#pretty soon ill have the whole thing mapped out and can actually begin working on it

[dunmertwink]

.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Hot Stuff (Tim Drake x Reader)

Words: 3k

Req: “can you do a fic where the reader has to get protected and she doesn't want to and thinks it's dumb but like otherwise someone is gonna try to kill her so a batboy (of your choice) has to protect her and they like realize they like each other? i just think it would be really cute sorry haha you can ignore me.”

I’m not gonna ignore you!!! this is adorable! also i let ppl vote not knowing the prompt and they picked tim hehehe so this will be fun! you really left me a LOT of creative freedom lmao so i tried my best but had a lot of fun lolz hope you enjoy angel!

It had been at least 5 years since you had ever shivered. And the last time it happened you were like 20 seconds away from dying so the fact that it was becoming a common feeling was definitely a problem. But your near death every couple minutes was a pretty dumb excuse to get you holed up in the batcave being watched over by none other than Mr. Batman himself. 

The whole problem arose when all the cold-powered super villains decided it was time for their equivalent of a crossover, deciding that if the world was frozen over they could... steal shit? Then unfreeze it or something? They were always a little slow (call it brain freeze if you will) but the beginnings of their plan worked and the temperature of the Earth was dropping steadily which didn’t bode well for a hero like you who’s powers revolved around heat and energy, the colder you got the weaker- making this the reason you were in a makeshift furnace set up discreetly in the Batcave. 

“Morning y/n let’s see how you’re doing” Tim greeted you with a wave, grabbing a tablet that was tracking your internal body temperature and other boring statistics on whether or not you’d live. “Oh man, okay, lemme turn it up” Tim tapped at the tablet while you folded another paper airplane and threw it at the glass. “I feel fine man, like really, I’m just chilling” you shrugged, incinerating the paper airplane with a small flame in the center of your palm while Tim chuckled. “Well ya see, you ‘chilling’ is actually quite a bad thing, but yeah a couple minutes with extra heat and you can come to breakfast!” you rolled your eyes at his smothered laughter. “How long you been sitting on that one?” you teased him. 

“Long enough Sparky, now warm up I’m hungry” Tim started you on a burst of energy while he moved on to the main BatComputer. “Whatcha solving today? Anything I can help with?” you squinted at the screen hoping for something interesting. “Bruce is going out to see if he can find the location of all the machines dropping the temp, and no, you’re definitely not going outside anytime soon” Tim chided you while you groaned and let sharp flames jutt from your clenched fists. “I’m not a child, I can regulate my temperature on my own, hell I can still make fire so clearly I’m fine” you said matter-of-factly holding up a flame and letting it dancing into a small burst. 

“And I’d like to keep you that way y/n let’s not risk it, now c’mon I think you’ve taken in enough energy” Tim opened the door to your little glass room, his eyes widening at the heat that brushed over his face. “Dude you ever got hot in there?” Tim questioned, fanning his face from the exposure. “Nope, I’m kinda like that all the time” you explained, casually taking his hand to show him how your skin practically radiated heat. “Oh- wow, you’re really warm but it’s kinda cool.” Tim mumbled, pushing your palm flush up against his, the tops of his fingertips curling around yours while he grinned, “your hands are so small” you snorted, “whatever Drake, I could cook you like a bird if I wanted to,” you laughed, racing up the steps towards the kitchen ready to warm up some breakfast.

That afternoon you were helping Damian through homework hoping for any excitement in the pure boredom. “Alright, done. I’m going to take Titus out you can come- uh actually nevermind.” Damian shot you an apologetic look before grabbing Titus’ collar. “No actually I can go! I’m super warm and got the go ahead!” You quickly stood up, telling yourself a little getaway was necessary. “Really? I believe Drake said-” you cut Damian off, “Tim is like never right about anything yaknow? Let’s go!” You zipped up a couple of your jackets with a grin while Damian led you outside. 

The air was crisp, like a fall day that was on the verge of shifting into winter. “You’re not going to die on me are you?” Damian glanced at you while you breathed in the fresh air peacefully. “No haha, this is just regulating my temperature using my powers for a little while, I get ill when I do it for too long, let’s go!” you raced down the street loving the freedom even though you could feel the cold creep in. 

“Y/n? Y/n? Guys I think her eyelids are moving! Y/N! Can you hear me?” a familiar voice buzzed over the white noise while you began to regain your senses. Slowly you blinked your eyes open to see Damian, who looked pissed, Bruce, who also looked pissed, and Tim, who looked worse than ever. “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING YOU LIED TO DAMIAN TO GO OUTSIDE THEN ALMOST DIED!” Tim was waving his hands and showing you charts of your warmth-cold ratios being at all time lows and spouting off concerning facts about your health while Bruce just looked at the ceiling asking ‘why me’. 

“I thought I’d be fine” you whispered, feeling your throat scream at it’s use. “It’s like freezing outside- freakin colder than winter- and you wanted to go outside???” Tim looked exasperated, he was in a loose tank top and shorts, it looked like he’d been sweating so he had probably been next to you for a while during your recovery. “I didn’t think I’d get so cold” you mumbled, flexing your hands while you tried to regain your strength. 

Eventually Tim calmed down, he went back to working on cases but you noticed him frequently checking to confirm you hadn’t left your new room. Damian chastised you for lying and told you how you essentially fainted a couple blocks into the walk, it was just way too cold too for you to function outside. But the small taste of freedom was worth it. 

“Hey hot stuff,” Tim gave you a little devilish smile at his new nickname for you. “Cute Drake, but what’s up?” you called back as he approached your makeshift oven-room. “Nothing much just thought I’d come hangout- warm up your cold dark heart for once” you shook your head at all his heat-centered puns. “Tough talk for a glorified shish-kebab” you said with a laugh, letting a little spark dance on your finger tips. 

“What does it feel like? The powers and being cold?” Tim asked, his eyes still staring at your palm. “Mhm it’s a part of me yaknow? So when it’s cold its like a piece of my being is being stifled, like choked out of me. But normally, it just flows through me and I can channel it and what not but right now it feels... rigid, like every ounce of warmth is being used to circulate through my own body” you said with a sign, missing the freedom and immense warmth. “We’re gonna fix this y/n you know that right? This is only temporary, I promise.” Tim whispered, inching closer to the glass. 

You felt a tear slip out, quickly you pushed it away feeling it evaporate in your hands you looked up at Tim who was inches from the glass, his cheeks were red from the heat radiating on him as he stood bundled in a sweater. Slowly he gave you a hopeful smile, putting his hand up against the glass. With a small smile you uncurled your hand up to meet his, for a second you just met his eyes and knew you were safe. Even when everything seemed so cold Tim was warm, and he was always there for you. 

A couple days later you were stable, but constantly needing reheating. You’d spent a lot of time with Tim who had set up a little workspace outside your room. He’d work on cases and talk to you, sometimes he’d catch a few minutes of sleep, his cheek pressed adorably up to the warm glass while you stifle giggles as his sleepy breaths fog the glass. Your situation was bearable with Tim, and you were really starting to enjoy his company.

“Red Robin we’ve got something” you watched Tim shoot up from his work as Bruce descended into the Batcave. “Barry Allen and the rest of Star Labs have reason to believe the frost machines aren’t actually underground, but their above us. Think pumping out cold air like an AC machine for the Earth” Tim nodded, sitting down at the batcomputer as he began typing rapidly. You were straining your neck against the glass to try to see what he was doing. 

“Got it, try here, here, and here” Tim was pointing wildly at a map while Bruce sent out the coords. “Suit up, if we’re right this’ll be a real fight” Bruce said as he left to go get the others. After Tim was in his suit he came up next to your room with a grin. You looked at him with hopeful eyes, “you think this is it?” you asked Tim while he flashed you a hopeful smile. “I hope so y/n, if we’re lucky this will be it” he answered, taking a deep breath and clenching his hands into fists. “Well you need extra luck” you told him, he nodded then stopped short when you burst out of the room, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “My hugs are super lucky” you whispered into his chest while his hands wrapped around your back. “I’ll take all the luck I can get” he mumbled, lowering his head into the crook of your neck. The hug was easy and perfect- until you started to shiver. Quickly Tim deposited you back into your room, turning up the heat. 

“Guess I’m not hot enough for you” Tim snorted while you rubbed your shoulders. “Shut up dork, now go fix the world so I can give you a proper hug” you placed your hand against the glass again. With a nod he placed his hand to yours, “will do” he said, dashing off towards Bruce and Damian who were also all suited up. 

“Y/n I must inform you they have in fact found the base and will be going into battle shortly” Alfred called from the computers while he monitored the team’s location. “Yes!” you shouted, pumping a fist in the air while you paced around your room. 

The plan was clear, there were 10 giant AC machines pumping out the frost across the world, some heroes had been separated into teams each tasked with taking out their respective machine then any hero strong enough to lift the machines were in charge of bringing them to an undisclosed location on one of Bruce’s private islands for inspection and dismantling. Alfred had Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian’s vitals displayed on the screen as their suits were consistently monitoring them and you’d been craning your neck to keep track of the little bars. “god Alfie how do you take it? You can see every hit they take, every injury, you’re basically looking at it all going wrong!” you felt like tearing your hair out, watching the screen light up with every hit each boy took. 

“You get used to it Ms. Y/n you must have faith that they’ve seen worse and can survive anything” Alfred answered cooly but it didn’t stop you from wincing everytime Tim’s bar lowered or lit up meaning he took a hit. 

Over the comms you heard Bruce and Damian confirm their machine was sufficiently broken, as well as 8 of the other machines. As it turned out, Tim, Dick, and one of those annoying speedsters had been sent to the head machine, a few members of the league were at the other. You watched Tim take hit after hit, clearly him and Dick were struggling. “Alf is it just me or are Tim and Dick’s bars not going up” you were pounding at the glass of your room. Slowly Alfred nodded, abruptly standing up. To your shock he began moving around the cave, setting up what looked like a makeshift hospital room. “There will almost assuredly be some injuries after this battle. But how are you feeling Ms. Y/n as over half of the machines have been taken down” Alfred drew you away from the flashing bars as you realized you were feeling better, still not top shape but better than you’d been in days. “Yeah you’re right I’m definitely feeling better-”

“Hey Alfie Tim just got buried in snow any recommendations?” you heard Dick’s voice come over the speakers. Your head whipped to his bar which was flashing wildly as you shrieked. Alfred replied quickly, “Master Dick you must remove him immediately and wrap him with something warm as his suit cannot regulate him in freezing temperatures.” as he made his way back to the batcomputer, talking Dick through his next actions. 

“Will do, he’ll be okay but he’s kinda a popsicle right now” Dick’s voice came over the comms again while you let out the breath you’d been holding in as you saw Tim’s bar sliding back up. Shortly after they were aided by the rest of the league, promptly taking out the final machine and finding the villains hiding inside. 

Dick, Tim, and Damian returned to the cave shorty, Bruce was busy with league business interrogating the villains. Damian came in first, declaring he now hated the cold after how freezing that mission was. Following him was Dick who was walking with a slight limp as he called to Alfred explaining that he just twisted it when he dug Tim out of the snow. And last, Tim made his way into the cave. His hair was wet, clearly melted from being buried under snow. He was wearing a Star Labs sweatshirt and sweatpants as he held his waterlogged suit in his slightly shaky hands, and a towel was draped over his shoulders. “Alf you want my suit? Pretty sure I fried half the tech” he called as he shook his head, little water droplets flying from his hair. “I’ll see to it’s repair Master Tim” Alfred nodded, gesturing for Tim to place it next to him. “Also, might I recommend you spend some time with Miss Y/n as she is quite capable of warming you up” Alfred gestured towards your room before going back to examining Dick’s ankle. 

Tim nodded in agreement, giving you a little wave as he stumbled into the room with you. Letting the relief flood your head you quickly brought him into a warm hug, focusing on pushing some of your energy forwards to warm him up. “Mhm” Tim’s eyelashes fluttered shut against your neck while he melted into your embrace. “You’re so cold” you whispered with a giggle. “Yeah and you’re really hot” Tim groaned in reply, though you could feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck. “I think you meant warm” you tried to ignore the butterflies having a rager in your stomach. “Hm no I said it right” Tim whispered in your ear making your eyes widen at his upfront response. “Oh, I- uh, thanks? I think you’re pretty cool- no not cool cuz like that’s the opposite of hot- yeah you’re-” you were silenced as Tim pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes shot open at the feeling of his ice cold lips pressed to yours but they quickly fluttered closed when his hand wrapped around the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. His lips quickly warmed up against yours making your breath hitch when he slipped a cold hand around your waist pulling you flush against him. His fingers felt like ice as they grasped your back but you couldn’t but melt into his touch. 

You pulled away first, taking in gasping breaths while you couldn’t help but grin. “You warm yet?” you teased, pulling his hand away from your back and placing your hand in his, giving it a warm squeeze. “Mhm one more kiss” he pouted, leaning down to place a smiling kiss onto your lips while you scrunched your nose. “I should seriously freeze to death more often if it means I get to kiss you” Tim said while you rolled your eyes. “Or you could just not die and I might give you a good-job kiss?” you offered with a grin. “Will do” Tim nodded, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“Goodbye oven!” you shouted, practically kicking the door open as you finally got to leave the cramped room behind. Just a day later the Earth had returned to average temperature and you were free. “I am SO ready to go home, not that I didn’t like it here” you said, giving Tim a little smile as Bruce return all your belongings after a little over a week in Bat-Solitude. “Come back soon though?” Tim piped up with a hopeful looks. “Definitely, I won’t give you the cold shoulder” you snorted at your own joke while Damian groaned, saying something about being happy he’ll be free of your puns. 

Tim walked you out, chatting your ear off about his next cases and all the time he had to come see you, over the course of the frozen-adventure you’d found a best friend and possibly something more, maybe the oven was worth it after all? 

“Okay, so I’ll see you in a couple days?” you grinned as Tim nodded. “Yup! Now before you go, I need another good luck hug- they definitely work wonders seeing as last time I got buried in snow” Tim laughed, wrapping his arms around you as he chuckled into the hug. “Not my fault you turned into a snowman Drake” You gave him a squeeze before pulling away, locking eyes with him. His hand slipped to your chin again, but this time you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, loving the way sparks danced on your lips. Pulling out of the kiss as the car arrived Tim opened the door for you like the gentleman he is, giving your hand a squeeze.

“See you later hot stuff” Tim winked at you, shutting the door and waving as you drove away, shaking your head at his never ending puns, you smiled to yourself as soon as he was out of view, loving the idea that you’d get to tease that cute dork for the rest of your life. 

[go-events]

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @portablechemist​

The gorgeous @portablechemist​ (OTHER REFS) has claimed Love Actually to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material!

About Love Actually: Nine intertwined stories examine the complexities of the one emotion that connects us all: love. Among the characters explored are David (Hugh Grant), the handsome newly elected British prime minister who falls for a young junior staffer (Martine McCutcheon), Sarah (Laura Linney), a graphic designer whose devotion to her mentally ill brother complicates her love life, and Harry (Alan Rickman), a married man tempted by his attractive new secretary.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @portablechemist​ a little better!

* * *

goromcom: Starting with something about you, you know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post "about #tru and #:d". Those are some really fun tags, and I browsed your :d for a minute and had several giggles, so thanks for that!

portablechemist: Oh, that's so accurate, I love it :D I'm glad it gave you a laugh!! The #:d tag is all stuff I want to be able to find quickly to cheer me up, so I'm glad it makes other people laugh too :P

goromcom: But let’s move on to your rom com, Love Actually. Has this movie been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it?

portablechemist: It's one of my favorite Christmas movies specifically, and I try to make a point of watching it every holiday season - Love Actually (along with Doctor Who and the IT Crowd) was part of my introduction to British media, so it holds a special place in my heart. As soon as I saw it on the list of choices, though, I immediately knew who I wanted Death to be, and that was enough to write the rest of the story :P

goromcom: So interesting that it would be that casting to cement the idea in your mind! Now I can’t wait to see!

What's your favorite moment of the movie and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

portablechemist: There are a few moments that I really love - Hugh Grant dancing through the PM house, Rowan Atkinson doing up the necklace at the jewelry counter, and the bit where Jamie (Colin Firth) learns Portuguese and goes to France to confess his love to Aurelia (Lúcia Moniz) - but I think my favorite bit is the montage of the PM going door to door in Wadsworth to try to find Natalie. Loose plans for that scene include Gabriel making his way through Hell to find Beelzebub, because she's the only being he respects. But that's ALL it is - respect!

goromcom: Do you plan to stick very closely to the beats of the original story, or make bigger changes?

portablechemist: I'm sticking pretty close to the original beats of the story - it's still set around Christmas time (the chapter names will be the weeks until Christmas), there'll still be a school play with lobsters, etc., but those beats are wrapped in a new story. It's going to be set during the first Christmas after Armageddont, when Heaven and Hell have sent their own agents to Earth to get Armageddon II going. While this story line is the plot device driving the story forward, I'm focusing more on the individual couples/groups and their personal struggles. There are parts of the fic which are definitely more serious, but overall, I'm going for the same light, kind of silly tone that the original movie had (which will lead to some ridiculous scenes I am very excited to write). 

I'm also doing my best to remove all the problematic bits (because yikes there are a lot of problematic bits).

goromcom: I know a lot of people are making little nips and tucks here and there to their rom com storylines, and it’s another thing I’m very interested in watching how it pans out as the stories begin to post.

But let’s see if I can charm one more little nibble about your story plans away from you.  What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

portablechemist: This was the one I cast immediately - I've given the role of Colin (the guy who desperately wants to sleep with someone and thinks American girls will find him more attractive) to Death, and the roles of the American girls to the Four Other Horsemen of the Apocalypse. In this version, Death's lonely after War, Pollution, and Famine are destroyed, and God gives him the advice to find some new friends. I was really hoping to see the FOHA in the Good Omens show, so this is me bringing them in! 

I've also recast Billy (the singer) as Agnes Nutter, and I'm rewriting the Christmas song to be one of Agnes's prophecies :D

goromcom: Oh my, Billy Mack is my favorite in the original. But before you reveal too much, I’ll cut off the previews here and move on to my favorite final question. 

Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

portablechemist: I mean, I think this whole thing you've put together is amazing - I've never felt more welcome in a group of folks online. Even though I mostly lurk (because life is crazy), it puts a huge smile on my face every time I see a new emoji or a brand new work from someone. This is so special and I want to thank you for putting it all together and doing all the moderation :)

goromcom: Oh my, blushing super hard over here! I’m really enjoying the whole thing and I really have fun with the whole group. :)

portablechemist: Outside of that, an organization I really enjoy is Little Free Library. They're a great way to bring reading to communities that otherwise might not have a lending library, and they also donate books cost-free to libraries in need around the world. You can do everything from donate money to build a Little Free Library yourself, if you're so inclined. Their website has resources to get involved, and the world map can let you know if there are any libraries already near you.

goromcom: Oh, I adore Little Free Library. Check that link out, everyone! Such a sweet and wonderful project.

And speaking of wonderful projects, make sure to catch the GO adaptation of Love Actually, coming soon!

[dazaaaaaaaai]

Can we get a couple of how Dazai, Atsushi and Ranpo (separately) would treat their s/o? :3c

ok ok so I wasn’t sure if you meant treat as in how they would treat their s/o as in how they would like, behave towards their s/o in a relationship or like how they would treat their s/o to like dinner or something idk lmao (I’m not even sure if this makes sense. Engrish is h a r d). i kind of went with the first, but it kind of turned into general relationships hcs , sorry. I do hope you will enjoy it tho because I kind of overdid it lol 

How Dazai, Atsushi, and Ranpo would treat their s/o: 

They areall good boys and would treat their s/o well!!!!!

Dazai

Dazai hastrouble letting his guard down around people since he has a hard time trustingpeople. He’s really afraid of being disappointed by people. He doesn’t wantpeople to be the superficial people they too often end up being in his eyes.Although, if he’s serious about his relationship with his s/o, and if his s/ois serious about trying to understand him, then he would gradually lower hisguard and he would allow his s/o to at least attempt to unravel him. Dazaidoesn’t fully understand himself, having someone trying to understand him isweird for him. Building a good, healthy relationship with his s/o is going totake time. Trust is important in relationships but Dazai really needs to workon it. Dazai would never treat his s/o badly but warm feelings for someone andbeing accepted for who he is, is new for him, so in the beginning of arelationship there might be some reluctance from his side. This does not meanthat he’s going to treat his s/o badly. No, he just does not completely trustthem as of yet but he really is working on it. He does want this relationshipto work out.

Dazai isn’tthe type to just start a relationship (Although he definitely is the type to sleep around a lot).  He doesn’t even like himself a whole lotso he likely wouldn’t understand why someone would actually like him. He mighteven be afraid of himself, afraid of being even less a human than all of thepeople in the world. His s/o would probably (unless they are assholes and soonto be dumped) really come to accept him completely for who is and it would makeDazai so so happy.

Woulddefinitely do everything for his s/o and would be willing to die for them. Hewouldn’t just tell his s/o that though, but his s/o would just know that theymean the world to him. Dazai isn’t the best at conveying his own emotions eventhough he is really great at reading others. Still, through small gestures andremarks, through the soft look in his eyes, through letting his s/o in, his s/owould know what and how much they mean to him.

Dazai willgrow fiercely protective of his s/o. He will use his wits to his advantage ifanyone even dares to hurt them. He will and sure that they regret it for therest of their lives.

Dazai isvery observant and if his s/o is having an off-day/not feeling well, he willdefinitely notice and will do everything to make his s/o feel better.

He’s stilla brat though. He’s a huge tease and would definitely try pranking his s/o just towind them up. He loves pushing buttons. He thinks it’s cute when his s/o reactsto his pranks and his teasing, but he does not mean any ill will and knows whento stop but he just loves to push buttons just a little. He won’t cross the line but he will try to come as close to that line as possible. 

Would enjoybuying his s/o gifts every now and then. None of his s/o’s most secret desiresare a secret to him. He will definitely notice when his s/o quietly eyes a niceblouse just a bit longer than usual while they are quickly passing by thewindow of a shop. He will never get enough of the look in your eyes when hebuys them exactly the right thing.

Will show he cares through lots of spur-of-the-moment stuff like impromptu dates. If a great idea for a date just pops up in his mind he would be really excited to just do it and he will definitely make you drop whatever his s/o is doingand will take his s/o on the date! He loves taking his s/o anywhere really.

Woulddefinitely allow his s/o to use and take belongings that he normally wouldn’tlet anyone else use, like his headphones (but they shouldn’t use his headphonestoo much because they can’t hear him talking when they’re listening to musicand Dazai would definitely hate not getting enough attention from his s/o.)

Atsushi

Atsushi wouldprobably have no dating experience at first and would be at a loss. He’s the typeto freak out about lots of things will definitely kind of suck at the communicationspart of the relationship at first.

He mightnot pick up all of his s/o’s habits at first and he might misinterpret someactions and conversations. If a date for example doesn’t go as planned, he willpanic. He’s quite prone to overthinking, but that’s just mostly because of hisown insecurities. Will do his best to make up whatever mistake he thinks he hasmade, but chances are that his s/o didn’t even make a big deal out if it in thefirst place.

Will alwayswalk his s/o home, even during the day. He’s protective and he will lose it ifanyone dares to touch his s/o. Also, he just really likes chatting with his s/owhile walking somewhere and will try to compliment his s/o a lot, but not toomuch of course. Like a good boyfriend he doesn’t want to overcompliment themand come off wrong or weird.

Will growmore confident in himself in the relationship over time and will really open upand become so comfortable with just completely being hundred percent himself around his s/o and just tell his s/o all the small things he notices during the day that aren’t really big, but still interesting to him in some way and he will also really open up about his past in the orphanage. He will make sure that his s/o will be totally comfortable with being themselves around him. 

As time passes by he will have figured outhis s/o pretty well and will know how to make them flustered and he might evendare to tease them! He just really likes his s/o!

He’s really big on morningtexts and good night texts! He never forgets to text!  Not really the type to call unless it’surgent. His first thought in the morning and before bed will be about his s/oand he will let them know that. To Atsushi, it’s the little things that count! (Bonus points for his s/o if his s/o beats him to texting them in the morning or before bed!)

Lovestreating his s/o to whatever with whatever money he can miss. Will buy smallpresents and take them out for dinner whenever he can. He, too loves seeing the smile on his s/o when he buys them exactly the right thing. 

Ranpo

Ranpo likelyhasn’t been in many serious relationships, if any at all. So even though Ranpowould really want to treat his s/o well, he might not… As in, he’s a deeplytraumatized individual still acting like a child while he’s already 26. (Noshade! Don’t kill me)

Once he’sin a serious relationship with someone, his inability to perform well in aneveryday situation might actually frustrate him. Ranpo is often blunt, to thepoint of actually being rude. How he was to be perceived by society isn’tsomething that would really bother him (if he even notices. No, I think hedoes, but it’s not of high enough importance. His childish nature is probably acoping mechanism and welcome to another episode of all the bsd character need mentalhelp). He can’t do simple things like taking the subway either and those thingsmight complicate a modern, mutual, healthy relationship. Yeah, it will definitelyfrustrate him. It might frustrate his s/o. If he’s serious about his s/o and hewill be, then he will try. He will try his so hard to the point he mightactually break down at some point when he fails to not completely mess up thefairly easy recipe for boiled tofu again or when he’s a bit insensitive againto his s/o because he just really notices everything about them and he justcannot not notice.

So hetries. He tries really hard. He notices everything about his s/o. He deductseverything there is to know about their s/o from the way they put on theirshoes, to the way they advert their eyes while being teased, from the books theyread, etc. He will know when his s/o is not feeling well and will try so hardto make them feel better, but in the beginning he might not always be assuccessful, because not everyone loves his snacks as much as he does, but hewill learn over time. That’s a given. He will improve.

One day hemight actually take his s/o on the subway to show off just how well he knowsthe subway (he memorized the maps and knows every station) and he will cook hiss/o their favorite food someday without setting the kitchen on fire and he willdefinitely grow to know exactly when not to push his s/o’s buttons.

He will getthere and will be the best detective and the best boyfriend in the world! (Justbe there for him s/o don’t be a fucking coward!!!!!!)

He willalso really like sharing snacks with his s/o. One of his favorite dates will definitelybe just buying a shitload of snacks separately and then sharing them all togetherwhile sitting on his bed or something. 

y’all i really overdid this. don’t expect all my posts to be this long, especially when more than 1 character is requested. Also I’m not really content with Dazai’s and Ranpo, I can’t really figure them out as of yet.

I also didn’t proofread because I’m lazy and I probably wouldn’t be satisfied if I did proofread and change everything  but I do hope you enjoyed, anon. I did enjoy writing it tho yeeeeeeeeeeehaw

[serahsanguine]

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

Chapter 2 of ?

part one,  A03, 

tagging @today-in-fic

**********************************

Notes; follows directly after the last chapter. 

****************************** 

Chapter two; Information. 

“Hello my name is Mulder, and I’m here to teach psychology. I will introduce you to contemporary research into social, development, cognitive and biological dimensions of behaviour. As part of your studies, you’ll look at the applications of psychology in a wide range of areas - from understanding the nature and causes of mental illness to investigating decision making in real life situations. As part of your course, you’ll conduct your own research.”  Mulder’s eyes locked with Scully’s instantly and she felt, even in a room full room of people, they were the only ones there. He carried on speaking, his eyes never leaving hers. She was meant to be listening to him, but instead, she was mapping his face and body in great detail for purposes she wasn’t willing to accept yet.

The lecture lasted just about an hour and eventually, Scully managed to write down a few notes to get the general idea of the class. When the lights flicked on, she grabbed her notepad and pen and threw them in her bag. Moving past some people, whom she didn't care were staring directly at her, she got out of the classroom as quick a possible. She left Serah sitting there, they would meet back at their room. Scully couldn't breathe, her chest felt constricted. They had only met a couple of times but that teacher had an effect on her. She had had never felt this type of influence, this type of attraction. With one look he could turn her world on its end.

Scully arrived at her room, she managed to control her breathing and emotions once she was alone lying on her bed. What was she going? She really liked him, but he was a teacher. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice that Serah had slipped into the room until she felt her bed dip.

“So, Dana, are you going to explain why you ran out of there like your hair was on fire?” Serah was concerned for her friend. She had never seen her act this erratic before. She looked at her friend lightly touching her arm, for comfort, to let her know that she was there for her.

“I don't know where to start.” It was an honest statement. Scully looked at her friend trying to offer some explanation to her. But she was at a loss. She stood up and started pacing the room, from window to door, back and forth.

“The beginning is always a good start.” Serah watched Scully pace and thought ‘Something’s really bothering her now’

“That's just it, I don't have a beginning. It isn't really an issue, it’s all probably in my head anyway.”

“Just calm down and talk to me, I'm here to listen.” Serah stood up and placed both her hands gently on Scully’s skin to stop her rapid walking. “I know I’m not the ideal person, but you said Melissa was touring Europe and isn't reachable.”

“Honestly, I’m overreacting. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Serah looked at Scully. She knew when her friend had set her mind to something there was no changing it, no getting her to open up. So she changed the subject. “I’m going to a party later and of course you’re invited. It’ll do you good.”  

//  

Mulder had just finished his lecture and he wanted to talk to the pretty redhead he kept bumping into throughout the day. He was intrigued by her, captivated by her beauty. He normally wouldn’t even look at a redhead, he was more of a brunette kind of guy. But he wanted her badly, and he wanted to find out more about her. All he knew was her name was Dana and with just one look from her, he could have an instant problem in his trousers. He nearly had an incident in a room full of students as soon as his eyes locked onto hers.

He was walking through the hallways. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed some outside help. As soon as he got to the ICT department, he realised he should have known that all three of his friends would be there. They seemed to be working on their new newspaper article for two weeks time. It was called the Lone Gunman. The three men sat arguing about the next conspiracy and cover-up. They tried to find some credit every now and then, there was news portraying the school.

“Ahh hem…” Mulder stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, looking casual with a 100 watt smile on his face. He was laughing inside.

All three men jumped and went silent. Turning away from the computer monitor and towards the sound they heard, they let out a breath they didn’t know they were holding when they saw who was stood there.

“Mulder, my man! How are you?” Said the small bald man.

“I need you to do some extracurricular computing for me,” Mulder moved away from the door and into the room and found a seat.

“No problem, we're always happy to help. Now, what can we do for you?” The man replied, leaving some space for him. He looked happy at the prospect of his friend asking for help, it wasn’t something he did very often.

“Well, Frohike, I need you to look into some files for me.”

“And what files might that be?” Frohike gave him a questioning look but he knew he’d help him anyway.

Mulder spoke in a hushed tone now and moved his chair closer to his friends “I need you to look into a students file for me.

“Is this one of your flings? You have never asked us to look into any of them. So why now?”

“It doesn’t matter, can you do it or not?”

“Of course we can, we just need a name.” The blonde long-haired man replied quickly.

“Her name is Dana Scully, Langly. She is a redhead.” He said the last part in a whispered voice and all three men gave him a look, because they all knew his type was definitely not redheads.

Frohike and Langly got to discussing the best way to quietly hack into the school’s system and Mulder started talking to the third man.  

“Byers, how’s computer science treating you?”

“Half my class seem to be more into phones than computers but I do have some promising students in my class”

“That’s great news.”

Mulder and Byers carried on with the small talk about work, home life, the simple stuff. Half an hour had passed before Frohike and Langly managed to get the information Mulder wanted.

“Mulder! We have her information: her name is Dana Katherine Scully, she 5ft 3in. She has one older sister and two brothers, one older one younger. She comes from a military family and she has moved around a lot. Her father is in the navy, a Captain. She is studying a bachelor's degree in Medicine, this is her second year. She seems like a high achiever, so seems to be aiming for high marks.”  

If she is aiming high it will be easier to lure her into his little trap, Mulder thought, but did not voice his opinion “Thank you guys, I appreciate it.”

With that said, he nodded at his friends and walked out going about the rest of his day.   

//

A few hours had passed and Serah had convinced Scully to go to the party and take her mind off whatever was bothering her, which she still wouldn’t talk about. Scully didn’t have anything to wear, so Serah lent her one of her outfits. It wasn’t Scully’s style, it showed too much skin for her liking but she went with it. It was a short black dress with a square neck cut and it had an open back.

Scully was just putting the last touches on her makeup, she wanted to look feminine and sexy, something she didn’t do very often. In her mind, it was a great distraction from Mulder.

Serah walked in the room wearing some dark black shorts and deep red crop top. Her hair was down and in soft curls. Scully thought she looked stunning and wondered if she could never wear something like that herself.

They left and walked toward the frat party. It was a nice gentle walk, the sun hung low and the air was warm. Scully was slightly apprehensive about the whole thing. She was nothing like her friend, who was outgoing and a party girl. She had always been the little nerdy girl who would work through the night to get a good grade. The one that preferred to stay in and read a book on a Friday night. Serah kept talking to her, trying to keep her calm and get her excited about actually getting ou. If she was honest about herself, it was working, if only a little bit.

They got to the house and the music was blaring, the party was in full swing. Serah entered first followed by Scully. Serah got them both drinks, making sure they weren't spiked, and then she went migling.   

Time flashed by and Scully eventually had quite a few shots and couple beers. She even found a guy to talk to. Well, technically, he had found her. His name was Daniel and he was doing the same degree as her. He was flirting and putting on the charm. Scully was enjoying the attention. He was touching her, placing his hands on her hips, bumping and grinding with her in time with the music. The feeling of skin against skin as they danced was nice but her mind kept wandering to the tall dark and handsome man named Mulder. How his body would feel against hers, dancing with her, grinding against her. The feeling of his muscles that she had seen earlier tense under her touch. Would he have a small package, as they say, or would he fill her completely?

She was soon brought out of her thoughts when she felt Daniel’s hand try and move in between her legs. She stopped dancing immediately and pushed him away. Only then she realised how drunk she was and her imagination and inhibitions were lowered. But there was one thing she was certain of: it was not Daniel she wanted right now. It was Mulder, no matter how bad it seemed. This party was meant to get her mind off him, but that had not worked at all. She quickly said good night to Daniel and found Serah. Prying her off the guy she was necking onto, they walked back home together.

*************************

Scully woke up not as early as she would normally do. Her head was throbbing and the sun was not helping. She knew the party had been a bad idea but at least for a little bit she had enjoyed herself before her mind got the better of her. Serah was moving about the room as quiet as possible but she soon noticed Scully was awake.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the land of the living. How are you feeling?” Serah stopped pottering about and sat on her bed. She was dressed in some jeans and tank top ready for the day.

“Uhg, I drank too much last night. My head is killing me. How come you don’t look or feel like me right now?” Scully sat up on her bed trying to shield her eyes from the sun shining through the window. She looked at her friend and generally could not believe how awake and happy she looked.

“I don’t get hangovers,” Serah replied smiling. “I have set two advils and a glass of water on your bedside locker if that helps, and you can borrow my sunglasses for the day.”

Scully moaned again. “What time is it, anyway. You’ve never been a morning person.”

“It’s a little after 10.”

Scully gave her a look and then flopped back down in the bed. She was thankful for the lie in and thankful that her first lecture of the day wasn’t till one.

“I will see you later Dana. I got to go to class.” She left the room locking the door behind her.

“Bye!” Scully replied but Serah was already gone.

***************************

The weeks flew by. Mulder paid close attention to Scully in every lecture but trying not to make it too obvious that it was her that he had his eyes on. They had met several times at the gym but neither speaking a word to each other.

Scully was apprehensive about that day because everyone had their first assignments handed in. Today was the day of truths of sorts. Whether it was her imagination running wild with all the sideways glances at her or the chemistry she had felt between them across the room, she didn’t really know. Whenever she spoke, he would unconsciously lick his lips. She was wondering if he was actually going to pick her for his little side project.

So, there she was, sitting next to Serah and Mulder was walking around the room handing the papers back to his students. There were happy faces and sad faces and suddenly he was standing in front of them. He handed Serah her paper, which Scully glanced at and was impressed with her friend’s score of a B. Then Mulder moved in front of her and handed her assignment back. Their hands brushed and lingered and she swore she felt a physical spark between them. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to bounce out of her chest. She knew it was impossible but it didn’t feel that way. Her stomach was doing flip flops and the nerves were making her feel sick. But she kept her face calm and stern, trying to show no emotion.

Their eyes locked, she loved the colour of his hazel eyes. They could pull you in and make you forget about everything. He didn’t say a word to her and he let go of her hand and carried on moving around the room. That’s when she finally tore her gaze off him and looked at her score on her paper: it was a C. Next to it, there was a little sticky note attached with his handwriting ‘See me in my office tomorrow at 7.30pm’.

Serah looked at her. As she saw the note she smiled. Her eyes said ‘I told you so’ so loudly she almost heard it. Scully didn’t know whether to be happy about the fact that her feelings were reciprocated, at least she wasn't going crazy. Or maybe she should be scared by the fact that he had feelings for her and wanted to see her after hours. One thing was for sure she needed her sister more than ever, she needed to talk to her. Before committing herself to anything.

[lobsters-on-their-heads]

Continuing Travels of Cophine, Part 2, Chapt. 10

Disclaimer reminder: I haven't been to the Middle East, so if I've gotten some details wrong, please let me know in a respectful manner. This chapter and the upcoming ones involved some interesting research, and I've tried talking to people who've been there, but of course things slip through sometimes. Let me know!

You can read the entire work from the very beginning here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116799

The night after the party, after a small dinner at Sarah's house, Cosima and Delphine rode with Sarah to the airport as cold evening rain peppered the city. Most of the trip was silent, with Cosima in the front seat and Delphine in the back with their carry-on bags. Delphine had spent most of the day recovering and doing a great unintentional impression of a cartoon sloth, but the after-effects of last night's brownies had worn off by late afternoon, and she was more or less back to her usual self.

As the airport infrastructure came into view, Sarah sniffed loudly and rubbed her nose.

“You gonna be a'right, then?” she asked.

Cosima peeled her face from the passenger side window and blinked at her sister. “Yeah. Yeah, we're gonna be fine. Why?”

“No reason.”

Sarah steered the car towards International Departures and sucked on her teeth.

“We will have personal security from the moment we arrive in Baghdad,” Delphine assured her. “It's a highly reviewed company, personally recommended by our contacts both here and abroad.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sarah rubbed her nose some more and the airport itself came into view. “I would feel a bit better if Helena went along with you, though, to be honest.”

Cosima laughed and imagined Helena following them around the Middle East. Hell, just getting her through airport security would be a trick to write home about. Putting a hand on Sarah's shoulder, Cosima said, “Do not worry about us. We're okay with what we have, and Helena needs to stay here with her boys. And don't go reading too many news stories about the places we're going to, either.”

Sarah laughed. “Not often someone accuses me of reading too much. Anyway, it's not me. It's the kids, reading up on every place you two go off to. I've got Alison on my case, too, telling me every little horror story she sees online –”

“Yes, we've heard,” Delphine cut in. “She's been on our cases, too.”

“She's calmed down recently, though,” Cosima added.

“And Art,” Sarah went on, like the words were being pushed from her body against her will. “He's coming to me every week with some other story he heard from one of the translators about someone's brother getting his head cut off, or somebody's sister being sold off to IS for God knows what. It's not like I just can't listen, Cos.”

The car wound its way into the departures lane and down the alphabet of airlines as everyone thought about what Sarah had said. Aer Lingus, Air Canada, Air France...

“Well,” Cosima said, “just remember, and tell everybody else this, too, that the stuff that makes the news, and the stories people tell, are the exceptions. I mean, yeah, obviously it happens, but not every day. Aid workers go in and out of Iraq and Syria every day without getting any more than a paper cut or a couple of nasty pimples.”

“We're being careful,” Delphine added. “We're being very careful.”

Sarah made a face. “Right.”

Five minutes later, Sarah pulled up to the curb near the Turkish Airlines sign. There were hugs and promises to call once they'd arrived in Baghdad, and as Cosima and Delphine went inside with their suitcases and bags, Sarah leaned against her car and watched them go.

Inside, the check-in process was smooth and the security checks predictable, and when they settled into the airport-standard restaurant close to their terminal, they still had thirty minutes before boarding their plane. They sat sipping water and nibbling on what passed for a “harvest salad,” and Cosima watched the other late-night fliers going by while Delphine did her daily social media Leda check, twelve hours later than she usually did.

“You did yours, then?” she asked Cosima.

“Yeah, at lunch time. You were kinda busy trying to remember that pool noodles aren't sentient, though, so you get a pass.” Cosima kissed Delphine's cheek, then her lips. It would be weeks, or possibly months, before she could that in public again. “You were super cute the whole time, though, fyi.”

Delphine grunted and resumed flipping through status updates of new bikinis, inspirational quotes, and cute babies.

“By the way, didn't Gabriela call you last night?”

“You mean while you were baked out of your mind and climbing all over my sister?”

Delphine looked like she had a retort coming, but just rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

Cosima giggled and squeezed her fiancée's arm to show no ill will. “Yeah, apparently her husband's divorcing her. Guess he was only in it as a monitor, and he was kind of convinced they could have kids, but when that obviously didn't happen, he peaced out.”

“Hm.” If Delphine had any thoughts or comments about being a monitor herself, she kept them to herself. Her thumb hovered over her Facebook feed. “Look at this.”

“What's up?”

The post Delphine pointed to was in Hebrew, and the picture beneath it showed a hand with an IV going into it.

“Oh, shit,” Cosima whispered.

“It's Avigail Chernev,” Delphine said. “One of the Israelis. It's the first time she's posted anything in almost a year.”

Cosima scooted her chair over to get a better view. “Is that her hand? For sure?”

“I assume so. It looks like yours.”

Cosima held her own hand up next to the picture on the phone and squinted. “I'll take your word for that. You are, like, the Leda expert at this point.”

Delphine's eyebrows twitched. “Yes, I suppose I am. You're still my favorite, though.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

Delphine took a screenshot of the Facebook post and emailed it to David Margolis, their Hebrew translator and Israeli cultural guide based back in Toronto. They would translate it themselves, too, with Google, but David's translations were more accurate and nuanced, and he could more easily match up the texts with others he had on file for both Israeli Ledas.

“There's WiFi on the plane, at least,” Delphine went on, “we'll need to monitor this pretty closely.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Cosima smirked. “Did you seriously just say monitor? Even after what I said about Gabriela's husband?”

Delphine stuck her tongue out and copy/ pasted Avigail's status into Google translate. In a second, the English side read Third treatment of the week, here we hope we can cure it soon!

“Third of the week, shit,” Cosima murmured. She pulled up a map of the Middle East on her phone and measured the distance between Baghdad and Tel Aviv. It was a hell of a lot closer than Toronto, but they weren't exactly next door neighbors. And then there was the whole messy political situation.

Meanwhile, Delphine pulled the Europe and the Middle East notebook from her carry-on bag. She flipped through it and tapped her finger on the first Israeli entry.

Avigail Chernev, born 11 June, 1984, in Bet Shemesh, current residence Tel Aviv Monitor as of 2016 – Daniel Fridman Primary care physician as of 2016 – Dr. Joseph Blachar [two msg sent by D.Cormier via D.Margolis, no replies] Social media contacts attempted 21 July, 3 September, and 4 December – no response

Delphine added a line about today's Facebook post on the otherwise empty page that stood in sharp contrast to the information-crowded pages on either side. The page before detailed the medical history and social media habits of Lonah Gerbi, the clone in Haifa they had already made an appointment to treat. Delphine tapped Lonah's page.

“We're not scheduled to be in Israel until the end of May,” she said. “Eight weeks from now.”

“Right, and we scheduled Lonah's treatment after all these other countries for a reason.”

She checked the time. They had fifteen minutes until boarding their plane to Istanbul, where they had a five hour lay-over before flying on to Baghdad. Baghdad, of course, being in one of the many countries with restrictions on travelers who'd had their passports stamped in Israel. Then she looked at Avigail's hand again. Third treatment in one week. Failed treatments, almost certainly, probably radiation or some kind of chemotherapy. The side effects alone probably kept her from working or taking care of her family or whatever else she would have been doing otherwise, and it was quite likely that the treatments had actually hastened the disease's progression, as it had in Jennifer Fitzsimmons.

“She can't wait until May,” Cosima said. “None of the other clones in the Middle East have shown these kinds of symptoms.”

“That we know of.”

She nodded. “That we know of.” Of course. More than once before had a Leda stayed quiet and private right up until she was dying, and only then did Delphine and Cosima hear anything about it. Desperation brought people out of hiding. Or, in the case of Nooran in Djibouti, brought the attention of enough people to point Cosima and Delphine in the right direction.

Delphine was watching her with those big doe eyes, waiting for her to say something, but the decision was obvious.

“I'll email the airline from the plane,” Cosima said. “Change the flight from Istanbul to Tel Aviv instead of Baghdad.”

Delphine's face didn't change, though. She licked her lips. “We still have to cure the others, though. Even if they don't have symptoms, we still have to – ”

“Oh, for sure, we're curing them, too. But we have to get to Avigail first.”

“Yes, but – ”

The airport announcement gong sounded, announcing preboarding to Turkish Airlines Flight XXX bound for Istanbul. They packed up their things, threw away their trash, and went to loiter near the gate with everyone else. At this hour, the crowd of passengers was quiet, mostly businessmen buried in their phones or newspapers.

“What if,” Cosima offered, “we just ask them not to stamp our passports in Tel Aviv?”

Delphine snorted. “Yes, certainly. Have you ever tried telling a passport controller what to do?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Well, I don't think it's a very good idea.”

Some of the businessmen looked up from their devices to listen to the only conversation happening, but the announcer called for first class boarding, so Cosima and Delphine hoisted their bags back onto their shoulders and got on the plane.

Once they were in their seats, enjoying the perks of the frequent flyer program, Cosima said, “Maybe someone else can go to Israel. Cure the Israelis, and we finish up the rest of the Middle East.”

“It's an idea,” Delphine agreed.

Cosima pulled out her phone and texted Scott while the coach passengers filed past.

A minute later, though, that idea was shot. I'd love to, he replied, but I can't take that kind of time off work. We have a big project right now.

She swore under her breath but typed, Okay, thx anyway

The faces of Clone Club flashed before her eyes, and she imagined all of them in lab coats in an Israeli clinic, syringe in hand. Art, Sarah, Alison, Helena, ... None of them fit that image. None of them had experience putting needles in people. Well, Helena might, but she probably wasn't used to aiming the needles with the intention of helping, and she had none of the other necessary skills for this endeavor.

She tapped on her phone until the crew directed them to turn off their devices, and held Delphine's hand as Toronto faded away below them. When the city was entirely gone behind clouds, she turned to Delphine and said, “Rachel would do it. She gave me my treatment, and she knows clone stuff.”

“And she is completely inaccessible to anyone who wants to contact her.”

“And there's that. Fuck.”

Once the fasten seatbelt sign was off, they both had their laptops out, emailing everyone on the Clone Club listserv for ideas and support. David Margolis confirmed their translation of Avigail's status and offered to reach out to her in Hebrew for them, which Delphine replied would be very helpful. Delphine posted a notification on the Foundation's website, just in case Rachel happened to be checking in from wherever she was. Cosima's Google searches confirmed that, indeed, for most of the countries they would be traveling to in the next two months, entrance was denied to anyone who'd been to Israel.

After thirty minutes, though, Cosima found herself staring into space at the shadowy clouds moving below them, forgetting what the hell she'd been typing, or starting one sentence and finishing it with another thought entirely. Beside her, Delphine kept trying to hide her yawns.

“It's after midnight,” Cosima said, dropping her head on Delphine's shoulder. “Maybe one of us should get some rest.”

Delphine kissed her forehead. “You go ahead. I'm used to working late.”

“And I'm not, is that what you're saying?”

“Mmm, yes. You work late, of course, but not like this.”

“Not on an airplane.”

“Correct.”

*

Delphine was right. Something about traveling had this way of knocking Cosima right out. Maybe the sound of a motor, steady total-body vibration, and occasional rocking back and forth made her feel safe, like she was six years old again and her parents were taking care of everything.

When she woke up, the window shade was closed and Delphine's light travel blanket was tucked around her shoulders. To her right, Delphine dozed with her arms across her chest and her head tipped to one side, laptop still open on her tray. The rest of the cabin was bathed in daylight and a flight attendant went down the aisle announcing the last call for beverages or snacks. According to her phone, it was 7:20 in the morning, but when she raised the shade the sun was well above the horizon.

Right. If it was 7:20 am in Toronto, it was 2:20 pm in Istanbul, and they were scheduled to land at 3:15.

She opened her laptop, trying not to jostle Delphine as she checked the clone business email. Five new messages.

Art said he would look into it but made no promises, which could really apply to most of the emails they'd exchanged with him over the past year.

David Margolis forwarded both Cosima and Delphine the email chain with Avigail Chernev, her medical team, and himself. Avigail's primary doctor right now, it said, was a Dr. Ada Bronstein, and both she and Avigail were excited about the possibility of a new treatment option.

There was an email from her mother, linking to an article about a suicide bombing in Basra and begging Cosima to be careful while she was over there.

Her advisor at U Minn sent her a list of epigentics conferences that Cosima “really should consider presenting at.”

And to her surprise, Rebecca Twell replied to Cosima's mass email, saying she was so sorry to hear that another of their identicals was ill, but Rebecca could not take off that kind of time, either, and regardless she did not feel comfortable administering any kind of medical treatment to anyone. She ended her email with a reminder that if and when Cosima and Delphine made it to Scotland, they should absolutely drop by for a pint.

Cosima went back up to the email chain and tapped Dr. Bronstein's number into her phone. That five-hour lay-over coming up in Istanbul was starting to feel awfully short.

*

At Istanbul Atatürk Airport, they got microwaved sandwiches and juice from Starbucks and found a terminal waiting area with no one else sitting in it, so they could spread out over several seats and the floor, charging everything that needed electricity. Delphine exchanged more emails with David Margolis and Avigail's medical team, and compared her symptoms with notes in the MEDICAL notebook that listed all observed symptoms and treatments with side effects.

Cosima called everyone, starting with Adele. Alphabetical order seemed as good as any order right now.

Adele answered with a dynamic yawn. “Oh, hey, Puddin' Pie, how are you doin'? How's Delphine, more to the point? She back from her brownie trip yet?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's good,” Cosima said. “Did you get our email?”

“Huh? No, I haven't checked yet. Why, what's up?”

While Cosima explained the situation, Adele responded with various “uh huh,” “yeah,” or “well shit.” When Cosima finished, Adele laughed. “Oh, honey, I wish I could help you. I really do. But heroin is the one drug I will never, ever touch. Needles skeeve the hell outta me. I stick to drugs that go into holes my body already has.”

Cosima had not said anything about heroin, but she laughed for Adele's sake and said, “Okay, that's cool. That's, uh, probably for the best, actually.”

“Yeah. Hey, have you tried Colin, though? He's gotta have some skills there, right?”

“Uh, not yet. I don't have his contact info, actually. Do you?”

“No, but you know who does.”

Felix picked up on the third ring. “You want Colin's phone number? What for?”

“For the stuff I emailed you about. Did you get our email?”

“I mean, I skimmed it. I've only been up for about 30 minutes. Why? You still haven't found anybody?”

“No. Colin's, like, potentially our last hope.”

Felix muttered something unintelligible, but a moment later produced the number for her, and listened as she read it back to him. “He won't go, though,” Felix added. “I'm certain of that.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, first of all, he's hates flying. He's only flown once, and that was to Calgary ten years ago. He doesn't even have a passport.”

“He doesn't...?” She had forgotten that people could even exist in the world without a passport. “Wow.”

“So, feel free to call him. Tell him that I'm not pining away in his absence, and that he's much more attractive when his head's not shoved up his own arse.”

“You know, I think I'll let you tell him all of those things, and I'll just stick to clone business, okay?”

She called Colin and left a message, and checked the message that had dinged while she was talking to Felix. A picture greeted her at the tap of her thumb: the main room of Nooran's apartment in Djibouti, with the girls and Mohammed, the younger boy, sitting around a folding table that had not been there when Cosima last visited. On the table were the art supplies Cosima and Delphine had given them, and each of the younger children held up a piece of artwork to show off. Fatima sat the farthest from the camera, and she held a book close to her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. The table wasn't the only new item in the photo – a calendar and a flag decorated the wall, and a drying rack laden with laundry snuck into view in the lower right corner. The cell phone used to take the picture must have been new, too, since the family had not had one before.

While Cosima studied the picture, distracted for a moment from Avigail's troubles in Israel, another message popped up, this time showing Nabil taking a selfie with his siblings in the background. Tapping Delphine to get her attention, Cosima took a picture of them together, Delphine smiling and Cosima making a face, and sent it to the kids.

“They are such good kids,” Cosima remarked. “We gotta see if we can keep helping them out, somehow.”

“Mmhm.” Delphine's attention was already back on the task at hand. “Julian can't go. Neither can any of my other medical contacts, including the doctors we know are aware of the cloning situation. All of them are busy, uninterested, or no longer reachable at their former email addresses. I texted Ali, even, from Tripoli, but he's tied up for the rest of the month, apparently.”

“Why Ali? He doesn't have medical training.”

“No, but I thought maybe he could at least transport the cure to Avigail's doctors for us. They could administer it, I expect, on their own, although I haven't confirmed that with them.”

“Oh, yeah. That is a good idea.” She texted Clone Club back with that idea – not to treat, but to transport. Anyone could do that. Anyone that didn't need to go to any of the Muslim-majority Middle Eastern countries that Cosima and Delphine needed to go to, that is.

Colin called back at 4:23 pm Istanbul time. “I'm sorry, you want me to do what, now?” he asked.

She gave the spiel again. “And you're really our last hope.”

“Why can't you do it?”

“Because once we get an Israeli stamp, all these other countries won't let us in. It's geopolitical bullshit.”

Colin exhaled into the receiver. “I don't think you understood my question. Why can't just one of you go, and the other one go to all the other countries? I mean, there are two of you, right?”

Cosima bit her tongue and pushed her hand into the top of her head. “Well, for starters, all the people we're curing look exactly like me. Haven't you noticed? We're clones. It's gonna be pretty weird for me to look all of them in the eye before treating them.”

There was another heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “And you can't futz your way around that for one dying woman? Wear colored contacts or something? Seems like it'd be pretty easy. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Felix's last comment about the location of Colin's head came to mind, but Cosima said, “Just trust me. It's not the best idea.”

“Well, I haven't got any other ideas for you. I am not flying to Israel for you. I am not sticking a syringe into a woman I've never met for you. I am not going to deliver biological material that I have not personally inspected to a doctor I've never met for you. I don't even work with the living, remember? I sure as hell don't speak Hebrew.”

“That part really doesn't matter. Think about it, at least?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I'm not changing my mind.”

Just go yourself. She could change her appearance somehow and treat both Israeli Ledas while Delphine was in Iraq, but then Delphine would be in Iraq all by herself. And several weeks after that, Delphine would have to go to Syria all by herself, because Cosima would not be allowed in either of those countries.

Cosima made her way down her contacts lists and called everyone she hadn't already talked to, to see if they or anyone else they knew would be willing to pick up the job. Some people she called again, just in case.

“We'll sort something out,” Sarah assured her after coming up with no new ideas. “I already gave Art a call.”

Cosima even called her mother.

“Oh, Sweetie, I'd love to help,” her mother said, her voice heavy with sleep, “but I am completely unqualified for that kind of work. Even though you know your grandma's been trying to send me to Israel for decades, like with that Birthright program, you know, but for older adults instead of teenagers? Anyway, Israel would be great, but I really just can't go treating someone's illness. I'd probably do it wrong and make everything worse. I'd stick the needle in the wrong organ or something. I work with fish, not people.”

“Well, maybe you could just bring the cure into the country, then? Drop it off and take a week to see the sights.”

“Oh I can't. I'm having bunion surgery tomorrow. Did I tell you that?”

Bunyan surgery. Great. “Uh, no,” Cosima said. “You didn't. How 'bout you send me an email all about it, huh? I have to make some other calls. Unless you think your podiatrist might want to go to Israel for us?”

Sally laughed. “No, but she is Jewish, and I think she's been before. Hey, why don't you just mail it? The treatment, I mean? It's all sealed up, isn't it? You'd have to pay extra, but I don't think that's a big issue.”

Cosima could have kicked herself for not thinking of that earlier, but still, the idea didn't sit well with her. She and Delphine made a point to personally carry the treatment whenever they travelled specifically because they didn't trust anyone else with it. When she floated the idea to Delphine, Delphine's face mimicked her own.

“I mean, it's possible,” Delphine conceded. “But certainly not ideal.”

“I don't know how many other options we have, though.”

She shook her head. “Not very many. None that I like very much. We have a phone conference with Dr. Bronstein in about ten minutes, though, so we can always run it by her, see what she thinks.” Delphine checked her watch and muttered “putain” under her breath before winding the little knob to get in sync with local time. “It's very last minute, of course. I was afraid we might have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her, and, like we've been saying, Avigail doesn't have much time left. Dr. Bronstein seems willing to do whatever it takes, though.”

In the time before their phone conference, Alison called, and after a moment of checking in, repeated Colin's suggestion. “I don't know why you don't just go over there yourself, Cosima. You and Delphine are the only ones who have any experience with this. Put a surgical mask on and no one will notice you look the same.”

Cosima bit her tongue. “So you don't know anyone who could step in and help us out? No one at all?”

“No one who I'm willing to out myself to by sending them to Israel to treat one of my clones, no. Just go! You can rejoin Delphine when she's finished treating all our sisters in those... other countries. Or, you know, like I've been saying all along, you can just split the work and get it all done in half the time.”

“Alison,” Cosima began, “People recognize me. They recognize that I look like other people. Don't you remember how you felt way back when Beth first contacted you, first said you were a clone...”

Delphine nudged her before she could continue. “Dr. Bronstein's calling.”

“Gotta go, Alison. We'll talk soon, yeah?” She hung up before Alison could say anything else, and popped in Delphine's left earbud so she could participate in the conversation without annoying the few other passengers now camping out in the waiting area with them. Cosima took a deep breath to center herself and switch her brain from Sestra mode to professional mode as Delphine gave Dr. Bronstein a warm greeting.

“Yes, hello to both of you,” Dr. Bronstein said with a voice that reminded Cosima of character from Downton Abbey. “It's so felicitous that you've found us. I'm afraid Ms. Chernev's prognosis is quite poor at this point.”

“Yes, that's my understanding, as well,” Delphine said. “She knows that you're in contact with us, yes?”

“Oh yes, I've just spoken with her and her family, and Ms. Chernev has signed the agreement allowing me to discuss her condition with you and your translator, Mr. Margolis. I believe a PDF of the agreement has been emailed to you, as well.”

Cosima didn't see it right away, but considering everything else they were doing to save the Ledas, she wasn't too worried about a single release of information form.

“So, Dr. Bronstein, can you give us another quick run-down of Avigail's symptoms and prognosis so far?” she said.

“Well, she's been in my care for almost two years,” Dr. Bronstein told them, “starting with lung polyps that remain and have no clear cause.” She went on to give every symptom of the disease, and all the attempted treatments. Avigail had had numerous seizures that resisted the effects of anti-convulsant medications, and she'd been on oxygen full-time for the past year. Her doctors had tried every treatment that Cosima would expect them to and then some. Avigail had lost her hair and now weighed only forty-one kilograms. Her vision was spotty, She had difficulty swallowing. She was jaundiced. Her kidneys failed almost a year ago, and she was on dialysis, but the rest of her health conditions kept her off the kidney transplant list.

“Anyway,” Dr. Bronstein concluded, “I don't know exactly how you've found us, but any help you can offer is incredibly welcome. We don't know how much time she has left, since we've never seen something like this before, but, well, to be honest, it might not be very much time at all. Her family's been advised to help her get her things in order.”

Cosima hung on every word Dr. Bronstein said, picturing the cells and tissues and organs, and the woman lying on the hospital bed. “Third treatment this week,” she'd said, just that morning, on her Facebook page. The understatement of the century, it seemed. If nothing else, Avigail's attitude seemed positive.

“I'm glad she has her family with her,” Cosima said.

While Dr. Bronstein gave a standard sort of agreement, Delphine put her arm around Cosima's waist and held her tight, until an airport employee walked by and gave them a double take, and Cosima scooted away. On her own cell phone she typed We're in Turkey again, babe and showed it to Delphine. There could be no public displays of affection here.

“So, Dr. Bronstein,” Cosima said, “we've actually seen this condition a few times before, and we're very interested in treating Avigail if she'll let us, but, um –”

“Yes, that's what your colleague said in her email. How soon can you get here?” She laughed, and Cosima had a mental image of large front teeth.

“Well, that's just the thing,” Cosima began. “We'd love to get there as soon as possible, but –”

“–but we're also going to a lot of other countries in the region,” Delphine finished when Cosima's hand flapping indicated she needed help.

“I see,” Dr. Bronstein said.

“For the same purpose,” Delphine went on, “and our understanding is that we're not allowed into those countries after we've been to Israel.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Cosima and Delphine exchanged a long look. In her research, Cosima had run across another interesting fact – people who visited Palestine were occasionally not allowed to enter Israel, unless they were Israeli citizens. She'd made a mental note of that and moved on, since they didn't plan to visit Palestine, but now she dredged it back out.

“For what it's worth, Dr. Bronstein, we're traveling exclusively for medical purposes. We really have no interest in anyone's political positions. We just want to cure these women. And, again, for whatever it's worth, we are not planning to go to Palestine. We haven't heard of any patients there with this condition.”

“Oh! Hahaha...” Dr. Bronstein chuckled. “No, no, I was thinking more of our patient here. You see, I've reached out to other doctors, and no one has any idea, either, so I'm simply surprised, ehm, surprised that you've had so much experience. That's all. And, worried, quite frankly. I am quite worried about what will happen if she is not treated soon.”

“Well, we have the treatment with us,” Delphine said. “We could send it to you.”

“With you? As in...?”

“As in, we're sitting next to it right now,” Cosima said. “But we're worried that if we bring it over, we won't be allowed into some of the other countries that we really need to get into.”

“I see. Well, one of you could come and the other could go to the other countries. Or not?”

That idea again. The worst part was that it was right. It would be the easiest solution. It would also be the absolute worst one.

“Yes,” Delphine acknowledged, “that is one of our possibilities, but we'd prefer not to travel alone if at all possible. I'm sure you understand.”

“Well, where else are you going, exactly?”

Delphine pulled up the itinerary she had save on her laptop. “Iraq, later today. Iran, Kuwait, Turkey, Lebanon, Syria...” Below Syria on the list were Jordan and Israel, followed by the European countries, but the noises Dr. Bronstein was making on the other end of the phone interrupted that flow.

“You're going to Syria?” Dr. Bronstein exclaimed. “Have you really found a patient there in such dire straights that you must absolutely go into that blazing inferno to treat them?”

Dire straights was putting it rather dramatically for most of the Ledas at the moment, since less than twenty percent had developed visible symptoms, but that was beside the point. “Yes,” Delphine said. “We have. She may have more time than Avigail, but we don't know how much.”

“Well, you certainly are dedicated,” Dr. Bronstein said. “You're not going to Jordan, then? It's a bit more peaceful.

“We are,” Cosima said. “After Syria.”

“I see. I was going to tell you that entering Jordan and Egypt is often easier after a trip to Israel than some of the other countries are, so you may consider going there instead.”

Cosima leaned her head back against the wall. That was not the point. “We'll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“About our other suggestion, though,” Delphine said, “about us mailing you the treatments. There would be five vials, all properly secured, with extensive instructions --”

“Erm, I don't know about that. You've administered this treatment to other women, you say?”

“Yes, more than a hundred of them.”

“Oh! Well, I can't think of anyone better qualified, then, to administer than yourself. I wouldn't feel completely comfortable no matter how extensive your instructions are, if I knew that there was someone better qualified to do it. And I assure you, Tel Aviv is quite safe. You don't need to worry about traveling alone here.”

Dr. Bronstein probably had a reassuring smile on her face, but Cosima's stomach continued the drop it had started twelve hours earlier. If Avigail's main doctor did not want to give her the cure herself, there wasn't much chance anyone else over there would, either.

“And if you're worried about the stamp,” the doctor went on, “I'm told that many tourists don't get their passports stamped at all. They have this little piece of paper they stamp for you instead. You can throw that away once you've left the country, if you like.”

Cosima and Delphine looked at each other. That changed everything. “Really?” Cosima asked.

“That's what I've been told. I'm a citizen, myself, so of course I've never been in that position.”

“It's worth a try,” Delphine said.

“Can we expect a visit, then?” Dr. Bronstein asked.

“We, euh, we need a few minutes to discuss it, privately,” Delphine told her. “May we call you back?”

“Of course. This is my mobile, so it shouldn't be any trouble.”

They got off the phone, and Cosima started pacing around. “If they just don't stamp it for anyone, we've been pulling our hair out for nothing. Not that I'm complaining, but, it would be suspiciously convenient.”

Delphine tapped away at her keyboard, then her eyes darted back and forth. “Other travelers back it up, actually.”

“Shit, we should've just put that in our Google search first. Here I was trying to see if I could tear the page out of my passport without anyone getting suspicious.”

Delphine leaned back against the wall, fingers resting on her keyboard. “You want to be the one to go, then?”

“I think it makes the most sense.”

Delphine nodded. “I agree. Just in case, you know.”

“In case they don't let me in anywhere else, after all. Which is still a possibility, I think.”

“I think so, too, but I don't know how much of one.”

Cosima thought of everything Dr. Bronstein had said about Avigail, about how she seemed to be staying alive out of sheet pluck while her body fell apart all around her. In the end, there really had been only one solution – this one. “Go ahead and call her back,” she told Delphine. “I can be there by tomorrow morning.”

*

A few hours later, after a visit to the ticketing agent, a phone call with Alison, two more phone calls and an email with Dr. Bronstein, and repacking of their carry-on bags, they stood together just outside the terminal for Delphine's departing flight to Baghdad, which she would take alone. Cosima's flight to Tel Aviv left in two more hours. Outside the terminal windows, the sun had set almost an hour ago, and each of them had several more waking hours ahead of them.

“Try to get some rest where you can,” Delphine told her. “You won't do Avigail any good if you're exhausted.”

“Yeah, I could say the same for you.”

“I have a little more time. The appointment isn't for another twenty-five hours.”

“Yeah, but you have to get to it.”

Outside on the tarmac, Delphine's Turkish Airlines plane pulled up to the extendable passenger bridge. Before it began discharging passengers, Cosima nudged Delphine and gestured towards the women's bathroom.

“Come on. Last chance for a little while.”

Delphine followed her into the largest stall and giggled as Cosima locked the door behind them. “You want to have sex in the bathroom? In ten minutes?”

Cosima made a face. “Not sex, no. Not smelling like this. Just...” She draped her arms around Delphine's neck and pulled her down for a long kiss. They stood together holding each other and kissing until passengers flooded the bathroom with their chatter, their laughter, their complaints, and a couple instances of explosive releases.

“I just wanted to kiss you again,” Cosima said. “It's gonna be a couple days till I can do it again.”

Delphine cupped Cosima's face in her left hand, stroking her earlobe with her pinky finger. “It's just a couple of days. I'll text you when I land, yeah?”

“Yeah. Same. I'll... I'll keep you abreast of all affairs.” Her terrible attempt at imitating Dr. Bronstein's accent made Delphine break into giggles again, but their moment was cut short by knocks on the stall door.

“We have to go,” Delphine whispered. She peppered Cosima's face with kisses and told her how much she loved her.

“I love you, too,” Cosima said, just before the knocking resumed with a bit more force. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will, I promise. You, as well.”

When they opened the door, they were greeted by a stout cleaning lady and a couple of curious travelers, all of whom expressed some version of “oh!” Delphine gave them her best smile and a cheery “Bonsoir!” as she and Cosima maneuvered their way through the people and back out into the main terminal.

And like every other flight they'd taken in this part of the world, Cosima did not hold Delphine's hand in the boarding line, or rest her head on Delphine's shoulder. For those other flights, though, Cosima had still been beside her, and now she wasn't. She stood by the departures board and watched her fiancée move through the line of almost exclusively Middle Eastern travelers and get her ticket checked. Just before rounding the corner onto the passenger bridge, Delphine turned and paused. She smiled and gave Cosima a tiny air kiss, then made her way down the hall and out of sight.

* * *

Four hours later, standing in line at Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv, Cosima flicked through her messages. Delphine had arrived safely in Baghdad an hour before and was suitably exhausted. She said the security escort was working out fine. Cosima texted her love and sent another message to Dr. Bronstein saying that she was waiting for passport control.

Wonderful! Dr. Bronstein replied. I will retrieve you personally and deliver you to our guest house. I am the tall thin woman in the burgundy jacket, but I also have your name on a sign, so we should have no trouble at all finding each other.

In the next message, Alison assured her that “the Jewish family who lives down the street” had been to Israel and never gotten their passports stamped in Tel Aviv, and they'd never had an issue visiting any other countries. She did not, however, specify which other countries they had tried to visit. See? Alison went on, I told you this would work out just fine.

Scott texted her that one of his Muslim coworkers had tried visiting Israel a few years ago, but got turned away at the border with Jordan. But that shouldn't be a problem for you, Scott said.

The line inched forward. A baby cried. A man bragged to a woman about the ultra marathon he'd run in Israel last year. A little boy whined about being hungry. And Cosima swayed on her feet with no one to lean against.

It was after one in the morning when Cosima finally reached the passport control window. She gave the uniformed man behind the glass her best smile and handed over her passport, open to the picture page.

“Miss Niehaus?” he clarified, winning top marks as one of very few people who got the pronunciation right on the first try. He spent longer than any other passport official ever had comparing her face to her picture, confirmed her date of birth and residence, and asked how long she planned to stay in Israel.

“Two weeks,” she said. They'd made the mistake way back in Ecuador of being vague but honest about how long they would stay, so now they gave a nice firm, if wrong, time frame right up front. He nodded and began flipping through the passport, slowing down after a few fully-stamped pages.

“Um, actually,” she said, “I was wondering if I could get one of those stamps pieces of paper instead?”

He glanced up at her and resumed his exploration of her travel history. “You go a lot of places, Miss Niehaus.”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

He clucked his tongue. “Very many places. Mexico. Argentina. Oman. Libya. Saudi Arabia.” He looked up at her with a frown. “And you have visas for Iran, Syria, and Iraq. You plan to visit them later?”

“Yes, well, you see, that's why I'm kind of hoping you might stamp a different paper instead, because they might not let me in if I have your stamp, and well, you know.” She smiled and held up her hands in a “what're you gonna do” gesture, to show that it wasn't his fault politics were all fucked up.

He did not smile. He leaned over, picked up the phone receiver, and mumbled into it. When he hung up, he gestured for Cosima to step to the left. “Stand aside, please, Miss Niehaus.”

“Oh. Okay, sure. Um, can I have my –”

The officer handed her passport to a tall man in a gray uniform who approached and looked her up and down, one hand on the strap of his rifle.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered.

*

The room they took her to was tiny, with a long table on one side and two metal chairs on the other. A uniformed woman directed her to remove her boots, jacket, belt, and all of her jewelry. She then gave Cosima the most thorough pat down Cosima had gotten from anyone other than Delphine. While that went on, an middle aged woman (Soldier? Guard? Border officer?) sat in one of the metal chairs. The man who'd taken Cosima's passport placed her bags on the long table, and he handed the passport to the second woman, who set a recorder with a blinking red light on the table.

“Sit,” the woman told Cosima. “Take your hair down.”

Cosima did so, and the younger woman worked her fingers down the length of every one of Cosima's dreadlocks.

“It's okay, I left the explosive hair pins at home,” Cosima snarked when the hair inspection was about halfway done.

The younger woman paused for a moment. “No jokes, please.”

So Cosima sat quietly while the man opened up her bags, setting the electronics to one side, and the older woman looked through her passport. Maybe it was her exhaustion seeping through, but the more she watched them working, the more they reminded her of General Leia Organa and Kylo Ren from the new Star Wars movies.

The officer Cosima now mentally called General Organa began the conversation. “So Miss Niehaus, what brings you to Israel?”

She had practiced professional answer for that. “It's a medical trip. There's a patient here who's arranged for us, I mean, for me to come and treat her.”

“What's the patient's name?”

“Uh, that's confidential. Patient confidentially's very important to us.”

“Who's us?”

“The Sadler and Daughter's Foundation. Their information is on a card in my purse.”

The Kylo Ren guard emptied her purse onto the table and fished around in her things until he got the little stack of business cards, which he handed to the General.

General Organa arched an eyebrow. “So you're based in Toronto, but hold a US passport. Where will you be treating this patient?”

“At the Tel Aviv Medical Center.” When the General put the cards back on the table, Cosima added, “I have an appointment there first thing in the morning, and our patient's life really depends on me being there.”

As if on cue, Cosima's phone rang, vibrating its way in a little circle on the metal table next to her laptop.

“That's probably my contact at the hospital,” Cosima said. “She was supposed to pick me up here.”

No one moved to hand her the phone, but they waited until it stopped ringing to speak again. “And who is this contact?” the General asked.

That part was not exactly confidential. “Dr. Ada Bronstein. I can give you her contact information.”

“Please do. We also need to search your email addresses and your mobile phone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Failure to comply will jeopardize your chances of entering the country.” The General gestured to the male guard, who handed the laptop and the cell phone over to Cosima.

“Unlock these,” he said.

Unlocking her phone, she saw that, indeed, Dr. Bronstein had called her, and sent a text message inquiring about her whereabouts. “Can I just respond to these real quick?” Cosima asked.

General Organa frowned up at her, but did not say no, so Cosima sent a quick text. They're asking me a lot of questions. Then the young female guard took her cell phone and the General took her laptop. While they poked and prodded, Kylo Ren continued his search of Cosima's carry-on bag.

“I hope you like all the pictures of my fiancée,” Cosima muttered to the guard scrolling through her cell phone.

There was no reaction from the guards to her statement. Kylo Ren, though, held up the case containing the Avigail's cure, and Cosima sat bolt upright.

“What's this?” he asked.

“That's the medicine we use to treat people.”

“What is the chemical composition?”

At this point, it must have been close to two o'clock in the morning local time. Cosima's hands and legs were trembling, and biting her tongue got harder with every question they asked. Still, miraculously, she did not give the chemical composition as “the cum I scraped off your mom's face last night, bitch” but rather gave the actual breakdown of materials in each vial. The guard's face glazed over after five words or so, but the little recorder on the desk blinked away, and someone listening certainly knew what she was talking about.

“Where was it manufactured?” Kylo Ren asked.

“Toronto, Canada.”

“Where exactly?”

“The basement of a comic book shop. The Rabbit Hole.” She waved at her laptop. “Look it up. There's a picture of it on our Foundation's website.”

General Organa leaned forward on her chair. “You have been asked a serious question, Ms. Niehaus. If you wish to enter the country, I strongly suggest that you take this process seriously.”

Cosima's voice trembled and she dug her fingers into her palms. “Dude, I am as a serious as a fucking heart attack. There is a woman here in Tel Aviv who needs that medicine to survive. You can call her doctor if you don't believe me. Her number is in my phone.”

“That won't be necessary.”

Cosima bit her lip and struggled not to cry. She was in the habit of not drinking much in the last hour of any plane ride, in case she couldn't use a bathroom anytime soon after landing. The habit came in handy now, but her throat was dry and the blood vessels in her head throbbed, and crying wouldn't make any of that better. She took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Can I at least know why you're holding me? Or, like, your names or anything? Badge numbers?”

In college, when she participated in far more political protests, she'd had the whole spiel of what to say to cops memorized. But that was years ago, and she hadn't been exhausted or desperate to save someone else's life.

The young female guard came around in front of her and held Cosima's phone up so the screen was a foot away from Cosima's nose. “Who are they?” she demanded.

Cosima put her glasses back on to see the picture of Nabil and his siblings around their new kitchen table. “Friends. Their aunt is a friend of mine.”

The guard handed the phone to her superior and looked down at Cosima with a face that had switched from professional indifference to outright contempt. “Where are they?”

“Djibouti. Why, you wanna call them, too? Wake them up in the middle of the night?”

The General's body language also changed when she saw the picture. “How do you know these children?”

“I just told you, they're my friend's nieces and nephews.”

“What friend?”

“A friend in Djibouti. She was also a patient of mine, and the kids are in her custody.”

The General shoved the image closer to Cosima's face. “Those children are not Djiboutian. They are Arab.”

If she had been less tired, Cosima would have rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you got me, they're from Yemen. They're refugees. You might be aware that there's a bit of a refugee situation, like, fucking, globally right now, right?”

“Well, that's a bit closer to the truth, finally.” The General pointed to Nabil's selfie, not to his smiling face but to the wall of their apartment, where a green flag with white swords decorated the drab brown and gray. “What symbol is that, Ms. Niehaus?”

“I...” She looked again, with the feeling of being dropped into the most important geography pop quiz of her life. The flag looked Saudi Arabian, but the swords pointed up more, and there was a book between the sword tips that wasn't present on the Saudi flag. The flag wasn't Djiboutian, Egyptian, Algerian, or any other country she recognized, either. “I have no fucking clue. I'm sure you have a specialist somewhere in Tel Aviv who can answer that question for you, though.”

“Smart ass,” Kylo Ren muttered, shaking out her underwear once piece at a time.

“Ms. Niehaus,” the General said, “I suggest you give us a very good explanation for this photo, right away, or I shall have to deny your entry into our country, not only for today, but for the next ten years at the very least.”

Tears fell from Cosima's eyes before she could speak. So much for not crying. “What the fucking hell,” she whispered into her hands. “Please,” she said, looking at the General and opening crying now, “they're just kids. They're good kids. Their parents are dead. I don't know what the flag means. They probably don't know, either. For fuck's sake half of them can barely read! This has nothing to do with Israel, or, or with anything else! Just let me cure my patient and leave! Then I swear to God I'll stay away for the next ten years or forever if you want me to!”

General Organa might have said more, but the door opened and a trim young officer stepped in and addressed her in Hebrew.

They stepped out together, leaving Cosima with her guards, staring at her belongings scattered across the table and quietly sobbing. Delphine would have been out of here by now. She would have said just the right things, had just the right whatever-the-fuck, and they would have let her in the country with no problems. But now, hopefully, Delphine was sleeping peacefully in a hotel bed, in a country that everyone had told them not to go into, and Cosima was this close to being denied entry into what Alison called “the only civilized country in the Middle East.”

Cosima had almost dozed off on the little metal chair when the door opened again and the General came in with Cosima's passport in her hand and a scowl on her face. “You're very lucky, Ms. Niehaus. We've been instructed to let you into the country without further delay. Get your things together, please.”

Keenly aware of the guns still pointed not exactly at her but certainly not away from her, Cosima stuffed everything back into her bags, only taking any care with her cell phone, her laptop, and the cure. She asked no questions and made no comments. Once she was finished, she turned and held out her hand for her passport, but instead, the guards led her back around to the passport control desk.

“Dr. Bronstein will meet you through those doors,” the General said, her voice dripping with disdain. Then she cut in front of the other people waiting to get into the country, went into the passport control booth, and stamped Cosima's passport with the Israeli travel visa.

[gray-autumn-sky]

Sleepless in Seattle, Chapter 9

March 6, 1993- Seattle, Washington:

Belle carries a bologna and cheese sandwich that’s cut up in quarters over to Roland, grinning as he grins up at her to accept it.

“So, she begins, sitting down across from him. “Your dad said you were having a friend over today after school. Did something happen?”

“No,” Roland says easily as he bites into the sandwich. “I ride the bus, but Gus doesn't, so his mom had to pick him up like she always does and bring him over.”

“Oh—“

“He said he had to make a stop.”

“He did,” Belle says, her brow arching. “Not his mum?”

“Nope. Him.”

“Ah—“

Roland nods as he chews  the bread’s crust. “We have a project we need to work on and we needed paper.”

“I’m sure you have paper here. You’ve got a whole bin of construction paper and—“

“No,” Roland says, cutting in and shaking his head. “We need nice paper for this.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Roland grins and nods, then takes a bigger bite of the danish. “It’s really important that we have nice paper.”

“Oh…” Belle shifts and straws in a breath. “So your dad has been seeing my friend, Emma.”

“Emma is your friend?”

“Yes, mine and Ruby’s.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t know that.”

“Your dad says you don't like her.”

Roland shrugs. “I don’t really know her.”

“That’s fair,” Belle says slowly. “I just… I just want you to understand that just because they go on dates sometimes, that… that doesn't mean he’s going to marry her.”

Roland’s brow furrows as he looks back at her. “Then, what's the point of dating her?”

“Well, to… get out and get back in the swing of things and…”

“I don’t have a problem with my dad dating.”

“So, it’s...just Emma you don’t like?”

“I just don't think she’s right for him.”

“That’s why people date. To find someone who is right for them, and that’s a decision that no one else can make for another person.”

Roland nods, considering it. “Then why did you and Aunt Ruby set him up with Emma?”

“Because he’s a really good guy and she's nice and… we thought they might be good together.”

“I like Regina better.”

“Who?”

“Regina,” he says, as if she should know. “The lady who wrote the letter on the pretty paper.” He grins. “She likes Hemingway just like dad does, she has a son who is in Boy Scouts and I’ll be in Boy Scouts next year, and she makes great lasagna, dad’s favorite.” Roland grins as he considers it, and then his grin fades away. “Emma makes Shepherd’s pie. It was not good.”

“Not everyone is gifted in the kitchen.”

“I know, that’s why dad needs someone who is.”

At that, Belle laughs. “So where is this Regina person from?”

“Connecticut.”

“Roland, that’s really far away. It’s all the way on the other side of the country.”

“I know where Connecticut is. I looked it up on the big map at school.” He pauses and takes another bite of the sandwich. “But Gus says a long distance relationship can be a good thing because abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Um, I think you mean absence, Roland.”

“Yeah. That. That’s what Gus said.”

Belle’s eyes narrow. “Gus as in the little boy that’s coming over to play?”

“To work on a project.”

“Oh, are you not friends with Gus that way?”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Oh, I just…” Belle stops. “Never mind.”

“Well, that may or may not be true, but who am I to argue with the sage advice of a six year old?”

“Gus is seven. He had a late birthday, so he could have been in second grade.”

A grin twists on to Belle’s lips. “That explains it then.”

“Yeah…”

The doorbell rings just as Roland is finishing his sandwich, and as soon as it does, he stuffs the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and runs to the door. And Belle can’t help but laugh as he pulls open the front door, grabs a hold of his friend’s wrist and drags him up the stairs without a word…

“You should see this letter,” Roland says, closing the door behind him.

“Is the paper nice? My mom says that’s how you know someone cares—when they send you something nice.” Gus nods with a serious expression on his round face. “It’s all about the effort, ya know.?”

Roland nods in agreement. “It’s very nice.”

“Then she really likes your dad.”

“Yeah,” Roland says, grabbing the letter from his night stand. “And she included so many of the things my dad likes, without even knowing it.”

“Wow.”

“I know,” Roland says handing his friend the letter. “Look.”

He watches as Gus looks at the envelope, examining it carefully as if looking for clues, then he unfolds the letter, his eyes slowly moving over the words. “You read this?”

“Well… not.. not all of it,” Roland admits. “Just the words I know. But I can tell it’s a really good letter.” He grins. “She quoted Hemingway, and one of the quotes she uses, my dad has a journal that says that same thing on the front.”

“Cool.”

“Right? She is a good cook, too.”

“My dad says that’s super important.”

“Her best meals are my dad’s favorite which is lasagna and then my favorite, apple pie.”

“That’s amazing,” Gus says, his eyes widening a little. “Why did your dad say?”

Roland frowns. “He didn’t read it.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got a girlfriend.”

“Does she make apple pie?”

“No, she makes Shepherd's pie.”

“Ew.”

Roland nods. “It had peas in it.”

“Gross. She’s gotta go.”

“Yeah,” Roland frowns. “She’s… not that bad, really. She rollerblades, I guess.”

“Has she taken you?”

“No.”

“Oh. Then what good is that?”

“I don't know,” Roland admits, “Maybe she will someday.”

“But maybe your Dad’ll dump her before that.”

“I hope so,” Roland says, a little grin pulling onto his lip. “That’s why I invited you over, actually.”

“Need me to throw a fire and scare her of? My dad says I’m ‘specially skilled at making people wanna leave when I get upset about stuff.” He giggles. “Have you ever seen Parent Trap?”

“No. “What’s that?”

“Only the best movie ever. Twins scare off their dad’s terrible girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m not a twin, so I don’t think that would work,” Roland says, considering it as he shifts a bit uncomfortably. “Plus, not actually terrible. I don’t want to scare her,” he says. “I just want her to break up with my dad ‘cause there’s someone better for him.”

“That’s the point,” Gus says. “To make Emma go away.”

“I have a better idea, though,” Roland says, sitting up a little straighter and smiling at his own cleverness. “We are going to write her.”

“Her—“

“Regina,” Roland says. “We are going to write back to her.”

“We’re in first grade, Roland.”

“But we’re the best writers in our class. Our teacher is always saying that.”

Gus nods. “That’s true.”

“So, together, I think we could probably write a pretty good one.”

For a moment, Gus considers it. “We did get an A on that Halloween story was wrote together.”

“Exactly.” Taking a breath, Gus looks down at the letter. “I have some ideas. I started yesterday.”

“Let’s see.”

Reaching back into the nightstand, Roland pulls a lined piece of paper from the drawer. “It’s, just a draft, obviously.” He says, handing the paper over to Gus, watching as Gus reads it to himself then clears his throat to read aloud.

“Dear Regina,” he begins.”You sound really neat—“ Gus grins up at him. “That's a good line.”

“I thought so,” Roland beams.

“You should tell her how much you like lasagna next.”

“Yeah! And why!”

“Good,” Gus nods, looking down at the rest of the letter. “That's good. She is going to love this!”

_____

March 6, 1993- Greenwich, Connecticut:

That evening she and Daniel went out on a date—dinner while Henry was at a friend’s working on a project for school. Daniel suggested the little place in Hartford where they’d gone on their first date, and she’d easily agreed—Henry didn't have to be picked up until nearly eight that evening and it’d have nice to eat in a restaurant that didn’t have children’s section on the menu.

They took her car and when they got into the freeway, Daniel flicked on the radio, and almost immediately her cheeks flushed at the sound of Doctor Hopper’s voice.

“Isn’t this that show you like so much?”

Regina shrugs. “I’m, um… I’m actually doing a story for work on this show.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s... it’s about its emotional appeal.”

“Ohh, that's… that’s actually really interesting. I’d like to hear about it sometime,” Daniel tells her, offering a quick little grin. “When did you start this?”

“Um, a couple of weeks ago.”

“Is it—“

“Can we… not talk about it right now? I’ve spent the whole day thinking about the angle I wasn’t to take for this story and what my argument is going to be, and I just… I just want to focus on something else.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel says easily, not seeming to pick up any any of her discomfort over this particular topic. “Do you want to change the station?”

“No,” she murmurs. “I do like this show. It’s… it’s oddly calming.”

“Alright then,” Daniel says, grinning as he looks over at her. “We’ll listen, but not discuss.”

“Perfect,” she says, grinning back.

Daniel tuns up the sound just as Doctor Hopper comes back informing listeners  that he’s talking to couples who are sure they’ve found the key to a long-lasting and healthy marriage. And then, they listen to a string of callers explain to Doctor Hopper and his listeners how they married someone they felt was their best friend.

When they arrive at the restaurant, the host leads them to the same table they’d ate at on their first date and she and Daniel had both laugh at the coincidence—and then something glitters in Daniel’s eyes.

And again, she found herself with an uneasy feeling that has become commonplace whenever she thinks he might be considering a proposal.

They get through an appetizer and dinner—and then, after their desert arrives, she watches Daniel reach into the breast pocket of his jacket and pull out a ring box.

She masks her discomfort with surprise and suddenly when the box opens, revealing to her a gorgeous antique ring that he tells her was his mother’s, the entire restaurant is staring that them.

She’s not even sure what he says when he asks because she can’t hear him over the beating of her heart and the voice in her head that tells her this is too soon—but he smiles and the crowded restaurant aww’s and she finds herself nodding, reminding herself that Daniel is, by far, the sweetest, kindest man she’s ever met, that he loves her son and that he loves her, and she reminds herself that she would be a complete fool not to want to marry him.

And as she stares at him with a hundred conflicting thoughts going through her head, she couldn’t help but think there were far worse things than marrying a man like Daniel Colter; and while she and Daniel might not have had passion, but perhaps they had something better.

She comfort and ease, understanding and trust and the sort of love that came from what seemed to be rekindled friendship.

So, she says yes.

The restaurant claps and Daniel pulls her into a warm hug—and she sort of melts into him as she feels a burst of contentment that lasts for the rest of the evening.

And then, she gets home.

Mal is there, curled up one he armchair with a glass of wine, her brow arched skeptically.

“Thank you, for, um,... for picking Henry up.”

“He’s never any trouble.”

Regina smiles. “Is he already asleep.”

“Yeah, He went to bed about a half an hour ago. You just—“ Mal stops and sits up a little straighter as her eyes fall to Regina’s hand. “Oh, so that’s why you were detained.”

Smiling Regina nods. “We… um… we had some unexpected celebrating to do.”

“I’ll say, Mal says, getting up and cross the room toward her. “He finally did it.”

“He finally did.”

“And, you obviously said yes.”

I did,” Regina says smiling a bit shyly. “I… wasn’t sure, but then there he was with the ring and—“

“Regina—“

“I love him. I do. And what we have might not be perfect, but it’s incredible and I’m happy and I’ve never been as happy as I am with him.”

“What about Sleepless in Seattle?”

“Sleepless in Seattle doesn't even know that I exist.”

Mal nods, biting down on her lip. “What happened to not being able to get him out of your head?”

“He’s a fantasy Mal. He’s not real… not… not to me anyway.” She shakes her head. “And Daniel is very real and when I’m with him I feel—“

“Magic?”

“Mal—“

“Please don’t do this, Mal,” Regina says, pressing her eyes closed as she sighs. “Please just let me have this.”

“What about your story?”

“What’s about it? Regina asks, stepping away from Mal. “I can still write it.”

“Really? Because I got the impression the story was an excuse.”

“The story isn’t an excuse. It’s… it’s just something I’m interested in.” She shakes her head. “I… I think I was going down a really unhealthy road, and… and tonight sort of… snapped me back and put me down a different path.”

“A better one?”

“A healthier one. One that’s based on something real, not… not some obsession.” Something about that makes Mal soften. “For so long I was so unhappy, and I spent years building up this idea of what love is supposed to be.”

“You deserve a fairytale.”

“Fairytales aren't real, Mal. They’re not and what I have with Daniel is very real.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I love him, Mal, and when I envision what our life together would be like, I really like what I see.” She smiles gently. “We’ll be happy.”

“You don’t seem excited.”

“I am, and for the first time in my life, I feel like… like I’m finally in a good place. Please, Just… let me have that.”

Mal sighs and nods,m and then a warm smile pulls onto her lips. “Okay, fine,” Mal says, take a few steps in and pulling her into a hug. “If you're happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thank you,” Regina murmurs as Mal pulls back.

“Okay, so I want you to tell me everything, Mal says, her smile brightening as she takes Regina by the hand. “Don’t leave anything out!”

[pingou7]

A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou  for @thestarbirdfromtheashes Starbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 5 is (finally) up!

(I dedicate this one to @sleepykalena because she likes this fic so much it makes me happy. This update is for you especially Char, hope it delivers...)

Read more on AO3 (or under the cut)

Part 5 — From Tijuana to Caborca, Sonora, Mexico Day 3

There’s a sense of homecoming as Cassian stares out the window, dust flying around, rocky mountains... more colorful houses, more colorful life. But of course the quiet in the car was starting to creep Kes out and he switched on the radio. He too seems happy to drive back to mother land, as a man’s soulful voice carries out from the speakers.

Only on air it’s actually Propuesta Indecente — one of the Damerons favorite bachata songs — and soon Kes is wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him. Andor struggles not to burst out of laughter and he hopes Jyn doesn’t have so much grip on Spanish as to translate what these lyrics mean:

¿Qué dirías si esta noche

Te seduzco en mi coche?

Que se empañen los vidrios

Y la regla es que goces

Well, to be honest, the idea of seducing Jyn in the car tonight until glasses get fogged wouldn’t be so far fetched — nor unwelcome — but Kes is here. So as evocative as the song might be, the sudden fantasy of a flushed Jyn lying on the hood of his brother’s old mustang is nothing but a pretty image.

He squirms in the seat, dry throated and changes the song. His brother sniggers, but as Quiero qué me quieras starts — again — he is lost in the song and forgets to tease him. Jyn is on the back seat, rummaging through the bag Gina lent her but at Kes’ demand, she reaches behind her, stretching, to retrieve his old white cowboy hat.

Cassian avoids to look at her to put the thing on top of the driver’s head, however, the sight is slightly ridiculous — he exchanged this for a baseball cap as a teen — and like the car, Dameron kept it out of sentimentality, despite having outgrown both.

He wants to broach the subject of Jyn, but he doesn’t know how. As usual, thanks to his sunny brother there’s a relative impression of carefreeness, but while she seems to be drinking the sights, the fugitive is far from sharing any kind goofing:

Her back is upright, her shoulders squared against her seat and she looks ready to bolt, more so than she did crossing the border. He realizes he didn’t hear the sound of her voice since then and it sits ill with him: the cop in Andor wants to interrogate her and the man just wants to reach out.

They stop in Tijuana to refuel and of course, Cassian insists on putting on his matching tourist cap. He’s not really Captain Andor here, just Cass — and if Kes-adillas gets to wear his old cowboy hat, then he doesn’t get to comment on it. Jyn rolls her eyes at their antics, but agrees to get a larger head cloth than the one she has. It covers her hair, twisting safely around her neck... it looks a bit exotic to be honest, oriental almost, but she puts it on with a long acquired ease that makes him wonder.

Everything she does and doesn’t say makes him wonder, and he doesn’t like it.

Eventually, as the urgency of their reaching San Diego no longer exists — God willing — Kes decides to stretch his legs, calling his wife for a bit. Neither Cassian nor Jyn leave the car though, as he ponders on the old fashioned map that marks their spots, like a way of the cross. After all, the original plan was their yearly pilgrimage to Bernal and the brunette behind him doesn’t alter that. In any way whatsoever. Of course not.

“So, Jyn, have you ever been to Mexico?”

“No, I’ve been to Columbia for a few months, but that’s all.”

“Vacation? Work? Schooling?”

“Nope, none of that, through it was really... formative.”

Her cryptic and elusive answers are driving him madder each time. If it wasn’t leisure nor work or school, what could have been her reason for going to South America? He senses she’s not lying, but as usual she’s the opposite of forthcoming. He thinks she’s voluntarily leaving clues for him, but these pieces only serve to confuse him more.

Kes slides in again, but he’s frowning, and the car is oddly silent. Cassian keeps his mouth shut, knowing he’d better wait for Kay’s information to provide a starting point on his probing. Meanwhile, his brother asks about their next stop — Caborca, in Sonora, still around six hours of driving — in a sullen voice that intrigues Jyn.

“I thought you wanted to ease up on the gas pedal?”

“I thought you were on the run,” Kes retorts moodily.

“Not at present,” she answers nonplussed,”which was the point. I mean, don’t speed up on my account.”

Kes sighs and slides out again, ignoring their surprise. Cassian goes after him, and they settle for a chat by the road. His brother is fishing for something in his pockets, if they were younger it might have been a pack and a lighter, but both had quit years before. Whatever it is, he can’t find it however, and lets out a curse.

“Care to tell me what’s wrong, cabrón?”

“Should I make a list? Gina, the wayward cat, the crappy car. My son misses me.”

“Hey, it was all the same an hour ago, only you were not an ass then.”

“We’re not all as good as you for compartmentalizing, Captain Andor. We should have flown there.”

“To Bernal?”

“Yep. Time’s short, life’s short. The sooner we are in Bernal, the sooner we can go back to our lives. I didn’t want to leave Tia.”  

Okay, so this is Kes freaking out, that Cassian can deal with. He won’t tease him or offer him platitudes, but he’d thought a phone call to Shara would have served as damage control. Clearly he’d underestimated Kes’ helplessness. He pats his shoulder, as he states:

“We knew she wasn’t great, cursí. Gina’s old.”

“Shut up rudo, old or not, it’s not okay. We’re talking about family here. Rules don’t apply.”

It’s Cassian’s turn to sigh this time, noting his brother’s petulant tone is exactly the same as little Poe’s. For all his nephew took after Shara, whining seems to be a Dameron trait.

“They do, even, perhaps especially when we don’t wish them to. She was happy to see us though, it counts for something right? And, you know, we’re gonna see her in a few days.”

“Remind me why we thought this long ass road trip was a good idea?”

“No money to spare on plane tickets.”

“Come on, this trip isn’t cheap.”

“But we wouldn’t have Jyn with us.”

“You’re clingy for a guy that picked a stray three days ago. What makes you think she won’t ditch us, now that she’d crossed the border? She may have left the car already for all we know, or better, stole it altogether.”

“Don’t be a dick. Let’s go back now, if you’re so worried she’s gonna disappear.”

“I’m not a worrier, you are.”

“Then start acting like it!”

When they get back to the car, Jyn isn’t in the back seat and for a heartbeat or two, both cops are stunned, speechless. Cassian feels his blood rushing out of his cheeks for the first time in more than a decade — he is usually level headed, a good element — and it takes the horn honking to snap him out of it.

Jyn, mysterious runaway that she is, has passed behind the wheel. He sees it, yet his brain takes a whole second to process the information. Kes opens the door on the driver’ side, puzzlement written all over his face.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you were tired of the rotation by now, so... I looked at the map. I can do my share, if that’s okay.”

She’s impassive, but her voice hints at a slight uncertainty and she avoids their eyes, fixing the road in front of her like she could start the car by sheer force of will. Cassian exhales loudly — out of relief or resignation, perhaps — and chooses to regain his place next to her, strapping himself in. Once he’s done, he gestures to Dameron to get in the car too, which he does after some stalling, and says to Jyn:

“I’m surprised by the fact that you waited for us. You could have fled.”

“With this piece of junk? Not likely. Plus, ditching cops with their own car wouldn’t help my case.”

“It sure wouldn’t,” Cassian agrees while he watches her starting the car and resuming their travel.

“You’re doing okay with this side of the road?”

“What, why,” she asks dubiously, eyes narrowing.

“You’re Brit, right? Didn’t you drive the other way around?”

“Relax, officer Kes-adillas, I’ll do fine, besides, when I first started to drive, there wasn’t any road to begin with.“

“No exactly reassuring,” he mumbles, but since he doesn’t ask for the keys, Jyn smiles.

“You’ll have your baby back as soon as we reach the next city, if you want.”

But they let her drive for three hours before they stop for the night. She looks heartened by their compliance, expecting the cops to reclaim the wheel anytime, yet Kes concentrates on chilling out and Cassian prefers to focus on his emails — okay, he might steal a glance at her profile from time to time, so what if he does? He’s just checking she’s not getting tired or stressed by the road, and she does cut a fine figure in the bright tones left by dusk.

The hotel staff they’re staying at were able to point the trio a serviceable phone, so Jyn made her mandatory call to wherever her brother lives in the States. Cassian has more luck though, and thanks to her passport, Kay managed to send him intel right on his phone, that he reads up greedily, with Kes frowning at his shoulder.

When she gets back with a taco, she picks up instantly the rise of tension in the room. For a whole minute nobody talks and Jyn finishes her food with both men staring at her.

“So, guys, what’s the plan tomorrow? I’d thought you’d have lots to chat about, why the long faces?”

“Anything we have to say, you don’t want to hear.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You tell us, Jyn, or is it Liana? You sure spent a few months in jail under that name, so do you prefer we use Kestrel?”

“Wait, how do you... you snooped around my stuff,” she asks furiously, pointing a accusative finger at Cassian.

She looks comically affronted for a common thief, but now isn’t the time to point it out, though the corner of Kes' lips is lifting.

“I did, and if you think it was wrong of me, then you should have been more open, so I didn’t have to.”

“Sorry I’m not the kind of girl who unloads a lifetime of anecdotes on car rides. Chirrut told me I could trust you on the phone, so I did, but it’s just… I wasn’t sure I could trust you and you already proved us wrong.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell at all, and the cops frown in sync, crossing their arms — it’s their classic bad cops pose, Shara usually mocks — but nobody here feels like joking. Yet another thing Jyn hides from them.

“Does he know us, then, this Chirrut?” Kes asks.

“No, I don’t think so, but he doesn’t need to, okay? I can’t explain it but he knows stuff. If he says you’re trustworthy then you are.”

“You’re nuts, and even so, if you or whoever else think we’re trustworthy, then why won’t you bloody tell us what’s going on with you?!”

“I don’t have to tell you shit!”

“God woman, we’re trying to help you!”

“I don’t ask for help, I’m managing on my own!”

“Scuse me,” Kes interrupts in a milder tone despite his own frustration, “but you did hide in my car, and against all odds, we’re still dragging you with us, so...”

“Right, sorry I crashed at your Charolastras party, but for the record you insisted! Anyway I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“We’ll see about that!” Kes retorts hotly, whereas Cassian’s ire runs so cold he’d fear frostbite.

His furor is leaving him thankfully tongue-tied, but he’s as furious as his brother. He’s just used to repress his angry bursts. She is too, but when nobody speaks or move for a few heavy seconds she storms out of the room and Cassian is so frustrated at her cowardice he can’t see straight, gripping the counter with sweaty hands.

Kes swears heartily, pours himself a drink. Cassian drinks too, four long gulps to settle his nerves. It does little. When they eventually decide to get to bed — the do need to resume the trip in a few hours — Kes pushes him towards the room next to  the one we reserved for him. When Cassian asks what the hell he’s thinking, his traitor of a brother replies:

“Our bromance means I have to interfere, so try to be persuasive with her. And man up, cause I’m planning to have phone sex or something.”

“TMI.”

“Don’t complain, if you play your cards correctly you might get hot, angry sex while I have to make do.”

“You left your wife only three days ago. She really has you by the balls.”

“Yep, I’m not ashamed of that, and I think it’s a feeling you’ll soon be familiar with Cass. Let’s just see how you’ll handle that then, at least my wife’s home, waiting meekly for me.”

“Fuck you Dameron.”

“You wish cabrón, but I’ll leave that to Erso, now shoo,” he exclaims in a cooing way, tapping on his own thighs for good measure.

“I’m not your puppy Kes,” Cassian grumbles a bit petulantly before the door closes behind him and he’s left to knock on Jyn’s room.

No answer, but she didn’t lock it, so he enters. If she doesn’t like that, she can suck it. She is already under the covers, doesn’t move an inch. She’s too still to be asleep — surely too riled up, if she’s anything like him — so he just foregoes all pretense and strands quickly across the room.

“Scoot over,” he says, taking off his shoes.

She turns her head sharply at the sound of his voice, but glares and remains motionless in the middle of the bed. Her facial expression clearly conveys her furious disbelief — no doubt she is a second away from telling him to get lost, at the very least, but Cassian doesn’t give her the time:

“Scoot over Jyn,” he repeats a little sterner, paying no heed of her murderous green eyes to lift up the blanket.

“Leave me alone! I don’t see why I got all the way here, honestly. You’re more ruthless than a hound...”

“I’ve been told that before, but you expect me to let you keep your secrets the entire time that you're with us?"

“I don’t have to answer you, you’re a cop, so I reckon you’re familiar with the right to silence.”

“You’re not under arrest, so it doesn’t qualify.”

“From the way you’re behaving, I wasn’t sure. I’m just going to leave and be done with it.”

Aggravated as she may be, he is as well. She won’t have him being guilty for invading her privacy. So far he’d been nothing but awfully patient with her, and respectful of the boundaries she set. Really Cassian? Kay’s dry voice interjects unexpectedly in his stormy thoughts, which makes him scowl harder.

She still has the gal to huff at him, mumbling invectives under her breath in a language he doesn’t know of, but her body language and tone make it clear that whatever she’s saying, it’s not flattering. He wants to shake some sense into her, or kiss her mouth shut. That would be more enjoyable, at least.

Yet when he’d thought about it — and in the past seventy two hours, the fleeting image came at least twice — he didn’t picture making his move in some grubby hotel room. She’s pissed, he’s frustrated in more ways than one and despite his earlier encouragement, Kes too is probably a tad wallowing. Perhaps the stuffy Poe gave him is coming handy, he thinks dryly. If she kicks him out, then at least he would have a chance to find out.

“Look Jyn, would you stay with us if I asked?”

“Why would you?”

“I don’t know, but I want to.”

I want you, he wants to stay instead. It’s not logical but it’s true nonetheless, he doesn’t want her to vanish just yet.

“I’m not used to people sticking around when things get bad,” she retorts, reluctantly.

“Let me prove you wrong, then.”

“I’m not worth the effort Cassian, really. I should have disappeared in San Diego like I planned to.”

“Let us be the judges of that, okay? I thought we were… something of friends, by now, you and me. And Kes too.”

“Friends don’t harass each other.”

“Friends trust each other, that includes confiding in each other when they need to.”

“Maybe for you, friends give me my space.”

“You’ll have all the space you want once what’s after you clears up.”

“You really have a bad case of hero complex.”

“Maybe, but I’d be easier to placate if you let us help.”

“I’m not gonna leave tomorrow,” she answers after a short silence, dropping the matter. “I wouldn’t even know where to start, and I promised Baze I’d wait until the coast is clear. So... if you want... I’ll tell you what’s necessary come morning, with Kes.”

“Splendid, we can fill the blanks from there, I’m looking forward to it. But for now let’s get to sleep.”

He expects her to send him back to Kes, maybe bidding him good night since she has cooled down, but she simply nods and turns the light off. He does not move an inch and she doesn’t breath a word. He stares blankly at the dark ceiling and he counts his blessings when she rolls to her side, her body turned towards the door.

He has a thought for who he just left in San Diego, and what awaits him in Bernal. Like he did the night before, he crosses himself, though he doesn’t feel the need to pray. He would have to count on his own merits to pull it through tomorrow.

[kreeshaha6]

Kreeshaha 6

by Hui Kj

With the weight of the napkin, yoo-hoo! It is a father with an orange juice disorder wish. Sins count, greet the dogs kindly or you will ask fellow locals if they are bilingual because you just have not been anywhere for awhile. Peace will get you killed - I have been pushed away via repulsion both ways; yeti stance. Somebody interrupt, drown with me - heaven is cheering when you stare around. Nobody will tame house; Julia triangle. If you are stuck on a boat fishing, scream at the tally of meaning lost but shiver on. I have hunted for etiquette in evolution and the wind is a smart devil. Not call it anything but muddy carpet to scrub out while you know exactly how to update yourself in your habit modes - a lot of social tests behind your back: a prince does not know how to talk, and queens will catch you lying you idiot. Whatever you think: it is still going to be countered or briefly deconstructed - counter, go ahead: I know the actual perverts when they sniff or clear their throat. Hints mark distance.

The compliments are not lies, cough. The dedications are not sin: show yourself crazy-cat. Your best friends can go home and find love in a different world. You can do heroin. God is real when you dream; it is just about natural disasters and some year soon the math will not be funny anymore and galaxies can go fuck themselves. The napkin edges are pink in yet out just of black holes after the swallow - saying one thing soon that will ruin your life, let’s go.

Loud wind, cartoon questions - boink. I hate cleaning the lawn before cleaning the lawn. Consume teal mold for the beauty of heroes and it will keep your life an achievement; maybe wicked to you and I mostly agree. Some 420s let you knock on neighbors doors to tell them all you know about 9/11 - the same neighbors that you steal cigarettes from from their porch every week, and on Halloween you put a christian book in their mailbox; also a mixtape of songs hinting about what you are reading right now. It has been five years now since the discovery moment where God opened the burning star door and nobody has to believe me.

I heard Julia likes live music. If you look away do not miss anything. Take a bus to a stranger’s bed, and if one sings for another then you can avoid talking about abortion. People say I lie to them but it is a reverse to laziness and accumulation of everything I want to say to people but say it now; feels good but that does not mean there is a scheme thing but rather being a romantic and free, so. You can think it jab to you but reword back to me only making people in homes bitter: like context and history with a dazzling motive to not go back to the moment if that is how it feels.

In my childhood bedroom, every time I slept facing the wall Ursula would be looking under tables for me at daycare in my dreams. None of this violence - look down to your menu and order whatever you like. I can get a discount for you because I work here. Talk vaguely a bunch so the circle is crooked so they do not plot against your base. My father started a private school and is doing his Phd although while his bewildering perversions make you so sick that you deny it of that setting: ha ha, a lasting impact but reveals so much that makes him think that every message is from God so it is all fine. The future sucks; metaphysical targets for what is basically standard psychology that the man never knew it was an ill catastrophe leaving me and some others perverted in the sense that you can never forget it.

Ignore it; manipulation is impressive but you should rather get a benzo from a doctor. It is paranoia but not the last splash - I am healing you. To tell you my stomach hurts under blue sky and you are just getting lucky today - ugh. Will I ruin your time? It is more than being lonely or personal whorish fallbacks - every man I know has never asked me questions and I could cry about it sincerely, like it is stealing and you will hate me for asking you questions. Maybe if you thought I read enough books and write essays that I would know how to have an opinion - that is not how I would like to use my time when in the relevance of a beautiful creature explaining this now or then or whenever.

Their loved ones will ask you stranger how they can help them outside of your new friends house like who the fuck are you? - fuck you actually and fuck the police. Putting stuff in other’s mailboxes is illegal and I just do not want trouble which is why I make it so difficult to trust me. No material desire for shoplifting, rather pretty luck will keep you better informed of the news; a whole new bias begins where that if you do not smell bad or can buy the rum only to be the new’s steadier in the end to popularize romantic metaphors that just have nice colors in them eventually.

My father drinks decaf. My suicide prevention sticker looked like the grim reaper warping towards me at the certain angle staring - shadows move of other shadows. Maybe when you got reckless heaven’s angel work in curious ways, but you thank God even tho he said only a dove - your best friend is a bird and he or she will mention later on about when the angel got used to it all and literally kept you alive out of pure loyalty.

You can toot if you want. Romance is luck - if free money is going around it should all be for anything but devices or decor; rather buy a map and rent a small house for yourself and take notes on how they never cared like you do. Make coffee and never answer a door. Water is the only great thing - water and good. The earth will put up a fight

- throwing up is good and the decomposing factor dresses us light and fried by the sun.

Were angels once human? Lucifer chose to leave, and I did not know an angel could bend - even though God is still building a kingdom which I believe changes in the war seasons. I can ruin your life; just a minute. Soft tone means peace and if you can find peace in hell the soft tone is the most heartbreaking edge in religious history where you can take a break to visit earth for good or bad - but maybe these are all just a different race: armadillos are just gross and that is my observation to know how sick I am which the angels and demons are in magnificent pose and telling enemies ‘He is mine.’ But enemies will hear about it and it is your party, there are just a bunch of lustful, sick, obsessive figures trying to use your voice against young people so they have their own obsession of lust - incorrect and dumb. Go into a basement and do not leave until you have scratched out a million things: follow a series for a theme and counter it without anger. Boy, girl, boy, girl…. Which game is this? Finnegan’s Wake - the master key, only happening with a person you will quit on : so have fun with your boring masturbation until you are ready to drink it up to become your own entity, mission quite repulsive but holy if God said so. You can bullshit, that I got yoga at 5’clock. Buddy will talk; every little little fever come along, and he is drinking now and I say! the wrong first dates this month, powder donuts, and a dork fag. No worries, people know wrong is wrong.

Earth attack with a pickup line for when it will zap least because of desperation. If you say what you mean thru tunnels of empathy checkpoints direct it to enemies. It is asexual and you remove yourself - you take drugs and risk your family’s curtesy. One aches when relieving some sort of statement that is past relevancy - at least there is conversation in the wild west. You wonder if I love you - might as well kill me.

I know the sin - that is my profession: kreeshaha 6. If you draw a blank that means you have admitted - at least that is how you make new friends opposite of disappear. What will catch on? Peppermint? Cinnamon rolls? Think of as many people as you can - betray your best friends if you are the devil. Old people will think you are cool if you show what they forgot about.

[a-gert-lush-holiday]

Travel day, and day 1

Our travel day started off well, but slowly started to descend into minor chaos. Lucy woke up around 11pm from an apt nightmare about missing our flight, and so the pair of us decided not to go back to sleep. This was partially so we would definitely be up in the morning, and partially so both of us might be tired enough to sleep on the flight. We tried the TV in our room, however this unfortunately didn’t work at all! We ended up chatting and playing random app games until 4:30, when we both got ready to head out for the day.

A taxi hailed by the front desk got us to Terminal 4, WHSmiths got me a lock for my suitcase - I had been unable to find mine before leaving home, and we finally got our cases checked in around 6:15.

Time for security, which I think is everyone’s least favourite part, but was definitely Lucy’s nemesis today! As well as being selected for the dreaded body scanner, her backpack was also selected for screening 😣 In contrast, I sailed right through for a change! (I seem to get all the random checks when travelling alone on planes - this is even more terrifying when you get pulled to the side whilst an officer speaks to you in German and all the German you know flies out your brain like whoosh). Security over, we had a browse of the shops and popped into Costa for a drink and a sit down until our gate was announced.

Bing! What’s that phone? Oh, delayed 45 minutes? I mean, that’s rough, but not the end of the world, our connection is still doable.

Just as if to prove me wrong, pretty much as soon as I said this another text arrived, putting the time back to 10am. This was...not so doable. At this point, Lucy is beginning to freak out that her nightmare is coming true, and quite honestly despite the brave face I was trying to put on to keep calm, so was I! Luckily no more texts were received, and we boarded the plane at 9:40 - which was definitely pushing it but hey if the plane took off at 10 we still had time before boarding opens!

*sigh*. I really should stop jinxing myself, because sod’s law took over and made us take off at 10:20. This meant that as we landed at 12:25 in Paris, we had 5 minutes before boarding opened, and it was looking increasingly unlikely that we were going to make it. We managed to jump off the plane at 12:40, and the pair of us literally sprinted as fast as our legs would carry us!

Charles de Gaulle unfortunately has another set of security when changing flights, and this is where all hope started to seem lost as Lucy got selected for bag screening again! We explained this to the officer and he very kindly did the fastest yet thorough bag check he could, and we continued our sprinting to the gate, allllllll the way down the end of the terminal! (Because of course it would be!)

Fortunately, the Japan gods seemed to be on our side, as check in had not yet closed! As we made our way onto the plane I received a notification that check in was closing ASAP, so we made it literally by the skin of our teeth.

Crisis averted and butts in seats, we finally were on our flight bound for Tokyo! Lucy settled in on the IFE with either Ant Man or Crazy Rich Asians - I initially debated whether to start watching Ralph Breaks The Internet, but figured I would start watching films after the dinner service. Instead, I settled in with the inflight map, whilst listening to Muse (Simulation Theory, in case anyone was wondering!)

Shortly afterwards, the hostesses came round with a wet towel, round of drinks, and some rosemary crackers. I initially wasn’t sure if I would like them, but they tasted a bit like focaccia bread in cracker form! They also went well with the apple juice I ordered, however after this light snack I was still hungry and dragged a Twix from my bag. After a play through of the album, I finally decided to start an episode of Family Guy when we were somewhere over Copenhagen, thinking food would be coming soon. This turned out to be a smart move, as the second the episode finished it was our turn to be served food!

Our choices today consisted of chicken in sauce, or Japanese style beef curry. I love Japanese curry, so decided to go for the beef, which did not disappoint! Yes, it’s airplane food. Yes, it will never be as good as the real thing served up in an actual restaurant. But for airplane food? The beef was tender and well seasoned, the sauce was delicious and easy on the tastebuds, and the rice wasn’t too soggy or too hard. Chase that down with Camembert and proper french butter on a roll, and a delicious lemon and poppy seed cake, and I was content.

However, I did leave the salad - I’m honestly not a great fan of vegetable salads, especially when smothered in mayo. Lucy has the same meal as me and tried the salad - she ended up leaving it as it was no bueno for her.

I kept an eye on the skymap whilst we ate; we were now flying over Helsinki! The flight seemed to be going really fast at this point, however there was still another 9 hours to go. I settled in and watched a documentary about airbus beluga planes, Lucy listened to some music, and then we both tried to have a nap. Emphasis on the ‘try’. After a lot of tossing and turning, a 30 minute food documentary break, and a change of album from Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s Greatest Hits to a Nirvana compilation, I managed to catch a disjointed 2/3 hours of sleep. Lucy was unable to sleep, and therefore watched another film before poking me awake around 2 hours before decent, taunting me that I missed the ice cream rounds xD

It was not long after I woke up that I began to notice a peculiar smell coming from the galley behind us - I figured this was breakfast, but it had a very strong smell of something that was making me feel ill. However, when food was brought round an hour before landing, breakfast tasted a lot better than it smelt!

This was a scrambled egg, vegetable and...some sort of starch medley - unfortunately I couldn’t read all of the French on the front. The smell I realised after tasting it was most likely soy; whilst I love soy sauce in many things, if I whiff the bottle directly? Nope. This went down with a roll, butter and strawberry jam, plus a nice creamier tasting french version of what I assume was actimel, and a madeline. There was also what I thought was a very fruity yoghurt as the front said ‘apple vanilla’ in French, but as it looked and tasted like baby food one tiny bite of this was enough for me.

Shortly after this, we began the decent, landing cards were completed, and we landed safely at Narita airport. At this point I began to have an ‘oh my god, is this actually real?’ moment, and felt quite emotional. I have wanted to visit Japan since I was 14, and never truly thought I would ever get to make it happen. It still doesn’t quite feel real at the minute! My mind was constantly narrating as we exited the plane such gems as ‘oh my god, I’m standing on a Japanese escalator!’ (Which, in hindsight, I am so glad I did not say out loud!).

On to immigration! Here I have another tip: you’re going to need a black or blue pen, and pick up an immigration card from the desk by the queue. Sit in one of the seats and fill it out. Do not pass go, do not collect £200.

Yes, the card you filled out on the plane...was not the whole story. You need to fill out an immigration card also alongside the customs landing card, which you are not told about on the plane, nor is it particularly well signposted until you get to the end of the queue and the official at the line directing you to a attended booth for fingerprints and photographs takes a look at your documents and tells you you need one to proceed.

Which is fine, but then please don’t be like me and fill the form out in red pen, because you will get kicked out the queue yet again to fill it out on a dark colour. No where is it stated that red pen is the work of the devil, but these things happen so off I went to do as the man said. Ah, Japanese bureaucracy at it’s finest!

It was around this point I turned my phone on and connected to the free WiFi, and my heart immediately sank. You see, I had one more fear that I did not tell Lucy about, knowing that it was most likely going to happen due to the short connection and not wanting her to worry, and I had just had it confirmed.

‘Your baggage items will not be delivered upon arrival. They are still in transport. Please visit the baggage desk for further information’. At this point, given the baggage situation, the third time round I jumped in the line I felt so dejected, like ‘please, dear lord, let this be it!’.

This time round the gentleman waved me through, I passed through immigration, met up with Lucy (who was fortunate enough to have filled the form out in blue pen the first time round after our queue kicking), and together waited in a queue with a lot of people from the same flight.

This was also where I experienced Japanese bureaucracy and efficiency at it’s finest - the desk staff were working so hard to explain the situation, advising how to fill in yet another form to confirm the loss of the baggage and open claims for everyone, and were then escorting people to Customs so they could be processed (as obviously we were no longer accompanied by baggage, the lost baggage forms had to be processed so Customs can check the baggage after its arrival). We were also advised that we would get the equivalent of $100 a person that would be refunded for the purchase of essentials upon providing receipts - assuming the delay is only as long as the day they stated, this is actually a better deal than our travel insurance!

Finally, finally we were free on Japanese soil - and all we wanted to do was get to the hotel and de stress. Not to be, as check in was not until much later in the day, and we now needed to purchase a change of clothes.

At this point, I decided to get out a bit of extra cash at a 7-11 atm, praying the whole time my card would not get blocked, and internally cheering when I was presented with a wad of cash. My second stop was to grab my newly purchased Passmo (a bit like an Oyster card, but it can be used across Japan, and not just London), and complete a childhood dream - paying for a drink at a vending machine with your train pass.

Okay, yes, that sounds really lame nowadays when we have contactless payments and you can use your phone to buy pretty much anything. However, back in college before this technology really even existed as more than a concept in the west, I saw a video on YouTube of a guy paying for his drink using his IC card, and this basically cemented the idea that ‘Japan is this cool place that thinks outside the box why do we not have this man I wanna go there’. And now I have. So I did xD

Peach coca cola in hand (10/10 would buy again, the Diet Coke version at home is far inferior), we jumped on the Sky Access train (half the price of the Skyliner, with only a couple more stops, plus you don’t need a reserved ticket) to the Skytree and its shopping mall to pick up some clothes, and other bits like a hairbrush or face wipes. I ended up going in Uniqlo, and in there I saw the cutest Moomin shirt :D So of course I brought it! I also grabbed a pair of shorts, a shirt, and some clean underwear to change into, and then after browsing a bit more we hit up a Combini for lunch as the food hall in the Solamachi was packed.

I chose a onigiri with chilli oil filling (it had a sort of umami taste, with sesame I think?) and Lucy had a cheeseburger. But that’s okay, because she got to enjoy that they will put it in the microwave for you! We also both picked out a pastry each, for which I went for a choco-coronet and Lucy went for a croissant which ended up having a delicious sugar crust on top!

At this point we still had time to kill, so it was time for a browse around outside in the fresh air. Cherry blossoms were still in bloom, albeit barely, so we took a moment to admire these before moving swiftly onwards, and finding a gacha shop.

For the uninitiated, a gacha shop is full of gachapon machines (gachapon being tiny capsules filled with toys, like what’s in a kinder egg but not encased in chocolate), all selling different collectible sets. From this with the meagre change I currently had, I ended up with a Hogwarts hufflepuff badge, a tiny Iron Man, and a Sylveon keychain. All fairly decent pulls.

Another wander, a jump on the subway one more stop, and we were checking into our hotel. More on the hotel hopefully later, but I can confirm it is very very nice :)

For today, that is where I will have to stop, as Lucy has been sleeping pretty much since (a full 24+ hours without sleep will wreak havoc on you, yikes), and I have been pottering around trying out things like the indoor slippers, and heated toilet seats (11/10, need one for home so I don’t freeze my arse off when attending the ladies room).

[drtanstravels]

As soon as we realised that the Singapore National Day holiday was going to fall on Friday, August 9 and the national holiday for Hari Raya Haji would be on Monday, August 12 this year we figured we had better make the most of a rare four-day weekend. We obviously couldn’t travel too far and one country that we had both heard great things about, but had never visited, and is a reasonable distance away is Taiwan so we decided months ago to go. In the past I had Taiwanese students that used to speak glowingly about their home, but it wasn’t just them being patriotic, they actually made it seem like a pretty cool place. There were just a couple of problems that seem to be a recurrence for us; there was an earthquake in Taiwan the day before we were to leave Singapore and super typhoon Lekima was to make landfall the day we arrived. We clearly made it okay, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this right now, but how did the trip itself go?

Friday, August 9, 2019 We already knew the earthquake in Taiwan the previous day had killed one person, but now everyone was preparing for the arrival of the super typhoon. Anna had read that a lot of businesses in Taipei had closed up shop in anticipation of this massive storm and we were also concerned that our flights were going to be canceled, but it turned out we didn’t have to worry about that second one. Sure, we were delayed taking off by 30 minutes, however, we still managed to arrive on time, but I have to say, trying to touch down with a 70 kph (43.5 mph) breeze behind you is pretty terrifying and can make you feel rather ill with all of the bumps, dips, and drops. I was gripping the armrests of my seat with my feet more than likely leaving indentations in the floor of the aircraft so I can only begin to imagine how it was for the flight attendants who were strapped in facing the rear of the plane! Don’t believe me? Here’s my mate‘s response to my Facebook post when we were departing for Taiwan that day, followed by our view while landing:

Nice to know he’s got my back

Not far out from the airport

Approaching land

We landed safely and when we got to immigration we were greeted by painfully long lines, but fortunately for us, Anna’s APEC card allowed us to jump the queue and we were now in Taiwan:

Taiwan, officially the Republic of China (ROC), is a state in East Asia. Neighbouring states include the People’s Republic of China (PRC) to the west, Japan to the north-east, and the Philippines to the south. The island of Taiwan has an area of 35,808 square kilometres (13,826 sq mi), with mountain ranges dominating the eastern two thirds and plains in the western third, where its highly urbanised population is concentrated. Taipei is the capital and largest metropolitan area. With 23.7 million inhabitants, Taiwan is among the most densely populated states, and is the most populous state and largest economy that is not a member of the United Nations (UN).

The political status of Taiwan remains uncertain. The ROC is no longer a member of the UN, having been replaced by the PRC in 1971. Taiwan is claimed by the PRC, which refuses diplomatic relations with countries which recognise the ROC. Taiwan maintains official ties with 16 out of 193 UN member states. International organisations in which the PRC participates either refuse to grant membership to Taiwan or allow it to participate only as a non-state actor. Taiwan is a member of the World Trade Organization, Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation and Asian Development Bank under various names. Nearby countries and countries with large economies maintain unofficial ties with Taiwan through representative offices and institutions that function as de facto embassies and consulates. Domestically, the major political division is between parties favouring eventual Chinese unificationand promoting a Chinese identity contrasted with those aspiring to independence and promoting Taiwanese identity, although both sides have moderated their positions to broaden their appeal.

Well, that all makes Taiwan’s status more than a little confusing. Anyway, we got a cab to where we would be spending the following three nights, the Hotel Éclat Taipei in the Da-an district, and as we were checking in we were also immediately greeted by some bizarre art and sculptures. None of this stuff was cheap either, there were even original Salvidor Dalí sculptures in there, but a lot of the pieces did contain at least one dong, all of which was available for purchase. Once we got up to our room we soon realised that pretty much everything was automatic; the toilet lid automatically raised when you entered the bathroom, the lid on the bin would lift when you put your hand near it, but that kind of malfunctioned at one stage and just kept opening and closing continuously for about five minutes. There was also a glass wall separating the bathroom from the rest of the room that went from transparent to opaque at the touch of a button, however, if housekeeping changed it to transparent while you were out and you didn’t notice, you could find yourself taking a dump in full view of your significant other while they were trying to watch television. I’m sure that hotel website link probably shows a lot of the art, but here is a sample, plus a view of our room with a bunch of our crap laying around and the bathroom wall set to opaque:

One of the main sculptures outside our building with sandbags on its many toes so it doesn’t get blown away in the typhoon

Anna and a wolf out the front

This wasn’t the scariest thing we would see in the lobby

Just stuffing dogs down my undies

Hmmm….

Between the elevators

This dog really loves love

And this one loves balloons

Pig-girl hittin’ the town

from a better angle

Looking into our room after we messed it up a bit

Looking away from the bed

It turned out that we had nothing to worry about with businesses being closed, if you looked at the first photo from our hotel, the preferred method of combatting the typhoon was to just make a cross with packaging tape across any large window and to place sandbags on anything that could be blown away. That’s not to say that it wasn’t windy outside, I had to hold my hat in my hand and we still had to lean into it to walk properly.

Taiwan is known for its food and one of the first things Anna wanted to eat that night was hot pot so she asked the receptionist to make a reservation at one of the best hot pot places in town, but it was booked up for the next week. Luckily, they suggested another one nearby and made a booking for us that would be in about another hour or so. Cool, dinner is sorted, let’s go have a look around where we were staying! We had passed a lot of cafes in the taxi on the way to our hotel, but Taiwan is also where bubble tea was created so we opted for that instead, something we would have many more times on this trip, not always by choice, but often because we were thirsty and it was the only option in our immediate vicinity. On this occasion we also saw some people coming out of what looked like an awesome restaurant next to our bubble tea place, might have to check it out at some stage. We had a bit of time to kill before dinner so we Googled some nearby bars and found one called Halfway There, a kind of speakeasy on the second level of a Nintendo-themed cafe with a Gameboy door and Playstation controllers for doorhandles on the inside. Once upstairs we were in a really cool cocktail bar, but it soon became obvious that I was the only guy in the room and two of the three women sitting at the table closest to us were clearly a couple. One might’ve assumed that one had stumbled upon a lesbian bar until Anna pointed out that they were projecting Japanese porn onto the wall behind me. It turned out not to be porn, but an extremely sexually-graphic Japanese Netflix series entitled The Naked Director. If you were too frightened to click that link, it was just for the series’ IMDB page which gives it the following summary:

Follows the story of Toru Muranishi’s unusual and dramatic life filled with big ambitions as well as spectacular setbacks in his attempt to turn Japan’s porn industry on its head

Not really what we expected to see in the very first bar on our first night out in Taipei. The bar itself was great and a theme that we noticed over the course of our stay was that bars in Taipei do fantastic cocktails. They’re not my type of thing, but when Anna would order one I’d have a sip and they were really good, but the beers weren’t anything to turn your nose up at, either. It was now time to drink up and make our way to our restaurant for dinner, but we thought that Google Maps must’ve made an error, something it did continually on this trip and has a constant history of happening most times we are overseas. Why did we think that? Because it was saying that our restaurant was where we had just been earlier, but once we arrived everything worked out alright — We were going to be eating at that one next to the bubble tea place, a hot pot restaurant called Top One Pot. We ordered beef short ribs and something called 1983 pork, as well as a bunch of dumplings and other side-dishes to dip in our two soups, one spicy with congealed duck blood and the other a plain herbal soup, and it was hard to believe that this was the fallback plan for dinner. It was spectacular, but we smelt of hot pot for the rest of the night. Our final stop for the night was another cocktail bar near our hotel called Fourplay, this time doing among others, many drinks with a drug theme. It wasn’t unusual to see people shooting drinks out of syringes into their mouths or snorting crushed garnishes that accompanied their beverage. We even had one where we inhaled tequila through dry ice and then drank it (sans dry ice, of course). A look back at our first night in Taipei:

Where we had to enter to get to Halfway There

One of the few non-graphic scenes being shown behind me

Not a whole lot of dudes in this place

The door handles when exiting

A closeup of the door

A suspended, glass dragon decoration in Top One Hot Pot

Waiting for our soups to boil

The 1983 pork

Our beef

I think that’s everything

Getting ready to eat

With my chunk of duck’s blood

Don’t worry, it was part of his drink at Fourplay

Saturday, August 10, 2019 Before we came to Taiwan all we really knew about the place was that the food was supposed to be great and one of the main landmarks was Taipei 101, located about 2 km (1.25 miles) from our hotel. We had no interest in Taipei 101, but we love eating good food and so far we hadn’t been disappointed so it came as no surprise that Anna had already planned what we were going to eat for pretty much every meal before I had even woken up! Apparently we were having beef noodles for lunch that day, because that’s one of the dishes for which Taiwan is best known. She had even picked a place already, Yong-Kang Beef Noodle, but there was one small factor that we actually were prepared for this time; fortunately, the typhoon had pivoted and was now headed for mainland China, but it was already 38°C (100.4°F) outside and, although it wouldn’t get as humid as Singapore, it wasn’t a particularly dry heat either, however, the restaurant wasn’t far from our hotel. We walked there, stopping off for a coffee at a cafe full of old cameras and telephones along the way, and once we were at the restaurant I knew it would be one of those situations where I might kind of stand out a little — I had to crouch to get through the doorway into the dining room completely packed with locals, causing some of them to laugh and others to pull out their phones and take photos. We were given seats at a table that we had to share with several other people and while most people in Taipei have a decent command of English, this was a very Chinese restaurant and one of the staff had to tell Anna in Mandarin that because my legs made me stick out so far from the table while perched on my little stool, I would need to change seats because I was blocking one of the main thoroughfares, making it next to impossible for the staff and other patrons to make their way around this very crowded restaurant. This meant that someone on the adjacent table had to move in further just so I could try to fit in behind them, but we somehow pulled it off. There was only a limited selection of items on the menu so we ordered what we wanted, ate, paid at the counter, and then left, me still being frequently, but not-so-subtly, photographed the entire process. The Taiwanese beef noodles were definitely worth the humiliation, the beef just melts in your mouth, and as soon as we had finished we kept walking, countering the heat with a giant mango ice dessert with the obligatory bubble tea, despite being rather full after lunch:

Me after being asked to move for everyone else’s convenience

Don’t be fooled, this place was cramped and most people sitting at each table are probably strangers!

Steamed large intestines with rice powder

My large spicy braised beef and tendon noodles

Anna and her regular stewed beef with noodles

Anna posing out the front while others wait for a seat

Now onto dessert

After finishing the dessert it was time to continue our trek through the scorching heat, soon approaching the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall:

The National Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall (Chinese: 國立中正紀念堂) is a famous national monument, landmark and tourist attraction erected in memory of Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, former President of the Republic of China. It is located in Zhongzheng District, Taipei, Taiwan.

The monument, surrounded by a park, stands at the east end of Memorial Hall Square. It is flanked on the north and south by the National Theater and National Concert Hall.

The Memorial Hall is white with four sides. The roof is blue and octagonal, a shape that picks up thesymbolism of the number eight, a number traditionally associated in Asia with abundance and good fortune. Two sets of white stairs, each with 89 steps to represent Chiang’s age at the time of his death, lead to the main entrance. The ground level of the memorial houses a library and a museum documenting Chiang Kai-shek’s life and career, with exhibits detailing Taiwan’s history and development. The upper level contains the main hall, in which a large statue of Chiang Kai-shek is located, and where a guard mounting ceremony takes place at regular intervals.

The main reason we entered was to walk around the garden in order to get out of the scorching heat, and the gardens were beautiful, as was the view, but it was once we were inside that we found a really cool way of spending the afternoon. There were several art exhibitions happening, one being in the lobby featuring sea creatures such as sharks and rays with scenes painted on them, then there were two possible paid exhibits; one featuring Garfield, the other entitled Reshaped Reality: 50 Years of Hyperrealistic Sculpture:

Hyperrealistic sculptures emulate the forms, contours and textures of the human body or singular body parts and thereby create a convincing visual illusion of human physicality. From the late 1960s on, different sculptors got involved with a mode of realism based on the physically lifelike appearance of the human body. By deploying traditional techniques of modelling, casting, and painting in order to recreate human figures they followed different approaches towards a contemporary form of figural realism.

Based on a selection of around 30 hyperrealistic sculptures by 26 pioneering international artists the exhibition shall display the development of the human figure in hyperrealistic sculpture during the last 50 years. The selection reveals five different key issues in the approach towards the depiction of figural realism in order to emphasize how the way we see our bodies has been subject to constant change.

I was a big Garfield fan as a kid, but not so much now and the images of the sculptures in the Reshaped Reality exhibition looked stunning so we opted for that one. Generally when we go to art exhibitions I don’t take a lot of photos, instead just buying the guide, because you can’t use a flash so the images don’t usually do the pieces justice, and there is generally someone obstructing them, this installation being no different. People were constantly trying to get photos of themselves emulating each piece, but at least people were well-behaved, unlike exhibitions in Singapore, such as when we went to the Salvidor Dalí exhibit and there were children running around, screaming, and climbing the sculptures. I took a bunch of photographs around the gardens and of the temple, as well as of the sea creatures inside and a few in the exhibit just to highlight the detail, but it’s best to click the link to get a true idea of the show. There were incredibly lifelike replicas of an elderly woman holding a child, Andy Warhol’s head, and also some surreal pieces in the exhibition, but here’s what I captured in and around Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall:

One of several smaller structures in the grounds

Good advice

A view of Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall from a distance

The Gate of Great Piety

Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall

Some painted sharks inside

Now a ray

A close up of the detail on the sole of a giant sculpture’s foot

From another angle

Hands are almost impossible to draw realistically, I’d hate to sculpt one!

Anna with the piece who’s hand appeared in the previous image

This one was warped unless you viewed it from the perfect angle (No, not me, the sculpture)

From another angle

This decapitated body had a warning before viewing it in a private room

Back in the gardens

Identical dragon heads jut out of the wall every few metres

Looking at the underside of a temple roof

Another temple

Despite the heat we certainly did our fair share of walking that day and even after the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall, we weren’t even close to done, not by a long shot. We were now going to make our way down to a youth district called Ximending:

Ximending has been called the “Harajuku of Taipei” and the “Shibuya of Taipei”. Ximending is the source of Taiwan’s fashion, subculture, and Japanese culture. Ximending has a host of clubs and pubs in the surrounding area. This area is in the northeastern part of Wanhua District in Taipei and it is also the most important consumer district in the Western District of Taipei. The well-known Ximending Pedestrian Area was the first pedestrian area built in Taipei and is the largest in Taiwan.

Oh, and there’s this creepy tidbit as well:

Due to the density of young people, Ximending is comparable to Shilin Night Market and the Eastern District to be areas with the highest crime rates. In addition, Ximending is well known for student prostitution.

Luckily we only went during the day! Actually, the place seemed fairly tame and, yes, I’m aware we were probably the two oldest people in the entire district, but there wasn’t a whole lot there for us when it came to shopping — There were a ton of sporting goods and shoe stores, but nothing fit me, and there were record stores too, however, I clearly wasn’t their key demographic. As for Anna, when it came to clothing, there wasn’t a whole lot there for her either; everything had either ridiculous, cutesy animated characters on it or was beige with lace, frills, and floral trim, something my grandmother would wear. Like the rest of Taipei, there were also stalls packed with vending machines not particularly aimed at children that dispensed miniature collectibles and claw machines that allowed people to try and grab whatever fad was popular that week, but we weren’t there for the shopping, we wanted to visit a bizarre, toilet-themed restaurant called Modern Toilet. In this notorious restaurant we sat on toilet bowls and ate from a glass-topped table with a turd in a bowl beneath it. Most of the dishes were served in toilets too so if you ordered a curry, it would come in a giant toilet bowl. We weren’t that hungry and had only come for the novelty, but needed to order at least one item each so we got some mozzarella sticks and popcorn chicken from our toilet seat-shaped menus, both of which were served in ceramic squat-toilets. Anna also ordered an iced tea that arrived in a urinal and my beer came in a hospital urine container, which they let me keep. Definitely one of the stranger places I have eaten:

We don’t really fit in in Ximending

Here’s our place above one of thousands of claw machine parlours

Anna in the foyer

At least they’re honest

I love the decor

Some of the drink options

Too full for a combo

Our order

Our food just arrived

An adjacent table

Our mozzarella sticks and popcorn chicken

Anna’s tea

My urine beer

The wall next to the toilets

Surprisingly, eating in a toilet restaurant was only the beginning of what would turn into an extremely strange evening.

We were a bit tired and sweaty after walking around in the heat all day so we made our way back to the hotel to shower and kick back for a while before going out for dinner. One thing we love to do when we’re relaxing and killing time is to watch terrible movies, it can be more fun than seeing a good one! The TV in our room had movies on demand so we chose Skyscraper and it is safe to say that it is shit! I never liked The Rock as a wrestler, but Dwayne Johnson has become the Adam Sandler of action films, he will never say no to a script, thus he has become the highest paid actor in Hollywood as a result of churning out around four rather ordinary films per year. My favourite terrible scene happened at the beginning, but some context is needed — Dwayne Johnson plays Will Sawyer, a security expert and war veteran. The movie begins with a flashback of him as a hostage negotiator in a situation that goes awry, resulting in Sawyer losing a leg. The film then skips forward 10 years to his current day life where he’s getting ready for a big meeting and sitting on the bed, putting on his prosthetic leg, and looking a little preoccupied, when his wife walks in. I’m paraphrasing the dialogue here, but you’ll get the gist:

Will’s Wife: “What’s on your mind?” Will Sawyer: “Oh nothing, just leg stuff.”

Will lost his leg a decade ago, surely he would’ve adjusted by now! This had both of us in hysterics and gave us a new line for when one of us catches the other zoned out or deep in thought; for example, my appendix burst when I was 17 years old. If Anna asks me what I’m thinking about I can simply reply, “Oh nothing, just appendix stuff,” because it’s only been 23 years since I first lost it. We’ve both racked up enough conditions and ailments over the years to give a variety of answers, too. We couldn’t spend all night watching Skyscraper though, we had other plans for the night — We were going to hit up a nearby street market for dinner. Once we were there the place was crowded and it was pretty slow going as we shuffled with the crowd, looking at every stall and snacking on Taiwanese sausages and dumplings along the way. Despite the amount of walking I had done that day, I wasn’t all that hungry after beef noodles and toilet chicken so I grabbed a table in a side street and let Anna order from a stall where the owner only spoke Mandarin. Anna has a knack for over-ordering and she told me that she was under pressure because there was a queue behind her and the woman working in the stall kept telling her to hurry. I’m still not sure that’s a valid excuse for coming back with eight plates of food for us to share. To be honest, she chose well, but obviously we couldn’t finish all of it.

It was now about 8:30pm and Anna had come to the conclusion that all of the day’s walking had warranted a foot massage. I can’t stand people touching me so this just meant sitting in a bar and having a drink or two while waiting for her. I wandered around the nearby streets, but couldn’t find anything so I looked up what pubs were in the area and there was one that was about five minutes away called Carnegie’s, described on Google Maps as being a “Great bar with high ceilings and music posters and decor… Large screens on the walls, great for watching games.” Sounds like my type of place so I made my way down there. Since we had been in Taipei, Anna and myself had both remarked about how few white people there were around and as soon as I opened the door I discovered that they were all at Carnegie’s, something I probably would’ve known in advance if I had looked at their Facebook page first. I pulled up a seat and ordered a beer, texting Anna where I was and scanning the room in the process; it just seemed like a simple bar and restaurant showing sports on the TVs and the walls were lined with music posters, some of bands I like. Good choice. Anna was taking a little longer than expected, but this part of Taipei seemed to be safe so I wasn’t worried, I just kept ordering beers while waiting for her, the room becoming a bit dimmer in the process. Eventually my phone rang and it was Anna wondering if she had the correct pub, as the place she was at had a cover charge. I was seated near the door so I stuck my head around and she indeed had the correct place, it had just transformed in the 90 minutes since I first entered. She paid the charge, which allowed her a free drink, and took the seat next to me, commenting that this wasn’t the type of bar she imagined me going to. I tried to explain that it was different when I first arrived, but she was fine with sticking around, and that decision led to an entertaining night.

After about an hour some bar dancers came out and you know the years are passing when, instead of checking out the scantily clad women, you find yourself questioning the structural integrity of the bar upon which they are dancing, wondering if the poorly installed rails could support them when the dancers were using them for ballast. When we were looking at the girls and not the bar, we spent most of our time trying to guess exactly what the tattoo was on the back of the one nearest us. Anna thought it was a giraffe, but I can’t see many girls getting a lifelike giraffe tattooed up their side, I’m still convinced it was some sort of bird. A bit later a short, extremely drunk local called Jack came staggering up to us, introduced himself, and tried hitting on Anna after I started talking to her again. “Anna is my fiancé,” he said, assuming that the two of us had only just met and attempting to put an arm around her, which she brushed off. I just laughed and replied, “That’s funny, she’s my wife.” He laughed and then insisted on doing the equivalent of love-shots, but with our beers. His was half-finished and I had just ordered a pint of Guinness, but I went along with it, taking a sip and then attempting to remove my arm, but he stopped me. Jack wanted to have a chugging contest so that’s what I did, him not factoring my size. “He is unbeatable, this man is unbeatable!” Jack lamented and then attempted several times to give me a chest bump, which didn’t go to well considering he was barely up to my shoulders. He actually needed a run-up and then just ended up bouncing back a couple of feet. Jack walked off and not long later we saw him attempt to hit on some other women, one of whom almost came to blows with him after she shoved him away and he laughed it off.

The place was starting to really fill up now. A girl just randomly got up on the bar and started twerking and a bunch of not-so-classy girls with bad plastic surgery pulled up seats behind us, one with absurdly large implants and the most unnatural looking nose-job I think I’ve ever seen and I used to live in South Korea! Seriously, this thing was perfectly triangular. But it was the local guy who was my age dancing alone to every song like he was in a late-90s R’n’B video that was kind of sad. People were telling us in awe that he was there every night and has been dancing like that for almost 20 years. To us he just looked lonely, that was, of course until the twerking girl dragged him up onto the bar and started dancing with him:

If you watched that video closely, you’d probably now understand why we were worried if those rails would hold up. After the dancing, the highlight of our night was just about to happen; there was a drunk guy there who wanted to show off how rich he was by throwing a bunch of cash up into the air and, admittedly, the girls went crazy for it and I picked one of the notes up off the ground because it was there — It turned out he was throwing up NT$100.00 notes, currently the equivalent of roughly US$3.20 or AU$4.70. Yup, what I had picked up wasn’t even worth five bucks. What made it even more amusing was when the man we had now dubbed “Scores of Fours” wanted to repeat the act for more attention, but realised he had no cash left, thus needing to go out to an ATM and returning with substantially less NT$100.00 bills to throw again. Anna and myself were crying we were laughing that hard so I walked over to get a photo near him, me holding up my four-dollar bill, but then I figured I wouldn’t have this opportunity again so I tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a photo. He just put his arms around me protectively like I was his property and drunkenly closed his eyes. Damn, he was sweaty, but Anna snapped a brilliant photo that continues to make us laugh to this day. Oh, and I still have the NT$100.00 note, I might have to frame it. It was getting late so we got the bill and as we were about to pay, Jack returned. It was quite loud and hard to make out what he was saying at first so he repeated it. “Do you mind if I kiss my sister?” he yelled. Such an odd question so I confirmed that I heard correctly. “Did you just ask if I mind if you kiss your sister?” I asked and he nodded enthusiastically, all the while Anna had a startled look on her face and was shaking her head vigorously. It took a while to put two and two together, but soon I realised he was asking if he could make out with Anna! I’m not an aggressive person, but needless to say my retort scared the shit out of him and he just slinked away to the other side of the room, looking dejected. We got in a taxi back to our hotel and cracked up as we recalled what a funny night it had been. Witness some of the madness for yourself:

About to enter the market

It seems like other people had the same idea

Anna with one of the really good dumplings we had

A reasonable amount of food for two people who weren’t hungry (I had already eaten one of the dishes when I took the picture)

She ordered from the stall on the right

Carnegie’s after it turned a little seedy.

Just like the photos in front of the porn in the bar the previous night

Love chugs with Jack. I’m sitting, he’s standing

Jack recovering from his second attempt at a chest bump. Anna wasn’t able to catch one of him in the air

The twerking girl was actually a decent dancer

Pretending to take a photo of Anna so I could get one of Tits McGee and her buddies

This guy was just depressing

That nose!

My initial photo with Scores of Fours

I kind of smelt like him after this

“F___ off, he’s mine!”

Sunday, August 11, 2019 We woke up and instantly began laughing at how ludicrous the previous night had been and then Anna asked, “Could we have more bubble tea?” to which I replied, “Sure, why not?” This made her laugh even more as her lack of sarcastic tone caused me to fail to realise that this was a rhetorical question in reference to the sheer amount of bubble tea we had drunk up until that point, averaging about two per day. Most of the day just consisted of walking around a different area, this time the Zhongzheng District. Anna had decided that she wanted to go to a goose restaurant that wasn’t really walking distance so we decided to catch the MRT there. I got those familiar smirks and was the subject of subtly taken photos once again when I boarded the train and could barely fit under the ceiling. Once out we went to the restaurant and it didn’t take long to dawn on me that Anna must never have seen a live goose before when she over-ordered once again. Half a goose, plus side dishes is a bit much for two people who usually barely even eat lunch, but she justified it by saying that we usually order half a chicken when we eat one, although this wasn’t quite the same thing:

We had already started when I took this photo

Seriously, that’s a lot of goose!

Once we had eaten what we could we had a look around a shopping mall that I wanted to visit and then went to an artist’s area nearby that had some interesting stuff, but nothing that really appealed to us. Anna likes to buy a ring in every country she visits, but had a similar problem to when she was looking at clothing the day before, in this case everything was either made of jade or just trying to be cute.

It was another extremely hot day so we repeated our routine by going home, showering, and watching what remained of Skyscraper before taking a taxi to where we would be eating dinner that night, despite still being a little goosed out; Addiction Aquatic Development, an enormous seafood market, supermarket, restaurant, and bar all in one building. There are ten separate areas to Addiction Aquatic Development, here’s how they are listed on the website:

Live Aquamarine Products

Instantly Consumed Delicacy

Seafood Bar

Enjoying The Hot Pot

Charcoal Grilled Seafood Barbecue

Fresh Food Supermarket

Cooked Food

An Elegant Lifestyle

Fruit Selections

The Flowers

Obviously there may be a few things lost in translation there, but it was easy to find your way around, first checking out he insane variety of enormous crabs and other shellfish in section one. The next stop was area three, where we opted for a small dinner, sharing the ‘Deluxe Seafood Plate,’ which came with 2-for-1 pints, and then headed around to area eight for a few pieces of sushi before hitting up a couple of bars, including a microbrewery with over 20 beers on tap near our hotel for our last night in town. In the 22 years since I graduated high school, it would appear that I have forgotten even the most basic biology lessons; the toilets were marked ‘XY’ and ‘XX,’ an obvious reference to male and female chromosomes, so of course I couldn’t remember which was which and went in the wrong bathroom the first time. Unfortunately we had only arrived at the microbrewery about 45 minutes before it closed, but we still managed to get a few in before moving onto the next place. How our last night in Taipei looked:

The entrance to the Taipei Fish Market

And now where we’d be having dinner

Not a bad first impression

These crabs weren’t camera-shy

They also had bodies bigger than my fist!

People looking around the market

Just some of the options available

Part of the supermarket area

Now on to the dining part

It’s actually quite easy to navigate

This is where we’d end up eating

Assembling dishes

We both love sea urchin so why not?

This was a possibility…

…but we’d ultimately opt for this

Our green sea urchin has arrived

Even the side-salad was great

Dinner is served

The snail shell on our plate was enormous

Now onto the sushi section

Some of the options at the microbrewery

The second bar we went to

Anna insisted I get a photo of myself with Prince

Monday, August 12, 2019 We had to check out by midday, but didn’t need to leave for the airport until 3:30pm so Anna wanted to walk into town to go to Din Tai Fung for dumplings. The restaurant was in a mall so we had a quick look around in the hope of beating the lunch crowd and it was about 2:00pm when we decided to eat, plenty of time for lunch unless, of course, there is still a one-hour wait for a table, as was the case here. There is Din Tai Fung in Singapore and, although it may not be as good as in Taiwan, we went to another dumpling restaurant in the mall instead, Dian Shui Lou, and it didn’t seem like we were missing out on anything, plus there were plenty of tables. We had left ourselves sufficient time to walk back to the hotel, pick up our luggage, and get a taxi to the airport, but we had also once again left ourselves at the mercy of Google Maps. For close to an hour the app had us walking in the wrong direction, mysteriously floating through buildings on the map, and just randomly changing locations and directions, until we spotted some familiar landmarks and were able to find our way. We had decided to play The Amazing Race once again, leaving the hotel just after the time we wanted to be at the actual airport, getting stuck in a traffic jam, and running up to our check-in counter minutes before it closed, but we made it home to Singapore just fine in the end.

It has been almost 12 years since I first moved to Singapore, and even if you exclude the 16 months we spent in overseas a few years ago, I have still lived in a predominantly Chinese country for more than a decade. However, there were still a few surprises when it came to exploring another small island-state, this time still technically the property of China:

In some ways, Taipei appeared less traditional than Singapore, although it’s probably not the case in more rural areas. However, a perfect example of this is the fact that we arrived in Taiwan during Hungry Ghost Festival:

In Chinese culture, the fifteenth day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar is called Ghost Day and the seventh month in general is regarded as the Ghost Month (鬼月), in which ghosts and spirits, including those of deceased ancestors, come out from the lower realm.

On the fifteenth day the realms of Heaven and Hell and the realm of the living are open and both Taoists and Buddhists would perform rituals to transmute and absolve the sufferings of the deceased. Intrinsic to the Ghost Month is veneration of the dead, where traditionally the filial piety of descendants extends to their ancestors even after their deaths. Activities during the month would include preparing ritualistic food offerings, burning incense, and burning joss paper, a papier-mâché form of material items such as clothes, gold and other fine goods for the visiting spirits of the ancestors. Elaborate meals (often vegetarian meals) would be served with empty seats for each of the deceased in the family treating the deceased as if they are still living.

While in Taipei we saw very few food offerings left out and only a handful of fires, meaning you wouldn’t even be aware it was Ghost Month if you didn’t already know. In our Singaporean neighbourhood of Tiong Bahru on the other hand, there is food left outside commercial and residential buildings everywhere, causing a steep increase in the amount of rats, cockroaches, and pigeons around the place. Add to this the constant fires both on the ground and in giant drums and cages; even if you keep your doors and windows closed, it still gets in somehow and your house will smell of ash and it’s far worse venturing outside. This picture I took the day after we got back (above, right) shows just a small portion of a Ghost Month ritual outside Tiong Bahru Market, just behind our apartment, with massive food offerings inside. The photo doesn’t even include the 3×3 metre (10’x10′) cage used for fires next to it!

People are exceptionally friendly in Taipei and most are relatively bilingual, having a really good command of English, although there were a few times Anna had to speak Mandarin.

Most bars make really good cocktails.

People are quite liberal and really lowbrow humour is rampant in Taipei, aimed at both adults and children. If it contains toilets, asses, genitals, and just bodily functions in general, people here will love it. Besides the sculptures in our hotel and the scatological glory of dining at Modern Toilet, here is just a sampling of what we ran into over the course of a couple of days:

If you look closely, there are several stickers of dogs humping stuff

McCauley hawking one up

From a vending machine

An interesting after-school hobby

The Trump poop-tweeting toilet timer

Nothing to see here, just a cake

Beats Mr. Men books

A family of ass-heads

How is he drinking that coffee? A sippy cup would be a better option

That is the question

I’m glad I didn’t get into any trouble with the cops.

If you have made it this far, congratulations on completing another essay of epic proportions, but we packed a lot in and had some interesting experiences on an awesome long weekend in Taiwan.

What better way to celebrate Singapore National Day than by going to Taiwan? As soon as we realised that the Singapore National Day holiday was going to fall on Friday, August 9 and the national holiday for…

[anneedmonds]

Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets

I always have such good intentions for this monthly life update post (in fact even writing the first part of this sentence seems very deja vu), but however hard I try to do things in advance I always end up compiling it at the nth hour on the 3rd day of the month. (It has been on the 3rd day of the month since Ted was born; before that it was the 17th of every month, Angelica’s birthday. I have never failed to publish my post before midnight on the right day – I’m borderline superstitious about it now.)

Many people would have thrown out the whole “stick to the same date every month” rule years ago, no doubt finding it ridiculously restrictive and unnecessarily stressful. But I seem to be at my most productive when life is ridiculously restrictive and unnecessarily stressful so go figure – if I didn’t have a set date for my life updates then you probably wouldn’t be reading these very words. I’d just never get around to it, like my cookery videos and the post about sunscreens that’s been languishing in drafts since May 2013.

(By the way, if you want to catch up on all of the life updates – and there are almost four years’ worth now – then you can find them by clicking here and browsing backwards to reach the older posts.)

After that semi-apologetic introduction, which is now pretty much mandatory, let’s get down to business. Or pleasure. Or a mixture of both. I can tell you what hasn’t been a pleasure and that is the twelve days (and counting) of suffering from minor ailments that have been popping up with almost comical regularity. It’s become a standing joke, almost, that every morning brings a new gripe and I can’t tell whether I’m missing some sort of vital nutrient or mineral and need urgent fixing or if this is just what it feels like to get older.

Do I moan and demand that the GP takes my ailments seriously (“but how do you know that my stomach acid isn’t something to do with my eye strain and my running nose and they’re not all related and I have one great big super-illness?”) or do I moan (default setting) and accept that multiple ailments, aches and pains are just an inconvenient way of life. And be grateful that I’m generally well. And alive.

I mean I am always acutely grateful to be alive and not have any serious illness or disease – I’m actually very mindful of checking myself in that respect and reminding myself that every day is an absolute blessing, but by God it’s hard to keep perspective when you can’t breathe through your nose, isn’t it? If there’s one thing that makes me furious with the world it’s a blocked-up nose. Few things are more cruel. Being forced to mouth-breathe through the night, as the inside of your throat dries into something resembling an ancient piece of parchment from Caesar’s journal and then feels as though it’s been set alight, is one of life’s great injustices. Why someone hasn’t invented a sort of irrigation/misting system for the mouth I do not know; a little tube, perhaps, that just spritzes the tongue and throat with water when you have a cold – or better still, a glycerin/honey kind of affair that stops tickly coughs in their path and provides lubrication.

Coming soon on Dragons’ Den.

Anyway, the toothache/headache/stomachache/bottomache/throatache/cough has been exhausting and I would just like a whole week off. To reset. Preferably somewhere hot but not too hot (Greece? Spain?) and with a kids’ club run by Mary Poppins. Or the Greek/Spanish equivalent. Maria Haciendo Estallar. (Google translate has possibly let me down there.)

But enough of me, I must leave some time to talk about Headstrong Ted (two years and four months old) and Pre-Teen Angelica (turning four in a couple of weeks). They are chatting away to one another now, Angelica in perfect, surprisingly crisp English and Ted in his own strange little alien language that likes to elongate vowels and completely miss off the beginning consonants from words. “Ooooo!” is zoo. “Armer!” is farmer. “Iraffe!” is giraffe. But we now have sentences, sort of, or at least the seeds of sentences – the intention’s all there.

“Go! Go! Gaga’s ‘oom! ‘Ide! ‘Olf!” is, obviously, “Go! Go! Angelica’s room! Hide! Wolf!”

Apple is “pull”. Snack is “ack” and baby is “dee dee”. And all of this is monumentally boring to other people so I can’t quite believe I’m writing it. Next I’ll be telling you about the knee operation that my Mum’s brother-in-law’s friend had before Christmas and how he’ll always set off the beeper at the airport. I am turning into the woman I always dreaded, though I haven’t started wearing fleece tops or saving eggshells. Why do people save eggshells? I want to say it’s something to do with slugs but I’ve had a large glass of quite a fine Chianti (no fava beans!) and my brain has gone soft.

Oh but I do have to tell you about my favourite Angelica-isms. Can I? I promise I’ll be quick. She now  understands just about everything so I rarely have to stop to explain – in fact a lot of the time she can tell if I’m oversimplifying things for her and she pulls me up on it. So it makes it even funnier when she gets things wrong. My favourite is this one:

“Mummy I’m going to paint my face but not poke the brush in my eye bulbs.”

Eye bulbs! I think I prefer eyebulbs to eyeballs – I may adopt it. At any rate I can’t bear to correct her because it’s so sweet. She still says coldsnore for coleslaw, and then there’s the one that had me in stitches the other day: Muffin Puppets. Guess what Muffin Puppets are? She was desperate to watch a film we had saved on Amazon Prime and it was about Christmas with the Muffin Puppets. I had absolutely no idea what she was on about. “You know Mummy, the Muffin Puppets at Christmas. With Scrooge.”

She was talking about the Muppets. Muffin Puppets!

If someone doesn’t form a band and call it that I’ll be very upset. Maybe Angelica should form a band – her and Ted are becoming quite the duo when it comes to singing their little ditties and putting on dance performances. Granted, Ted just sort of spins about on the spot and then falls over, but Angelica is full-on Sylvia Young jazz-hand material. She even introduces herself in a (slightly creepy) man’s voice before she begins her show. “Ladies and Gentlemen, my performance is about to begin.”

One of the things that I wanted to write about this month was how intense it was all becoming, looking after two small kids. Sometimes I feel as though we’re on a treadmill and it’s stuck on the highest setting and we just can’t stop running, you can’t even shift your gaze to the control panel to find the slow-down button, let alone reach a hand towards it.  You’re desperate for someone capable to lean over and adjust the speed, give you some breathing space, but it’s relentless. I thought that the newborn phase was hard, and it is, but for such different reasons. Because it’s new, because you don’t sleep, because your brain and body are completely mangled. But then they get older and the guilt becomes a thing, and you have to try and navigate your way through disciplining and educating and trying to instil in them the values and behavioural traits that you find acceptable and it’s a BLOODY MINEFIELD!

Why is there not a course on this? Parenting? I mean for the love of God! You learn about algebra (haven’t needed it once) and you learn how to read maps (hello? Sat nav?!) and you do classes on 1066 at Hastings and the six wives of Henry VIII and all sorts of things that are inarguably interesting; but surely there should be some basic bits and pieces on kids? Like what you should do when you shout at them and they just laugh in your face, or what to do when NO, NO, I SAID NO! doesn’t work, or how to get yourself out of the black hole of doom that is the “using ice cream and treats as bribes for good behaviour” hole.

I’m sure it’s all basic psychology, but it’s the sort of stuff I needed drilled into me from teen years onwards; I don’t have the energy to learn it all now. It needed to be second nature. If I took my eye off the ball for long enough to read up about parenting now, the cat would probably have been shoved into the oven and the walls would be bright green with bits of dried pasta glued all over them. And we’d have no floor, because Ted would have picked the lock on the cupboard with the cleaning products in, managed to mix two highly flammable solutions together and blown a hole in the ground. All in the space of nineteen seconds, which is the time frame in which he can achieve pretty much anything, including climbing two flights of stairs, mounting a window sill ledge and unlatching a window that requires the skill and dexterity of a professional bank robber.

Right, I’m onto my second glass of red which is almost unheard of for me, but it has been a testing kind of week(s). Not that I’m going to make a habit of it – two glasses and I’m a felled woman the following day, I can barely tie my shoelaces. But I have a new book to read and it’s a sort of biography and I feel that it calls for slight tipsiness and perhaps some light weeping. I’m too embarrassed to tell you what the book is at the moment, it’s a daft sort of thing, but I do feel a separate post coming on. I have a weird connection with the woman in question – perhaps it’s a nostalgia thing – so I’m really looking forward to curling up and getting stuck in.

On that mysterious note, I bid you all farewell until later on in the week, which is how long it will take me to recover from my two glasses of wine! So it’s goodnight (or morning, depending on when you’re reading) from me and goodnight from the Muffin Puppets – if you have any funny malapropisms of your own then please do pop them into the comments below. They don’t even have to be kid ones – my parents still call memory foam mattresses the “Tempura Mattress”.

The post Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets appeared first on A Model Recommends.

Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets was first posted on June 3, 2019 at 10:00 pm. ©2018 "A Model Recommends". Use of this feed is for personal non-commercial use only. If you are not reading this article in your feed reader, then the site is guilty of copyright infringement. Please contact me at contact@amodelrecommends.com Life Update: Red Wine and Muffin Puppets published first on https://medium.com/@SkinAlley

[sad-ch1ld]

via RSI Comm-Link

“All right, Jess. I’m heading there now.” With a flick, Umar closed the comm channel. Break time over. Swinging his feet out of the bunk, a swarm of sandwich crumbs cascaded off his chest and onto the bed. He really should start eating at the table again. At least his bad habit of wearing his boots to bed made sense. After working for In-A-Fix Assistance for the past six years he had learned that comms for help always happen about five minutes into a nap.

Leaving the crew quarters, Umar performed a quick a visual inspection on the three BARD drones nestled into the mid-ship docking ports. Charged and not leaking? Check and check. Skipping over the empty fourth port, he gave his favorite drone, Spear, a traditional pat for luck before heading up to the bridge.

Umar adjusted his settings as he sat down in the pilot seat, transitioning the power he had routed to the shields for nap-time back to the engines. With a growl, the thrusters came back online. He keyed the coordinates Jess had sent over into his navigation, swung the Vulcan’s nose around and initiated quantum to the nearside of Cano’s asteroid belt.

Under two minutes, Umar noted as the light smears from the quantum field streaked past. Not too shabby of a response time. While you could always count on life’s ill fortune sending clients your way, providing good service was how you could convert a random refuel run into a potential repeat customer. Especially out in Cano where traffic was a bit sparse.

The ship slowed out of QT and Umar adjusted his flight path towards the beacon’s origin on the rim of the belt. After a few moments of navigating through the field, he spotted the client’s Reliant clinging near the underside of one of the asteroids. He might have missed it completely if he hadn’t had the beacon frequency. Its signature was low enough that the small craft almost blended seamlessly into the surrounding radiation. Pilot must have shut down everything to conserve energy once they ran out of fuel.

Before opening comms, he followed protocol and did a full scan of the area. No point in flying to the rescue if you fly straight into a threat and wind up needing rescuing too. With his MFD giving the all clear, he hailed the client. “Hi, there. I’m Umar Deluca from In-A-Fix. You requested a refueling?”

“That’s me. Thanks for coming out,” responded the pilot, with a kind, weathered smile.

“Of course, that’s what we’re here for. Let me get into position, and then we can have you back flying in no time.”

As Umar rolled his ship above and behind the vessel, he could clearly see that the Reliant’s hull had been badly damaged. There were scorch marks all along the rear fuselage and multiple ballistic holes perforated the wing. Umar had a pretty good guess what caused the pilot to run out of fuel.

“Not sure if you know this but your port dorsal side is pretty banged up. If you want, I could patch you up while I’m out here. Wouldn’t take long and it’d be heck of a lot safer to fly.”

“Appreciate the offer, but creds are tight. Just the fuel for now.”

“Sure. No problem. Stand by and I’ll have the drone right over.”

Umar got out of the pilot seat and went to the control station at the rear of the bridge. He scrolled through his options — Spear for rearming, Shake for repairs, and Liam for refueling. Selecting Liam, he did one last check, and seeing all green, launched the fuel-laden drone. With practiced ease, he maneuvered Liam towards the other vessel’s fuel port.

“Transfer in progress,” Umar informed the pilot.

“Listen, I hate to ask this, but there is actually one more thing you could do for me,” said the pilot, looking bashful as he nervously rubbed the back of his head. “Any chance you have a drink or some water you could spare? Fuel wasn’t the only thing I forgot to stock up on and I’m starting to feel pretty dehydrated.”

Umar hesitated in answering. It wasn’t the sharing that was the issue, but the time. He had hoped to be able to pick up at least two more jobs today and he knew from experience how hard it could sometimes be getting a guest to leave your ship.

“Listen, if it’s a problem, I can just wait till I can fly myself to a station or something.”

Umar felt a twinge of guilt. What was he doing out here if he wasn’t going to help people? “It’s no problem,” Umar said with as much hospitality as he could muster. “If I’m filling up your ship, might as well top you off too. Swing on over and I’ll fix you up.”

Leaving Liam to do its thing, Umar remotely opened the Vulcan’s rear hatch and went to wait by the liftlock in the crew quarters. It wasn’t too long before he heard the pressure begin to cycle. He cracked the fridge, removed two fizzy water cans, and turned just as the atmosphere in the lift equalized.

Umar was a bit taken aback when the pilot bent slightly to avoid hitting his head as he stepped out. The man was very tall, and having a helmet on only made him more imposing. Suddenly, the crew quarters felt a lot more cramped.

“Hope you like etrog flavor,” said Umar, offering the can. “Otherwise I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with tap.”

The pilot didn’t take the drink. Didn’t even take off his helmet. “The rest of your crew still up in the cockpit?”

“No, it’s just me.” Umar regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

With a smooth motion, the pilot pulled out the pistol he had hidden in his EVA pack. “Sorry about this, but I need your ship.”

Umar’s wrists were aching from struggling against the tape that bound him to the control terminal chair. It was rated for sealing hulls so it wasn’t a huge surprise that he hadn’t been able to loosen it, but he had to try.

At the front of the bridge, the pilot was navigating the Vulcan out of the asteroid field. The control terminal flashed a warning that Liam was moving out of range.

“Come on,” implored Umar. “You could have at least let me get my drone.”

“Look, I’d prefer not to have to gag you,” said the pilot. “I know how uncomfortable it can be.”

“Screw you. Don’t pretend like you’re some decent guy just because you have manners. Not only did you steal my ship, but you pretended to be in trouble to do it. I tried to help you and this is how you thank me?”

The pilot didn’t say anything, just kept his attention on the nav map.

“You know, every time an asshole like you pulls a stunt like this it just makes it that much harder for real folks in trouble to get the help they need. Who’s gonna stop and lend a hand if there’s a more than decent chance they’re gonna get a bullet for their troubles? So yeah, double screw you.” Just like his struggles against the tape, Umar didn’t really expect his rant to help the situation, but it definitely made him feel better.

Surprisingly though, the pilot responded. “I’m not stealing your ship. As soon as I get where I’m going, you can have it back.”

“Oh, in that case, let’s crank some tunes and enjoy the ride,” said Umar with a sneer when a sudden thought occurred to him. “Wait. What the hell was wrong with your ship?”

“They knew my regtag.”

“Who’s they?”

No response. Instead, the pilot finished plotting a course on the nav, and spooled the quantum drive. Colorful lights streaked past as the Vulcan surged forward. In the distance, Umar could see Pox, the last planet in the system, steadily growing larger. Umar had been hoping that they would head towards Carteyna where there would have been more of a chance of running into some authorities, but out here in the far reaches the chances of running into another ship were far slimmer.

“You know you could have just asked for a ride,” said Umar, breaking the temporary silence. “But that’s the problem with people like you, isn’t it? Just take what you want rather than earn it. You wanna know why I fly this rig? It’s so I can undo a little bit of the damage that people like you create. The universe is dark enough without us having to hurt each other.”

The quantum lights faded and the pilot pushed back his chair and stood. Walking past his captive, he headed down into the rear of the ship.

“Where you going?” asked Umar.

“To get the gag.”

Before Umar could respond, a shrill alarm sounded.

“What the hell is that?” the pilot demanded, leaping back up the stairs.

“ECN alert.” Umar looked down at the pop-up notification on his terminal. “Nearby ship sprung a core leak in their power plant. They’re not gonna have long.”

The pilot tapped the controls, silencing the notification. “Poor bastards. That’s a tough way to go.”

“We have to go help them.”

“I’m really starting to think you don’t understand this whole kidnapped thing.”

“If we don’t help them now, they’re going to die.”

“And that’s terrible, but it’s not my problem.”

“Of course it’s your damn problem. You heard the alert. Their power plant is overloading and if the radiation doesn’t fry them, the explosion will. You ignore it, you’re killing them. That simple.”

“And if there’s any security in the area and they show up to help, then I’m as good as dead too.”

“Do you know where we are? It’s a miracle we even heard the alert. We are it. We are their only hope in this universe. Don’t you get that?” Unbidden, tears welled up in Umar’s eyes. “Please.”

The pilot stared at his captive for a long moment.

“If you say one word about me, or try to signal them in any way, you’re going out the airlock. No second chances. Understood?”

Not daring to say anything and risk the pilot changing his mind, Umar quickly and emphatically nodded his agreement.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this.”

The pilot sat back down and adjusted the Vulcan’s course towards the beacon’s signal. As he spun the quantum drive back up, he shook his head in disbelief, “I mean, look how well stopping to help someone worked out for you.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[bloobomber]

Final Fantasy IX

Final Fantasy lX Review 10/31/17

Reviewed by: Christopher Quintero

Have you ever thought or considered playing Final Fantasy lX? Well what lies in this entry of the Fantasy series are: storybook based kingdoms that look as if they emerged out of a watercolor illustration, high flying battleship chases that will keep your heart pounding, young lovers from different backgrounds coming together to stop a greater threat, magical melodies that you will keep on humming long after completion and explosive battles that will have you nervous and on edge and even frustrated from the difficulty, but proud in the end from your efforts when you emerge victorious; these are some of the things you will experience as you make your way to your journey’s end in Final Fantasy lX I have wanted to play ever since I witnessed my brother playing the game when I was just around nine years old. I remember him playing the start of the game and being amazed by its complexity and difficulty and so drawn in by the quirky characters and the game’s fantastic setting of Alexandria .It was not until years later I got to set off on that exact adventure and uncover the story that piqued my curiosity when I was younger.

It’s astonishing to me of how this game’s plot was never revealed to me and of how nobody once-so-ever brought up this game in a conversation beforehand. If it were not for my older brother, this game would probably still have been a complete mystery to me. Finally, I decided purchase the game and witness with my own eyes what lies beyond Alexandria. This entry kicks off with the character Vivi in the kingdom of Alexandria - a kingdom with a grand castle watching over a town of homes and shops to the lower class. Vivi, a young boy shrouded underneath an overwhelming wizard’s hat adorned with calm glowing red eyes- not the fierce glowing eyes of some monster in some horror flick, but the eyes of a kind, gentle and docile boy- he enters the town amidst gleeful citizens preparing to watch the festivities of the year’s play from the Tantulus group. The beginning of the game is probably my favorite part of the entire game. Picture a moonlit night with gleaming stars- a gargantuan ship swimming past empty skies over a kingdom glowing with citizens looming down below watching in anticipation for the coming feature that will be played for their entertainment by the Tantulus group.Along all this in the backdrop stands the beautiful castle of Alexandria bustling and crowded with royals ready just the same. It really is a scene to behold and our friend Vivi is front row along with his newfound friend, Puck! It sets up the story wonderfully and really captures the fantasy and magic of what is to come. From there out you meet some of the other set pieces to the tale. You soon take control of Zidane; a blonde haired spunky thief with a cat-like tail who has a thing for women and cheesy lines who eventually meets the beautiful kind hearted and intelligent (I know, talk about the whole package) Garnet who is adorned with her orange jumpsuit and then comes along her stout and honorable knight and bodyguard Steiner, who appears to be stylized in European armor or maximilian armor that he found in a bargain bin in the market place. Seriously, he looks like he is wearing a cargo shorts style of European armor! The characters are pretty solid in the game and some of them are pretty fleshed out with a good deal of moments to capture your interest and the designs are rather fitting in this game’s setting. I know this game and the rest of the entries in the series take a while to actually complete and the creators stretched it long enough that it actually had four discs on the original Playstation platform, but in all of that time, I felt that some characters could have had more of their backstory described to the audience. I learned so much about Garnet and Zidane of course and even Vivi, but I felt that some of the other characters backgrounds were somewhat absent in the game. Sure there was one brief entry where is talks about Vivi’s origins, but I wanted more of that. Some characters even just get a brief nudge at their reason for joining the party, but I digress. Zidane at the start of the game seemed a bit much for me. He constantly delivered lines that I felt were a bit forceful and dull. He constantly gave positive reaffirming lines like: don’t give up, we’ll do this together, etc. I do like his kindness as a person, I just feel that the script that was given to his character was a bit dull and overused in other JRPGs and when he says things like that I just sit here rolling my eyes- I also felt no reason to think of him as this somewhat bad boy some characters attached to him from their history together. It felt they liked him so much just because he was the obvious main protagonist and the creators just made it that way. I think Zidane really shines when he is not taking himself so serious. He is always trying to make light out of a situation with some snarky remark when the party is in danger. There is a ton of chemistry in between the characters. I love the big brother attitude Zidane has towards Vivi and how he is always giving him advice and positive reinforcement and how Steiner acts like this overly protective uncle with Garnet and how he tries to shoo Zidane away and calling him a lowly thief, and then romance between Zidane and Garnet is heartwarming and earnest as the game progresses. I really was smiling at how all the characters bounced off each other.

               Final Fantasy takes what the previous games had and added a couple of spices to the mix to create a familiar and new experience. Nine returns with the traditional turn based gameplay style fans have come to love and added a new twist. In this game, you acquire different types of equipment that you give to your part members; with this equipment, you are able to learn the skills that are attached to them by gaining AP (ability points) through battle. It is pretty similar to Final Fantasy seven’s materia system, but less complex and easier to understand. In seven, you must equip your weapon of choice followed by your set of materia to attach to it. By doing this, your character will gain ap to level those abilities up. In Final Fantasy nine- just go ahead and equip the weapon and you will have the new skill available, but to keep it permanently, just level up that skill. It is like growing a plant to be added to your beautiful garden- your garden of death! Yeah! The game is pretty straight forward to character classes. You have thief, knight, white mage, black mage and so on, but as I played I separated between magic users and physical attackers. All characters have abilities they can activate with the use of MP (Magic Power), but it is most prominent with the mages. I always try and keep a balance of the two parties. Summons make a return, for it has become one of the core elements for the series. You can summon varieties of different god-like beings and creatures to assist you. They are a sight to see in the beginning, but I rarely used them because they took up so much MP and so much screen time. It is pretty awesome wasting your enemy in a giant energy blast and causing massive malefic damage, but not worth having to spend extra minutes during grinding moments. Props to the team for always including this element to the games because they are always engaging and must take tons of hours to create those moments for us to enjoy. You also have the trance mode making a return. The trance mechanic allows your character to activate a special ability to be used, or for some, attack twice. The abilities can only be used when your trance gauge has filled up and they can be pretty handy in a tight spot and they have saved my booty in some difficult battles. My favorite game mechanic is the active time events. The active time events are like little cut scenes that show what your pals are up to while you are making way to another destination. It is a nice addition because it fleshes out some of the characters and adds to them a little more and it also shows how much of a fat cow Quina is! I see you looking for some delicious food while the rest of us are working! If you do find anything though, you better share! The game itself can be quite difficult at some points- mostly in the beginning for me though. I found myself grinding a bit when I first hit the world map because I struggled against some enemies. I worried about not having money for potions or just running out of items to heal my party. As the game progressed, I had plenty of dough to spend on potions and my white mages cared for my ill friends using abilities like cure, so I became at ease as time went on; although, I did find myself trapped in a corner at times struggling for victory. It is nice because it does have its difficulty, but not difficult enough to be impossible to those who may even be new to the series. I think one of my problems in playing RPGs is that I always conserve my inventory until the absolute last moments of the game. I should stop doing that and maybe I would stop dying less.

               The last thing I really want to touch upon, is the games soundtrack. Wow does this game have the tunes! In all, I think my favorite part of this experience was the music throughout my time in Gaia. Out of all the games made by Squaresoft or now Square Enix this Final Fantasy was the most fantasy-like sounding game. It gave me the feel of some fairytale out of some timeworn and tarnished storybook mixed in with some dungeons and dragons. The game’s composer Nobuo Uematsu-san. Uematsu-san is a returning composer to the franchise and was there from the start. He composed tracks for the first Final Fantasy and even the legendary soundtrack to seven and now he has returned to continue to do what he does best: make magnificent and memorable music. Throughout the creating process Uematsu-san spent roughly a year to compose more than a hundred tracks for this game’s purpose and not even all of it was included. The story opens up with this medieval yet child-like melody called “the Place I’ll Return to Someday.” It sounds like something you would maybe hear wandering in Florence Italy during the renaissance. It sounds pleasant yet mysterious with its soft brass instruments humming quietly in unison. It really gives a room to the possibilities to the upcoming adventure you are soon to embark. The battle theme “Battle 1,” is the tune you will mostly hear when encountering different enemies throughout the game. It is addicting listening to this tune as soon as it kicks in, you will have your head bobbing and your feet tapping to the rhythm as you waste the upcoming threat, so it is a great thing that it is addicting because hearing a bad song over and over again would probably drive you crazy to say the least. This tune is like many other tracks in the game, for it is an updated version of the theme from the previous entries of the series. “Dark Messenger” is pretty epic. It begins with the organ piano as if you were in some church, then transforms into this foot stomping hand clapping stadium anthem, which then turns into some rock concert, then lastly converts to this sympathetic piano piece. It transitions wonderfully and fits the grim scenario; although while I would be getting pummeled, at least I get to listen to some wonderful tunes-right? Along with the sinister “Dark Messenger,” comes its counterpart the “final battle,” theme. It sounds as if you were walking into a chamber of tortured souls whose moans and whales gave me shivers. It is as if something you would hear in Dante’s quest in “Dante’s Inferno.” That would be it if it did not then transform into some fast paced, almost chase scene-like tune! It picks up really fast and gets me so pumped up! Lastly, I want to mention what probably the most prominent song you will hear throughout your quest and that song is “Melodies of Life,” let me tell you that this easily became my favorite melody. It is sung by the talented Emiko Shiratori in both English and Japanese versions of the game. Shiratori’s voice is peaceful, loving and endearing and she is spot on with this arrangement. It is absolutely touching and will warm your heart dearly. Throughout the game, you will hear Garnet humming the tune so beautifully, but it is not until the end of your journey that you will finally be able to hear it in its full composition. The song encapsulates everything and the romance between Garnet and Zidane. It is probably one of my favorite closing sequences of any game that I have experienced.

Final Fantasy lX is probably my favorite title in the series and I wish more people would talk about this entry on the same level as llV and X because it definitely holds up even today and I believe it will always be a memorable experience for future gamers to come. To say the least, it was a grand journey filled with adventure, love, laughs and sorrow as well as anger. It had some rocky moments that I think could have gone better or probably could have been worked on a bit more, but in the end I give this game a 9/10.

Favorite aspects:

-Musical arrangement

-Characters

-Environment designs

-Magical storybook feel

Cons:

-Some dialogue moments

-Undeveloped backgrounds to some main party members

[decaffeinatedlightluminary-blog]

Psychic Archeology

New Post has been published on http://rolexsubmariner.shop/psychic-archeology-3/

Psychic Archeology

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

I had the chance to interview Stephan Schwartz, who has been pioneering “psychic archaeology,” where physics ‘sense’ the location of an ancient site by drawing circles on the map.

One of his projects was in Egypt where they found Cleopatra’s palace and Mark Anthony’s Palace- the Timonium and the Light House of Pharaohs, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. He shows me pictures, where they are busy discovering the edge of the ship.

They used electronic remote sensing equipment like side-scan sonars or proton precision magnetometers and ground penetrating radars.

Schwartz: “I always want to see: could you have found this using electronic sources? Because one of the criticisms is that: Well anybody could’ve found it.

I use multiple remote viewers, I get the information before we go to the site, I get additional information before we are at the site. Some of this info is turned over to a third party before any actual field work is done. Then we dig and then we have independent experts evaluate the accuracy of what the viewers gave us compared to what was actually found.”

Schwartz enthusiastically showed me pictures on his computer: “Now here’s an example – we had a very skeptical archaeological department from the university of Alexandria and they said ‘Well we’re not going to cooperate with you unless you can find something and we can control it all the way through.’ And so they wanted to find a buried building in a buried city that had a tiled floor.And so we went with two psychics into the desert looking for this one spot.

So here’s George McMullen – a psychic, and I, and we’re out in the middle of the desert. Where would you look? And we have to search about 1500 square kilometres. Well after a while we had George make a location and then we had Hella Hamid (another psychic) do the same thing. Then we bring George back in and we literally say to him-‘now put a stake in the ground at the corners of the building.’ Now think about that, you can’t be more than a few inches off. So then we dug down and there you see the walls beginning to emerge.”

I asked him why aren’t more people doing the kind of archaeological research that he has been doing?

Schwartz: “I think probably underlying it all is, that the whole premise which says that there is an aspect of consciousness which is independent of time space- is simply too much for some people to take aboard and they go into a kind of reality vertigo.

I don’t think for a moment that this is new or previously unknown; I think that much of this particularly from Buddhism and Hinduism has been known for thousands of years.”

SCIENCE FICTION?

Stephan talked about Jules Verne, father of science fiction, who was an inspiring French writer.

He envisioned in 1863 space flight and trips to the moon, guided missiles, skyscrapers of glass and steel, global communications networks, and submarines carrying hundreds of men miles below the surface of the sea. He predicted with startling accuracy all of these inventions, and the things that would be accomplished by them, long before they became reality. Some believe that many of these insights were self-fulfilling. This may very well be the case.

Schwartz then told me how over the past years he has asked about 4000 people to remote view the year 2050. This is what they found according to Schwartz:

People will live in small communities; People will travel in virtual reality.

Will it be safer? No there will be small wars, and terrorism will still be there.

We now think that because of overpopulation there will be a shortage of resources, but they ‘saw’ that under-population will be the problem. The pharmaceutical industry will disappear. Chronic illnesses will be identified before birth. We will communicate through devices that are implanted in our bodies. There will be no more money being used. There will be an energy revolution, and huge mass migrations of people. Global warming will be very clear 15 years from now. Water will be a huge issue. And we will all carry a small box with us. (RS: maybe a solar battery?)

A REMOTE VIEWER

Remote viewing has gone from being an obscure laboratory protocol to a social movement with its newsletters, conferences and variety of techniques. It has become a vocational interest for hundreds of thousands of people in the US.

Paul Smith, a teacher and Chief Coordinator for the CIA spy program in the 90’s, actually conducts real remote viewing sessions.

There are a variety of people all teaching different techniques. There are rules in RV to ensure the information one is obtaining could not be accessible to the psychic through any other means.

These rules, taken as a set, are called “the Protocol”.The protocol does not affect one being psychic; it doesn’t have much to do with the psychic process itself. Rather, it affects the situation one is being psychic within.

Paul Smith was taught by Ingo Swann, who compiled a set of methods in the 1980s.

I had to pick up him up at his home in a suburb of Austin (Texas) and we drove to a conference room in a hotel where he usually holds his RV sessions.

Paul Smith: ” I was an army Intelligence officer working at the Middle East desk. Actually I was a mild sceptic of ESP, but they approached me and said “Hey we think you’d be good at this thing.” I said well what is it? And they were secretive and said they could not tell me until they had tested me. So they gave me some tests and then they told me that they were collecting intelligence against the enemy using a psychic skill known as Remote Viewing, and they said: “We want you to be a psychic spy.” And I said- ‘WHAT? That’s just amazing. Are you crazy?’ Obviously this looked like it would be pretty fun. A lot more fun than what I was doing at the time, so I said: ‘okay I’ll try it, what the heck’. So I spent 7 years in their military program. And we were used to spy on the Soviet Union; to spy on the Chinese, the Hezbolah; Narco traffickers in the Caribbean- whatever or whoever they thought to be a threat at the time.”

I did a simple test with Smith. A week before we met, I had visited the Balboa Park in San Diego, and filmed around the area, and in particular the Apollo space shuttle in the Aerospace Museum. I left the tape with the footage in an adjacent room in the hotel. I asked Smith if he could ‘see’ the video footage on the film.

Smith prides himself on best preserving the methodology. He meditated first before he began the session.

Smith: “First I will describe the basic sensory impressions: its red, its spongy, its shiny, its rounded, hollow, or airy.”

He told me he teaches remote viewing because there is a demand for it, and as a way of making some income for his family. He added, “But more to the point I think remote viewing tells us a lot about human nature.”

For proper remote viewing you need a monitor. So Paul has asked one of his pupils to help him focus and prevent him from thinking or analyzing too much. This is because the left brain does all the analysis, but a remote viewer needs to shut the left brain down, so somebody (the monitor) has got to perform the adult functions so to speak.

I asked him, “So you’re not supposed to think too much?”

Smith: “Exactly, in fact the more you think, the more trouble you get into. Remote viewing is easy to learn but it takes a lot of work to get good at it. I would say that I am on target significantly more often than I am off. I usually say roughly 70% of the time I am correct.”

Smith explained how you have to first write down your name and date on a piece of paper: “Remote viewing crosses space and time boundaries so we have to lock in where you are at so that your subconscious mind knows where you are starting.”

After three minutes of meditation, Paul started the remote viewing session. Could he ‘see’ what is on my video tape?

Smith said: “Southern California setting, I see educational corners, remind me of having kids at a pool. Motor speedway, fascinating California coast.”

Indeed now that I think of it: The Balboa Park is next to the highway. There is a pond.

Paul seemed to describe the whole area, and not just the aerospace museum I had visited. There is an education centre. This was quite incredible.

Smith continued: “Brown, black, metallic… I like this place- I would like to go there myself. People here are thrilled- It reminds me of a state fair or something like that….Break… “A space capsule”.

The session ended after about half an hour. How many words are there in the English dictionary? 171.476. So the chances are 1 to 171.476 that Paul would mention the word: “space capsule.” Or was he reading my mind? Although that would be quite a miracle in itself. I left a brochure of the San Diego Air Space Museum in my hotel room, and brought it to him.

Smith: “That’s exactly what I sketched! Did I sketch that? And the space capsule right here. I had this impression of this tapering space capsule just like the Apollo. That’s good! I’m impressed with that.”

I asked him if he is not actually reading my mind?

Smith:” I don’t think so, but who knows? There’s no way of knowing. Maybe we just all gain information from the same source or we just trade the information back and forth.”

I soon learned that mind reading or telepathy does not typically happen between strangers.

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push(); Source by Renee Scheltema

[ds4design]

How to Project Manage Even the Worst Kind of Work

I love solving problems. And pretty much every kind of work I do — from marketing to copywriting to project management to video production to creative writing — is, at its roots, the act of creatively solving a problem.

But solving problems requires a clear understanding of every variable involved… and sometimes that’s not always possible.

In fact, there’s one type of work that I hate to do, but it’s also the only kind of work that will help me grow and accomplish new things. What a perfect catch-22, right?

So what is this nightmare type of work?

Any work whose scope I don’t know completely before I begin.

In project management terms, this could mean a gig that involves any of the following:

No clear deadlines

No clearly-defined responsibilities for each team member

Highly subjective components that will need to survive multiple rounds of review

“We thought we needed X, but it turns out we really need Y.”

“We thought we needed X, but it turns out we really need X+Y.”

Whether I’m doing these as an independent contractor, a consultant, or an employee, each of these situations is a recipe for an ulcer. (If you’re nodding right now, it’s because you’ve survived your fair share of these same types of projects and you’re hoping you’ll never end up in those leaky boats again. Keep reading; there’s a solution at the end.)

But there’s one more aspect to a project that’s even worse for me than any of those, and I bet you feel the same:

Any work where I don’t yet know what I don’t know.

I’ll give you an example.

At my last day job, I was put in charge of getting our company set up for a huge trade show. There was just one problem: I’d never done that before. Not only did I not know the answers to a whole lot of brand new questions, but I didn’t even know what questions I should be asking.

Was this an interesting challenge? Absolutely.

But it also felt like a crushing black hole, because I literally had no idea where the edges of this task were, and all those “unknown unknowns” made me feel like I was completely out of control of the situation.

Now, I should mention that I’ve also done a slew of crazy and complicated things in my life. I became a radio DJ with zero experience, I moved across the country in a car by myself, I filmed a series of safety training videos in active steel mills, and I launched a web series years before YouTube existed. Figuring out the unknown is not beyond me, and it can often be exhilarating.

But.

In each of those cases I mentioned, I had two very important things: help, and a clear understanding of the scope (or lack thereof).

When I became a DJ, I was trained by people who’d already been doing it. It was new and unknown to me, but they gave me hands-on experience and clarified the scope of what we couldn’t and couldn’t do (or get away with).

When I moved across the country (in 1999, before the days of smartphones), I had maps. I may not have driven down those roads before, but I understood the scope: I knew where I was headed, where the roads led, and where they ended.

When I was filming videos in steel mills, I may never have been inside one before, but I had a corporate contact who was escorting me around and who could negotiate certain filming details with the machine operators, and I had a clearly-defined shot list so I knew exactly what we had to get done each day.

When I started a web series, there were no rules about what you could or couldn’t do online, so the sky was the limit… and I probably would have been paralyzed by choice at that point, but the cast I’d assembled and our access to specific locations helped define what the show would become.

In other words, although there were plenty of unknowns, and plenty of skills I’d need to learn in order to be good at these new gigs, I had access to help and I could see the borders of what was possible / necessary, so I viewed all those unknowns as fun experiments to conduct and interesting problems to solve, rather than sources of misery.

Thus, when I had to make sense of our trade show task, I did the same thing that had made sense for me in all those previous instances: I found help, and I established a scope.

In that particular case, I managed a team of sales reps, product managers, trade show booth designers, and liaisons from our PR agency. We each had clearly-defined roles, and every time a new question came up the responsibility of finding out an answer was assigned to one of us. We had a weekly progress call in which every action item was reviewed, and we shared documents where all our sub-tasks and their statuses were clearly visible — and if a new task popped up, it got added and delegated.

Did we need to develop new skills or strengthen existing ones in order to get the job done? Of course — but we did so within a clearly-defined context.

Did everything go completely smoothly? No, but we learned as we went.

Was the trade show a success? Yes. We even repeated that effort on a smaller scale at two more shows thereafter, because now the whole process was no longer an unknown: now it was just a series of variables with a clearly-defined scope.

Now it was manageable.

Now the unknowns were all known.

What Does This Mean for You?

If you only ever take jobs or do work that you’ve already figured out, you’ll never grow. You’ll just keep running in place until you’re obsoleted. But taking risks and trying new things can feel daunting for a variety of reasons, including that terrifying haunted house of unknown unknowns.

But those unknowns only seem scary because they’re nebulous and ill-defined — so defang them by defining them.

If, like me, your stomach drops when you realize you don’t know everything you need to know in order to complete a job, there’s a way to fix that. (And it’s not “defer the whole thing for as long as humanly possible,” which is still my first reaction almost every time it comes up.)

Here’s what I do when I find myself in this situation now:

Figure Out What Success Looks Like — and Get Specific. Is a client’s goal to “develop a marketing plan,” or to “develop an 18-month marketing plan with must-have and nice-to-have budget variations”?

Figure Out the Hierarchy. Who’s in charge, who’s here to help, who absolutely must sign off on what along the way, and who can be ignored or overruled if push comes to shove?

Set Deadlines. Even if no one is asking for them. (And especially if people are asking to not have them.)

Get Everyone Using the Same Documents. On one recent gig, we had a 5-person team and a series of Word docs that were ballooning in size and variation — v2, v2b, v3edit — all flying back and forth through email. I asked if there was a reason why we weren’t using Google Docs to eliminate versioning. “We’ve never done that before.” Was there a rule against it? No. So we used Google Docs and saved our sanity.

Figure Out What We Don’t Have Answers for Yet. These are the “known” unknowns. Your trade show booth space is 24 feet x 24 feet? Great. So how large are your booth components? Who’s working at which demo station at which demo times? Which direction will most foot traffic be coming from? Those are known unknowns, because you know which variables are in play.

Figure Out What We Don’t Know at All. These are the “unknown unknowns.” You don’t have a name for the product we’re demonstrating yet, so you don’t have a marketing plan or even a color scheme in place? Okay, those are a lot of unknown unknowns, and that’s dangerous because those are the ones that can screw up your scope and force even your known unknowns to shift. FIX THESE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

Figure Out If I Need to Learn Any New Skills. You want me to rewrite your website’s copy? Sure. You want me to also publish that copy by accessing your CMS which I’ve never used before? Hang on, let me grab this online tutorial and some Ibuprofin…

Break the Process of Answering Unknowns or Learning Skills into Schedule-able Sub-Tasks. You don’t know what your entire marketing plan is yet, but you have a trade show coming up in ten weeks? Great; here are all the specific steps between “I don’t know what my marketing plan is” and “Hey, here’s my finished marketing plan.” Get each of those steps scheduled into your master checklist and assign the accomplishing of each sub-task to an actual human. Now, instead of a black swirl of confusion, you have a concrete list of answerable questions with deadlines attached.

Life is still full of unknown unknowns, but at least now you have a blueprint for scoping them.

Doesn’t seem so scary in the light, does it?

Image: “Nightmare” by Michael Koralewski via Flickr Creative Commons License