It’s very important you all pay attention to what I’m about to say. I wish to call your attention to a group that’s been causing us a lot of trouble; The Fake AH Crew. At this point we can safely say they are powered individuals, part of a… not a different species, they’re still human. They’re like another race, but it’s not the colour of their skin or the shape and placement of their features that make them different. It’s their abilities.
They call them Manipulators, people capable of ‘manipulating’ their environment, hence the name of course. They’re not common, but where there’s one, there’s normally a few, crowding in an area like rats. The Government dislikes their existence due to the majority refusal of Manipulators to fight in America’s wars, however, the many attempts to assassinate or capture these individuals has led only to pain or death to those sent to get them. Basically the government stopped trying. No longer being hunted by the government, Manipulators have begun living normal lives, most of them anyways; of course some went down the hero root. Others didn’t. Everyone knows being a hero doesn’t pay. A life of crime, however, can. The Fake AH Crew isn’t the only one of it’s kind but it’s certainly one of the more well known. They rule an entire city for god’s sake. That being said, it‘s not easy. To use a manipulation takes a great amount of focus and energy; it’s not like riding a bike, that you never forget or it gets easier. You can practice and practice until you’ve worn your body down to nothing, but the weight of using the gift never gets any easier. The Fake AH crew know this. They don’t win every fight, they can’t afford someone passing out because they exerted too much energy, so it’s rare to see any of the crew use their manipulations.
As someone expressed an interest in how I made the shelf in Little Prince’s vivarium I thought i’d share the process :)
A shelf is an excellent way of increasing the ‘floor’ space of a vivarium by making use of the wasted upper space. Most snakes like to hide in places that are off the ground as well as having a climbing opportunity. This is one way to build a removable shelf for small snake (i.e corn snake). Being removable makes it easier to clean or change things round. For a larger/heavier snake or a bigger shelf then I recommend a different, more substantial construction rather than this one.
This is a photo of a finished (upside down) shelf and two rails ready to be added to the viv. The shelf and rails have interlocking L shapes by glueing on smaller square dowels. A supporting leg is glued on the front corner, if the shelf is long, another leg can be added midway along. For added interest for the snake, I’ve cut a climb through hole in the corner.
I’ve drilled a series of small holes along the shelf. These are done so that hides and other things can be secured to the shelf so the snake can’t push them off and hurt themselves or break the glass of the vivarium etc. Additionally tubes and other things can be attached to the underside of the shelf to create extra exploring fun. (The one downside of the holes is that if the snake poops on the shelf, it can get in the holes so make sure to have some pipe cleaners on hand to clean them out!)
Paint/ seal the wood. Measure the height of the rails and secure them to the sides of the viv with strong glue or nails/screws. It’s a good idea to seal the gap between the rail and viv with hot glue so if the snake poops on the shelf it can’t run down behind the rail where you can’t clean it.
Drop the shelf in and done!
Close up and diagram showing how the L shapes hold the shelf in place. There must be at least two rails, one on the back wall and one on the side wall, to hold the shelf in place.
Viv with finished shelf installed :D
*Take care when using tools etc, particularly power tools. *Make sure the wood and other things used in the construction are strong enough and won’t splinter, bend, snap or break with the weight of the hides and a snake lumping about on it. *Some woods are toxic to snakes (the oil in pine wood is harmful and dust from chipboard is harmful to humans so safe to assume it’s not good for snake either). Some glues also contain chemicals that are present after it dry to preserve it. Make sure to coat or seal the wood/glue with non toxic paint or sealant. *All edges/ corners should be smoothed with some sandpaper and if using screws or nails, make sure there are no protruding sharp edges or points the snake can hurt itself on.
Materials & tools- Wood (piece for shelf, piece for rails and leg, piece of square dowel for edges) Strong wood glue/ hot glue gun Non toxic paint (i.e acrylic) or sealant Paint brush Hand saw or jigsaw Vice Drill (hand or electric) Sandpaper Nails/ screws/ hammer/ screwdriver Ruler Pencil
pipeyna | mermaid au | wip; somebody beg me to finish this it’s too good to just let go
It’s quiet in her father’s kingdom.
Piper doesn’t like it one bit, because she’s certain that the citizens in the kingdom are going about their daily lives as usual, and are only quiet around her because they’re busy gawking and gaping and whispering behind her back. Not that she blames them, really, because it’s her own damn fault and she knows it, but no matter whose fault it is, it’s still uncomfortable.
This is it, I thought as I looked at my gauze wrapped forearm, I looked around my living room one last time, noticing the boarded up windows, the door to the garage, the T.V barricading the door, and the keys on the scuffed coffee table in front of me. I’m gonna miss all of this.
I grabbed the keys, stood up, and made my way to the garage door. I looked in on my baby, a Cherry red 1972 split bumper camaro. I slowly walked over to the car and slowly unlocked the car door.
I’m gonna miss you, I thought.
I eased into the car and closed the door, savoring the solid sound it made. Outside the garage door, they stirred. I put the key in and started to turn the key when an agonizing pain in my arm took my breath away. I gritted my teeth and looked down. I saw that the infection had started to spread up my arm turning my veins a blackish color and taking all the color from my skin. I looked forward again and turned the key, ignoring the pain.
The 450 cubic inch big block roared to life, which sent those outside into a wild stir. I duly noted the banging and moans coming from the garage door as I hit the auto garage door opener.
Here’s hoping those additions I made will get them out of the way.
As the garage door opened I saw legs hanging from it. Thank god for those Mad Max inspired metal spikes. I floored it, leaving two wide black lines on the garage pavement as I fishtailed it out. The Undead were surprisingly not that thick, leaving me a decent gap allowing me to get onto the road.
I hit the clutch and shifted gears, ignoring the painful infection in my arm as it slowly crept its way farther along my arm. As I drove I noticed many abandoned cars, burnt out husks of homes, even an M1A1 Abram’s with the top hatch open.
“Poor bastards” I mumbled.
As I left the little neighborhood I used to live in, I got on a road that I knew had what I was looking for at the end. I sped up and looked down at the speedometer, I was pushing 200 MPH. I passed by a gas station with a Tanker out front with the trailer on fire. Farther on I heard a massive explosion and looked in the rear-view mirror to see a mushroom cloud of black smoke and fire rising towards the heavens.
I looked to my right and noticed that the infection had spread to my shoulder. I slowed down to about 50 to take a turn onto a cliff-side road, leaving black marks on the road as I drifted around the corner. I quickly sped up again as I saw what I was looking for, which so happened to be a big tear in the guard rail caused by a big rig with a very unfortunate driver.
On the other side? Nothing but a cliff side full of jagged rocks. I patted the dash of the car.
“I’m sorry old girl, but this is what I have to do.”
I looked in the mirror and saw that black veins were protruding on my face now. I pegged the accelerator to the floor and hit the gap in the guard rail going about 225 MPH. The last thing I saw in this world before the infection took over and I blacked out is the loud purr of the car and the jagged rocks of the cliff side quickly approaching.
Title: The Incident With The Helium Balloon
Genre: Humour, Romance, Fluff
Word Count: 826
Pairings or Characters: The Doctor (12th), Clara Oswald
Notes: This is harmless fun and written for a prompt on otpprompts on Tumblr! I love helium haha!
Summary: Who knew a helium balloon could have such an effect on a grouchy Time Lord and his companion!
Disclaimer: I don’t own Doctor Who. All belongs to the BBC!
“Clara I don’t sound like that.” cried the Doctor as he waved his hands; something he did when he wasn’t best pleased with something. Clara grinned, a medium sized pink balloon pinched between her fingers.
“Clara I don’t sound like that.” she imitated, trying her best not to laugh as she pulled off her best Scottish accent. Of course she wasn’t just imitating him in her normal voice.
No her voice was changed on the influence of helium that was in said pink balloon that was pinched between her fingers. The Doctor sent her a halfhearted glare, the corners of his lips twitching upwards completely betraying him as he moved around the console, pressing numerous buttons and pulling levers hoping that the sound of the engines and rotor would drown out the awful noise she was creating.
“You are hilarious.” he said refusing to look at his small travelling companion who was now giggling. It took everything he had not to smile, but it was awfully hard. She sounded terrible but he could hear that it was starting to wear off just a little now.
He glanced at the balloon, hoping he was being discreet by only moving his eyes but Clara was clever. After all she had worked with children. She could spot those shifty eye movements from a mile off.
He had to get the balloon off of her before she drove him mad, with her god awful imitations of him. How humiliating. He slowly turned on his heel, his fingers of his right hand trailing around the rim of the console as he strode around towards her, head bowed and lips quirked into a small smile.
Clara noticed the change in body language and of course the fact that he was moving towards her. She stepped backwards, now holding the balloon behind her back, a nervous smile on her face.
“Doctor what are you doing?”
“Walking? Wasn’t that obvious?”
Clara bit her lip to stop the nervous laugh that was clawing at her throat from coming out. She knew what he’d do if he got his hands on her helium filled pink balloon. The Doctor advanced slowly, his eyes never raising, always trained on the floor before him.
He was actually watching Clara’s feet to see where abouts she was moving to as he moved himself around the console. He had to get that damned balloon!
“You can’t have my balloon.” she said, her voice taking on a rather petulant tone. The Doctor raised his head to that, his eyebrows raising as he watched a heavy red blush appearing in her cheeks.
“I’m sorry? Since when was I travelling with a child?” he asked, stopping in his tracks a grin appearing on his face. Clara looked like a fish floundering on land, just flopping in the sand. Brilliant.
“Excuse me but I could ask you the same, hence the reason why this balloon is here in the first place Mr I’m-going-to-act-like-I’m-five!”
His grin never wavered as he closed the gap, Clara near the railings. He swallowed at the current position. He peered down at her, revelling in the fact she was flustered by the closeness. He’d never let on that he was in fact in the same dilemma.
“Give me the balloon.”
“No, not a chance.” she bit back, a grin of her own appearing, as she willed herself not to laugh. This is what she’d hoped would happen. That she could bring something out in her grouchy Time Lord. He’d been a terrible pain today and this was certainly what it felt like to win.
“Fine.” he huffed, stepping back. He watched silently, holding his breath as she relaxed just a little bit and-
“Ouch! Doctor what the hell?!” Clara cried with a laugh as the tall gangly Time Lord lunged at her, ripping the balloon from between her fingers, sealing the bottom as not to waste to much of the contents inside.
“Teach you not to take the bloody piss out of me won’t it?” The Doctor remarked with a smirk. Clara giggled crossing her arms over her chest as she watched him turn his back, obviously about to inhale some of the helium.
She’d got this. He’d never be able to successfully imitate her- damn…
“Please don’t,” she started swallowing down her giggles with great difficulty, reaching out her hands desperately, her cheeks hurting from grinning so much. “I’ll… I’ll never travel with you again!”
An empty threat. Of course she’d always come back and travel with him. He turned around. Oh that was a rather devious smile.
“I’m Clara and I’m full of empty threats!”
“Oh my god! Doctor I don’t sound like that!”
“You so do!”
“Piss off…” she grumbled, shoving him playfully before joining in the fun again. This is how she liked the Doctor; carefree and happy, with that cheeky smile and devious nature.
“You know, if you’d told me,” the Doctor says – softly, wonderingly, a bit like he’s asking the universe a question– “say, five hundred years ago, that this was where I’d end up, I’d never have believed you.”
Every room in the flat is full of boxes.
Rose has to pick her way through them very carefully as she makes her way back out to the kitchen. Her hair is still damp from the shower, and the lingering warmth of the water makes her skip across the cold wooden floors and through the cardboard labyrinth as quickly as possible. The boxes, some of which are very precariously stacked, and all of which are labeled in one scrawly hand or another – her large, loopy letters, or the Doctor’s odd amalgamation of angular English printing and delicate, circular Gallifreyan – seem far too numerous. Rose still can’t quite wrap her mind around how many things she’s acquired in the last few years, especially as she’d been trying rather hard not to.
The Doctor himself is where Rose left him – out on the balcony, which is the only place left in the flat where there are no boxes to clutter the floor. He’s stuck his legs through the gaps between the balcony railings, bare feet dangling in the air seventeen stories up.