect is almost immediate compared to what they’ve been working with: the heater glows red-hot, and Eddie already feels the urge to take off his jacket.

“Eddie,” Robin says slowly. “It’s 1983.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says. He grabs her by the shoulders. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Robin turns the heater off, drags it to a point just underneath the Gate.

There’s a couple more treasures they manage to stash away: a match box found on the counter, thrown into a deep cooking pot Robin snatches from a cupboard.

“Oh, you mean business,” Eddie says. “That’s the good pot.”

Robin grins, and it makes Eddie’s heart ache—he knows what they’re doing, forcing smiles to hide their shaking hands.

“And what goddamn atrocity befalls it in the future?”

“That’s between me and God.”

They’re up on the roof, Robin crouched by the amp, when Eddie hears the Walkie crackle.

“Max is—bait’s still been taken,” comes Erica’s staticky voice.

“Uh, copy that,” Eddie says. “Sinclair. Henderson with you?”

A click.

“I’m here,” Dustin says quietly.

Eddie breathes out. “Good. Stick together.”

He sets the walkie down and yanks off his guitar pick. He thinks of Chrissy, her body contorting. Of Patrick, dragged from the water.

Steve’s hands clenched around the sink.

“Showtime, Buckley.”

The noise is explosive. It barely takes a few seconds for the bats to start coming; Eddie watches the horizon as his fingers fly over the strings.

Underneath everything, he can hear Robin counting out bars like she’s in band: One, two, three, four. Two, two, three, four.

Prestissimo.

“Eddie, two more bars!”

He nods in acknowledgement. Feels his heart pound as if in time with the music.

“Now!”

They run. The bats circle dumbly round the roof, some clustered onto the still ringing amp, like moths drawn to light.

Pied Piper.

“Go, go, go!” Eddie urges.

It’s tricky getting the heater through, but they manage it between them, an awkward handover across the Gate.

And then Eddie’s falling, landing next to Robin, breathless. They sit up as one, give each other a speechless high five.

Robin moves first. But she stops midway to Eddie’s room—like a reversal of when he was first brought to a standstill, seeing Chrissy’s eyelids fluttering erratically.

“Eddie,” Robin says. “You—you closed the door, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, mouth dry.

He knows that for certain because as he shut the door, his last glimpse was of Steve leaning the back of his head against the cabinet drawers, eyes closed.

Now the door’s ajar.

Eddie strains to listen, but he can’t hear anything.

He feels Robin’s hand dart into his. He squeezes tight before letting go. She picks up the heater. He’s got the cooking pot under his arm.

Together, they open the door.

The space heaters they’d left are broken, cracked down the middle. The handcuffs are dangling from the drawer handle, pried open, the ropes frayed apart—and the whole room is littered with…

Shards of wood. Snapped strings.

Eddie’s guitars. They’re shattered beyond repair, the red of the Warlock mixed with the dark wood of the acoustic.

And there, backed into the far corner, is Steve.

He’s cradling his wrist to his chest—it looks badly broken. Even from here, Eddie can see evidence of splinters embedded in both hands.

But above all, what’s drawing Eddie’s attention is that his shirt is off, revealing the state of his stomach, the bandages shoddily ripped away. The wound is oozing slow, thick trickles of black and red.

Steve doesn’t seem aware that anyone’s entered the room, just mutters indecipherably to himself, hair hanging down in front of his eyes.

Eddie manages to set the pot down silently—takes one hesitant step forward, cringes when he jostles a piece of wood.

Steve’s head jerks up at the sound. He stares at Eddie, a crease in his forehead.

“Who’re you?”

Robin lets out a breath like she’s been punched in the stomach.

“It’s…” Eddie clears his throat. Stays as still as he can. “It’s me, man. It’s Eddie.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

More wood scatters across the floor—Robin stepping forward frantically, “Steve, it’s me, it’s—”

Eddie stops her with a touch to the back of her hand.

“Steve,” he says, digs deep to find a calm tone. “Who’s this?”

Steve’s jaw works.

“R… R…”

Robin’s face shatters.

She sets the heater down. Turns it on full blast.

“Robin!” Steve gasps. “Robin, it’s me, I’m still—Robin, Robin, please—”

Robin takes another step—“Careful,” Eddie whispers, heart in his throat—and forcibly shoves the heater across the room.

Steve tries to dodge it, but he’s not quick enough; the grille slams against his arm, and Eddie inhales sharply as the skin blisters an angry, weeping red.

Steve’s cries are piercing.

But they reach a peak than taper off into whimpers; he presses himself against the wall, curls his upper body around his blistered arm.

He starts to sob.

They have to get closer to hear, stepping into the circle of heat radiating from the grille, Eddie just behind Robin; sweat pools in the small of his back.

“No, no…”

It’s a dreadful whisper.

They crouch down. Slow.

It doesn’t look like Steve notices: his eyes are shut tight, lashes damp as he continues to plead, “Don’t make me. Please don’t make me.”

Eddie can’t blame Robin for what she does next.

It’s instinct—he’d seen it in his peripheral vision at the boathouse, her hand reaching out to comfort, like she couldn’t stop herself.

No, he can’t blame her. Because Steve is hurting, sobbing like his heart is going to break from it, and he’s right there.

Robin’s hand moves forward.

Eddie sees the moment Steve’s eyes open, cold and inhuman, and Christ, for a millisecond too long, he’d forgotten that they had stepped into the ring with a cobra.

“Robin,” Eddie warns, too late, as Steve’s hand seizes her wrist.

“Don’t worry,” he says, and it’s almost perfect, almost Steve’s gentle concern, but there’s something off in the inflection, a misplaced note—“I’m not killing you first.”

He twists Robin’s hand.

She doesn’t scream, doesn’t even try to move, like she’s holding her breath just to stay silent.

“I can…” Steve breathes in and out through his nose. Predatory. “I can feel her.”

“Who?” Robin says.

A vague noise rumbles from Steve’s chest, like he’s searching for a name again.

“N… Nancy,” he says eventually. “She’s dying,” he says, off-hand. “She can’t breathe.”

Eddie reaches behind. Feels carpet beneath his palm. Steve doesn’t track the movement, eyes fixed on Robin.

“She will be like… like her friend. She will know how it feels to die alone.”

Steve grunts, and then…

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from making a sound; the skin around Steve’s stomach wound ripples, like there’s something bubbling up underneath, moving, alive, crawling up, up, up—mottled veins spreading, black as tar.

Eddie swallows back bile as his hand finds something solid. Wood.

He feels for the lighter in his pocket.

Steve leans towards Robin, baring his teeth.

“I will—”

Click.

“—consume her.”

The jagged piece of guitar burns in Eddie’s hand.

He throws it.

Sparks fly, land directly in Steve’s eyes, and he yells, lets go of Robin—with such an impact that she’s thrown across the room, landing slumped against the cabinet.

“Robin!”

But Eddie doesn’t have any time to help her, because there’s another click, a crackle, and the walkie comes to life, and it must be on accident because all he can hear is the sound of someone—Dustin and Erica—breathing quickly. Running.

Steve’s eyes narrow.

Eddie thinks of Dustin saying, “He knows where we are, he’ll know—”

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

He tries, desperately, to turn the walkie off, but it suddenly feels like all the air leaves his lungs, and he’s pinned against the wall, Steve’s hand on his chest.

The walkie’s wedged between them. Steve’s somehow using his broken wrist to still Eddie’s hand, to keep the walkie turned on.

Eddie has no choice but to listen to what comes through the static.

It’s chaos. Heavy, frantic breathing; it’s like he can feel the kids clutching their sides as they run. In the distance, a car, the engine stopping. A door opens.

Jason Carver’s voice. “Did you see them?”

Behind Steve, Eddie spots Robin stirring.

Steve keeps staring down at the walkie.

An abrupt cry of pain, and another voice curses, says, “Shit, Jason, I think it’s broken.”

“El?” Dustin breathes.

Something in Steve’s face flickers, but Eddie’s too terrified to know what it means—tries and fails to turn the walkie off again, but he doesn’t even know what’s the right thing to do anymore. He just wants them to be okay, he just wants—

“Jason, no-one’s fucking there. You—you can’t even stand, I’m taking you to the hosp—”

A car door slamming shut. An engine starting up, fading…

Gone.

Dustin and Erica exhale shakily. Running again, footsteps pounding up the stairs, across floorboards…

The walkie cuts off.

Steve grits his teeth.

“Please,” Eddie whispers.

Robin’s up, moving so quietly—scooping the remnants of his guitars into the pot.

Another crackle.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s voice again, up close. “Max is—the music’s not working! I—I don’t know what to—”

There it is again: that flicker across Steve’s face. A ripple in a lake.

“Max,” he says.

The name cracks with emotion, and although his voice has been used before, an uncanny imitation, Eddie knows this is different, feels it in his gut; it’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

The snick of a match being struck.

Steve’s head tilts ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around. Like he already knows Robin is right behind him.

Instead—

Steve pries the walkie out of Eddie’s hand. Presses down on the button. Inhales.

“Run.”

The walkie drops with a clatter. Behind them, the fierce roar of flames; Eddie’s face stings.

He can feel Steve’s grip on him loosening, feels himself sliding down the wall.

Steve’s eyes bore into his—and although dark veins have spread across the whites, like spider webs, Eddie can still see the slightest gleam of something real in them.

Something human.

Steve’s lips move, cracked and bleeding.

Now, he mouths.

“Robin!” Eddie yells.

Steve lets him go, and Eddie sees a flash of Robin throwing the entire contents of the pot over Steve, raining fire upon him; Eddie covers his face from the scorching heat, scrambling to get away, relying on touch alone, and his hand hits something, the crunch of plastic, fuck, the walkie—

He’s by the doorway, gasping for breath.

Awareness comes in stages: the fire’s gone out, charred remains of the guitars on the ground where Steve once stood; Robin’s there, her hands red raw, and she’s looking at something, what’s she…?

Steve.

Steve dragging himself across the floor, his broken wrist pressed against his stomach. Crawling to sit next to the space heater, head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed. Breathing.

Just breathing.

Then, so faintly, Eddie almost thinks he’s imagined it.

���Railroad… Snow Ball… Muppet.”

Steve thumps the back of his head against the wall with each word.

Robin goes to him.

Eddie can only watch. He feels like he’s staring at a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Despite everything, Robin reaches out with her hand again. She touches Steve’s knee gently, and Steve falls silent, stops hitting his head.

Robin smiles, tearful.

“You’ve—you’ve changed that song for me forever,” she says, choked up, and although Eddie can’t really understand, he senses the heart in it, the echoes of their story, of their love hitting him square in the chest.

“Do you remember,” Robin goes on, laughing through it, “the first time we were closing, and you—you got that whole bag of chocolate chips? Tore the corner and just, like, scarfed it. You looked like a chipmunk. It was—it was so gross. And you just said let’s see you do better, then. So we just kept eating them, and we had to pretend we had, like, a whole week where every order had chocolate chips just so we could get another shipment. You… you made me feel like I was five years old. That’s—that’s when I knew.” Robin takes a shuddering breath. Keeps smiling. “Right there. I wanted to be your friend.”

Steve just looks at her. He blinks, and a tear falls down his face, and Eddie can see it, like the sun briefly appearing through storm clouds, can see more of him breaking through, and for a moment, just a moment, there could be a chance, please, please…

Steve’s stomach spasms, and he groans, inhales short and sharp, twists away from Robin’s touch; the litany starts again, fever-slurred.

Eddie rediscovers the walkie. There’s cracks all through the plastic—it might not even work.

But Steve keens, pressing, pressing as blood flows through his fingers, as he trips up on the words, almost insensible now, and Eddie knows he has to take the risk.

His thumb pushes the button.

“Dustin,” he murmurs, “don’t tell me where you are. But if you’re—if you’re safe. Christ, please say you’re… Steve, he—he needs you.”

Silence.

Eddie closes his eyes.

“—safe. We’re all safe. I copy.”

Eddie thinks he laughs or something close to it. Maybe something else, too. He presses his forehead against the walkie. A benediction answered.

“Eddie?” Dustin says, and his speech keeps crackling, keeps threatening to cut out, but he’s there, he’s there.

Steve blinks, turns towards the sound of Dustin’s voice.

But Eddie’s not afraid this time.

“Railroad,” Steve repeats. Soft yet intentional, like he means it with everything he has left. “Railroad.”

Eddie passes the word on to Dustin. Waits.

Dustin takes a little while to figure it out—or maybe he solves it almost instantly, but here, time moves slow: just Robin and Eddie holding their breath, Steve only mouthing the words now. Barely there.

Dustin must push his button down mid-gasp, the words rushing out.

“That’s how we—that’s when everything—”

What follows is a garbled speech Eddie can barely make sense of, as static obscures every third word or so: about the junkyard and demodogs, and tunnels, and…

“D-different details, Henderson,” Eddie says with a choked laugh.

Fondness wells up; for a second it had felt like he was listening to Dustin in the middle of a campaign, on a tangent, and Eddie knows he just has to nudge him down the right path and then he’ll work it out, because the kid’s a goddamn genius.

“Stuff he can feel,” Eddie tries.

Steve looks at him, unblinking, and God he’s still in there, Eddie thinks, there’s so many thoughts, so much of him trapped beneath the surface.

So Dustin talks about Queen playing in Steve’s car, of how the fall leaves looked as they walked, of his shoelaces coming loose, and Steve getting down on his knees in exaggerated exasperation, you’re gonna fall flat on your face, dickhead, we’ve got enough going on.

Eddie takes the thread he’s been given, adds embellishments where he can—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the steady clunk of walking on the tracks, Dustin sometimes hurrying a little, just to match Steve’s stride—and as Steve finally blinks slowly, Eddie prays.

Can you feel it? Please go there. Go somewhere safe. Go somewhere it can’t find you. “What—what else did he say?” Robin says, when Steve lips stops moving, and his eyes close; he looks so tired. “Snow Ball?”

“Yeah, that’s—” Eddie pushes the walkie button again, so Dustin can hear. “Didn’t the Middle School have something… Did you do anything for it? Like put up decorations or…?”

Robin shakes her head.

Eddie furiously racks his brains for one detail, anything—curses himself for not paying attention, for shirking the ‘volunteering’ he was forced to do that December in lieu of detention; for viewing it all with a petty indifference, when for others, it must’ve meant so—

He releases the button.

“Did you say Snow Ball?” Dustin asks, before he launches into Steve shielding his eyes from hairspray, of the forest green gift bag his mom had passed into Steve’s hands, of Steve’s surprise, his shy smile—and then it’s Erica who takes over, calling over somewhere, “Lucas, remember when we came to pick you up?”

And the Sinclairs had stayed much longer than expected because Max’s folks were late in collecting her; and when Steve came to pick up Dustin, he’d noticed and stayed, too.

“He didn’t make a big thing of it,” Max says quietly, somewhere distant; Lucas adds that Steve opened up all his car doors so the tape he was playing could be heard: The Carpenters, some Christmas medley.

“He danced with Max,” Lucas says. “We were betting on how many times he could spin her in a row.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Eddie can hear Max’s eye roll. Her smile.

“And,” Erica says, “he actually enjoyed dad’s small talk. Like, he was fully hooked on mom and Uncle Jack’s gift wrapping contest.”

Eddie smiles, covers his mouth just in case a traitorous noise slips out. The kids sound happy, and he doesn’t want to ruin that for the world.

Steve’s eyes shine, almost like he’s thinking the same thing.

Sorry, he mouths. I’m sorry.

The walkie dies.

Steve groans again, pushing down on his stomach wound. He’s trying to hide it from view, Eddie realises.

Robin keeps reaching for him. “Steve, don’t—let me help. Please.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t—can’t hold it back.” His voice is rasping.

“I saw you,” Eddie says, and Robin glances at him. “Last year. At school.”

The memory comes to him all at once, sparked by the kids and the thought of Steve chatting in a parking lot, so at ease.

“I was pissed ‘cause I’d just flunked—doesn’t matter. Was walking it off outside, and you turned into the parking lot, windows down, and you looked so fucking pleased with yourself cause you’d already passed everything. You must’ve had a free period, maybe a double, I dunno. I was,” Eddie huffs self-deprecatingly, “jealous.”

Steve’s head slumps against the wall. His chest rises and falls rapidly, laden with sweat. Eddie tries not to look at the marks—where the burning pieces of wood struck his skin.

Steve’s eyes find his. One long blink.

Keep going.

“You—you were wearing these sunglasses,” Eddie says, and Robin sobs, laughs, like she knows exactly the pair he means. “And you—the radio was on, but I—I can’t remember what was—anyway, you were kinda. Singing. Or, like, humming to yourself. And you were walking to the middle school, you kept throwing your keys in the air. You caught ‘em every damn time.” Eddie chuckles. “Do you know how annoying that was? And I—I just kept watching, ‘till the bell rang, and I just didn’t get it. Didn’t get why you looked so… so happy. But I—” Eddie swallows. “I know now.”

Steve’s mouth tilts, not quite a smile—he’s trying, he’s trying.

“You were gonna go see the kids, huh?” Eddie says. “Surprise them or something, I don’t know. You can tell me later. Promise me? And you—” His voice threatens to go, but he pushes through it, because if there’s one thing Steve needs to hear, it’s this.

Just this.

“You were happy. Because you loved them,” Eddie whispers. “And they loved you.”

Steve breathes in.

And he rises up so suddenly that Robin falls back in alarm. He hits the space heater as he goes, and while it still blisters his skin, he doesn’t cringe away, more deliberately leans into it—

“Quick,” Steve mutters. “He’s mad, he’s mad, we don’t have much—”

And he lies down directly on the bed frame, his stomach still oozing that viscous black and red; Eddie’s stomach drops.

He feels strange, like his body already knows what’s coming before his mind’s caught up.

“Quick, quick—”

The smash of a bottle as Steve fumbles it, spilling alcohol on the floor—he tries again, reaches for lighter fluid and douses the whole bed frame in it.

“Robin,” he says, “Robin, please.”

She’s watching Steve’s every move with wide eyes; Eddie just looks on helplessly.

Fucking move.

“Robin!”

“Steve, I—” She shakes her head, uncomprehending—more like she doesn’t want to understand. “I don’t—”

Steve doubles over, picks something off the floor. Eddie’s distracted—stupid, stupid—watching in horror as more black veins spread up, across Steve’s shoulders, the strained muscles in his neck, and too late, he realises that Steve’s holding a lighter in his hand.

Click.

Steve drops it.

Sets the wooden slats ablaze.

He cries out, back arching—the flames lick higher, higher, and Robin’s screaming Steve’s name, running to him, like she can pull him from the flames…

There’s something else in Steve’s hand.

Robin’s trapped where she’s stood, a broken piece of glass to her neck—and Steve’s struggling against it, but his hand doesn’t move, as beads of blood dot Robin’s skin—

Eddie doesn’t know when it happened. Just knows that he’s holding a spear, and it’s on fire too, flames creeping up…

“Eddie!” Steve says. “Finish it!”

His skin writhes, contorting; Eddie thinks of Chrissy again, of Patrick—and a faint memory of Will Byers, vanishing without a trace.

It was you, Eddie thinks numbly. It was all you.

The glass presses closer still against Robin’s neck. She gasps—

And Steve begs.

“Kill me!”

The stomach wound heaves like a living creature, gaping and monstrous.

“Give him back, you son of a bitch,” Eddie breathes.

He lunges forward.

With all his strength, he digs the spear straight into Steve’s stomach; the flames surge, engulf—

Steve screams.

A black mass pours out of his mouth, and Eddie thinks he’s screaming, too, but he can’t hear anything, can’t hear anything but Steve, the torture in his voice, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and the mass hits him; he flies through the air, feels his head smack against something solid.

Then nothing.

He comes to in the living room. Blood dampens the back of his head.

Sits up. Blinks dazedly at the ceiling. The Gate… the Gate’s gone.

Bedroom. Has to… Steve, Robin. Bedroom.

He shoves himself up, wobbles. Forces himself on.

He knows he’s lost time when he nears the room: a chill hits him from the broken window, and the flames have been put out.

Robin. Robin kneeling by the bed, burns all up her arms.

“—open your eyes,” she’s saying. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

Eddie very deliberately doesn’t fully register who she’s talking to. If he does, he’ll freeze, useless. He will never forgive himself.

“Band lungs, Buckley,” he croaks, and then he falls beside her.

Starts compressions.

You’re not going, you’re not going. You’ve got so many people to see again. No. You’re not going.

He tries just to count out loud, but even as he’s doing it, something crumbles, something breaks apart irreparably inside of him, “Don’t you dare leave, don’t you…”

Robin. Two breaths.

“I wanna talk to you, Steve Harrington, and you’re gonna fucking be there to listen, do you understand, do you…”

He loses track of what he’s saying completely, lost to wilder and wilder promises, but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except this, except the desperate push of his hands, the crack of Steve’s ribs, Robin’s long breaths; and God, Eddie would give anything, anything at all, would tear his fucking heart out if it would help, if it meant that Steve would—

“—just breathe!”

Something jolts underneath his fingers; for a moment, it destroys him: it’s back, it’s—

“That’s it,” Robin’s saying, “there, there, that’s—”

Eddie’s head sinks down to his knees.

Wretched coughs. Gasping.

“He can’t—Eddie, he can’t breathe.”

Eddie staggers over to the window. Makes the hole bigger, again and again. Glass slices through his palms.

“That’s better, huh?” Robin’s murmuring, and Eddie can’t look at her, can’t look at who’s in her arms; if he does, the proof will shatter, and that can’t… he has to…

The phone rings.

Eddie goes to it. His arm lifts, heavy and delayed. Like he’s in a dream.

On the other end, a terrified voice.

Mike. Mike Wheeler crying.

“Did it work?”

“I—” There’s a high-pitched ringing in Eddie’s ears; he shakes his head. “I don’t—”

“I-is Nancy there? Where’s Nancy?”

And there’s that gut feeling again, the one that pulled Eddie out of the RV in the first place; “Hang on,” he says to Mike, and he lets the phone fall, pushes the front door open to stand on the porch, breathing in shallow, frigid breaths.

There’s something coming out from behind the trees.

Closer and closer, and Eddie almost assumes the worst.

But it’s Nancy. There’s ash in her hair, and she’s drenched, coated in black sludge; her teeth flash as she smiles, a pocket knife gleaming in her hand.

“I made my own Gate,” she says.

Barely missing a beat, she tilts her head to the side to throw up. She wipes her mouth with the back of her sleeve, spreads more thick tar across her face.

Underneath everything, there’s a scarlet ring around her throat.

“Your brother,” is all Eddie can get out.

Her eyes blaze white-hot.

“Mike,” she says, clutching the phone so tightly, like she would do the very same if she could hold his hand. “It’s gone, it’s all gone.” And then, louder, louder, trembling, “And whoever’s fucking listening on here, get us help. I know you’re there. I won’t stop. I won’t—”

Eddie knows she says more. She must do.

But he can’t stop staring down at his hands. At the blood.

He steps forward—almost sways, and Nancy catches his wrist.

“Don’t go outside without me. Don’t talk to anyone apart from us, Eddie. Okay? They won’t touch you. I won’t let them.”

Eddie thinks he manages a nod. He believes her. Her jaw quivers, but her head’s held up high: if a gun was pressed to her head, he knows the bullet wouldn’t take.

The phone call continues, but the sound is muffled, underwater.

Eddie comes back to himself in the bedroom doorway.

Robin’s still by the bed.

Steve’s lying there, eyes closed. His stomach’s still bleeding, slow, slow, but the veins have gone, they’ve…

“Eddie.” Robin reaches out a hand to him. “Come on. You… you can feel him breathing from here.”

Why don’t you hate me?

He should leave. He should leave.

He doesn’t deserve…

But Robin keeps reaching, and Eddie’s on his knees next to her, a coward, you’re a fucking coward.

“Here,” Robin says.

She guides Eddie’s hand. Places it on Steve’s sternum, above the awful wound, above all the pain Eddie caused—

There. A rise and fall.

Just breathing.

Eddie’s breath catches.

“I thought—” He shudders. “I thought I’d—”

Robin must sense it before he does, before he even really knows it’s happening.

“You’re okay,” she says, and she pulls him into her embrace—keeps one hand on Steve as she does.

Good, Eddie thinks. He needs to know you’re there. He shouldn’t be alone.

He turns his face into Robin’s shoulder, and weeps.

[blueiscoool]

Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures

Tom Askjem is a time traveler. Every May to November, he disappears into the bowels of the earth, descends to depths of 13’-plus, and returns to the surface with treasure—bottles and glassware from farming’s past.

After 1,800 pits and hundreds of thousands of relics, Askjem is equal parts archeologist, thrill seeker, and mole. Muscle on dirt, the North Dakota farm boy has turned an addiction into a career, multiple books, and a captivating YouTube channel with millions of views. However, Askjem seeks more than glass.

“I’m digging for adventure, history, and love,” he says. The past is in these holes and there are countless numbers of them across farmland.”

Time to hunt with a master.

The Infection

On the flats of extreme eastern North Dakota’s Traill County, Askjem, 32, prepares for a dig trip. “No mountains and no hills in the Red River Valley,” he describes. “You can see your dog run away for days. The land is mostly featureless, other than a few big cottonwoods and shelter belts where farms used to be.”

A mop of blonde hair sits atop a 6’-tall, lanky frame as Askjem saddles his pony—a Honda Civic. At the current mileage rate, the Civic will be junkyard fodder before it has a scratch: 60,000 backroad miles added to the odometer in the past six months.

Askjem piles layers of gear into the trunk, including three of each tool for insurance: shovels, pronged garden forks, trampoline pads, probe rods, buckets, plastic scoopers, trowels, tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, air mattresses, clothes, and waterproof, Redwing leather work boots.

“It never gets old,” he says, wearing a wide grin. “I caught the infection when I was a kid.”

Digging Bodies

Pushed from the Grand Forks area by the historic Red River flood of 1997, Askjem moved to a farm outside Buxton at six years young. The main property was an 1878 homestead—a progression from sod house to log cabin to the present standing 1898 farmhouse decked in Victorian-era woodwork and hardware.

Surrounded by history, including the skeletons of old wagons and rusting machinery, Askjem explored a 5-acre patch of woods on the property, and chanced on a garbage dump: pop bottles and trash.

Askjem dug.

“I went deep and found stuff going back to 1898. When you’re a kid living in the country, there’s no going down the street and there’s no hanging with friends to play video games—you make your own adventure. I started hitting up all the farmers I could find for leads.”

Behind the wheel of a rattling go-cart, Askjem sought Buxton old-timers and collected tips on abandoned houses. “They all helped me,” he says. “Nobody cared where I hunted because I was just a little kid exploring for all the right reasons.”

“I’ve still got an elementary school journal with an assignment describing my weekend,” he adds. “I wrote, ‘Me and Mom dug up old bodies.’ The teacher marked my paper out of concern,” Askjem describes, with an easy, deep chuckle. “I meant to spell bottles, not bodies. But it shows I was truly hooked.”

Indeed. Wonderfully hooked.

Soft Landing

Why are bottles buried under farmland and old house sites?

Prior to plastic and synthetics, glassware held everything: medicine, hygiene products, alcohol, soda, and beyond. Glass was it.

Additionally, prior to waste disposal services, homeowners discarded trash on-site—in back yard outhouses, trash depressions, burn pits, and wells or cisterns. In short time, the various ground receptacle spots were filled and forgotten.

“Let’s say, for example, a family moved in around 1880,” Askjem explains. “That site likely has two or three outhouse locations prior to World War l. The outhouse spots filled up at a rate according to family size. I dug one farmhouse site that had six outhouses in a 10-year span. Folks went into the outhouses and threw away bottles: medicine, opiates, beer, whiskey. It was convenient and private, and had a soft landing, and got covered quickly. Even now, the bottles often are still preserved.”

“Generally, these houses also had a burn pit and/or dump pit. In the early days, they burned all trash in the stove for heat. Also, homestead bucket wells were filled up with trash and bottles once they were replaced by pump wells. Cisterns also were eventually filled up, but most of those are associated with houses in town.”

And the sites remain, he emphasizes, hiding intact relics beyond the reach of farm machinery or tillage equipment.

X Marks the Spot

Location. Location. Location. Other than a tip or invitation, how does Askjem find dig sites?

X marks the spot, at least in the county courthouse or public library. He spends winters poring over early property transaction documents. “I look at lot sales. If several lots sold for $100 each in 1880, but one sold for $1,000 in 1885, the price climb tells the story and likely represents a building location.”

“I also read old newspaper archives, looking for hotel or business advertisements,” Askjem continues. “Then I can look up the proprietor’s name and keep tightening the scope, narrowing down the exact building location.”

“Every single house is different, but generally, in the countryside, outhouses were 30 paces out the back door. In the city, where most lots were 140’ long, outhouses could be as close as 5-10 paces.”

Confident of a site’s potential, Askjem first asks for permission to dig from the landowner. “Property owners are always so kind to me and I don’t hide anything I find. They’re curious about what is in the ground, just like anybody else.”

Second, he grids out the site. “I put down markers 2 paces apart, maybe 20 paces long. I push probe rods into ground and feel for compaction differences. Depending on the location, I’ll call in and have utility lines marked out for power and gas.”

Decked in Levi’s and a tank-top, it’s time to tunnel.

Claustrophobic Comfort

Shovel in hand, Askjem descends into a layer cake of dirt: black topsoil to brown-colored clay to telltale ash to a use layer containing treasure.

“Generally, I go deep to find old items in quantity. The earliest bottles were used to the last drop by farmers and thrown out empty. Therefore, when they froze in brutal Dakota winters, the glass didn’t break from liquid expansion.”

As Askjem extracts glass vessels from the dirt and grime, his encyclopedic knowledge registers with each find. He recognizes the type, manufacturer, and age. Ink bottles, hygiene bottles, medicine bottles, beer bottles, soda bottles—and far more spill from the holes.

“I find patented medicine bottles across the country, but my favorite are soda bottles because they are unique to their locale and have character. The old soda bottles are usually marked with the bottler and town name because they were returnable.”

The outhouse pits are typically 6’-deep at home sites, with an average size of 6’-by-4’-by-3’. “I’ve dug ghost towns, dug saloons, train depots, and pool halls that were 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 8’ deep. I remember a hotel pit that was 20’-by-20’ and 8’ deep. There was a military fort with pits behind the barracks that was 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 13.5’ deep: That was a week’s worth of digging.”

Askjem’s subterranean realm provides no comfort to the claustrophobic. At 8’-9’, he braces the holes with woodwork. “I’m in a solid clay base that doesn��t cave, but I have a healthy respect for the ground’s limitation. Sometimes, it looks like I’m digging a rabbit hole.”

Preserved in nature’s freezer, the artifacts unearthed by Askjem often are in phenomenal condition.

“Pieces of newspaper can still be read; bottle labels are legible; white lime used in decomposition is visible; and undigested seeds are everywhere. Even 120-year-old human waste sometimes is perfectly preserved and still smells like hell. I wear a hydrogen sulfide respirator in those cases.”

“It’s all there; almost like it was dropped yesterday.”

Ghosts in the Ground

In 2022, Askjem began chronicling his digs via a YouTube channel, Below the Plains, and soon captured millions of views. At two posts per week, he gins footage at a steady rate to feed the algorithm, a tough task considering the ground in his geography is frozen from mid-November to mid-May.

Additionally, Askjem has written two in-depth books (Nebraska Soda Bottles 1865-1930 and A History of North Dakota Bottling Operations 1879-1930) and has more on the way. “I put the bottle prices in the books because they can sell for a whole lot and I always tell the landowners. Listing prices draw criticism, but that’s important to me because it helps preserve the item, and preservation of history is what drives me.”

Covered in dust or mud at the end of each day in digging season, Askjem is highly respectful of what he finds—almost reverent after 1,800 digs. “I appreciate everything I uncover because it represents a part of someone’s daily life and existence. There’s nothing wrong with coveting bottles, but I’m really in those holes for the moment of discovery.”

Even when not digging, Askjem is on the move, surfing on the coasts or river diving for lost cargo. In the decades to come, will he continue burrowing into the past? “Twenty years from now, I hope I’m still digging and there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now.”

“There’s not an infinite amount of lost bottle sites, but there’s certainly an incredibly high number,” he continues. “There were 300,000 homestead farms in North Dakota with a minimum of one well, one outhouse, and one trash dump. And that doesn’t include towns where most of the population lived. There are millions of these sites in North Dakota and far more in other states.”

Respect to a freewheeling hunter like no other. Bottles draw the eye, but ghosts draw the heart: “The moment never gets old when you uncover a bottle and find that history,” Askjem adds. “Never.”

By CHRIS BENNETT.

[riddles-n-games]

Well ladies, it's been a good five days so far. But other than being the fanatics we are, of course, the curiosity for what the final word will be is building and we're closing in, amateur detectives. Let's go over the top assumptions: the word is a code for the Hawthorne Vault, it's likely an anagram, and it's probably an eight-letter word. Some of us have more creative theories but let's stick with this being a basic unscrambling we have to do.

The Letters So Far:

S I S T C

Now, assuming they make a word, I went to a word generator and set it to eight letters and containing these letters. That way, the generator can use all the letters in any particular order while adding three other letters that can be substituted into making an existing word. The result: 179 combinations. You heard that right. 179. However, because I don't think every word has the likelihood of being a potential code, I chose the ones that had some sort of association with the books.

The List:

acquists aseptics biscuits catsuits caustics cellists chastise chemists cisterns citruses classist co-assist coexists consists costings crispest cultists curtsies cysteins cystines czarists discepts disjects dissects drastics ecstasis elastics escapist incrusts inspects kitsches plastics sadistic scariest sceptics schticks skeptics slickest snitches sociates stickers stitches stoicism suckiest suctions suitcase switches systemic unsticks victress

[yaminerua]

God that post reminds me of the first time I stayed at my then-girlfriend’s place years ago. I went to the bathroom and didn’t even do a shit, and I used a normal amount of paper, but when I flushed the water started backed up and I panicked bc I did not want my gf’s mum to find out

I had learned within seconds of meeting them both in person that they were big germophobes. I wasn’t even allowed to hug my gf until I’d been to the airport bathroom to wash my hands and it as my first time meeting her face to face so of course I’d wanted to just rush up and hug her;;

and back at the house if we wanted a drink we were to use plastic cups (a new one each time, which felt awfully wasteful when there’s literally a cupboard full of perfectly clean cups and mugs) and it was absolutely mandatory that we write our names on our own plastic cups so we wouldn’t drink from the other’s cup and share accidental indirect mouth contact (she didn’t know we were dating bc she was a big homophobe so she wasn’t to know that the mouth contact her daughter and I were sharing was much more direct and deliberate 🤭 lmfao but anyway).

The toilet is filling, I’m freaking out silently, thinking oh god I’m getting sent back home on the next plane out of Sweden right now immediately if I’m found out. So I did what I’d seen happen at home before which was to take the lid off the cistern and pull up the little ball which stopped more water coming in. At this point I had managed to stop the toilet from completely overflowing. There was a small bit of water around the toilet base but it hadn’t grown beyond that. The water in the toilet was very much still at the top though and it wasn’t budging. At this point I was so thankful I hadn’t done a shit… Eventually I realised I was just going to have to reach in and see if whatever had blocked it was still within reach. Thankful for already having short sleeves and with the ball still being held up with one hand, I angled myself kind of awkwardly to reach into the toilet and fumble towards the bend. I was in past my elbow but I did manage to grab the paper and pull it free and then the water thankfully began to schlorp away.

My god, the bend was narrow. I wasn’t surprised it had clogged. It wasn’t a powerful toilet either and the paper I’d used was made of thicker stuff than I was used to so it had all been an unfortunate combination.

Anyway I cleaned up the little bit of water that had spilled and washed my hands and up my arm and never told my gf about it, and you can be sure I was extra careful with the toilet for the rest of my stay lmfao

[liminalpebble]

Eddies Education: Chapter 24

CW: This chapter contains horror-typical violence and death, also mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion and minors DNI.

Masterlist link

Chapter 24

In the a back corner of the community hall, the group rolled out a map of Hawkins and fenced it in with their plated-up Thanksgiving dinners. Between bites of turkey and green bean casserole they discussed which areas might be Vecna's nest in upside-down Hawkins; circling the locations of every known pond, swimming pool, or cistern in red pen. Though they worked off of Leia's hypothesis about water, Leia herself had to be exiled to a smaller lounge with headphones on.

She understood, of course, that it would be much too risky for her to help them plan and to know their next steps if Vecna could reach into her mind so easily, but she hated feeling stuck and anxious. She sprawled across the little musty-smelling couch between the pinball machines, legs and head draped over the armrests. She nodded along with David Byrne's quirky fragile voice as he sang This Must Be the Place, and tapped her heels against the side of love seat. She shut her eyes tightly, and held her arms, trying to calm herself as he crooned:

...I'm just an animal looking for a home. Share the same space for a minute or two. And you love me till my heart stops. Love me 'til I'm dead. Eyes that light up, eyes look through you. Cover up the blank spots. Hit me on the head...

Leia felt a little stroke over her cascade of hair where it hung off the sofa, and a kiss on her forehead. “Hey Rapunzel, you hungry? Scoot over.”

Eddie set out two TV trays and set two heavily loaded plates on each one. “Thank you, scoundrel,” she said kissing him on the cheek. “How's it going in there?”

“Hrmm...I uh...I guess I can't really tell you.”

“Right...sorry...I keep forgetting. This is all so weird,” she said, spearing a piece of casserole.

“Hey,” Eddie soothed, putting his free arm around her, “It'll be okay.”

“I hope so. But we just don't know that, do we?”

“Never tell me the odds, Princess. I have to hope and try, no matter how much I fail, and let me tell you. I've failed a lot in my life. I failed senior year three times, for fuck sake.”

She chuckled at that, almost spitting out a gulp of wine. He continued, “But, it all turned out okay. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have met you...the best thing that ever happened to me. So...” he said, lifting his own little plastic wine glass to make a toast, “here's to our love. 'May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out', fair lady.”

She grabbed his face and kissed him. “I love you, you sweet precious sentimental dork.”

He laughed. “What? Doesn't quoting Tolkien get all hot and bothered?”

She elbowed him, and he tussled her hair while he scooped up a dollop of mashed potatoes.

Leia stared down at her food, pushing the last of it around in thought, digging little shapes into her cranberry sauce. “What, princess?”

“Just, these moments,” she said, shaking her head. “These moments with you are so perfect and happy and for a second I forget about everything hanging over us.”

Eddie's deep soulful eyes met hers and he stroked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “It's okay to forget a little sometimes. Besides there's nothing you need to do for now except relax as much as you can, keep the music playing, and finish your dinner.”

She nodded, and scooped up the last bites, clearing her plate. Eddie smiled that devastating, dimpled smiled and said, “good girl”.

“Stop it! You have no idea what that does to me.”

“Nah, I have a pretty good idea” he said kissing her, lingering this time, then moving his soft lips to her neck, as she gripped his hair and her eyes fluttered shut with a sigh.

The door smacked open, and Steve hollered into the room, “Eddie, we need you to....whoa, sorry.”

Eddie groaned, but Leia laughed and smiled, turning to him. “It's okay, Steve.”

“Yeah, it's okay, Steve,” Eddie echoed but with a menacing grimace and an annoyed growl to his voice.

Steve shrugged. “Come on, Romeo.”

Eddie kissed her goodbye and trudged to the door. “You're such a cockblock, Harrington. And you know that play is totally misunderstood. It's not romantic. It's fucked up, and Romeo's actually a huge dickhead.”

Leia chuckled with surprise, nodded, and pointed to Eddie, exclaiming, “He's right!”

“Well, you're a dickhead too, Munson, so it still works,” Steve said, smiling a shit-eating grin as the two guys laughed together, slapping each other on the shoulders as they exited.

Steve called out to Leia from the doorway. “Leia, we're almost finished with this and then we can go, okay.”

She thanked him and then snuggled back into the sofa with her headphones firmly secured and a book in her hands.

------

True to his word, in a few moments Steve swung back in and the noise from the hall of people saying their goodbyes followed him.

“Hey there. We're just about done. The others are just packing up,” he said as he took a seat beside her.

“Thank you. Can I help with any of it?” Leia said, beginning to stand, but his hand came down on her shoulder as he said warily, “Sorry, but you better not...you know...because....”

“Right...sorry...I keep forgetting.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah...yeah. Just feeling tired and stressed...like all of us....and, you know, the looming otherworldly threat that has a chokehold on me. ”

He nodded thoughtfully and his thick hair bounced along with it. “You've been fighting so hard. You're really handling all this...well, a lot better than I did when I first found out about it.”

“Really?”

“Oh, for sure! I was a panicking mess, not to mention, kind of an asshole back then.”

She laughed. “That's hard to imagine.”

“Believe it. I can be super confident but also...you know..kind of an idiot. But listen,” he said scooting closer, “you know...you really don't need to fight so hard. You could just...let things happen.”

Leia twisted her face in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you're soooo tired. You could always just give in. Quit with the kindness and the altruism and just get what you really want for once.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

His voice dropped to a familiar growl, “Revenge, Leia. I'm talking about revenge and how very very good it can feel.” Steve's features were morphing into something else; soft brown eyes turning an icy blue.

“Henry,” she half-whispered as she tried to get up and run, but his long pale fingers clamped around her wrist like a vice. “How did...?”

His thin lips offered a wry grin, “You really should find a better method. The music can't keep me away forever. As you'll see, I'm getting stronger with each meal.”

She tried again to wriggle free, but he just clamped harder around her fragile wrist. The sensation was familiar.

“Remind you of something?”

One blink, and suddenly she was back in her old apartment with Sam yelling at her. She tried to leave the room and he grabbed her wrist, hard. Sam's bony fingers were surprisingly strong; strong enough to hurt, to leave a bruise that she hid with make up and long sleeves and nursed in silence. The ache of the bruise had been long gone for years, but she felt it now, and all the feelings of anger and shame that came with it.

The sinewy tentacles of Vecna's fingers released her wrist to curl around her shoulders. Another blink, and they were standing in a bedroom Leia didn't recognize. She did, however recognize the red-headed figure taking a nap there.

She gulped, anticipating what Vecna might have in mind and whispered, “Sam.”

Vecna's monstrous face was now right next to hers, hissing in her ear. “Do you remember what you were thinking, when you left that room and iced your wrist behind the bathroom door?”

“I don't remember...”

“LIAR” he howled, and she trembled.

“I wanted...please don't make me ...”

“SAY IT.”

Still shaking, Leia swallowed and said, “I wanted to kill him. I was angry. I wouldn't though.”

“Wouldn't you?”

She turned to meet his eyes and beg him, knowing where this was leading. “Henry, please...please don't make me...”

“Why not? He's loathsome. He hurt you in subtle horrible ways for years.” He dropped his voice, hissing once again into her ear. “And I know that when you thought about killing him...imagined killing him. I KNOW it felt good. Powerful. Didn't it, darling?”

Leia squeezed her eyes together against the swell of tears, and nodded reluctantly.

“Use your words.”

“Yes...yes it did. But I wouldn't do it.”

He turned her to face him, resuming his human form and holding her by the shoulders, an unnerving smile on his face which didn't quite reach his eyes. “I'm going to give you a gift, Leia, a choice. You can kill him with me, or you can watch while I kill your Eddie.”

“No...no no on. Please...please don't make me kill anyone.”

Henry tutted, as if soothing a child, and wiped her tears away. “Now darling, you didn't really think I'd let you keep your hands clean forever. Besides, once they're dirty, you'll realized how good...how righteous...it feels to have power for once. Now, make your choice.”

“Don't kill Eddie. Please..PLEASE.” Leia was nearly hyperventilating now, and choking out sobs.

“Then you'll kill Sam with me.”

She nodded clenching her eyes shut, as if this were all just a bad dream and she could wake up. He grabbed her chin roughly. “Open your eyes, Leia. Open your eyes and say what you're about to do.”

She obeyed. “I'm...g..g..going to kill Sam with you.”

Henry's youthful smiling lips faded into the smiling bones of Vecna's scarred mouth. The monster swung her around and stood behind her, pulling her tightly against himself. His arm branched into viscous tentacles, spiraled and laced around her own limbs. His fingers slithered like vines around her own so her hand moved with him. It was an indescribable constricting ache, all the more agonizing because it went slowly, deliberately seeping into everything. She wondered if this is what small mammals feel like as they're crushed by a Boa constrictor; a demise in slow motion, painfully aware of it.

Another blink and they were standing over Sam as he slept. “Reach in. He broke your heart. Now break his. Yours will be the last face he sees.”

Leia did as she was told. Their joined hands wove into his chest cavity, cradling the wet pulsing organ, which felt so much smaller than she ever thought it would; such a small thing keeping us alive. Sam was still sleeping, eyes clenched shut, flinching and wriggling. He was having a nightmare. It was this.

“Squeeze, Leia...hard.”

She did as she was told; trying not to look, trying not to think, but the torrent of hot shame and guilt was already scorching through her like lava, and Vecna wouldn't let her look away.

“Eyes open now, darling...” Vecna told her as he held a hand against her forehead, urging her to look up, meeting Sam's sickly face from mere inches away.

“Tighter”

As she closed her fist she felt a strange fleshy pop, a spasm and a gush of hot blood. Sam's eyes shot open, two bright green disks which clashed with his red-laced corneas. He looked directly into her face as he awoke, screaming her name in shock and horror in his last living moment. Their faces were so close that she could feel his last breaths burst across her cheeks, and his howling battered her eardrums. Then he wasn't Sam anymore. He wasn't arrogant, angry, slyly cruel Sam anymore. He was just a corpse; just a few dozen pounds of flesh left behind. Leia stared in a strange sort of dissociation; thinking how a recently dead person didn't look nearly as gruesome as she thought it might. He looked the same, almost asleep, but some primal intuition knew undoubtedly that he was dead...that this wasn't a trick. She knew in the same instinctual way any animal knows that they are looking at a carcass, not a living thing.

Another blink and she was in a preternatural chasm, with red lightning flickering overhead, draping her small form in Vecna's long shadow. Her hair rose up, smoke-like, around her, and the air felt heavy. Looking up she saw a shimmering surface. They were submerged. Despite her panic, she tried to pay attention to every clue, every detail that might help the others, while he was preoccupied with her.

He had unraveled himself from her and now simply held her wrist, gently this time. A cold sweat of disgust erupted over her skin as Vecna raised her hand between them. It was coated in the thick syrupy blood, so dark it looked nearly black. Tendrils of it danced upwards from her fingertips, carried on the fluid like drops of oil in water. She tried to scream but it wouldn't dislodge from her throat as Vecna's long rough tongue lapped at the gore.

He hummed in satisfaction, finally releasing her hand. “So obedient. So good. And see where it gets you. Hrmm?” He stepped back opening his arms wide, gesturing around himself. “Now you know where I am. Come to me in the waking world, pet, and I'll spare your friends. Resist, and I will take them all.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer @veemoon @little-wormwood @elegantkoalapaper @sweetsigyn @hellfirenacht

[inrainconstruction]

The Ultimate Guide to Rainwater Harvesting Systems: Benefits, Types, and Installation

Water is one of the most precious resources on Earth, yet it is often taken for granted. With increasing water scarcity due to climate change, population growth, and over-extraction of groundwater, sustainable water management practices have become essential. One of the most effective and eco-friendly solutions is Rainwater harvesting system.

Rainwater harvesting is the process of collecting, storing, and utilizing rainwater for various purposes, from irrigation to household use. This method not only conserves water but also reduces dependence on municipal supplies and lowers water bills. In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the benefits of rainwater harvesting, different types of systems, how to install one, and maintenance tips to ensure long-term efficiency.

Benefits of Rainwater Harvesting

1. Conservation of Water Resources

Rainwater harvesting helps reduce the strain on traditional water sources such as rivers, lakes, and underground aquifers. By capturing rainwater, we can supplement our water needs without depleting natural reserves.

2. Reduction in Water Bills

Using harvested rainwater for non-potable purposes like gardening, washing cars, or flushing toilets can significantly cut down on water expenses. In some cases, households have reported savings of up to 50% on their water bills.

3. Eco-Friendly and Sustainable

Unlike treated municipal water, rainwater is free from chemicals like chlorine and fluoride. Harvesting rainwater reduces the energy required for water treatment and distribution, lowering carbon footprints.

4. Mitigates Flooding and Soil Erosion

By collecting rainwater, we reduce surface runoff, which can cause flooding and soil erosion. This is particularly beneficial in urban areas where concrete surfaces prevent natural water absorption.

5. Improves Ground water Recharge

When rainwater is directed into recharge pits or permeable surfaces, it helps replenish groundwater levels, ensuring long-term water availability.

6. Reliable Water Supply in Drought-Prone Areas

In regions with irregular rainfall, rainwater harvesting provides a backup water source, reducing dependency on unpredictable municipal supplies.

Types of Rainwater Harvesting Systems

Rainwater harvesting systems can be broadly classified into two categories: rooftop-based and land-based systems. Each has its own advantages and applications.

1. Roof top Rainwater Harvesting system

This is the most common method, where rainwater is collected from rooftops and channeled into storage tanks. The basic components include:

Catchment Area (Roof): The surface where rainwater is collected.

Gutters and Downspouts: Channels that direct water from the roof to the storage system.

Leaf Screens and Filters: Remove debris and contaminants before water enters the storage tank.

Storage Tanks: Can be above-ground or underground, made of plastic, concrete, or metal.

First Flush System: Diverts the initial rainwater, which may contain pollutants, away from storage.

2. Surface Runoff Harvesting

This method captures rainwater flowing over the ground, often used in large open areas like farms, parks, and roads. Techniques include:

Percolation Pits: Allow water to seep into the ground, recharging aquifers.

Check Dams and Contour Trenches: Slow down water flow, promoting infiltration.

Rain Gardens: Shallow depressions planted with vegetation to absorb and filter runoff.

3. Stormwater Harvesting

Common in urban areas, this system collects excess rainwater from streets, parking lots, and pavements. The water is stored in large reservoirs and treated for reuse in irrigation or industrial processes.

4. In-Ground Storage Systems

These involve underground tanks or cisterns that store large volumes of rainwater, ideal for areas with space constraints. They prevent evaporation and keep water cool.

How to Install a Rainwater Harvesting System

Installing a rainwater harvesting system requires careful planning and execution. Here’s a step-by-step guide:

1. Assess Your Water Needs

Determine how much water you need and for what purposes (gardening, household use, etc.). This will help you choose the right system size.

2. Choose the Right Catchment Area

Most residential systems use rooftops. Ensure the roof material is non-toxic (avoid asbestos or lead-based paints).

3. Install Gutters and Downspouts

Attach gutters along the roof edges and connect them to downspouts that direct water into the storage tank. Use mesh filters to block leaves and debris.

4. Set Up a First Flush System

This device discards the first flow of rainwater, which may contain dust and pollutants, ensuring cleaner water in the storage tank.

5. Select and Install a Storage Tank

Choose a tank size based on your water needs and rainfall patterns. Common materials include polyethylene, concrete, and fiberglass. Place the tank on a stable, elevated surface to allow gravity-fed distribution.

6. Add a Filtration System

For potable uses, install sand filters, carbon filters, or UV purification systems to ensure water safety.

7. Connect to Usage Points

Use a pump (if needed) to distribute water to gardens, toilets, or washing machines. For drinking purposes, ensure proper treatment.

Maintenance Tips for Rainwater Harvesting Systems

To ensure your system remains efficient, follow these maintenance practices:

Regularly Clean Gutters and Filters: Remove leaves and debris to prevent clogging.

Inspect Storage Tanks: Check for leaks, algae growth, and sediment buildup. Clean tanks annually.

Monitor Water Quality: Test for contaminants if using rainwater for drinking.

Maintain First Flush Systems: Ensure they are functioning correctly to avoid contamination.

Protect Tanks from Mosquitoes: Use fine mesh screens on tank inlets.

Conclusion

Rainwater harvesting is a simple yet powerful way to conserve water, reduce utility bills, and promote sustainability. Whether you opt for a basic rooftop system or a more advanced underground setup, the benefits are undeniable. With proper installation and maintenance, a rainwater harvesting system can provide a reliable water source for years to come.

By adopting this eco-friendly practice, we contribute to water security, environmental protection, and a more sustainable future. Start small—even a single barrel can make a difference—and gradually expand your system as needed. Every drop counts!

Would you consider installing a rainwater harvesting system at your home and Industries? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Visit for more info:

Rainwater harvesting in Delhi

Water Recharge system

[len1nb]

Journal 3- Six Miles Cypress Slough

My learning experience from our field trip was cool and unique. I learned that our environment is not only important for the wildlife but for us humans as well. The video shows how important it is for humans to go out and see nature such as animals, the environment itself and learn about it and the effects it has on our environment in a sustainable matter. Not many people in this world get to see how beautiful the world is outside of a TV/video, so going out themselves to witness and experience the animals, nature, etc. is an experience that shouldn’t be taken for granted.

Six Miles Cypress Slough has some nice spots to see first was the interpretive center. Section one consisted of three spots which are the six mile cypress slough interpretive center, young cypress swamp and gator lake shelter. Starting off with the first, the interpretive center. It is a green building and it has achieved LEED Silver Certification. The center’s construction incorporated a number of green initiatives that helped achieve Silver Certification. The building is located on old roadbed. Boardwalk around the center is made of reclaimed wood such as shipping pallets and recycled plastic. Rainwater is collected in cisterns and used in facility’s toilets. The young cypress swamp is a slough it is 11 miles long and 1/3 miles wide. The cypress trees are adapted to survive flooded conditions for a long time. The wide base of the tree is buttressing. The amount of water underneath the boardwalk depends on wet or dry season. The Gator lake shelter is man-made lake. It was created when its limestone was mined to build the foundation for the road. Even during dry season the lake retains water, that attract alligators and other wildlife creatures.

The 2nd section consisted of the shortcut intersection and wood duck pond. Starting off with the shortcut intersection. It is where cypress trees become dominant and the laurel oaks where those tolerate wetter soils than pines. The elevation drops further and the area is an ecotone. That is wear you can see air plants that look like pineapple tops, they are considered cousins. Air plants are epiphytes but parasites. The wood duck pond has 2 other trees species which are pond apple and pop ash are both native tree species that are adapted to growing in flooded swamp soils. Those trees are deciduous. Those trees help ring ponds create important nesting habitat for wading bird populations. The water that flows beneath the trees protects eggs and nesting from many creatures that would otherwise prey them. Fishes are often seen in that pond.

The 3rd section consisted of shelter and the otter pond. The shelter is where the slough drains a 33-square mile watershed and during the wet season holds 2-3 feet deep. That means the slough is important for water storage and flood protection. The wetlands are important for aquifer recharge. The slough is important for water purification since the plants that grow help slow the water down which helps the water that leaves the slough make it cleaner than the water that came in previously. The otter pond is where otters are often seen. They prefer fresh water and live in burrows that they often dig themselves in. The rainwater percolates down the limestone aquifers, fire can create ponds and the alligators maintain ponds.

The 4th section consisted of another shelter and pop ash pond. This shelter consists of a thick understory of vegetation which is higher level of elevation which means it is flooded for shorter periods of time. That helps plants grow easily. Resurrection ferns grow on the upper surface of branches of the trees that grow on swamps. Splotches are seen on the trees which are blood lichen. The pop ash pond is a good place to look for flowing water. You can see rare Florida rapids. Cypress knees are sticking up out of the water. It helps with giving stability in the soft shifting soils of the flooded swamp. The knees are extensions of the trees’ underground root systems.

The significance of the preservation of the slough of the region is important because it has a big impact through its environment, the nature itself, living organisms and the animals. The threats can be pollution, development of cities, climate change, invasive species, drainage and water diversion.

This trip helps with understanding sense of place, ecological imprint and sustainability because they all go hand to hand with each other. This is sense of place not only for us humans but the environment itself because this is where there connections are stored. This place helps with sustainability for both nature and animals and keeping it away from it threats will help it be sustainable for as long as it can be. As long as it avoids the threats that can’t be controlled. At the end lf the day its up to us as people to find with that sustainability.

The trip connects to sdg 14 “life below water” and sdg 15 “life on land” because the life below water are animals like fishes, otters, gators, plants and other living organisms and it is important for us not to damage their sense of place because it has an impact to where they live and spend there time. The life of land is us people and trees, plants, etc. making sure we are doing the right things to keep the environment clean and sustainable for as long as possible.

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Expert Septic Tank Installer Services in Alberta | Strathcona Excavating

Strathcona Excavating offers expert septic tank installer services in Edmonton, Sherwood Park, and Strathcona County, Alberta. We ensure timely resolution of cistern or septic tank emergencies with 24/7 availability. Proper maintenance extends septic system lifespan up to 40 years, while cisterns require annual upkeep. Concrete tanks boast durability and longevity, needing less maintenance and resisting environmental damage. In contrast, plastic tanks are prone to damage and require more frequent maintenance. Signs of septic tank issues include water pooling, slow drainage, and foul odors. Our emergency repair services cover sewer and water line repair, sump pump replacements, and more. Contact us at 780-416-9000 for assistance.

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Advanced Gutter Systems and Innovations

As technology and building materials continue to evolve, so do gutter systems. Advanced gutter solutions and innovations offer improved performance, efficiency, and ease of maintenance. Here are some of the latest advancements in gutter technology:

Seamless Gutters: Seamless gutters are custom-made from a single piece of material, reducing the number of joints and seams that can become potential leak points. This design minimizes the risk of leaks and provides a cleaner, more streamlined appearance. Seamless gutters are available in various materials, including aluminum, copper, and steel. For more information visit Canberra’s Guttering Experts.

Gutter Guards and Leaf Protection: Modern gutter guards are designed to keep debris out of gutters while allowing water to flow through. There are various types of gutter guards, including mesh screens, foam inserts, and surface tension systems. Gutter guards reduce the frequency of cleaning and help prevent clogs, making gutter maintenance more manageable.

Heated Gutters: In regions with cold climates, heated gutters can help prevent ice dams and snow buildup. These systems use heat cables installed along the gutter's length to keep water flowing and prevent freezing. Heated gutters can be particularly beneficial in areas prone to heavy snowfall and ice accumulation.

Rain Diverters: Rain diverters can be installed above windows or other vulnerable areas to redirect water flow and prevent water damage. These devices are useful for protecting areas that are prone to water intrusion and can be an effective addition to a comprehensive gutter system.

Integrated Water Management Systems: Some modern gutter systems incorporate integrated water management solutions, such as rain barrels or cisterns, to capture and reuse rainwater. These systems help reduce water waste and can be used for irrigation or other non-potable purposes.

Environmental Considerations and Sustainability

With growing awareness of environmental impact, many homeowners are seeking eco-friendly gutter solutions. Sustainable practices in gutter maintenance and installation can contribute to a more environmentally conscious approach to home care:

Recycled Materials: Many gutter systems are now made from recycled materials, such as recycled aluminum or plastic. Choosing gutters made from recycled content helps reduce the environmental impact and supports recycling efforts.

Rainwater Harvesting: Installing rain barrels or cisterns to capture and store rainwater can reduce water usage and support sustainable landscaping practices. Collected rainwater can be used for watering plants, reducing reliance on municipal water supplies.

Eco-Friendly Gutter Cleaning Products: When cleaning gutters, consider using environmentally friendly cleaning products that are biodegradable and non-toxic. These products are safer for both the environment and your landscaping.

Energy-Efficient Installations: Some gutter systems are designed to improve the overall energy efficiency of your home by managing water flow and reducing the risk of water damage. Properly functioning gutters can prevent issues such as basement flooding, which may require energy-intensive dehumidification.

The Future of Gutter Technology

As technology continues to advance, the future of gutter systems is likely to bring even more innovations and improvements. Here are some potential trends and developments to watch for:

Smart Gutter Systems: Emerging technologies are integrating smart sensors and monitoring systems into gutters to provide real-time data on water flow, potential clogs, and overall gutter health. These smart systems can alert homeowners to issues before they become significant problems and help with proactive maintenance.

Advanced Materials: Research into new materials may lead to gutters with enhanced durability, flexibility, and resistance to environmental factors. For example, new composite materials or coatings may offer improved performance and longer lifespans.

Modular Systems: Modular gutter systems that allow for easy customization and expansion may become more prevalent. These systems can be adapted to various home sizes and configurations, providing a flexible solution for different gutter needs.

Integration with Home Automation: Future gutter systems may integrate with home automation systems to provide seamless control and monitoring. Homeowners could manage gutter functions, such as heating or water capture, through smart home platforms.

Choosing a Gutter Professional

If you decide to hire a professional for gutter repairs or installation, selecting the right contractor is crucial. Here are some tips for choosing a reputable gutter professional:

Research and Recommendations: Start by researching local gutter contractors and seeking recommendations from friends, family, or neighbors. Online reviews and ratings can also provide insight into the contractor’s reputation and reliability.

Verify Credentials: Ensure that the contractor is licensed, insured, and bonded. Proper credentials indicate that the contractor meets industry standards and is financially responsible in case of accidents or damage.

Request Multiple Quotes: Obtain quotes from several contractors to compare pricing and services. A detailed written estimate should include the scope of work, materials used, and a timeline for completion.

Check References: Ask the contractor for references from previous clients and follow up to inquire about their experience. Positive feedback from past customers can provide reassurance of the contractor’s quality of work.

Review Contracts: Carefully review the contract before signing to ensure that all terms and conditions are clearly outlined. Pay attention to warranties, payment terms, and any additional costs that may arise.

Conclusion

Gutter repairs and maintenance are essential for protecting your home from water damage and ensuring its longevity. By understanding common gutter problems, exploring advanced technologies, and adopting sustainable practices, homeowners can make informed decisions about their gutter systems. Whether handling repairs yourself or hiring a professional, staying proactive with gutter care will help prevent issues and safeguard your property.

As technology continues to advance, the future of gutter systems promises exciting innovations that can enhance performance and efficiency. By staying informed and embracing new developments, you can ensure that your gutters continue to function effectively and contribute to the overall health of your home.

Contact Us Guttering Canberra Marketed on behalf of ReACT Roofing Giralang, ACT 2617 Australia Phone: (02) 6147 2609 Email: sales@gutteringcanberra.com.au

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Designer Toilet Seats: Adding Flair to Your Bathroom Décor

In the world of interior design, every aspect of a room contributes to its overall aesthetic. This includes often-overlooked elements like the toilet seat, which, when chosen thoughtfully, can elevate the entire look of a bathroom. Designer toilet seats are becoming increasingly popular for their ability to add flair and personality to bathroom decor. In this blog post, we will delve into the world of designer toilet seats, exploring their features, benefits, and how they can enhance your bathroom's style.

Understanding Designer Toilet Seats

Designer toilet seats are crafted with both aesthetics and functionality in mind. They are available in a wide range of styles, colors, and materials, allowing homeowners to select a seat that complements their bathroom decor. Whether you prefer a sleek, modern look or a more classic, ornate design, there is a designer toilet seat to suit every taste.

Features and Benefits of Designer Toilet Seats

Materials: Designer toilet seats are typically made from high-quality materials such as wood, plastic, or ceramic. These materials are chosen for their durability, comfort, and aesthetic appeal.

Colors and Patterns: Designer toilet seats come in an array of colors and patterns, from bold and vibrant to subtle and understated. This variety allows you to add a pop of color or a touch of elegance to your bathroom.

Shapes and Sizes: Designer toilet seats are available in different shapes and sizes to fit various toilet models, including round, elongated, and D-shaped seats. This ensures a perfect fit for your toilet, enhancing both comfort and aesthetics.

Incorporating Designer Toilet Seats into Different Bathroom Types

Designer toilet seats can be incorporated into various types of toilets, including European Water Closets (EWCs), One Piece Closets, Wall Hung Closets, and traditional western toilets. They add a touch of luxury and elegance to any toilet, regardless of its design. When looking for a sophisticated upgrade, consider Oryn provides designer toilet seats for a blend of style and comfort.

European Water Closets (EWCs): EWCs are a type of toilet commonly found in Europe and are becoming more popular worldwide. They typically feature a sleek, modern design with a tank that is hidden within the wall or integrated into the toilet bowl. EWCs are known for their water-saving features and are often favored for their contemporary look and efficient use of space.

One Piece Closets: One Piece Closets are toilets where the tank and bowl are fused into a single, seamless unit. This design not only gives the toilet a sleek and modern appearance but also makes it easier to clean and maintain. One Piece Closets are known for their durability and can add a touch of elegance to any bathroom.

Wall Hung Closets: Wall Hung Closets, also known as wall-mounted toilets, are mounted directly to the wall, with the tank hidden behind the wall. This design creates a clean, minimalist look and can make the bathroom appear larger by freeing up floor space. Wall Hung Closets are popular in modern and contemporary bathrooms for their sleek appearance and space-saving benefits.

Traditional Western Toilets: Traditional Western Toilets are the most common type of toilet found in homes and public restrooms in Western countries. They consist of a bowl and a separate cistern or tank that holds water for flushing. While they may not have the same modern appeal as EWCs or Wall Hung Closets, traditional Western Toilets are known for their durability, reliability, and ease of maintenance.

Conclusion

Enhance your bathroom's appeal with designer toilet seats from Oryn Bath Store. These seats offer a simple yet effective way to add flair and style to your space. With a wide range of styles and designs they can complement any bathroom decor, making it more inviting and stylish. Whether you're aiming for a sleek, modern look or a classic, elegant space, Oryn Bathstore toilet seats can help you achieve your desired ambiance.

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Drinking Water Supply — leenus India

The drinking water distribution system is a complex network of pipes and storage tanks that brings clean water to homes and businesses. It is also the pathway for contaminants to enter the system.

A variety of sources, from aging infrastructure to natural disasters, can cause drinking water distribution systems to fail. This can result in contamination of the public drinking water supply with pathogens or other hazardous substances such as lead.

A few recommendations for reducing risk in these systems in order to provide safe drinking water for all areas. These recommendations include:

Monitoring and testing of source waters.

Protection against contamination during distribution.

Regular inspection and maintenance of pipes, pumps, valves, and storage tanks.

WATER STORAGE CONTAINERS FOR KITCHEN:

In the heart of every home, the kitchen serves as a hub for culinary creativity and daily sustenance. Having adequate water storage in the kitchen is essential for cooking, drinking, and cleaning. Traditional bulky containers can take up valuable space, but modern designs offer compact solutions without compromising on capacity or convenience.

Compact countertop water storage containers are ideal for kitchens with limited space. These sleek and stylish containers come in various sizes to suit different household needs. Equipped with easy-fill spouts and ergonomic handles, they make it effortless to access and use water while cooking or preparing beverages.

Under-the-sink water storage systems provide discreet storage solutions, utilizing the often-underutilized space beneath kitchen sinks. These systems come with built-in filtration options to ensure the purity of stored water, making them perfect for drinking and cooking purposes. With their space-saving design and efficient functionality, under-the-sink containers are a popular choice for modern kitchens.

WATER STORAGE CONTAINERS FOR HOME:

Beyond the kitchen, adequate water storage is essential for various household activities, including bathing, laundry, and gardening. Homeowners rely on robust storage solutions to ensure a steady supply of water for daily needs. From above-ground tanks to underground cisterns, there are numerous options available to meet different storage requirements.

Above-ground water storage tanks are a common sight in many homes, providing a visible and accessible solution for storing large volumes of water. These tanks come in various materials, including plastic, fiberglass, and steel, offering durability and longevity. With proper installation and maintenance, above-ground tanks can provide reliable water storage for years to come.

For homeowners seeking discreet storage options, underground cisterns offer an excellent solution. Buried beneath the ground, these tanks are protected from the elements and maintain a consistent temperature, ensuring the quality of stored water. Underground cisterns are ideal for properties where space is limited or aesthetics are a concern, providing a hidden yet efficient water storage solution.

read more: https://www.leenusindia.com/drinking-water-distribution-system/