#and they set an appointment to call me to reset the system so that it's entirely under my name

[loremonster]

Sorry About That, Technical Difficulties...

HOLY FUCK I'M ALIVE!

Sorry for the abcense folks. Long story short; my phone out and out died when I really needed it to make a mental health appointment, and hubby has head off to his next deployment. I take weeks to recover from unexpected upheavals, and those two getting stacked sorta put me in hibernation mode for a couple months.

Longer version;

Had a telehealth appointment with my meds manager. I remembered it, I planned my day around it, I'm on the web site and logged into the portal and ready to go 10 min early... for my phone to go black screened with no indicator lights when plugged in, and no response to forced restart buttons. It's hot to the touch so I legit stuck it in the fridge, and went to plan B to try and make my appointment- hop onto my laptop and join the video call that way.

My internet had gone out. I had to reset the router while getting progressively more panicked about being late because My Phone Is Dead so I can't call the clinic to tell them what happened and they can't call me to find out.

Thankfully, that is when hubby arrived home with some lunch. I was able to use his phone to call the clinic and tell them what was up, rescheduel my appointment, and attend that appointment to secure my next few months of refills.

My old phone was fully bricked. It cooled down, but plugging it in got nothing. Running down the battery to dead and then plugging it in did nothing. So hubby looked up what was on offer and ordered the new one I am using now, and it arrived a week later.

I really like the new phone. It's got a stylus! So I can art on the go even when I forget the trapper keeper with my traditional supplies in it :D

However, because I'm a paranoid bitch who refuses to make use of cloud systems because why wouldn't they copy every bit that runs through them? So I've been manually logging back into apps as I remember which of my six email addresses was associated with them 🤣 legit it took me until today to remember I made a new email for this specific Tumblr account so my notifs wouldn't set off my Professional Writer e-mail's notifications.

Today I just wanted to let folks know I'm Not Dead, tomorrow I'll answer asks that have been recieved while I was MIA. 💚

Big love to everyone, hope y'all are well

-Lore

[camilla-obscura]

i hate my shitty ass hospital im trying to schedule a covid vaccine but i forgot my password and theres a glitch in the system that prevents me from getting it reset online. no problem ill just call in except theres a glitch in the system that prevents me from changing the password by phone. so i have to wait three to five business days for a temporary password to be MAILED TO ME. in the MAIL. meanwhile i figure while im here on the phone i might as well get my covid vaccination set up. so i get put on hold and transferred to a different department only to discover (get this) there's a GLITCH. in the SYSTEM NO LESS. and theres no way to schedule a shot for that day because the entire day is apparently unavailable despite the fact that my roommate has an appointment scheduled for ten minutes earlier. so he, paragon of virtue that he is, says hey why dont we just cancel my appointment and replace it with yours, i can get mine later. so he gets his appointment removed but the GLITCH IN THE SYSTEM is STILL THERE and now NEITHER of us have vaccination appointments for that day. reblog this post if you love mens tits or hate the american healthcare system

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

.

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of jake/amy dealing mac and maya having sleepless nights

(this ran away from me a little towards the end there because much like Jake in the last few HCs, I'm pretty sleep-deprived at the moment and my brain is just shooting random sparks)

- if it's just the typical "baby/toddler does not have a sleep schedule yet and needs to be attended to" they're pretty good at trading it off, so that neither of them gets extremely sleep-deprived. Amy also has a schedule (obvs) of who has which major appointments / work stuff the next days so they get more sleep during those nights while the other one is on baby duty

- after Mac's first major illness that caused him to cry through the night Jake put wheels on the crib to move it into the living room, so one of them can sleep on the amazingly soft fold-out couch they got years before, without waking the other one in the bedroom up constantly

- it turns out to be a great system and a great purchase on the couch, because both Mac and Maya always end up as insomniacs when they get sick. So there's a loooot of quiet late night tv for Jake while he cuddles and sways a sick toddler or even two, because Amy usually wins out in the 'needs to sleep for her job' department as a Sergeant (she makes up for it by taking the kids out for daytrips once she has time off again so Jake can sleep all day. 50% of the time he wants to tag along on their fun day so badly it doesn't work out the way she planned though)

- Mac has a phase when he's around 4 where he's afraid of everything, especially at night, and has a lot of nightmares. At some point he refuses to go to bed at all because he's scared of bad dreams. And since he and Maya share a room, it's pretty hard to get his little sister to sleep as well when he's up and complaining.

- the only solution they find to that dilemma is taking Mac in with them in their big bed, because he sleeps better / has less nightmares with Mama and Daddy nearby to cuddle. But that in turn makes Maya jealous so she obviously has to join them as well. So the end of the story is: Mac and Maya starfish in Mama and Daddy's bed for several weeks while Mama and Daddy almost fall out the sides of it and seriously consider just moving to the couch when the kids are asleep

- (they try that once, but when Mac wakes up in the big bed basically 'alone' cause he can't see Maya in the dark, all hell breaks loose and they go back to square 1 in terms of getting rid of his nightmares)

- one time when Amy is gone for a week for a special seminar out of state, Maya gets a bad case of mama-sickness (basically being homesick for Mama) while Mac gets actually sick, and Jake doesn't sleep for about 3 days straight, but refuses to tell Amy about it even as she facetimes them daily, because he knows she'll quit the seminar early and she was so, so excited to go there. Holt and Kevin offer to take Mac (who's already well again) and Maya for friday afternoon+night before Amy gets back on sunday, so Jake can at least rest before the weekend and reset their apartment, honestly. And he was supposed to just drop the kids off and put their bags in the Holt-Cozner guest bedroom that's been half-turned into a kids room anyway, but the large bed they share in there looked so comfy and he only wanted to sit down for a minute and catch his breath and... when Holt and Kevin come back with Mac+Maya after the initial run through the garden to say hi to Cheddar, they find him fast asleep and snoring.

- Kevin shoos the kids back out into the garden before they can wake him up, and Holt adds another plate to the dinner table setting 4 hours later when he finally comes out of the guest room looking like he's just defrosted from some ice age 'what year is it?!?!?' moment.

- When Jake gets back home to their apartment after that dinner, all alone after waving byebye to Mac and Maya like 5 minutes too long, the place has never felt more empty and wrong. He genuinely considers calling Holt and asking if he can come back or pick up the kids again or... but he knows he'll just get reprimanded, Captain Dad stylez, so he facetimes Amy instead after his night shower and falls asleep listening to her talk about the seminar

[duchess-of-mandalore]

Feelings I Can’t Fight - Obitine Week 2020: Day 1 (Envy)

"Envy's not a good look on you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan has peace in the Force, a purpose with the Jedi, and a padawan to train. But when he gets news that leaves him in a tailspin, he's unable (or unwilling) to control the torrent of emotions he's never felt before. Instead of releasing it to the Force, he finds himself breaking into the Jedi Temple's communication center . . . desperate to make sense of the news regarding the one person who could make him question the path he chose long ago.

Or rather ... an exploration of Obi-Wan having emotions for Satine that are as turbulent as Anakin’s for Padme.

(Also available on Ao3)

Coruscant never slept. The setting sun bathed the streets in an eerie red glow, but the denizens of the city still swarmed through the streets, which were as busy now as during the work day. Obi-Wan narrowly avoided colliding with a woman racing across his path, then had to sidestep a merchant's cart to avoid having his foot run over. His heart pounded, and he heard his master's voice in his head, reminding him that this reaction was rather unbecoming of a Jedi, especially one who was a knight and had a padawan of his own. But it made no difference; his mind swarmed like the crowds in front of him, and Obi-Wan didn't know how to calm himself. He didn't know if he wanted to.

"Master Obi-Wan, you're walking very fast!"

He barely heard Anakin's voice over the buzz of the city, but it arrested him on the spot. He stopped and turned, searching for his padawan. It took a second, but then he saw a flash of blond hair and a bouncing braid ducking between a Coruscanti couple dressed for the opera. Anakin was growing again; he was lithe and spindly, but still small for his age, and Obi-Wan blushed as he realized Anakin probably had to take two steps for every one he had made.

Anakin was breathing heavily, but he didn't seem too put out. "I lost you a couple times, but I felt for you with the Force and found you again!"

The blush became a rush of shame. How long had it slipped his mind that his padawan was with him on this trip through the city? He knew the answer, even if he was loathe to admit it to himself.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "My mind was on other things. We'll slow down."

"It feels like your mind is on many things," Anakin said, starring up at him. Obi-Wan looked back towards the setting sun, unwilling to let the prescient boy look in his eyes lest he know every secret churning inside him. Obi-Wan had just started teaching his pupil to reach out with his mind in order to ascertain the emotions of others. Like so many other things, the skill had come almost naturally to Anakin Skywalker. Now Obi-Wan regretted teaching him.

"Actually, your mind's only on one thing," Anakin intoned. "But the thoughts are so jumbled and messy!"

Definitely regretted it.

Obi-Wan slammed a mental barrier in place to keep his padawan out of his head, but he managed a pinched smile as he looked down at the boy. "Now you're just showing off."

Anakin smiled smugly, then turned to take in an opulent and colorful crimson lighting display that flickered in the dimming light and pointed the way to one of the . . . seedier neighborhoods in the district. Obi-Wan didn't particularly want his padawan to garner a curiosity for what went on down that narrow road, but for now, he was relieved that Anakin's mind was off of him and his own turbulent thoughts.

"Why did you get so upset before?"

Obi-Wan stiffened. "I didn't get upset."

"Not on the outside. But I could tell."

This child was going to be the death of him.

"Just for a second, your feelings were . . . ugly."

"Ugly?"

"Yeah, it felt like when Watto would lose while betting on the pod-races, and he knew that he wasn't getting what he wanted."

Obi-Wan picked up the pace again. Anakin could run behind him if he wanted.

"They were only ugly for a second, Master," Anakin continued. "Then they were just . . . really messy. Like my workbench when I'd work on 3PO."

How could the child sense so much but not sense that he didn't want to talk about it?

"Was it because of the angel on the viewscreen in the plaza?"

"What?"

"The angel. With the blond hair and the crown on her head."

Obi-Wan bit his lip. "She's not an angel, Anakin."

"But it is about her?"

"Anakin."

There must have been just enough of an edge in Obi-Wan's voice that his padawan fell silent.

Infinitely long shadows gave way to darkness just as they made it back to the Jedi Temple. Making their way up the front steps, Obi-Wan bade Anakin head for the padawan dormitories and get ready for bed. They had an early training session the next morning, and Obi-Wan reminded him as such, as Qui-Gon used to do with him.

Anakin raced ahead of him, swinging his arms as he took the stairs two at a time. He reached the top first and leaned against one of the pilons near the front door of the temple. He turned back to Obi-Wan, eyes alight with curiosity.

"Maybe you'll tell me about her when I'm older?"

For the second time that night, Anakin's voice stopped Obi-Wan in his tracks. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Master Windu and Master Ki-Adi-Mundi standing by one of the other pilons, looking out over the courtyard. He didn't want to risk them overhearing, so he lowered his voice and said, "When you're older, padawan."

Anakin scampered off with a smile on his face, not knowing that Obi-Wan fully intended that he would never know about that. No one would.

Obi-Wan looked to his right and found Master Windu's eyes on him. He gave a polite bow, but his heart pounded as he considered whether the experienced Jedi could read his emotions as deftly as Anakin had.

He jogged up the remaining stairs, heading for the knights' quarters. Obi-Wan passed several other knights, convinced they, too, could hear his heart beating as loudly he could. This place of peace, with the tall ceilings and the great columns of unmovable stone, felt suffocating. His stomach churned and he contemplated ducking into the refresher on this level, but the nausea abated and he continued toward his room. He needed to meditate, he needed to find his center, he needed to get rid of the ugly that was still inside of him . . .

So why were his feet taking him up two stories and towards the communication center?

Obi-Wan was standing in front of the locked door before he even knew what was happening. At this time of night, the main communications wing would be empty. Only the emergency comm room – a smaller drain on resources – would be manned through the night. That didn't mean that the consoles couldn't be used if necessary. However, the room was off-limits to all but the Jedi masters and anyone who had the code to get in.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan had the code.

Two days before, Master Sifo-Dyas had asked him to stand in for him for a communication that required the entire counsel – or hand-picked representatives standing in for them – to be present. The code would be reset at the start of the coming week, but right now, it would still be active.

Obi-Wan Kenobi prided himself on the fact that the masters trusted him – a recently appointed Jedi knight – with such authority. He was certain the only reason they did is because he wasn't the kind of man to abuse that power.

But here he was, punching in the code that would cause the door to hiss open.

Like he suspected, the wing was deserted. He stepped inside and waved his arm behind him to close the door.  He opted not to turn on the lights. He remembered the layout well enough, and this seemed to be something better done in the dark.

Lies. Guilt. Secrets.

They all came in the dark.

Obi-Wan's stomach rebelled again, but he pushed it away. The ugly feeling inside him was almost welcome in comparison.

The Jedi knight moved to the holotable. The device powered on thanks to his proximity, bathing the room in a ghostly blue light.

Now he could see the keypad.

With shaking fingers, he put in the personal location combination. It was a miracle that he remembered it; he should have had no reason to.

He pressed enter and wanted to throw up.

The seconds stretched immeasurably.

What if she wasn't there? There would be no second shot at this.

No, it would be the middle of the night on Mandalore. For a moment, he felt guilty about waking her, but at least she would be there.

And yet.

What if he wasn't waking her?

What if she wasn't alone?

The ugliness inside Obi-Wan exploded.  It swelled until it threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't breathe, but he recognized the ugly for what it was.

Suspicion.

Jealousy.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Force.

"Obi-Wan?"

She was there.

And the ugly dissipated so quickly it nearly floored him.

Peace. Beauty. Tranquility.

"Obi-Wan?" Her voice was tinny from the broadcast, and he could hear the sleepy anxiety that always came from a late-night communication. "Is that you?"

"Satine?" He ignored the boyish crack his voice made and moved closer to the device so that it would pick up his image.

"Obi-Wan!"  He registered the moment that her eyes found him. He expected – hoped – she would be excited to see him. It had been so long.  "Is everything alright? Are we in any danger?"

The professional tone threw him for a loop, and Obi-Wan felt a fool.  Even in her flowing white nightdress, she looked so regal, so in command. In his haste . . . his folly . . . he'd forgotten that this wasn't his Satine. This was the Duchess of Mandalore, a woman who, in the last six years had become responsible for a system of billions. She had far more pressing matters than the one he'd felt compelled to call about.

Obi-Wan straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "No, your Highness, there's no danger. Nothing like that."

"Oh?" He swore he could see the hologram's eyebrow raise.

"No." He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how shabby he must look after a long day in the city. "In fact, this communication is not one of an official capacity."

She didn't say anything, but Obi-Wan could see her breathing.

"Duchess?"

"You saw the news report."

Obi-Wan held his breath. "Is it true?"

She looked ready to say something, but then the hologram rippled as Satine turned, clearly addressing someone in the room. "No, I'm fine, dear. I'll be right out."

She was with someone.

The knot in his stomach twisted into an angry blackhole that threatened to swallow him whole. No, not a blackhole. A supernova that would implode and devastate everything it could touch. Was this rage? He'd felt this once before, when he'd watched the red demon snuff the life from his beloved master. But he'd had a lightsaber, and he'd rendered justice. Now . . . his rage burned towards a faceless man, who had taken what he never could've had.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to shut the holotable down and run from the room.

"Obi?"

Her voice was an anchor, reminding him of his duty; the boundaries put in place long ago. The words rushed out. "Lady Kryze, I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your evening. This matter is certainly none of my business, and I'm very happy for you and your intended. I was calling to . . . to simply offer my congratulations."

"Are you done?"

Obi-Wan's brow wrinkled. "My lady?"

"There's no one here. I'm not getting married. You're a terrible liar, and envy's not a good look on you."

"I – you're," he stammered heavily, "what?"

She fisted her hands in her hair in frustration. "Ka'ra, you're as hopeless now as you were six years ago."

The insult brought his mind back into focus.

"I'm not the one getting married to the Duke of Taris."

"You're not getting married at all!"

He didn't have anything to say to that. Because that was the problem, wasn't it.

The silence stretched on until Satine said, softly, "I was speaking with my handmaiden. There have been some . . . threats, recently. She was checking that I was alright."

The simmering anger redirected itself towards her unknown assailants, and Obi-Wan jumped at the chance to offer something of value. "I could speak to the Council. They could send a protector."

Maybe it'd be him..

But it had the opposite effect, and Satine's face grew impassive. "I don't need a protector, Obi-Wan. We're handling the threat just fine on our own."

"Of course, your grace." He met her cordial tone, but Satine must have forgiven him the oversight, because she softened again. Qui-Gon had taught her to meditate to relative success, but her emotions had always been volatile, and his own – which he wanted to believe were more carefully controlled – tended to follow hers.

"Besides, how would you tell them I need a protector?" she teased. "You called my personal chambers . . . in the middle of the night . . . from a terminal in the Jedi Temple . . . on your own. I have to assume you didn't have permission to do that."

Obi-Wan flushed. The extent of his trespass registered with him, and he realized he'd have to sabotage the call log in order to keep the secret safe. The deception would continue.

"That doesn't sound like you, Master Jedi."

It wasn't. Except that . . .

He said nothing, but Satine seemed to read his thoughts.

"I'm not marrying the duke," she assured him, tucking her loose hair behind her ears; it was longer than it'd been before. "He's rich and powerful, but he's also spoiled and hopelessly ridiculous."

"But the news . . ."

"Rumors and hearsay! They're nothing but tabloids." She waved her hand in dismissal.  "I wouldn't put it past the duke to have spread them himself! They're all the same."

"All?"

"This isn't the first time I've had offers, Obi," she said. "Frankly, I'm surprised this is the first one you've heard of."

More burning in his gut. Force, give me peace. He realized just how stupid he was.

"Of course you have," he said, trying to attach a smile to his face. "Why wouldn't you? You're the Duchess of Mandalore, and I'm an idiot. Ni di'kut. Isn't that how you say it?"

"No, Ben, you're not that bad," Satine smiled. "Perhaps utreekov, but not di'kut."

He huffed and remembered that she had called him that numerous times during their year together. "That's hardly any better."

"It's a little better," she said, wrinkling her nose good-naturedly.

She did look like an angel, with her hair spilling over her shoulders and her white nightdress and the haloed effect of the holotable.

Beautiful. Peaceful. Serene.

And completely untouchable.

He ached to be with her, if only to hold her hand like they'd done in the evenings when Qui-Gon was away. But the physical distance mirrored the insurmountable gap between them, and though Obi-Wan's rage released into the Force, it was replaced by a sadness that, even now, he foresaw as his perpetual companion.

"Will you accept one of them?"

It was little more than a whisper as he stared down at her feet. He needed to know. Needed to hear it from her. Needed to make peace with it.  To crush the last lingering ray of hope that he now realized had been smoldering inside him for six years.

"Shouldn't I?"

Hope flared. His eyes snapped to hers.

The question could have been rhetorical but her own pointed expression confirmed it wasn't.

"Satine . . . I – I," he trailed off.  It was so tempting.

A lifetime of possibilities flashed in his eyes: arriving on Mandalore in civilian clothes and no vow save for the one he would make to her; supporting her in rebuilding her society and protecting her from those who would see it crumble; raising their children . . . a ginger-haired daughter and a blond-headed boy and . . .

Anakin.

She smiled sadly, always taking control was he was indecisive. "I sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

No, please ask!

"I saw you on the holonet with a little boy with a braid. That must be your padawan?"

He refused to wonder whether she was keeping tabs on him on the net or if she'd simply stumbled on the news story by accident.

"Yes. Master Qui-Gon handpicked him before . . ." he trailed off. "He asked me to train him."

"I miss him," she said, her voice forlorn and distant.

"As do I." In spite of himself, Obi-Wan reached out his hand toward the hologram. With little hesitation, Satine lifted her arm as well. The hologram rippled like waves in a pond as her tiny immaterial hand brushed his. Obi-Wan imagined the feel of her skin against his and refused to drop his arm.

"Anakin's very special, Satine," he said. "Qui-Gon believed he'll have an important role in this story."

The story. The grand story. The story foretold by the prophecies Qui-Gon believed so dearly.

"Then I'm certain he will."

A story much bigger than the two of them.

"I can't leave him, Satine."

"I know."

"I just wish . . ."

"Me too." There was no animosity in her voice, only resignation. Her eyes focused on where their hands still rested against one another, and then she lowered her arm. Obi-Wan felt the absence as if he were missing a limb.

"He will do great things, Obi-Wan. As will you. Master Qui-Gon would be proud." She smiled softly. "As am I."

"High praise from the one who has already done great things," he returned, hoping that his cordial words still conveyed the affection he'd never be able to offer.  The warmth of her smile convinced him that she knew.

He drank in the sight of her, knowing that he'd just have to forget again later.

"Jate'ca, Satine."

"Good-night, ner jetii. May the Force always be with you."

Her words echoed in his ears, and then the hologram flickered out of existence, leaving Obi-Wan in darkness save for the illumination of several backlit keypads.

Obi-Wan starred at the last place her image had rested. Into the Force, he released the envy he felt over her future – whatever, or whomever, that may include.  He recalled his mission as a Jedi, his duty toward Anakin, the purpose of his vow, and believed that it was enough.

"Good-bye, my duchess."

He returned to his quarters to meditate on the will of the Force.

[successfullyadhd]

Tip for Overcoming Phone Addiction

… temporarily, anyway. I am the WORST about spending hours on my phone, mindlessly scrolling through apps, even when I desperately need to be doing work, sleeping, chores, getting ready - honestly, I’m on my phone when I should be doing anything else. I tried so many tactics to focus but it feels a bit futile when a shiny new notification pops up every few minutes, begging for my attention. 

The best tool I’ve found for this is an app called Focus Lock. It completely locks away all apps and internet usage for a predetermined amount of time. You still have access to texts, phone calls, and you can send/receive email. (You cannot, however, open any internet links in an email). After the specified time, all of your apps and internet access returns. Even better, there is no getting out of it - even if you restart your phone, it doesn’t reset the app. (Don’t worry, there is a way to delete the app from your settings screen, in case of a serious internet/app emergency.) What better way to make sure you get 8 hours of rest, or 2 hour of distraction free homework, than to take the distraction out of the equation entirely? I also like that it shows you exactly when the full lock session will be over by putting an appointment in the calendar. (In case you’re like me, and can’t remember when you started the session.)

A few relevant details:

This used to be called Flipd, for those who might be familiar with that app. They had some issues complying with Apple’s guidelines, so they had to develop a separate app (made by the same company). It’s available on both iOS and Android. The Flipd app still exists, as a compliment to this one, and I would suggest getting both.

It also used to be free, but developing a new app is costly, so there is now a $35 annual subscription. (You could also do $9.99 monthly subscription, but obviously that doesn’t make sense when there is a full year $35 option.) The benefits are well worth the cost, in my opinion. 

When they developed the new app, they added some great features, like meditation, mindfulness and sleep story recordings. All things that benefit ADHD people who need extra support getting on a regular sleep schedule and practicing mindfulness. 

If actually shutting off your ability to access apps makes you uncomfortable, you can try their mindful option where you select how long you would like to stay away from your phone. If you try to access your phone while you’re in session, it asks if you would really like to do that. Some people just need a reminder since picking up your phone has become such an automatic action. 

You can also create groups with other people, like for studying, class or projects. Imagine how well a group study session would go if everyone agreed to go an hour phone-free!

It tracks how much time you have spent phone free, in both full lock and mindful sessions, so you get that positive reinforcement about your good habits.

When your apps come back, they are in the same order on your home screen (for anyone who would be lost without their organization system!).

There are only two drawbacks I can see:

It turns off all of your app notifications so when your apps reappear, you have to accept the notifications again. You don’t get prompted to do this without actually reopening the app (Instagram, Tumblr, etc). Although it could be seen as a positive for all those apps with notifications you’ve been meaning to turn off and just haven’t gotten around to it.

You can’t use a map app, so if you want to do the full lock to avoid distractions while driving, you’ll either need a car nav system or to just know where you’re going. Since my car isn’t that new or cool, and I’m perpetually directionally challenged, I try to make sure I don’t need to go anywhere before my lock session ends. Also if you use the google map trick to get ready on time (like I talked about in a different post) you can’t do a full lock while getting ready.

Anyone else have any good tools or tactics to avoid phone addiction/distraction?

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 48

Warnings: angst

Tags: @alievans007​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

An incessant knock at the door rouses her from her sleep, and she groans in protests as she rolls over onto her back and stares up at the cove ceiling. She's unsure of how much time has passed since Tyler left to attend to the drama with McMann, but the sun has changed positions and is now at full force as it streams through the window and onto the bed.  She presses the heels of her palms on her eyes in an attempt to both clear the sleep out of them and rid her brain of some of the lingering fogginess. Hoping that if she stays as motionless and as silent as possible, whoever is trying to contact her will just go away.  She's exhausted;  a fatigue that she's come to recognize as a late first trimester side effect. With each of her pregnancies it had set in at the same; somewhere between the middle and the end of the second month.  She does the math in her head; figuring out the exact dates that conception was the most possible. He'd just gotten back from El Salvador; a simple (for once) in and out assassination of a known human trafficker.  Sarge had picked the kids for a rare weekend at his and grandma's house, and he'd given her a wink as he'd teased her about being able to spend 'noisy adult time' with her frequently absent husband.   Which they'd managed plenty of; wild and uninhibited, intense and passionate, often rough. And it was the first time in a long  time she had actually been make the noises that she'd gotten so used to hiding behind her hand or a pillow.    

Condoms had become their go to for protection after Declan had been conceived when she was on the pill. And seeing as neither of them at the time had been one hundred sold on whether to have more children, that ruled out getting her tubes or a vasectomy for him, so something had to be used.  So she thought they'd been careful.

Apparently not careful enough.

She places both hands on her stomach; still flat for now (aside from the baby weight she hasn't managed to lose since having Declan), but if her intuition, calculations, and pregnancy history were correct, she'd be just beginning to show around the beginning of the fifth month.  It wouldn't be much; just a little bump that would be visible underneath tight fitting clothes.  But it would seem much more real than it did right now; when all she had to show for growing a life inside of her was fatigue and horrible all day sickness.  It was something she always marvelled at; the changes in her body as the weeks and months progressed, the way her hips and her breasts would fill out, the way her hair would become thicker and more vibrant, the way her skin seemed to glow. And it was always magical, no matter how many times she carried a life inside of her, to feel that little person moving around. The kicking and the squirming, the way -in the last trimester- you could sometimes see the entire outline of a hand or a foot when room was starting to run out and they had no more vacant space to move into.  And above everything, she couldn't get enough of the way her husband 'softened' over the last three months; the way that big strong man would lie in bed at night with those calloused and battered hands resting on her belly, the most gentle smile curving his lips and the utmost excitement in his eyes every time the baby kicked or seemed to respond to his voice.

And she smiles as she thinks of those times past and those moments still to come.  When they'd be in the comfort and security of their own home, back under the same roof as their children, finally able to relax and enjoy the new life that they'd be bringing into this world. Things would be different this time; he'd be around for the majority of the pregnancy, able to attend more appointments and ultrasounds, no going out of the country for extended periods of time, no worry every time the phone rang that he'd run off and put himself in danger.  

The knocking has ceased, and she once again closes her eyes, hands still on her stomach, attempting to fall back asleep once more. Sleep gave her the opportunity not to worry about him. The only time where she isn't stressed out and her mind is imagining all the worst case scenarios.  And she feels as if she's just on the brink of sleep when she hears the faint scratching of a key card being slid through the security slot, followed by the click as the system unlocks the door. She quickly jumps off the bed, feeling temporarily dizzy as she scurries through the door; she'd put the chain lock and the deadbolt in place, exactly as he'd instructed her to do if he ever left her alone.

“Wait...wait...” she implores, and hurriedly draws back the chain and snaps open the bolt. “...usually you call when you're on your back so I know to unlock everything, why...”

She stops mid sentence when she comes face to face with Nik.  The other woman's lips set in a grim line, dark eyes troubled, And immediately thinks the worst. All those times she's spent imaging that knock on the door; how Nik would be standing there with that exact same expression, preparing to give her devastating news.

“What happened?” she can't help the panic that settles into her voice. “Please tell me he's okay. Please tell me he's not...”

“Tyler's fine,” Nik assures her, yet her expression doesn't change. “I'm here to talk to you.”

“About?”

“About Tyler.”

Esme frowns. “Look, if you're here to tell me you've been fucking him and he's leaving me for you, I'll kill both of you. Just saying.”

“He would never do anything like that to you and you know. Can I come in? This is a conversation we need to have behind closed doors. This isn't something you want your neighbours hearing.”

She senses the dire importance in the other woman's voice, and then steps back and holds the door open, motioning for her to step into the room.  Closing the door, she resets the chain and the deadbolt. Just in case.

“I heard the good news,” Nik says, as she surveys the room, hands on her slender hips, expression still cold and unnerving. “About the baby.”

“You talked to Tyler?”

“A little while ago.  I ran into him. Where they're holding Michael McMann.”

“Yeah, he left a while ago.  I guess Mark and his guys were having some issues with McMann and Tyler's the one that puts the  most fear into him. Why were you there? Just checking up on things?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Nik, what's going on? You seem...I don't know...pissed.”

“I'm just a little upset,” she admits. “About this whole situation. With McMann.”

“I know it's taking a long time. Especially to find out where the kids are. But we've been doing everything we can. We've been  running intel around the clock and Yaz has tech in every possible place he can think of. And Tyler can't do much until he actually knows where the kids are, so...”

“Did you know?” Nik interrupts.

“Know what?”

“About McMann. About where he is.”

“I know that Mark and his guys are holding him somewhere until the IRA makes up their mind. I know that they've been trying to get information out of him; about where his kids are.”

Nik's eyes narrow. “That's all you know?”

“”What more is there to know? That's all I've been told.”

“And who told you? About what was happening with McMann?”

“Tyler did. Why? Shouldn't have he? Was he supposed to keep a secret?  Look, if you're pissed at him for telling me, he's been having a hard time...mentally...since McMann told him what he would have done to me had his people caught me. He's been having real low moments and he's just not himself, Nik. He's obsessing over things and he misses the kids and he hasn't been taking his meds and....”

“Esme....” she begins, choosing her words carefully. “...what am I about to tell you? I'm not doing this to upset you. Or hurt you.  And the last thing I want to do is cause problems for you or that baby. Because you're my friend and I love you and...”

“I love you, too. I know we have our problems, but...”

“....I need to stay as calm as you can. Can you do that for me?”

“You can't expect me to be calm when you have that tone in your voice or that look in your eyes. What's going on? He is cheating on me, isn't he. That fucking bastard.”

“No. It's not that. Believe me when I say that Tyler would never, ever do that to you. And he's had the opportunities.”

“Thanks to you,” her tone is accusatory.

“And I'm sorry for that. I really am.  For ever crossing those boundaries. But this something you need to hear. Something that is far worse than the thought of him cheating on you, believe me.”

“Okay...” she crosses her arms over her chest. “....what the hell has he done?”

“You honestly do not know anything else about McMann and what's been happening to him?”

She shakes her head. “Just what I told you. I don't have a reason to know.”

“Actually, you do.  Tyler hasn't been telling you the truth. About the McMann thing. About what really happened. About where he's being kept. And what's going on while he's being kept there.”

“Nik, what the hell are you talking about? What would Tyler have to lie about? So what if the Marines are holding this guy and maybe roughing him up now and then. He's a sick and twisted fuck nut that deserves a good beat down. You  know what he said about me? What he would have done to me? How he would have made Tyler watch? That is sick shit. And he deserves to have his ass handed to him.”

“This goes way beyond someone having their 'ass handed to them'.  I want you to look at something...” Nik pulls her phone out of the front pocket of her pants, tapping on the icon for her photo gallery and then scrolling through pictures before holding the phone out to Esme. “...just keep flipping through them.”

Sighing, Esme holds the phone in the palm of her hand; a frown spreading across her face at the first image. Of a man restrained in a folding metal chair; a heavy chain around his torso keeping him in place, hands restrained behind his back, ankles bound, a hood over his head.

“That's Michael McMann,” Nik explains. “He's being held in a storage locker on the outskirts of town. In an industrial area. Do you know how he got there?”

“I know Tyler went to meet him and there was a plan arranged for Mark and his buddies to help grab him and that they were going to take him somewhere to hold him. I had no idea where.”

“He was drugged. Do you know who drugged him?

“How would I know? I wasn't even there. I just told you that I...”

“Tyler did. Tyler drugged him. And he could have killed him with how much he gave him.”

Her frown grows. “Where would Tyler get drugs from? He doesn't do drugs. He won't even take medication that's prescribed to him.”

“Billy Flynn gave them to him. That's where he met McMann. At Flynn's bar. Did you know that?”

She shakes her head.

“See this?”  Nik uses her index finger to switch pictures. “That's Michael Flynn's throat. See how bruised it is? Someone just about snapped his windpipe.  See the fingerprints on the side of his neck? That's when someone was choking him to restrain him.  And this...” she brings up the next picture. “...is the inside of McMann's mouth. Someone pulled three of his molars out. With pliers.”

“Why are you showing me these?”  Esme pushes the phone back into her friend's hands. “What does this have to with me?”

“It was Tyler. Tyler did these things.”

“What?” she can't help but laugh at the absurdness of it.  “You're kidding, right? Tyler? My Tyler? He did all that?”

Nik nods.

“You're telling that my husband drugged someone, kidnapped them, and is holding them hostage...in order to torture them...in a storage locker?”  

“That's exactly what I'm telling you.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? This has to be some kind of joke. Did Mark put you up to this? Because this is something Mark would do. This is the kind of sick shit he'd get off on. And I wouldn't put it past him to blame it on Tyler.  There is no way my husband would do this. This is not who he is. He doesn't torture and maim people. He kills them;when he has to.  But he doesn't do this,” she gestures towards the phone. “You know him, Nik. You've known him for even longer than I have. And you know that is not Tyler.”

“Esme, I would not come here and burden you with this. Especially now. Especially when there's a baby inside of you and I know you've had problems in the past with the others. But he won't listen to anyone. We've tried to talk him out of this. Mark, Yaz, myself. We've all tried.  And he won't listen. He won't budge. Regardless of what McMann did, this...” Nik holds aloft her phone. “....this is not right. This should not be happening.”

“There's no way he would do all that,” Esme argues.  “Not Tyler. He kills because he has to. Because it's either him or them. He doesn't do shit like this. That's not who he is and you know that.”

“You just said he's been having some issues. Mental ones.”

“Yeah, with his PTSD and not taking his meds. But he doesn't go Reservoir Dogs on someone because he's off his meds. He gets moody and depressed but he's more liable to kill himself than someone else. This he would not do. I know him, Nik. I know what he's like. Whether it's when he's at the highest of his highs or the lowest of his lows. And I know he would not do this.  So I don't know who told you all of this; that he's doing this. But it's not him.”

“He told me, Esme. Tyler told me. After I heard it from Mark. It's why I came here.  To confront Tyler. To try and talk some sense into him. He's not in his right mind. If he was, there's no way he would do this.  You're my last resort. I wouldn't have to come to you and put this on you if I had another way of handling this.”

She doesn't know how she feels.  Shocked? Numb? Disgusted even? None of it makes sense. None of it seems real. Even with the proof right there in those photographs.  And she feels nauseous; the distinct burn of bile as it rises in her throat.  “He would not do this,” she says, even though her gut knows it's true. That Nik would not do this to her; purposely make up something so outrageous just to hurt her.  “Tyler would not do this.”

“He would. And he is. Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

“I don't know....” she admits, and lays a hand on her stomach.  “....I don't know what I need to do.”

“Sit down,” Nik takes her by the arm and guides her towards the bed, still holding onto her as she lowers herself down onto the edge. “I'll get you some water. Just try and stay calm, okay?”

Esme nods, then grabs the phone out of Nik's hand before she can depart. Tears clouding her vision as she returns to the photo gallery and sends each of those disturbing, nauseating photos to her own cell phone.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Nik asks, as she returns with a glass of water from the bathroom. “Maybe some fresh air will do you some good. I know it's hard being cooped up like this and you've been under a lot of stress. It will be good for you to get out. Get some exercise. Some sunshine,” she attempts a reassuring smile, and rubs her friend's arm comfortingly. “I know how hard this is. To hear this. To see those pictures.”

“I can't believe he would do this,” Esme's hands shake as she lifts the water to her lips, and Nik puts a supportive hand under the bottom of the glass.  “This is not Tyler. He doesn't do things like this, Nik.”

“Not normally, no. But he has been under a lot of stress. A lot of tension. Worry. And now you're having a baby and he has that on his plate too....”

“Don't bring the baby into this. If anything, that's something he should be happy about.”

“He's been off his meds?”

She nods. “I don't know how long for. I've been so caught up with worrying about the kids and worrying about him not getting killed that I haven't been paying attention.”

“It's not your fault,” Nik rubs her back now. “You're his wife, not his babysitter.”

“I always know if he's going through a crisis. Always. And I'm always there for him. To help him through it. And maybe if I noticed sooner...”

“Esme, don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault.  You can help him, but you can't fix him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I told him not to take this job. I begged him not to take it. He'd just gotten back from Guatemala and he promised me...he promised the kids...that he would stay home. That he wouldn't take anything else for at least two weeks. And then McMann showed up in Telluride and everything went to shit.”

“That was McMann's plan. When he couldn't kill Tyler in Guatemala, he changed his entire plan. He concocted this elaborate story about his wife and his kids because he knew that Tyler would cave in at the mention of kids. He wanted to bring him here to start shit with the IRA. So the IRA would kill him and McMann's hands would be clean. No connection to Tyler's death. But when he brought you in and you started digging around....”

“So it's my fault?” the tears fall in earnest now. “He's doing this because of me? Because I got involved in this?”

“No. Esme, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that McMann had to make things even more complicated and twisted to get his hands on Tyler. Including targeting you and the kids. And that's why Tyler is doing this. Or at least that's his rationale. He feels he needs revenge.”

“For what? I'm fine. The kids are fine. What...?”

“The threat was even worse in his mind because he's not in a good place. You know what he gets like that, when he's off his meds.”

She nods. “He obsesses over things. He thinks things are a hundred times worse than what they are.”

“It's Tyler doing these things, but it's not Tyler at the same time. He's not the Tyler you know.  He may think he is, but he isn't.”

“What am I supposed to do? If he's that unhinged, I won't be able to get through to him.  No one will be able to get through to him.”

“Tough love?” she suggests.  “What is he most afraid of? Not just now. But always.”

“I can't do that him, Nik. I can't hurt him like that. If things are that bad now, what will he get like if I do that to him? I just can't. What he's doing is wrong, I'm not denying that. But I can't break his heart.”

“Esme, this is what he needs. To snap him out of it. If he has something he's afraid to lose, that will be what forces him to save himself. You know I'm right. Remember when you kicked him out? Six months it took. But he smartened up, didn't he? Because he was afraid you'd never take him back and he'd never see his kids.”

“I can't,” she insists. “I can't hurt him like that. Of all the things that would break him...”

“It will force him to get his shit together. It will make him realize that he's out of control and he's need to get his head on straight. I know you don't want to do it. You don't want to use yourself and your kids...his kids...as weapons, but you need to. If you want to save Tyler, you have to do it.  Or he'll become someone you don't even recognize. And you won't have a choice to walk  away for good. I know you don't want that.”

“No, I don't...” she uses the back of her hand to brush tears off her cheeks.  “...I don't want to walk away. I love him. And I know he loves me. I know he loves his kids. And I'm having a baby and I can't do it alone. I can't do it without him.”

“You'll have to if this goes on. Because you're going to loose him. To whatever the hell is going on inside his head. If you want to help save him, you have to do this. He needs you to do this.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agrees. “But it isn't going to well. It's going to go to shit. And then what? When he loses his mind? I'm not afraid of him. I know he won't hurt me. That's one thing I do know for sure. But he's going to flip out, Nik. And this place will be a battle zone.”

“If that happens,  you call me and I'll come and get you. You can come stay with me in my room until he calms down., okay?”

Esme nods.

“It's going to be alright,” Nik assures her, as she wraps an around her friend's shoulder, pulling her tight into her side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Everything is going to be alright.”

****

She's sitting at the end of the bed when he returns, nervously bouncing her legs up and down and chewing on her bottom lip; cell phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“What's going on?” Tyler asks, as she slips his feet out of flip flops, leaving them by the door. “I thought you were going out with Tanis?”

“I changed my mind,”  her voice is strained, the emotion evident. And she doesn't look at him, even when he walks further into the room and lays his hand on her back and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Where were you?” she asks.

“I told you. I went to help out with McMann.”

“What kind of help?”

“What does it matter?”

“I'm just curious, I guess.  I mean, if three Marines can't handle him, what are you supposed to do about it?”

“Just an extra pair of hands there, I suppose. What's going on? You okay? You seem a little...”

“Upset?” she finishes for him.

He nods.

“I need you to be honest with me, Tyler. I don't want you lying to me. Where were you?”

“I just told you...”

“I know where you were and who you were with. But where were you? As in location? Why is it big secret? Why am I not allowed to know these things? How come every time I ask you, you either totally ignore me or you just change the subject?”

“You don't need to know. Your part in all of this is done now. There's nothing left for you to do. Why would I get you involved in anything else? You need to be taking it easy. For the baby.”

“Don't do that,” she shakes her head, and finally turns her face towards him, her eyes darker than he's ever seen them. “Don't you use this baby as an excuse to keep things from me.”

“What are you talking about? What...?”  he attempts to lay a hand on her shoulder, and she aggressively pushes it away and stands up, facing him.

“I am going to ask you one more time,” she says, voice trembling. “Where were you?”

“I fucking told you. I was helping with McMann. Where the hell does it matter where the actual place is?”

She inhales deeply, pulls her lip between her teeth, and then exhales sharply.  “What the hell is this?”  she brings up the photos on her phone, tapping on the one of McMann restrained to the chair, hood still over his face. “Can you explain this? Tell me what this is, Tyler.”

He sighs heavily, fists tightening by his sides. “Where did you get that?”

“Nik. She sent me a whole bunch. See...” she scrolls through the pictures, and when he attempts to reach for the phone, she yanks it away, holding it behind her back. “...tell me you didn't do this. Tell me you didn't drug someone and kidnap them and tie them up in a storage locker. Tell me you didn't do those things.”

He stares at her; long and hard, blue eyes never leaving dark brown.

“Tell me,” she orders. “Tell me it wasn't you. Tell me that she's wrong. That it was someone else and they're just wanting you to take the blame. Tell me.”

Tyler shakes his head. “I can't.”

“So this was all you? All those pictures? All those things done to him? All those bruises and all the blood and the missing teeth? That was all you? You did all of that?”

He nods.

“Why? Why would you do this? What the hell,Tyler? This is not you! You don't do shit like this! You don't hurt people. You help them!”

“I've hurt plenty of people. I've killed even more. You know that.”

“You kill because you have to! Because you don't have a choice. Because it's you or them . But this! What you're doing now? You have a choice! You're choosing to do this! You're choosing to hurt someone!”

“He fucking deserves it,” his voice is low and steady, giving no evidence to the rage that's building inside of him.

“Why? Who the hell are you to say someone deserves this? Jesus Christ, Tyler! You ripped someone's teeth out of their mouth with goddamn pliers! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me. He deserves this. I'm doing this for you.”

“For me?” she laughs incredulously. “For me? Why do you think I would want this? I don't want this! Put a bullet in his head and call it a fucking day! Don't do this! This is sick! This is fucked up and you know it!”

“You know what he was going to do to you? To the kids? Our kids?”

“Don't you dare use them in this. Don't you dare use them to justify this. You think this is what they would want? Their daddy doing these kinds of things to people? You worry about what Millie will say when she grows up. How she'll react when she finds out about your past as mercenary. You worry about that then you go and do this? This is somehow better?”

“She'd understand. That I did it for her.”

“You aren't going to rationalize this. No matter what you say to me. This ends now, Tyler. You hand him over to whoever is going to take him and that's it. This ends. You stop this right now.”

He shakes his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing this? What am I doing? Holding you accountable for your bullshit? Like I've been doing for five and a half fucking years! When I have I never not called you out on something? Did you really think I wouldn't call you out on this?”

“You weren't supposed to find out.”

“Oh and lying about it makes it so much better. You know, when Nik showed up here and said we needed to talk, I was almost hoping she was going to tell me you were fucking her. Because that would have been so much easier to deal with than this. And how sad is that? That I'd rather you fuck another woman than do something like this?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me that this stops right now. That you don't go near him ever again. That you let Mark and his guys handle this from now on. This ends here.  Tell me this ends here.”

He shakes his head.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Look at these pictures!” she throws the phone at them. “Look at them, Tyler! Look at them and tell me that this is okay! Fucking look at them!”

“Don't...” he takes a step towards her, a fist clutched at his side. “....don't fucking talk to me like that.”

“What are you going to? Are you going to the same thing to me? Are you going to lose your shit on me too?”

“I'd never do that. I would never, ever hurt you.”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I thought you'd never turn into this. I never thought you'd turn into someone who would do this kind of thing. After all the years you've spent getting people away from sick fucks that do these things, you turn around and you become one of them.”

“I'm nothing like them,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Why are you doing this? Why? Give me one good reason. Look me in the eye and give me one good reason.”

“I told you!” he finally snaps. “He was going to hurt you. He was going to hurt our kids. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Let it happen? Be okay with it?!”

“He can't hurt us because you've got him locked up in that fucking storage place! He can't hurt anyone! So just leave him there to rot if you have to. But don't do this. You don't need to do this!”

“I do. For you. And the kids.”

“No!” she snarls, and jabs him in the chest with her forefinger.  “You don't use us like that! Don't you dare use us to justify this! We don't want you doing this! I want you to stop, Tyler. I want you to just walk away from McMann. From the job. I want you to tell Nik to find someone else to get those kids. Because you are in no way healthy enough to do this job.”

He smirks. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Talking to me like this? Who...?”

“I'm your wife, you fucking asshole!  I'm your wife and I'm worried about you! Because you're becoming someone I don't even recognize! You're slowly becoming a completely different person and I can't watch it happen. I can't just stand back and let you do this to yourself.”

“The person you remember is gone, Esme. You're remembering someone that existed for five days. In Dhaka. That's who you remember.”

“No,” she shakes her head, remaining defiant.  “I remember the person after that. The person who chose to keep going when he could have given up. That's who I remember.”

“The guy you fell in love with? He died that day on the bridge. You know he did. That's who you remember. That guy you were fucking for five days. That's who you remember.”

“No, Tyler. That's not who I remember. I remember the guy who saved a fourteen year old boy even though the job went to shit and there wasn't going to be a payout.  I remember the guy who busted his ass to get Ovi and I across the bridge. That's who I remember!”

“Do you remember the guy that got shot in the throat? That fucking bled out all over you? Do you remember him? Look at it!” he points to the scar on his neck. “Fucking look at it, Esme. You can't, can you. You can't even look at it because it because too real to you. Do you remember that guy?”

“Of course I do.”

“Because that guy died that day. And he took those other guys with him. What you got in the end? That's not the same guy.”

“You're better than that guy.  You became a better man. Do you remember saying that to me? That I made you want to become a better man? Do you remember that?”

He nods.

“You are a better man. And that's the man I want. I don't want the man that does shit like this to people. And you don't want to be that man. I know you don't want to.”

“I'm sorry,” he snarls. “That I can't be that person for you.”

“You are that person, you dick! And I want you to stay that person, Tyler. I need you stay that person. Your kids need you to stay that person.”

“You should have let me die. On that bridge. You should have just let me die.”

She fights back the tears despite the devastation his words inflict upon her heart. Her entire body. “How can you even say that? Is that really what you wanted? You wanted me to let you die?”

“It would have been better if you'd just let me go.”

“Better for who? You? You were the one that wanted to keep seeing me after Dhaka. You brought it up first. We made plans. Together. To travel and enjoy getting to know each other and see where things took us. A guy who wants to die does not do that. And you can't convince me otherwise.”

“It would have been so much easier,” he speaks with a quiet resolve, despite the rage that causes his entire body to tremble.

“For you? That's bullshit, Tyler and you know it.”

“You wouldn't have wasted the last five and a half years of you life.”

“I didn't waste anything. I married the love of my life. I had his children. There was nothing wasted. I've spent these last five and a half years loving you with everything I am and everything I have. And I spent them being loved by you. I wasted nothing.”

“None of this would be happening. This bullshit with McMann. People going after my kids. Threatening them. If I hadn't survived...”

“But you did,” she hisses. “You did survive. You didn't die because you're a stubborn fucking asshole who refuses to give up. The same stubborn asshole who coded three times in the OR and still came back. You have me. You have your children. Aren't we enough? Aren't we enough to make you want to live?”

“Of course you are. But....”

“There's no 'buts', Tyler. I know how stressed you are right now. I know you're going through a fucking nightmare mentally. And I know that it frustrates you and it confuses you and I know it scares you. But you're not in this alone. I am right here with you. And I'll fight your fight with you.”

“You shouldn't have to!” he argues. “Don't you fucking get that? You shouldn't have to keep doing this!”

“I don't have to do anything. I want to. Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you swallow your goddamn pride and let me in? Just let me help you. Please.”

“What do you want me to do? Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.”

“I want you to stop this. This McMann bullshit. Because that's not you. Regardless of what you say, regardless of your stupid ass reasonings. That's not the man I fell in love with. That I married. That I gave children to. It's your brain, Tyler. It's messing with you. So you need to stop right now. And you need to tell Nik that you're done. Someone else can find those kids. You tell her and we leave. We get the first flight out of here and we go and get our kids and Ovi and we go home.”

He shakes his head, voice choked by emotion. “I can't.  I'm sorry.  I can't.”

“You still want to finish the job,” it's a statement, not a question. “You still think you need to stay and get it done.”

He nods.

“Well I guess you've made your choice then. It was always going to be this way, wasn't it, Tyler. You were always going to chose the job over me, weren't you.”

“That is not what I'm doing. I promised you, at the end of it, I was done.”

“I am sick to death of your promises. Of you breaking them all the time. I'm tired.  I'm tired and I've got another human being inside of me that I'm trying to keep alive. I'm tired and I'm done. You made your choice,” she steps past him, aggressively shoving her shoulder into him.

“What are you doing?” he watches as she grabs one of her suitcases out of the unlocked second closet in the hall. “Esme...what the fuck? Stop your fucking games, okay? Just stop this shit and just sit down and we will talk about this and...”

“We are way past sitting down and talking about anything,” she tosses the suitcase onto the bed, angrily yanking on the zipper to open it, then stomps to the dresses and begins tearing open drawers; gathering up various items of clothing and messily tossing them into the case.

“Just stop!” he orders. “What are you doing?!”

“I'm leaving. I'm going back to Colorado. I'll stay with my mom until Ovi brings the kids back.”

“You don't need to do that. Stop...” he stands behind and reaches around her slight frame to grab both of her wrists in one of his hands. “You don't need to leave. I don't want you to leave.”

“If I stay, I'm only going to be in your way. Just like I was in Dhaka.”

“That's not true. You were never in my way in Dhaka.”

“It wouldn't have been so hard if I'd died in that forest too. If Saju had have just done me in when he had the chance. Things would have been a lot easier on you and a lot easier on Ovi.”

“That's bullshit and you know it.”

“Why am I even here still? My usefulness ran it's coarse, right? You don't need me anymore.”

“Of course I need you. You're my wife.”

“You chose, Tyler,” she manages to yank her hands out of his grip. “You made your choice. Now you can live with it.”

“Don't do this. Please. I never chose the job over you.”

“You just did!” she bellows, and pushes him away with her elbow, tears flowing freely down her face. “You just did!”

“I promised you I'd be done after I was finished her. That was what our deal.”

“Well fuck the deal!” she shoves him away once more when he attempts to get closer. “And fuck you too, Tyler!”

“Esme...stop...don't do this. Don't leave.  I don't want you to leave.”

“You need to get your shit together,” she orders. “You need to figure out what the hell you want.”

“You,” there's no hesitation.  “I want you. I want my kids.”

“Then come with me. Tell Nik that you're done. Tell her you're finished and come home with me.”

“You know I can't. You know I can't leave those kids.”

“But you can you leave yours right? That's a never a problem to you.  It's never a problem when you walk out the door while they're sleeping and leave me to clean up your mess. You can leave your own kids...that you helped make...but not complete strangers. Makes total sense.”

“Just give me to the end of the week. Like we agreed on. That's all I'm asking for here. Just five more days.”

“And then five days become ten and ten become twenty and on and on and on.”

“Not this time,” Tyler insists. “This time I'm done. I meant what I said.”

“I'm not staying here. I refuse to stay here. I'm not hanging around to get that phone call or that knock on the door letting me know you're dead. I'm going home. To Colorado. To my mom's. And you get a hold of Ovi and you get him and my kids back. Do you understand me?”

“Esme...” he lays his hands on her shoulders. “...just stop.”

“You track down Ovi and my kids and you get their asses back to Colorado. Or I will never, ever forgive you. I will spend the rest of my life hating you if you don't  get my kids back where they belong. And stop!” she uses her elbows to knock her hands off her shoulders. “Stop touching me! I don't want you touching me right now. Just get my kids back, Tyler.”

“They're my kids too,” he angrily reminds her.

“Yeah, well try being a father once in a while. Not just when it's convenient for you and fits your schedule.”

“That's fucking low and you know it, Esme. That's really fucking low. I do what I do for those kids. For you!”

“You do what you do because you like it. You just won't admit. Because it makes you sick to admit it so you use me and the kids as an excuse. Because it makes you feel better. Quit your shit, Tyler. Just admit. For once, just admit you do this job because you enjoy it.”

“I don't enjoy it. I do it because I'm good at it. No. I'm fucking great at it. And the money...”

“Fuck the money. There is not enough money in this world to replace you! I don't care about the money. I would leave  with you right now and go back to Australia and live in that goddamn shack with you and four kids and fucking chicken in the bathroom if that's what you wanted. If that is what would make you happy. If that's what would you keep you home and safe!”

“Esme....please...just stay here with me...we can sit down and talk about this. Like rational adults.”

“Tyler, I am way past feeling rational. I'm not staying here with you.  I love you. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.  But I can't be around you right now. I just can't. You need time to think. Without me around.”

“No,” he remains steadfast. “I don't.

She finishes throwing the clothes into the suitcase and zips it closed. “I'll be there. When this is done. I'll be waiting for you to come home. But if in your heart you do want the job over us, don't even bother coming back. Move. Get out of my way.”

“Stop. Right now. Stop whatever fucking game this is and...”

“This isn't a game!” she screams. “I said move!”

He holds his hands up in surrender and steps backwards. “You're leaving now?” he asks incredulously, as she grabs the suitcase and heads for the door.  “Right now? Where the hell are you going?”

“I'll stay with Nik.  Then I'll get a flight back first thing tomorrow.”

He crosses the room in three long strides, slamming a palm against the door to prevent her from opening it. “Stay here. With me. Then tomorrow you book a flight and I will take you to the airport. Just stay here. With me.”

“Why? Because you think fucking me a few times will make everything better? It doesn't solve everything, Tyler. Regardless of what you think.”

“I never said that. I never even thought it. I just want you to stay. I just want to sleep here. With me. In the same bed. So I can wake up beside you. That's all I want.”

“I can't.  You need to respect that. That I need to be away from you right now. This all too much. Finding out what you've been doing. I need time to come to terms with that and I need to take care of myself and this baby and I can't do either of those things if I'm with you. You have to let me go, Tyler.”

“No. I don't, And I won't.”

“If I stay, this won't end well. Because all the worry and the stress is going to get to me and I'm going to lose this baby and you won't ever forgive yourself for that. So please. Just let me go. If you love me, if you love this baby, just let me go.”

“Fine...” he relents, removing his hand from the door and stepping back far enough to allow her to open it.

“I'm sorry,” she says,  and he reaches out to clear the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs. “This is not about not loving you. Because I do. I love you so fucking much. And it's because I love you that I'm doing this.”

He nods. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I need you to understand that. I need you to know that I love you and I'm not leaving you. I don't want this...us...to be over. I just need to take care of myself and this baby. I can't do that if I'm here. And you know I can't. You know right, that?”

“Yup.”

“I want you to find those kids. I do. And then I want you to come home. To me. To our kids. Your kids. Promise me, Tyler. If there's ever going to be one promise you make and keep, make it that one.”

“I promise. I'll come home. To you. To the kids.”

“Be careful, okay? And stay safe. Come home in one piece. And breathing.”

“I will,” he assures her.

She manages a small smiles, then reaches up to push his hair off of his forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he leans down to kiss her.  Long and languid. Tender.

“I'll see you when I see you,” she says.

He grins. “That's my line.”

“Well, I beat you to it this time.”

He lays a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him, pressing his lips to her brow.  “Stay,” he says. “Just tonight. Tomorrow I'll let you leave. I'll take you to the airport.”

“If I don't leave now, I never will. And that's not good for either of us. But I'll be waiting for you. I promise,” she places her hand on the side of his face, running her thumb over his lips and then the bristles of his beard. “I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too. At least call me. Before you leave tomorrow.”

“I will,” she promises, and briefly leans her forehead against his chest before stepping out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

[corona-journal]

Sunday 19 July 2020.

Light drizzle, some overcast.

A 'low and slow' day planned.

I've been working in the office most of the week, due to previously mentioned tech issues with the phone system.

Spent about 30 minutes in total, over 3 phone calls to the IT help line in getting things reset.

Now for observations with context.

Friday after work, caught up with 2 work mates for a beer in the pool hall and bar in the basement area of the building. Lots of young people* playing pool, doing the social activities before either evading or joining a night of intimacy. Being winter, numbers were down, the clothing was a smart sexy set. Recognising the ritual.

*20s to 30s demographic.

Because of the work from home, numbers reduced in the city, even the older type going to the opera on Friday night were absent.

Saturday afternoon, finished getting the tech issues sorted out, had run a errand, walked the dog, as was about a minute away from microwaving a packet of popcorn as a lunch meal. K rings, 'Honey, have you had lunch?'

Them I'm driving into town to a little, back street micro brewery called 'Little Bang Brewery' for a lunch with K, her friend TU, his partner AF. Beer was OK, something called Beard Fiction, and we all had burgers, again, quite ok.

That demographic was mid 20s to mid 30s or early 40s. Hipster crowd. Someone was having a 30th Birthday.

Oddly, felt a bit uneasy at this lunch. I suppose because partly because its a secondary social circle, partly because it was a second social activity that was suddenly dropped on to me.

Bigger picture stuff, Victoria having a outbreak, customers there worrying about stage 4 lock downs, people using the back roads to cross over the borders. Which is a "for fucks sake" moment for me.

Sydney, not quite as bad. (I did wonder if I should put a "yet" on the end of that sentence)

America is going through so much turmoil.

[Deep breath, exhale].

This is a global pandemic unseen since the Spanish Flu. Political leaders have been calling for unity, calmness, and for each person of their country to come together.

Theres no real manual for this, however we have so much history and lessons to draw from, that a approach can be formulated pretty fast.

Except America.

Trump and his politically appointed co-billionaires are essentially accountants, only looking at the bottom line and the profit margin.

A simple study of economics will reveal that a lot of services won't generate a profit. Garbage disposal, street maintenance, sewerage, ambulance services.

Investment in the above examples does prevent a lot of other expensive social problems from showing up.

I think we are moving into a time where the USA, so trained in sound bytes and flash media, elected Donald Trump. Who finally had a lot of unlimited power, very few restrictions and restraints. The results have been a near war in the middle east because he okayed a airstrike, then has undermined good health practices of wearing a mask, mismanaged the medical supplies of ventilators, one billionaire has cut overtime and deliveries of postal services, the other billionaire is sending kids back to school with no plans for children health and safety.

The police are looking like a unaccountable force. No badges or marked cars.

The USA has become a horrible dystopia.

It has lost its mantle of a world leader, and the damage will resonate for the next few decades, at least.

I'm old enough to remember the cold war nuclear war fears. The oil power trade wars. The Rodney King race riots in Los Angeles. The AIDS epidemic that was a slow burning pandemic.

We're entering a new history era, its tag will be the Trump era, or C-19, as the headline tag.

Its going to be a recession/depression for the next few years. With China and Russia to emerge as the stable super powers.

America will re-emerge, deep social divisions will remain.

Trump is a equivalent to the medieval Dark Ages for America.

[bettsfic]

''an amazing daily organizational method that has been helping me keep my shit together and has imminently lowered my stress levels.'' can u share? :o

god i feel like this is going to seem so obvious and stupid to some people, but it was revelatory to me. 

so my problem is that i dissociate a lot and forget things seconds after i think them, which means my daily reality looks like swiss cheese, or that last episode of futurama where the universe resets. and it’s great for writing! because when i’m spaced out i’m usually maladaptively daydreaming and get a lot of mental writing done. but it’s awful for things like renewing my license plates and writing letters of recommendation for my students and generally living life. the sad thing is, i wasn’t always like this. up until 2014 or so i was very organized without even trying, and had no social anxiety over things like phone calls or making appointments and stuff. i mean i bought a house when i was 22. even through my first year of grad school, i stayed mostly on top of things. like i could just remember all the stuff i had to do, and i did it. but then i had a psychotic break and i think it permanently fucked with my executive function abilities.

okay so back to the system. at the job i just quit, they didn’t do timesheets because the job was salaried. instead, they kept shared calendars. i’ve never gotten into the habit of electronic calendars. i’ve always kept a physical calendar, until my executive function abilities went to hell, and then i stopped, and i haven’t been able to pick up the habit again since, in part because i don’t carry a purse so i never have it on me, and also because i don’t have enough engagements to warrant the use of a calendar. i’d always used calendars to write down events and obligations.

but my job used it for everything. every minute of every day had to be filled in with something, even if it was “answering emails.” so this worked twofold: you would plan out what you thought your week would look like, and then at the end of each day, modify the day to reflect what you’d really done. 

i’m a slut for google suite, like my entire life exists in docs, so implementing gcal into my personal life was pretty easy. they have all these goal setting options now, and integration with tasks (which i live by) and google fit. and i’ve also learned about me that i will stick with anything if it has a color coding system. i’ve kept a personal timesheet for over a year because of color coding. 

(this is what my toggl looks like this week)

gcal also has colors, so i could implement a system to reflect how i’ve been using toggl for the past year. 

every day, i have a half hour set aside in the evenings to plan the next day, so all i have to do when i wake up the next day is follow the schedule i made for myself. then i modify it as the day goes on and things change. sometimes i spend more time answering asks than i intend, or i need to take a nap or something, and so a colored event will turn into a grey event that says “nap” or “dicked around on the internet” or something. sometimes i choose to write instead of read, or i end up exercising an hour later than i initially scheduled. 

so i’m not like a productivity machine or anything, but carving out time to exercise and read and go to the grocery store and reply to emails has made the stress of those things a lot less. i know i have to go to the store, but i also know i’ve scheduled two hours for it on monday afternoon, so i don’t have to feel guilty being on tumblr right now, because all my schedule says is “coffee.” instead of “i should be doing this, this, and this instead of this” i just put that stuff on a task list i have called “executive function” and i know to put it on my calendar for the following day. 

sorry if this is like painfully obvious to more organized people, but i just think it’s neat.jpg.

one day i’ll share my project tracking boards and drafting process. 

[xpassengerprincessx]

after 10 minutes of going through automated menu options, 20 minutes on hold, 15 minutes of sitting on the phone with a woman creating a new file for me and finding a provider that will take my weird insurance, im proud to say....that im now...waiting on a call back from the same woman because her system had to be reset so she can set up a new patient appointment for me for with an in-network therapist...but wait! she called me back and it only took 27 minutes and now after over an HOUR i have an appointment w/ a therapist that HOPEFULLY doesn’t suck.

✨getting help is a nightmare✨

[imagineyoungjustice]

1.5k Followers Milestone Drabbles 4/10

D r a b b l e please! Maybe where the team is on Internet lockdown and have to come up with a way to keep entertained? -Anonymous

So I went a bit off-prompt because the only instance I see any form of internet lockdown being an issue for the team is when it interferes with their hero job because they accidentally locked themselves out of the system and are too afraid to go to one of the League members for help. So I know it’s not quite what you wanted but I hope you still enjoy it! Also this is set just a little extra bit before season 2 so Jaime hasn’t yet joined the team! -Terra

Tags: @ljblve @loverbug1123 @aworldwideapart @wallywestie

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           “How could you manage to lock us out of the entire system?!” Cassie shouted, throwing her hands up in the air.

           “With a lot of skill and an astounding lack of intelligence mixed with a heaping side dish of Murphy's Law.” Robin replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand.

           “This is why I told you we should have waited for the older members to get back from their mission! What are we supposed to do now?”

           Robin just kept staring at the red screen in front of him, the bright text of “access denied” blinking back at him almost mockingly. He really hated himself right now. He was so confident that he could perform the upgrades to the Cave’s computer systems himself despite Dick’s warnings for him to wait for when he, M’gann, and Conner got back from their mission with the League. Batgirl was currently away on a solo mission for Bruce, leaving him as the only Bat on the team for the week. He just wanted Dick and Bruce to be proud of his skills and to stop treating him like he was some fragile baby bird that would break under the slightest use of force. He wanted them to stop treating him like a future Jason Todd.

           “Earth to Robin! You there or are you just going to keep ignoring me?” Tim blinked as his mind was pulled back to the present. He felt his face flush as he realized he had been ignoring her for probably a good while now.

           “Sorry, what were you saying again?”

           “I asked how we were supposed to do our jobs in the meantime if we can’t get into our own computer system?”

           “That would be… a really good question. I guess watching the news would be too much to hope for until we can get this fixed?” He tried to smile and lighten the mood, but by the look on Cassie’s face she wasn’t having it with his attempts at humor and in all honesty, he did deserve the resulting smack to the back of his head. “Guess that would be a no then.” He mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else.

           “What are you two fighting about in here?” Tim cringed as he heard Karen’s voice drift into the room, Mal, Garfield, and La’gaan trailing on her heels, all of them equally curious to the commotion in the training and mission debrief room.

           “Boy Wonder over here managed to lock us out of the Cave’s systems while upgrading everything on his own even though Nightwing told him to wait until they got back. So unless we figure something out we’re basically without internet for the whole week.” Cassie huffed and put her hand on her hip, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “You normally handle monitor duty Mal, is there anything you think you can do to fix this?”

           “I’m not really the guy you’d want to be asking. I can try, but this system is a lot different than any I’d be familiar with. I haven’t had the time to learn its in’s and out’s yet, not like the Bat’s have. I mean I could try turning it off and on again but that might be the extent of what I can do.” Cassie audibly groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose a little harder.

           “Why should we waste time trying to figure this out on our own? Let’s just contact the League and have them send Red or someone else to clear this up for us.” Karen remarked, already bringing her hand up to her earpiece.

           “Wait no!” Tim yelled, stretching his hand out to stop her before she could make the call.

           “What now? Did you knock out our communications too?” Karen asked, one of her eyebrows raised.

           “We just barely, convinced the League to let us oversee ourselves for a week without an appointed ‘Den Mother,’ what would that look like if barely halfway into our first day we made a call to them because we locked ourselves out of the computer system?”

           “You mean you locked us out of the computer system, the rest of us did nothing.” Cassie remarked.

           “Technicalities. Besides you think the League will care? If you make that call they’ll never trust us to look after ourselves again.”

           “He does have a point.” Gar said, looking up at Karen. “They were already really reluctant in the first place.”

           “I’m sure Robin will have figured it out before the week is over. He’s a Bat, they practically live and breathe tech.” La’gaan added.

           It was quiet for a few moments as Karen considered the situation. She narrowed her eyes at Tim, “You sure you can get the system back online before the week is over?” When he nodded, she just let out a defeated sigh. “Alright then, I won’t contact the League, but you better get that system back online, priority: alpha do you understand me?”

           “Yes ma’am.” Tim saluted, barely able to hide the rush of relief he felt that followed upon knowing they were in the clear from him having to explain this mess to Bruce.

           “That’s great and all we still need to figure out what we’re doing for missions now.” Cassie interjected. “All our mission data was on file here and now we have nothing.”

           “Actually, we do have some of it.” Tim replied, fishing in his utility belt and tossing her a flash drive. “Bats teaches us to always be prepared, so I tend to make copies of current info in relation to our current missions. If we need anything else, I can always rip whatever we need from the Batcomputer back at the Batcave.”

           “And I supposed you call this your Batdrive?” She teased turning the small flash drive over in her hands, the black bat logo catching the reflection of the lights.

           “No.” Tim snapped. Yes. She didn’t need to know that though.

           “Right old school it is then. I’ll go grab a laptop for us to use in the meantime. Everyone be ready for debrief by the time I get back.” Karen called, already halfway to the Zeta-tubes with Mal not too far behind her. “Oh and Robin?” He turned his head to look at her when he heard his code name. “Try not to shut off the lights or something else in the meantime.” With that, the tubes flared to life and he was left to deal with the barely muffled laughs from his teammates. He deserved that, he concluded, and went back to work on checking the wiring of the Cave’s computer in their absence.

           “This is going to be an utter disaster this week.” Cassie deadpanned.

           “I’m sure things will turn out swimmingly.” La’gann remarked, patting her on the back of her shoulder. Somehow, Cassie wasn’t all that convinced, and neither was Tim if he was listening to that quiet, honest voice he currently had shoved in the back of his mind in favor of the sweet, sweet, serenade of the voice of denial at the forefront.

          In reality, they were both completely correct. Things were indeed not going very well at all. Tim was currently racing through the jungles of Santa Prisca the sounds of bullets hitting the trunks of the trees a little too close for comfort all around him. Most of the week had been much like things were now. The Batcomputer had a lot of information, but it often lacked just that tiny bit of useful data that would have been on the team’s computer in the cave, especially for missions and locations the team had been previously.

          Karen would do her best as acting leader, but all of their plans never made it far past the drop zone. Tim’s little mess up had them walking in largely blind to most of their operations, and every time they paid the price for it, just barely securing what they set out to accomplish before having to make a hasty retreat. Speaking of mess-ups, after almost the whole week Tim was still no closer to accessing the Cave’s computer than he had been when this had all started. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t get the system to let him in. Tim was ready to start banging his head against a wall if only that would be what it took for the computer to call out that beautiful “access granted” and they could all get back to their lives a little worse for wear but largely unharmed.

          If only.

          Once they were back at the cave, Cassie rounded on him. “How could you still have no idea how to fix the computer!?”

          “You’ve been watching me the whole week Cassie! You know I’ve tried literally everything I could think of short of an entire system reset! There’s nothing we can do!”

          “This is why we should have just called the League! But noooooo, you wanted to save face and fix this yourself! We’ve been getting our butts handed to us this whole damn week because you said you could fix it! Well guess what? Nothing’s changed since this first went down!”

          “Cassie has a point Robin,” Karen said, peeling off her Bumblebee mask and rubbing her temples, “we’ve still got nothing a week later, we should have just contacted the League. Nightwing and the other’s will be back from their mission in the morning, you’re going to be the one to tell them since this was your doing in the first place okay?”

          “Yeah, I understand.” He really wasn’t looking forward to how that was going to go tomorrow.

          “Good, team dismissed. Everyone get some rest.” Tim didn’t wait around for too long, just wanted the morning to come quickly so that he could deal with it and get it over with.

          It was every bit as embarrassing and awkward as he knew it was going to be. He had pulled Nightwing aside as soon as he entered the next morning and fumbled his way through the events of the week. The entire time he refused to look him in the eyes, but he could tell from body language that Nightwing wasn’t too pleased with him.

          “Look, Tim,” he braced himself for what was coming, “I’m not mad that you locked yourself out of the system, we’ve all done it at some point, but I am disappointed that you didn’t ask for help, and as a result put yourself and the rest of the team in danger. You’ll get a proper reprimand and punishment for that later on.”

          He looked up then, a little shocked at how calm he was being about the situation. “That’s… completely fair, I won’t let it happen again. I’m sorry.”

          “Like I said it’s okay, but see that you don’t put the team’s health in jeopardy like that again okay? Now, let’s see if we can’t figure out what it is you did to lock yourself out.” Tim just nodded and followed Dick back out into the training room, watching as he went through the motions of checking the Cave’s internal systems. Dick was quiet for a moment as he observed the virtual keyboard.

          “Hey Robin, you did know that caps lock was on, right?”

          What.

          His face must have given his confusion away. “The caps lock is on. You did try putting the password in without it right?” With a few taps of his fingers, the system was back online, the red screen of denial fading away to the green of granted access that had the last of Tim’s soul dying inside of him. “System looks to be in order… Oh! Looks like the upgrades went in smoothly, good job Robin.” There was a bit of a pause as Dick continued to check the system. “Please tell me you guys weren’t locked out of the system the whole week because you didn’t check to see if the caps lock was on.”

          Tim just hid his face into his hand and prayed to whatever deity may or may not exist that an alert would go off somewhere or that he would spontaneously die to escape the embarrassment of his current situation. As fate would have it, no such thing happened, and Dick’s smirk only grew wider on his face as the realization set in.

          Tim was never going to hear the end of this.

[musingsofazumbamind]

9 Tips for 9 Days Out: The Road to #zincon2019

Treat these 9 tips with a caveat of “if you want to”... these all have purpose for me but may not be the right “to do list” for you.

1. Do they know you’re leaving?

Tell or remind colleagues at work and your boss which days you will be gone

Call your bank and credit card companies, who may already know from your purchasing habits that you will be taking a trip but the clarity is important. You really did buy that costume including the bow and arrow set on the same day you bought a flight to Orlando.

Remind your significant other, children and dog that you will be going away for a few days and it’s important!

2. Fill a bunch of buckets now!

Give 200% in your classes, they are going to miss you while you are gone!

Remember and specifically pay into the Love Language of your significant other or most needy friend. Are they Words of Affirmation, Gifts, Quality Time, Physical Touch or Acts of Service? 

Get in the pool with the kids! Do the fancy box braids now! Try the science experiment that came as a gift for Christmas. Treat the kids as a priority before you prepare for ZinCon, especially if you are a parent who “never does this”.

3. Consider your transportation.

Flight, train, bus all set?

Need an app to get around Orlando, like Lyft or Uber? Download it now.

Take a look at who is helping you get from the airport to the hotel. I suggest Mike or Patrizio, they also take you to a grocery store before the hotel, their contact information is in the files of the Official ZinCon Group on Facebook. (Did you already join the official Zincon Facebook group?!?!)

Take a look at who is dropping you at the airport and bringing you back home, sore and exhausted. Consider how you might remind them gently now that they are doing this, and think of how you will thank them when the time comes.

Will your transportation accommodate you buying food at a grocery store, or will you buy fresh items from the Walgreens across the street or the Publix about a mile away?

4. This week is the time to print!

Tickets or itinerary for flight

Confirmation for the hotel or other fun you will be having in Orlando

When the registration email comes, print your barcode and session handouts

Make a copy of your ID or passport for the front pocket of your checked luggage, just in case it gets lost

Pre-Convention or Post-Convention party tickets

5. Let’s talk about our health…

Refill necessary prescriptions

Bringing your c-pap machine to sleep (or other necessary medical devices)? Replace the tubes and face mask cover now.

Something aching? Call your doctor or nurse on call to ask questions. Questions over the phone are free!

Make necessary appointments, especially if you need to make them for medicine refills

6. Make THE LIST and start packing. You will need at least one, large, functional and wheeled piece of luggage.

With printed #zincon itinerary in hand, treat each segment of the day as a reminder of what you will need. Each session, masterclass, training or party will need:

A dry outfit meant for movement (I have 9 segments not including Fitness Concert and Theme Party, so I pack 9 outfits and buy 1 outfit at the Zumbawear store)

Socks (if I pack this way for my particular schedule I end up having 10 pairs)

Underwear (if I pack this way for my particular schedule I end up with 12)

Appropriate shoes (I pack 2 different fitness shoes for session, 1 functional sandal/between sessions shoe, 1 nice but comfortable pair of dressy sandals for the afterparty

Accessories (i.e. soca sessions ask you to bring a bandana or flag; #jamjunkies like bringing highlighters to the sessions; Theme Night will need all the layers and fun items for your costume)

A way to carry small items, especially at the Fitness Concert where backpacks are not permitted. I use a hip belt for running that fits along my waistline. Some folks have a wrist pouch for just their room key. Or yes, invest in a fanny pack that you only use 1 night a year!

Having the play-by-play of what those 4-5 days will include will give you a sense of space in your luggage. You may want to leave room to purchase those daily outfits or shoes at Convention, especially if your costume (including a wig or wings or crossbow that takes up space) can be thrown out or left in the room. I always leave space for the one outfit I will buy and wear at Convention.

I know folks who hand wash some of their belongings and drip dry them at night to make room in their luggage. Maybe ask your roommates if they mind you doing this as it takes up space.

Leave room for what you know you need to purchase. Things like:

Souvenirs for your people and/or pets

Clothing or items from the Zumbawear store. Not just for yourself-- some folks might send you on a specific mission to buy what comes out that week! You may want to check the outlet store for giveaway items for folks in your classes. 

If you aren’t comfortable traveling with a certain something, just know it will cost at least 50% more in Florida. (I ALWAYS pack my sunscreen but some folks don’t like doing that for fear it might explode in flight. My favorite brand costs $24 in the hotel store, so it just makes sense to bring it for me.)

Many folks like ZJ Ria from Michigan and ZJ Court from Arizona pack each segment in its own gallon sized Ziploc bag and mark it with the day and session where it will be worn.

I always make my carry-on the “One Happy Day in Florida Bag”. It holds my small purse with a credit card, medicine, makeup, ID, a swimsuit, fitness shoes, socks, underwear, reading material and my phone and phone charger and I ALWAYS wear Zumbawear on the plane. It’s a conversation starter for sure! I feel like I could purchase, or have help from Home Office, for anything not packed in that bag.

7. Outside of your daily packing for Zincon itself, take a look at what you need to THRIVE. I pretend I’m living in my normal day for that.

Vitamins & meds

Water Bottle

Deodorant, light-smelling body spray, body wipes

Shampoo, conditioner, dry shampoo

Toothbrush, toothpaste, floss

Hair brush, comb

Flat iron, bobby pins

Makeup

Sunscreen, hat if you want more coverage from the sun

Fiber, tums, ibuprofen

Functional shoes like running sneakers or athletic sandals for wearing between sessions

Shoe inserts or toe separators, whatever brace your ankle needs while you sleep (if you use them, definitely keep using them at Convention!)

Backpack (if you use the one we all get in our free swag, be sure to label it very specifically as yours--bandana on the loop, giant tassels, loud key chains)

One sweatshirt or light jacket -- the OCCC is the coldest building in all of Florida, especially when you’re sweaty!

Notebook & pen or some other organizational system like your ipad or a binder and markers

Pajamas

Something from home to help you sleep. Melatonin? Your diffuser? A pic of your family? A stuffed animal? A symbol of your faith for stillness and meditation? Every day will be exhausting in the best way, and although your body will say “SLEEP” your brain may still be racing.

Swimsuit

Sunglasses

Chargers and devices, I especially like wearing a Fitbit at Convention but I have actually forgotten the charging brick. The step counts are insane! Get ready!

One non-athletic outfit. At some point a sundress or a t-shirt and shorts will feel really nice!

*Note* If you are heading to a club at any point, maybe the pre- or post-convention party, consider non-athletic wear especially where you feel confident and comfortable. Many clubs will not allow you in if you are wearing Zumbawear.

8. Consider all your plug items or devices. Ask yourself the following questions:

If I LOVE to take pictures, which device will do that and does it have the space for 1,000 pictures? If not, start deleting and backing up as necessary.

Do I need batteries for what I’m bringing and do I have those batteries? Think of your white noise machine, your electric toothbrush, your portable hair crimper…

Is this something I need to THRIVE for only 4-5 days of a fitness convention? 

Is a roommate already bringing something on this required list? Some roommates plan each “required” item--one friend brings the blender, one the K-cup coffee maker, one the mega box of K-cups and one the flat irons.

*Note* You can look online to see what your hotel includes. Some already have small coffee makers, hair dryers, a fridge, toiletries and irons.

9. And now, time to recover! Wait, what?

Convention is a whirlwind, a neon-filled Disney for the happiest and most passionate fitness instructors in the world. What will you need to start each day, end each night, with positive intentions?

Foam roller

Essential oils

Ice packs

Yoga mat

Emu oil, Biofreeze, Tiger Balm, Icy Hot or other topical creams

STRETCH now, especially your neck, and get it ready for looking upward at tall stages or getting “Apeshit” in the Beyonce session. Stretch each night at Zincon before bed and again in the morning if you can. There are also mindfulness or yoga opportunities in the mornings before sessions start--check your badge for the location.

ICE and be smart now, because whatever aches today will ache exponentially in Florida.

FINISH what’s hanging, like your Theme Night costume, the puzzle on your coffee table, the giant project for work or those haircuts for your kids. The less on that reality To Do List, the more open your brain will feel for Zincon.

REST and RESET now, as you can, because learning, loving, hugging, smiling, listening, moving and feeling all deplete your emotional and physical stores. But also, learning, loving, hugging, smiling, listening, moving and feeling will refill your quality of instruction and energy for the rest of the year. It’s absolutely worth it!!

See you soon, #zinmembers!!

[meowloudly15]

Stranded: Day 2 - RUSSIAN SPY

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Gwen pulled off her mask and gloves and climbed down the fire escape. She jumped from the bottom level and landed lightly on the pavement below.

Where could she find food?

Gwen looked around. She appeared to be in a residential area.

PERSONS TAKING NOTICE

A young man on the other side of the road called to her, "Nice jump!"

Gwen picked a random direction and started walking quickly. It was a bad idea to do things that might attract attention.

She walked for a few blocks and saw what looked like a deli shop. A rotund Italian man stood outside of it, placing slices of turkey on a window ledge. A cat trotted over, meowing happily and loudly.

IMPENDING MORAL CRISIS

Not for the first time, Gwen cursed the presence of her moral compass. But she needed to eat something.

Gwen waited for the shop owner to go back inside, took a quick glance around to make sure that nobody was watching her (there were a couple of people on the street, but they were absorbed by their phones), and then sidled over to the windowsill. She swiped the turkey before the cat had finished sniffing at it and popped it into her mouth. The cat meowed unhappily, so she gave it a quick scratch on the head before continuing onward.

Gwen then realised how bad of an idea it probably was to eat something straight off of an unclean window ledge. She suppressed her gag reflex and swallowed.

It would tide her over for a little while, at least.

Gwen noticed the itch again, which was stronger now.

She continued to walk down the road. The itch grew more and more powerful, then started to weaken again.

Was it a homing signal? Would the sense direct her to Visions Academy?

There was only one way to find out.

Gwen turned around and kept walking until the itch regained its strength, then turned left. She crossed the street as a car honked at her. Typical Connec-... no, this was New York City. Typical New York courtesy.

She really wanted a map. But for now, at least, her spider-sense would do.

Gwen walked along the new street – it was called Park Drive – and felt the homing itch strengthen slightly.

She kept walking, following the itch as it played a nonverbal game of Hot and Cold with her. She took wrong turns, backtracked multiple times, had a brief atomic disjunction, and collided with a No Parking sign. It certainly wasn't the most efficient way to travel, and it wasn't the most fun, but at least she had something to do for the time being.

By the time Gwen had gotten about halfway through her music playlist, the homing itch was buzzing like a cell phone set to vibrate and was causing her a modicum of discomfort. She turned a corner and saw a large concrete building emblazoned with the words "VISIONS ACADEMY". On the street nearby stood a stocky police officer, sighing as he peeled a sticker off of a mailbox.

VISION OF BROOKLYN

Was school in session today?

Gwen took out her phone and looked at the date and time. It was now 11:30 on October 1st, a Monday, so…

Wait. October 1st?

That was almost a week before the dimensional travel incident happened!

Right?

Did the calendar work differently in this dimension?

How had her phone reset to this different date and time system?

Gwen had a lot more questions, but her stream of thoughts was interrupted by the policeman walking over to her, saying, "Hey, kid!"

She nearly fled. She thought the cop was about to arrest her. She assumed he recognised her. But she didn't move.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Gwen sighed in relief, then immediately realised that she needed to come up with an excuse. "Yes! Doctor! The appointment thing! But it's over now, so I'm going back. Sir."

The man nodded, then turned and walked away. "Have a good day, kid."

"Sure thing, sir!" Gwen gave the officer a quick salute before jogging over to the school.

She looked behind her to see if the cop was still watching her. He was.

Well, it looked like she had to go inside.

Should she be here?

YA-YUP

Gwen swung open the door and walked into the school.

The first thing she was struck by was how polished and modern everything looked. She was also struck by the lack of students in the halls. Maybe it was class time.

Where should she go?

RUSSIAN SPY

What?

A large man dressed in a grey three-piece suit walked over to Gwen. "What are you doing outside of class?" he asked.

"I, uh, I…" Gwen stammered, at a loss for words.

Was this guy some type of spy?

The man squinted. "I know the face of every student in this school, but I don't recognise you."

Gwen tensed up. She assumed the man had recognised her from the police blotter.

"Sir, uh…"

"Then you must be Wanda Maximoff."

Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. She really had to put more trust in her spider-sense in social situations.

"The transfer student from Russia?"

Gwen gaped for a second, caught completely off-guard.

"Y-yes, dat es me," she finally said in the best Russian accent that she could muster on such short notice.

That explained a lot. The spider-sense had been referring to her.

The man extended a hand, smiling warmly. He modulated his speech carefully, hoping that it would aid "Wanda's" comprehension. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Doctor Bucci. I am the principal. Welcome to America."

"I-it, uh, eet eez mine plezoore also." Relieved to a point, Gwen shook Dr. Bucci's hand.

"I thought you would be arriving much later. We were not prepared for you quite so early."

"Ja, vell, I am here now."

"And indeed, whether late or early, your arrival is a pleasure. Allow me to take you on a tour of the school."

The next thirty minutes were a blur as Gwen was dragged from location to location by the overeager principal. He talked about the courses she would be taking, "reminded" her about housing and dining and extracurriculars, told her about the supplementary English courses, diverted onto tangents, presented her with a riddle or two that she couldn't solve, then resettled onto the subject at hand.

Gwen tried her best to remember all the information that kept getting thrown at her. Classes started promptly at 8:30; physics was first, followed by history, precalculus, et cetera; she was apparently listed as a freshman; she'd be in physics with the other transfer student who had arrived a couple of days ago; dorms were across the bridge (she was in room 118); study rooms were downstairs. There was a lot to remember. She didn't know how she could keep up this schedule, maintain her Russian facade, and somehow return home to her dimension.

But she would figure it out. Gwen just needed to put more faith in herself.

Also, she was starving. At least she wouldn't have to worry about meals any longer.

Dr. Bucci finally returned her to the main office and told her, "I'll send a copy of your schedule to your room, and I'll let your teachers know you're coming. Classes start tomorrow, so for now, feel free to relax, get lunch, explore a little. Also, we'll send up a uniform for you, plus all the assignments that you've missed. See you around!" He waved and walked off.

Gwen sighed in relief. She had plenty of time to figure out what she was doing.

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[ask-de-writer]

A sort of wasted day.  Ugh.

Got up at 4:30 AM.  Nearly no sleep because THIS was the night that the mutts decided to hold a veritable BARK fest.  “I may have noticed a cricket!  BARK!  I think that I may have heard the wind outside change! BARK!  And so on, all night.  I may have gotten a whole hour of sleep, but I doubt it. 

Dressed but not really functional by 4:45.

Fed assorted critters and put in my new fangs.

Checked out the truck.  It needed oil and water but these are expected things and I was ready for them.  The only thing that made it a difficulty was keeping my new clothes clean while servicing the truck.

Got a text from the wife of the couple that I was doing this for.  She got a late start from Victoria, TX, 700 miles (about 1126.5 Km) away.  Set our meet up to go to the appointment back an hour.

No real big.  Went back in and grabbed a small bite of breakfast.  Called her husband, who was out here at their place watching their property and whom I was supposed to pick up and take down to the freeway, where we were supposed to meet his wife and her daughter.to let him know.  They live in a nearly dead zone and phones sometimes don’t work well.

Went and got him, no problem.  We got to the gas station at the freeway, where we were supposed to link up with his family.  Only waited a bit to get a message.  She had nearly driven off the road. She was too tired to continue so she pulled over for a nap about 200 miles (about 322 Km) down the road.

He and I said, “Nuts to waiting.  Let’s get breakfast!”  Went to the nice Tex-Mex restaurant across from the service station and got a a really nice breakfast.

While awaiting their arrival in town, we checked our mail and stopped at a good local hardware store.  They are changing over from an Ace to a True Value and had just tonnes of tools (my deadly weakness) on sale because they were now the wrong brands but still great tools!  I blew about USD $85.00 on stuff that I wanted.

Got another call.  She and her daughter were parked beside the road only about 10 miles (about 16 Km) away.  Out of gas.  Needed to get a gas can because I did not have one with me and went to take her gas.  There was no place to turn around anywhere near where they were.  Had to drive almost 40 miles (about 64 Km) to find a place to turn around and get back to her.

With all the folderol, she had to completely reset the important appointment.

Got them to the gas station and filled up so that they could go home.

Came back myself.  Tried to nap but could not get to sleep in spite of being so tired that my knuckles were dragging!   Spent a bit of time working on the control system of the Woodhopper ultralight airplane that I am building and then came here for a bit of R&R. 

It takes weird things like this to make this one realize how much I Love all of my followers.  THANKS FOR BEING YOU!!

[powerpuffgirls-a-blog]

Plottwist: from one technology switched to another

On Wednesday, we already had the appointment with the Managing Director of Lödige, Arthur van Brink. The full conversation is described below. At first we entered the conversation room with the idea that we would learn more about the ‘palletizer’ in the KLM Cargo System. We left with a whole new technology that triggered us more! Self-parking systems. A whole new technologies that is urgently needed in huge cities like Amsterdam, New York, Copenhagen etc.. 

5/9/2018 - 14:00-15:00 - Lödige Industries, Den Bosch

First Kelly explained the purpose of the KA Technology & Engineering sessions.

Arthur: Okay. Yes. We have all sorts of new technologies. I will tell you first something about Lödige itself. Loödige as a company is a family business. The Lodge family has started ages ago. We have two sides of the family. One side produces industrial mixing machines. And the other sides, that’s us. Rudolph Lodge is still chairman of the board. The KLM Cargo was one of the first accounts. Recently, we renewed the machine for KLM. That is the account that Kellys father, Arie van Dijk, is managing. Our side of the business, we make Elevator Solutions for example. We’re doing all kinds of elevators, but not the cool ones that work with magnetic fields (yet). On the other side we also make Ramp Solutions, for example for theaters, but also for aviation-technique.

The real technology and innovation is in Car Park Solutions. The last years the step towards elevator entrances has been made. But now we’re looking for new ways of parking. Now we, with our innovative mind, are making a parking puzzle. You know, from the children’s puzzle. Funfact, Beyonce parks on our parking places in Downtown Manhattan 

Kelly: What do you think what will happen in the future?

Arthur: In the housing market, you’ll see that there is an urgent demand for new parking solutions, especially in the big cities like Amsterdam, but also New York, Dubai and other metropolitans.

Kelly: Is that fully autonomic?

Arthur: Let me show you, i have a new concept for you! We went with RTL7 to Copenhagen to shoot some tapes for the new elevator systems.

- The video is similar to the parking system in Copenhagen -

Janoux: Isnt’ this system way more expensive and has a longer back paying system?

Arthur: No, normal parking garages use 12 m depth for 3 levels. Because we use space more efficiently, we can go to max. 6 m deep. In that we save building costs.

Aswhin: How is it with queues?

Arthur: Our garages have multiple gates. If all these were used, the first crossroad around the corner may not handle the capacity of the parking, it is not the parking itself. A time ago there were festivities. They were finished, and everyone wanted to leave. So there were 800 people wanting their car. The biggest challenge is the psychological part, since a ‘normal’ parking lot can’t handle over capacity as well, because you will create traffic jam as well. The only thing that is different that people who are waiting for their car in the automatic parking system, can’t directly reach their car. That new technology is scary for them. 

Renee: How do you see failures of the system?

Arthur: In Germany we have a remote control centre. Big parkings will be monitored. With a signal they get when there is a breakdown. That is a central hub. They can reset and do distance system fixes. But this is the biggest innovation we have. We’re building in Copenhagen, in Sydney, in Germany.

Kelly: Do you have big competitors?

Arthur: Not in The Netherlands, but in Germany. There we have one.

Kelly: What distinguishes you from those competitors?

Arthur: We’re innovative. When the customer comes to us, we often don’t have the plan or the technology yet. We have a reputation that we have a strong R&D and we always find a solution. With the sidenote that the project has to be big enough. There was a customer that wanted a transport deck with a pallet that needs to be turned around and it will get on a wrong way on it. But we want it to get fully mathematic proof. The engineering costs will be so high. For Tata Steel in IJmuiden, we built an elevator to transport a zinc oven. They want to replace different ovens in the process. It weighs 350ton. It has to move. Well THAT is a big one. We want that. Business case, is easy, they already had these ovens, but they moved it by hand. It took 2 days. Now, with the machine, it takes 2 hours.

Arthur: But you didnt ask for the electric charging. How do you think we do that? There are several charging lids on several models. It has different positions as well. I’ll tell you. In the big ones we don’t have them yet. Because we have no people yet. In the pallet systems, it is easier. Because you take the charger and connect it to the pallet. In that way we can charge it, because we can connect the pallet to energy. 

Renee: Oh wow, you have a lot of smart engineers here.

Arthur: We have a graduation intern from Gent university right now here started. Next week he flies to New York.

Janoux: Are those self learning systems or are they programmed ahead.

Arthur: No, they are pre-programmed with algorithms. A fun thing is that we can do the distant calls for the car already. That the car is already placed next to the elevator. 

Kelly: Were is the production?

Arthur: In the neighbourhood of Winterberg.

Kelly: How does this work? The customer approaches you?

Arthur: I first do the intake, where we check the wishes. The commercial process. What are you looking for, capacity vs speed. After I get these wishes on paper, I go to R&D. We check what is possible. We give that as feedback to the customer. In that way we specify it more. In Amsterdam we have the Vijzel Gracht parking. In the place where the metro North-Soutline is located. It is located around 45 m below the surface. But the metro line is not 45 m high. So there is a lot of space for parking below the concrete case on the metro space.  They have already done research to the parties that can help them to build the parking. I think that we make a great chance on getting the job.

Renee: Is it hard to promise what the delivery time will be?

Arthur: For the Gemeente Amsterdam, they do a long ‘get to know each other’ project. In this case, we have some more dialog before the due date is set. The benefit is that the whole design of the parking is already discussed.

Kelly: I know you can’t give a time, but do you have an example of how much time it costs.

Arthur: For the KLM project there was a clear due date. We made kind of a parking system. The palletized didn’t exist when we started. The whole engineering was done in 3 months. But in the end, it all depends on the size of the project.

Kelly: I’m going to do an assumption, but correct me if i’m wrong. But in the core, all the technique is quite similar right?

Arthur: Yep, you’re right. We know how to move the car in the parking technique. What we didn’t know, was the part of the ‘shifters’. There are 8 cm high, they drive on batteries and they communicate with each other. The charging time of the batteries must be really quick. Now we have a charging time of 6 seconds. They can do the movement 4 times, so 4 cars.

Ashwin: But the batteries go broke in time right? Isn’t that expensive?

Arthur: No, we promise that we do these changes in time, we have a service contract for that.

Arthur: No one drives in and parks their car in the same way. The place on which the car parks has weight sensors. The floor can set the car in the right spot for parking. That is all put in the parking floor. If you watch at 5BY2, the company we bought a few months ago, they use het pallet system to put the car on the spot.

Renee: Isn’t the scary thing a big thing?

Arthur: I was in Copenhagen. I met a dutch family. We observed them for a while. They were very confused. They followed the instructions on the screen. The children were really shocked that the door closed and their car was gone.

Janoux: So, in 15 years, all the parkings will look like this?

Arthur: I don’t think so. Only where the ground is expensive. communication between the car and the parking will be a thing. You’ll get a kroket-automaat with cars in the future. A whole new era of demand for cars and parking will come. On the airport the same thing. There you have vallet parking. I had a talk with Vandelande. We would do the parking, they the automatic impact. That would be amazing if you ask me.

Group: Thank you.

[imalifegen89]

A Legacy Left Behind - Chapter 7 - When the Past Unfurls - Part I

Part - 2

Makani's Market

Honolulu

The taxi dropped them off by the small grocery shop where Steve’s dad had been doing his shopping. Steve saw his dad’s old Ford parked three spots away from the entrance. He walked over, using the key he got from his dad before they left, to unlock the vehicle. He threw his duffel into the back seat and motioned Danny to do the same with his. Then he checked around the truck, running his hands over in some areas and at times bending over and kneeling, carrying a thorough visual inspection. It’d been parked here for almost a day and Steve didn’t want to take any chances.

Satisfied with the vehicle's condition, he turned to enter the shop. A hidden bell jingled, announcing his visit as he opened the door.

“Why don’t you go and grab us a few cases of beer? I’ll go over and get some food,” Steve suggested to Danny and took off to the food and snacks section. Danny walked away to the other side in search of alcohol.

They both met at the register after a few minutes laden with their purchases. An elderly Hawaiin native with white hair and a friendly smile greeted them from behind the till.

“Aloha, how much for all these?” Steve asked, piling up everything on the counter. The man rang it up and presented Steve with a tally which he settled with a credit card.

“Listen, my name’s Steve McGarrett, my father was here yesterday evening and he got very sick. He told me you guys helped him to get over to the hospital quickly,” Steve opened up the conversation as Danny collected their stuff and went out to put them in the truck.

“Ah yes, I remember. I’ve known the Captain for a long time.” The old man grinned showing a raw of uneven and less-than-white teeth. “And you are his son? It’s very nice to meet you! Is the Captain alright?”

“We’re just coming back from the hospital. Thanks to what you did, he got there on time and he’s doing okay now,” Steve smiled, letting the genuine gratitude he felt show through.

“Please, there is no need to thank us. It was the least we could do. He came in to buy groceries, as he always does just before the weekend and he was over there, next to the vegetable aisle. He was standing there one moment and falling over the next. I saw it happen, but I was here and wasn’t going to reach him on time,” the man’s expression darkened as he recalled what happened.

It was clear to Steve that this old shop owner cared about his regular customer. Steve figured that he must have seen his dad in uniform - or maybe even they were friendly enough that John McGarrett must’ve told this gentleman what he did since he kept referring to him as ‘Captain.’

“Lucky for him, the pretty girl he was talking to, caught him before he hit the ground. Then she called over saying he was unconscious and I dialed 911. Then I went over to him to check for myself, and yes, he was out cold. The ambulance showed up shortly after and took him to the hospital,” the shop owner finished.

“What pretty girl?” Warning bells started to go off in Steve’s mind as he latched onto that bit of information. For some insane reason, he thought he knew exactly who had been talking to his father.

“Please tell me it was a cute, blonde with blue eyes about yay height?” Danny, who had joined them during the old man’s recounting of the story, asked. He was pointing at a height that reached his chest.

“No, not really,” the man smiled at him. “She was a very beautiful girl. I’d say about your height or maybe slightly taller? With long brown hair and brown eyes,” he informed Danny earnestly. “Such a nice girl she was too. She didn’t leave Captain’s side until the medics got here. I had to deal with a customer and had to come back to the till,” he looked at Steve apologetically.

“Any chance you have a security camera in here that caught the incident?”

“What he means is, maybe we know her, you know? Or maybe if we see her around, he can thank her for doing what she did.” Danny intervened smoothly, seeing as the shopkeeper was taken aback by Steve’s tone. He could see the younger SEAL had gone into Operator-mode.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have a security camera for the aisles. Only one here above me pointed at the register and one at the entrance.” He was starting to sound a little frightened.

“It’s alright, I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s just what happened to my dad was so sudden and it’s got me worried. If I can find this lady, maybe she can tell me more about what happened to him, you know? Because she was talking to him at the time,” Steve caught on to Danny’s warning and told the shopkeeper contritely. “Would you mind letting us see the footage from the entrance camera?” he asked in a tone he hoped came across with the right amount of pleading.

The man’s expression softened, understanding the concern and worry Steve was projecting. “It's in the backroom. Please, follow me,” he left the register and went through a door that was behind the counter, keeping the door open to let Steve and Danny enter. Then he went over to the two monitors that were on the small desk and pointed at the left screen.

“This is the entrance camera. My son changes the tape every two days or so. He hasn’t changed this one yet, so if you reverse it, you might probably see what you need,” he told them looking at the screen doubtfully. It was clear that he didn’t have much knowledge of the system. But the fact that he was still willing to let them go through it, told them a lot about the kind, old man.

“I appreciate this very much, sir. We only need to see my dad and his lady friend. I’ll make sure to leave it turned back to the live footage once we’re done here, mahalo.” Steve assured the man as he dragged the single steel chair closer to the desk to sit. Then he started reversing the footage back to the time he guessed his father entered the shop. Danny came to stand behind him and the shopkeeper went near the door to stand there, where he could keep an eye on his shop.

“You are the son of the Captain. I’m sure it’s fine and hopefully, you will find what you are looking for,” said the old man.

Steve wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince himself or them. In any case, he only wanted to confirm his suspicions. He had no intention of messing up the kind shopkeeper’s security system.

Steve found what he was looking for, five minutes into the feed. The footage had the time stamp as 15.25 hrs when John McGarrett entered the shop. Exactly four minutes after, the clear shot of Rollins could be seen entering the shop, carrying a big, black, handbag on her shoulder. She walked towards the entrance purposefully and looked to both left and right before stepping inside, giving the security camera a clear image of her face unknowingly.

Danny let out a soft whistle and tapped Steve on the back once. Steve reset the system to its previous setting and left the room. He thanked the shopkeeper for his help again and they both left the shop soon after that without saying a word.

McGarrett Home

Honolulu

Hawaii

“Either you have a major stalker problem or that was one hell of a coincidence.” Danny reflected as he pulled a long gulp from his chilled Longboard.

He was staring at the lazy waves coming back to hug the shore. The salty afternoon breeze did a lot to tone down the heat and he found himself relaxing, laying on the comfy wooden deck chair on Steve’s lanai. He had taken his shoes and socks off and folded his jeans up to his knees, letting his bare feet rest on the soft sand on the beach.

……….

It had only taken five minutes for them to return to Steve’s place. Neither had talked on the way, each of them thinking through the chain of events that led them to Hawaii and where it could potentially lead them. Once they had gotten home, Danny had taken the task of sorting out their purchases while Steve took time to go through the house, carrying a visual inspection like he did with his dad’s truck. He had known that there was no way he could do a thorough search since neither of them had their usual gear. But he had checked all the rooms, the garage, and the yard nevertheless. They hadn’t said much to each other while going about their self-appointed tasks, preferring caution in case the house was bugged. They had chosen Steve’s lanai on the beach as a private and much safer place to have this conversation.

……….

Danny studied the SEAL sitting right next to him on the other deck chair, with his bare feet propped up on the small wooden stool in front of them. Steve had an open beer resting on the armrest as he continued to take on the view before him.

“You remember what Joe used to call the ‘coincidences’?”

“Yeah, something about it taking a lot of work and planning to make one happen?” Danny answered Steve. He had an inkling as to where the younger man was going with this. He took another long pull from his beer.

“I’m thinking there's a good chance that she had something to do with whatever happened to dad. Then she decided to hang around the hospital to see what would happen next. I’m also thinking, that would mean there’s even a better chance she’s connected to one of our bad guys,” said Steve, finally taking a sip from his beer.

“I was thinking about something she said earlier. I couldn’t place it then, but it sort of hit me on the way back. She said, ‘I thought you guys were in Colorado?’” Danny mimicked the overly cheerful Rollins and managed a surprisingly decent likeness. “She wasn’t supposed to know where we went, was she? I’m pretty sure Colonel Sumner never mentioned it,” he straightened from his sprawl on the chair to properly look at Steve.

“No, she shouldn’t have known where we went,” Steve answered. “You know, if we continue along this line of thought, I’d say this could even explain why our snake-heads and the life-suckers here on earth have been very quiet recently. Kusanagi and her team are tracking those sats 24/7 and nothing so far,” He turned to face Danny. “Say, if this woman were to call them and tell them what we knew, it would make sense for them to fly under the radar for a while, don’t you think?”

“Taking this thread even further, it could also mean what happened with your dad might be the opening act of them coming out to play. Maybe they are done flying under the radar,” Danny said contemplatively.

Then he finished his beer and fished another one from the case that was sitting on the beach between the chairs. He did not like where this was going and he could already sense the impending threat that was about to fall on them.

“Yeah.”

The one-word agreement from Steve didn’t help to alleviate Danny’s concerns either. “How long do we have, you think?” he asked, tamping down the trepidation he was beginning to feel.

The entire conversation had taken a turn for the worse and he lamented the loss of the nice relaxing feeling that the beach, the sound of the waves, and the beer had created.

He knew that Steve had already thought the whole thing through, maybe from the moment he saw the footage from the shop, or maybe even the moment they had bumped into Catherine Rollins. Steve always had certain instincts about people and Danny knew from experience that he tended to be more right than wrong. The Lieutenant had annoyed Steve from the start and Danny was starting to believe that the younger SEAL may have sensed something off about her from the beginning, even if he hadn’t known it at the time. He hoped that Steve had some sort of a plan to deal with whatever was about to come their way.

Steve took time drinking his beer as he collected his thoughts to answer Danny’s question. He knew his friend was not going to like what he was about to reveal.

“Look, they’ve had enough opportunities to kill us if that’s what they wanted,” he started to explain his theory. “I’m guessing that since they went through this elaborate plot to get us here, they’d want to take us alive,”

“You’re guessing, hah? That doesn't make me feel better, Steve,” Danny interrupted. “Since when do you know what goes inside the mind of a snake-head?” He wanted to get moving. The way Steve was taking his sweet time to explain things as if he were a college professor conducting a lecture was getting on his nerves.

“Danny, Wo Fat is MSS.* I've seen his interrogation feed from Libya and I could tell by the way he moved and acted. So whatever Snake they infected him with, there’s a good chance they’re going to use his knowledge as a spy to conduct a snatch & grab out in the open, if that is their plan,” Steve revealed matter-of-factly.

Danny felt his mouth drop open. He had no idea that Steve had clearance for those feeds. But it made sense when he thought about it. If what Steve said was true - which Danny believed was the case - they probably did have a decent chance at guessing how things would go down.

“Well, what if it’s the Wraith? Did you think about that?” Danny had to ask, playing the devil's advocate. This whole conversation was pure guesswork bordering on paranoia and he had to sound things out with the other SEAL, before jumping into action.

“Come on man, you’ve seen those things. There’s no way they can blend in with normal people. Plus, you think they’d take a chance after what happened in Afghanistan, or Gemmond? Nah, I think they’d use the Goa’uld for something like this.” Steve remarked with surety and sipped his beer, looking completely relaxed. He projected an innocent image of just-a-guy-having-a-beer-after-a-tiring-day for all the world to see. Danny knew better.

“Ok fine. Go on, what’s next?” he had a feeling he was going to hate whatever half-brained plan the guy was sure to have concocted in his mind.

“If it was me, I’d want all of us, you, me and my dad, to leverage against each other,” Steve started to explain as he mentally constructed the events the enemy would initiate.

“So we go back, grab your dad and go somewhere else!” Danny exclaimed incredulously. How hard could that be?

“Still, all of us together. You think they’ll let us go just like that? We don’t know what they are capable of or willing to do, to complete their objective,”

“What the hell are you getting at, McGarrett?” Danny knew this was where the man came out with the real-shitty part of his plan. He could see the reasoning and had to admit that Steve did have a point. But he most definitely didn't have to like this plan, whatever it was.

“I want us to split up,” Steve was studiously avoiding eye contact, staring at the ocean instead, sipping his beer leisurely. As if he hadn’t just suggested the most idiotic thing in the whole freaking world!

“No.” Said Danny resolutely and dropped his second empty bottle to the ground. He didn’t even want to elaborate on his denial of this stupidity.

“Listen to me,” Steve started, placatingly.

“Nope,” Danny shook his head vehemently. “Nope, nope.”

“Danny, for god's sake, if they take us all together, they can easily use us against each other. When we split up, we force them to split up as well. That way, we increase our chances of getting away,” Steve snapped, a hint of command entering his tone.

Danny knew that Steve would make it an order in a heartbeat if he continued this refusal. The Lieutenant Commander was a stubborn asshole when he had his mind made up on something.

“Here’s a better idea, dumbass - we call the SGC - get back-up, and catch the assholes in one fell swoop! Then we ask them nicely what the hell they think they’re doing!”

Danny had to consciously keep his voice from increasing as he continued to argue with Steve. The chance was there that they were under surveillance; so they had to keep up the illusion that they were just sitting on the beach having day-to-day chitchat. But he wasn’t giving up that easily and Danny could match Steve’s stubbornness, especially when he knew that the crazy fucker was preparing to do something drastic.

The sad smile that spread over Steve’s face did nothing to reduce Danny’s agitation. In fact, it increased the impending sense of doom.

“What?” he hissed.

“The landline isn't working, and it has nothing to do with the cable in the house or the connection. I think they disabled it from outside. Also, we don’t have any cell signals. They probably dealt with the local tower as well.” Steve informed Danny.

“WHAT?” Danny exploded. Then he remembered to tone down the volume. “Fuck! How? When?” he asked softly, whipping his cell phone out and checking for himself. Sure enough, there were no signal bars.

“I only found out when I checked the house earlier. I’m thinking even now, we are under surveillance,” Steve shrugged and looked around. “And I’m pretty sure they’re going to make their move very soon.”

They couldn’t see anything obvious, but the tension around them had definitely gone up. Danny felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in response to the possibility of being watched by unknown and unseen entities.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” He asked, grudgingly accepting the fact that he was going to have to carry out a part in whatever Steve had come up with.

The SEAL wordlessly produced a set of car keys from his shirt pocket and dropped it on the palm Danny extended on reflex.

He stared at the keys in his hand for a few seconds. “What the fuck is this?”

“This is the key to my truck. I’ve checked it, there are no signs of sabotage. Take it and go. You’ll have a tail and they’ll most likely guess you are heading to the hospital. So, don’t make any sudden moves, don’t let them know we are onto them. Call dad as soon as you get a signal and ask him to get ready to leave,” Steve dictated the ops plan the same way he had done countless other times. But this time was nothing like any of those. There were just the two of them against an unknown number of enemies - alien enemies. “My guess is they’d make a move on the two of you when you’re there. They might not want to risk letting you two drive away. So be prepared for traps and try to make a few distractions without directly engaging. We don’t know what they’d do and we really don’t need to put anyone else in danger. Once you have my dad, call SGC and bail.”

“And what will you be doing while I’m out there playing John McLean, hah?” Danny asked heatedly. He was yet to hear the craziest bit of this ridiculous plan.

“Playing the bait of course,” Steve smirked, deliberately pushing Danny’s buttons. Danny scowled.

“I have a feeling I know why they went through this whole drama. I’m going to stay right here and keep the majority of them occupied while you get my dad to safety,” said Steve confidently.

“Why can’t you take off as well, Steve? Why the hell should you be here?” Danny couldn’t understand. Steve had a much better chance if he was out and mobile as well.

“Because as I said earlier, Danny, I don’t want to find out the lengths they’re willing to go to get us. I can minimize the possible collateral damage if I stay put,” Steve explained patiently. Danny was sure he was going to run out of that patience soon.

So he let out a heavy sigh and started to straighten his pant legs. Then he got busy putting his socks and shoes on. “This is the shittiest fucking plan you’ve ever come up with so far, McGarrett,” he felt the need to mention as he finished tying up his shoelaces.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Steve opened his arms wide, inviting Danny to contribute.

“I already made the suggestion, we both get the hell out together,” Danny started, knowing full well how Steve was going to counter.

“And then what? let them grab dad and use him as a hostage? You know that bitch is probably still there, right?” As expected, Steve cut him off, reminding him that there was at least one known enemy already in the scene.

“We do it your way and they have a good chance of grabbing you as a hostage,” Danny stood up and turned to look Steve squarely in the eye. He knew Steve could see the concern in his expression.

“Well, we all have sub-q transmitters in us, don’t we? SGC’d know where I am all the time,”.

Steve was banking on the fact that they’d grab him and take him to one of their hidden bases. It would be the easiest way for the SGC to locate their hidey-hole since they hadn’t been very keen on showing their faces lately. But Of course, there was always a chance the enemy might know about the transmitter and dispose of it. But he didn’t want to say that out loud, further upsetting his friend.

Then he watched Danny walking away towards the house, still muttering to himself. He knew Danny wasn’t happy at all about any of this. Neither was Steve.

The moment he had discovered the trouble with phone lines and the cell signals, it confirmed the suspicions that had been brewing in his mind since he had spoken to his dad. All these seemingly innocuous yet unusual incidents had started to point to a much serious threat when put together.

Steve was still very much concerned for his dad’s health. This plan of his included taking John McGarrett from where he was supposed to be resting into a potentially very dangerous situation. But he didn’t know what else to do to get his dad to safety. He trusted Danny completely and knew he’d try his damndest to do what Steve wanted him to. That was going to have to be enough.

He could feel the anger he had been ruthlessly suppressing, at those things that had involved his family in their plans, trying to resurface. He took a few deep breaths and pushed it aside. He needed to be clear-headed if he was going to make it hard for these assholes to get to him.

Steve continued to sit there drinking his beer, listening to the growling engine as Danny finally took off as instructed. Then he took out his phone and inspected the screen. There were still no signal bars. He got up from his chair then, mentally planning a list of things he needed to take care of, starting from plugging his phone into a charger, before the bad guys decided to show up at his house uninvited.