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niobiumao3 · 1 year

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Havoc Marauder Interior

Someone made a post about this a while ago but apparently they de-activated so it is possibly lost to the mists of time. Here is what I put together for myself as a writing reference. Image heavy, meta heavy.

Last edit: 2023/11/03

Edits: Replaced garbage text layout with actual ship overhead. Realized the two concept art images face different directions. This likely explains the magical moving jump seats. Also added discussion of a cargo hold. Added discussion of ship dimensions (specifically length). Replaced old guesstimates with numbers from Dawn of Rebellion. Added commentary about the magical seat.

I think people under- and over-estimate the Marauder's interior potential. Given its overall size and intended use (transporting about 10-15 troops plus assorted equipment and providing air support in a forward area), there's not much room left for creature comforts.

Except the Batch aren't 10-15 people, they're 5, and the shuttle is referred to as modified numerous times. This leaves plenty of room to make assumptions and freeform. So, as to what we have actual, visual evidence for from episodes and concept art, here is a rudimentary floor plan:

An important point about the two concept art images: they do NOT face the same direction. The top image faces to the aft/back of the ship, i.e. the tailgun. The second image faces to the fore/front of the ship.

Number key:

1: We know this is where the ramp and door are located from War Mantle and Metamorphsis.

2: We know about this upper storage area from Cut and Run

3: The access to the tail gun has changed visual from TCW s07e02 and various TBB episodes.

The Magically Appearing/Disappearing Seat

In Cut and Run we have this moment with Hunter and Omega, but in most other shots each of these consoles has only one seat (eg. Tech and Echo in prior frames). I think this is actually NOT a magically appearing seat. I think it's the other console seat, because I suspect they can be moved. I base this one this shot from Replacements:

That looks like a seat with a moveable base.

Obviously this is bad design for a ship which is doing barrel rolls and what-not, so I have to assume they're magnetically locked. Even if it is the same seat, in the shots right before that one above, Omega walks up and it's not in that space. So it's almost like the scene was longer and was shortened, and we missed a few frames of her or Hunter unlocking it and moving it over.

Meta Discussions

tl;dr: I think of the Marauder as a small fishing vessel or a van-conversion RV. You can put a lot into a small space if you get creative.

Bathroom I know the writers have made weird assertions there isn't one and omg they all smell gross from no hygiene but that makes zero sense. Soldiers are constantly under stress, they're getting injured, they need to stay clean when possible or they're going to get sick and die from a systemic infection in short order. Anyone who's glanced in the general direction of military history knows this. You can argue about clone expendibility all you want but the Batch minimally qualify in that regard, being Nala Se's pet project. Can you imagine losing one of them to a staph infection because there's nowhere for them to bust out some no-rinse antimicrobial soap or get their scalp clean? I'm not saying they'll be doing photoshoots in between missions (well maybe Hunter would ) but, come on. (And are you going to tell me Mr. Sensor Sensoria is cool with doing long hauls with 4 people who don't bathe? Just, no.)

But that much aside, anyone who's ever been in an RV, a commercial airliner, or a modest-sized sea vessel knows you can cram a bathroom into a tiny space. Yes, you're going to be spinning in circles doing things, but the benefits of a spot to clean up, manage waste, and tend to injuries far outweigh any other use of that area. So regardless of what the writers say, a transport without a minimal refresher (to use the SW term) is counter to the ship's designed use. It has to be able to accommodate Wrecker, of course, but in the end it can double as storage when not in use. There is zero reason to not have one. Added to this, we now officially have a length for the Marauder, which is 30.3 meters (see below). RVs which are 1/5 of that size have bathrooms. You're going to tell me the Marauder doesn't?

If nothing else, since the TCW episodes and the beginning of S1 have pointed to them going on extended deployments with long hops between stops, they're going to need one or constantly be handling waste in much less efficient and sustainable ways.

Added to all of this, it's specifically called a modified variant of an Omicron. We're probably meant to think this means 'Tech would like to fly faster than the GAR and ship engineers think is reasonable for a shuttle' but IMO it extends to changes like this as well. So, there's a refresher in there, feel free to choose a spot. Right across from the fold out racks is a good candidate because in most imagery it's just weapons storage, and there's an entire upper-deck space which you could use for that.

Galley Definitely not one of these. The Batch are eating rations any time they're not on Kamino. You can make an argument they (and all clone units) have cook kits for improvised eating in the field; in the Batch's case I suspect that's a given, as they'd just start doing it because who's going to stop them? Additionally, the sheer amount of rations you would need to carry around to feed Wrecker would be ridiculous. (Remember when Wrecker talks about never being full in S2E13? I feel like this is an indication they did and still do, in fact, have to improvise a lot of additional caloric intake. Hunter probably thought Cut and Suu's farm was a genius idea. 'Grow your own food! Wrecker will never be hungry again! Fucking incredible.' Then Tech got the ship impounded.) I think you can argue for one being added, like with the refresher. Do they actually need those weapons racks anymore? Definitely no. But, it's not on there by default.

Beds As you can see in the concept art above, there are at least 3 racks that fold out from the wall on the port side. They're at a minimum wide enough to accommodate Wrecker, they may also be long enough for him to not need to curl up (unclear because in this shot from Bounty Lost his knees are bent and he's hugging Lula):

Three is a weird number since originally there were four of them. I figure the options here are:

The pilot/copilot/second row seats all look 100% more comfortable than the racks. We actually see Tech sleeping in one, at one point, so this has actual evidence to support it.

It's war time, they're never all asleep simultaneously. Someone is always flying the ship or on watch.

The floor is in effect the same as a rack, arguably preferable as you can't fall off it in the event Something Happens while you're out. So, one of them might actually be ON the floor sometimes.

They're not really intended to sleep on the ship for extended periods, but narratively we're lead to believe they have, many times, and needed to make adjustments to it as a result. Notice how quickly Wrecker whipped up a bed for Omega? IMO, not the first time they've done something like that--they did it for themselves first.

Cargo Hold Based on that screenshot of Omega above and the below shot from Cut and Run, the 'hold' of the ship is actually a storage area overhead, running the length of the ship. In that shot above of the rack, there are a series of yellow rungs which imply you can climb up somewhere on the port side. This is probably alternate access to that same overhead storage space.

In Cut and Run we see Echo, Omega, and Tech hide in it, coming back out from a slide-open hatch:

Given Tech's height this is probably somewhere around 1.5m high.

We can be reasonably certain the hold isn't under the ship, or at least storage there is minimal, due to a couple of things:

In all instances where the hyperdrive has been pulled, it's under the ship on the belly, and takes up a reasonable amount of space. Eg., in Retrieval, here's a bunch of stuff which has been pulled from the ship:

In instances where they're working on the ship from the outside, like in Cornered, the sides and belly never have panels open which contain empty space unless the ship's hardware have been removed to reach something:

So, the cargo hold is probably that space on the top from Cut and Run. It doesn't have much room; reasonably speaking, the area with the weapons and sleeping racks was probably a cargo hold as well, they just converted it to a more general purpose area. (So IMO this is a stronger argument for putting a commercial airliner-style bathroom in place of the weapons racks, particularly once they bail on the Empire.)

Dimensions - updated 11/3/23 Dawn of Rebellion has a Bad Batch section, and indicates the Marauder is 30.3m in length, 36.65m wide (presumably with the wings extended, and 12.41m tall (this probably includes the central stabilizer).

I will edit this to update it as we get more pictures. Since the toys that I know of have no basis the show from an internal perspective I didn't include anything from them.

Image sources:

All screencaps by me. Use at will.

Marauder underlay

Bad Batch Concept Art, Marauder Interior

#havoc marauder #meta #marauder #tbb marauder #did I use shots with tech #on purpose?#yes I did #because he's not dead #>:(#the bad batch #star wars

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zarvasace · 1 year

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It All Began (4/5)

The last chapter might take a bit to come out thanks to me being busy and then committing to febuwhump XD AO3 link to this chapter here!

---

If Zelda had to name the one thing she disliked the most about being kidnapped, besides the whole, you know, being kidnapped part, she'd probably say that it was the boredom. Vaati didn't exactly provide her with reading material.

Close contenders included the small space, the hard bed, the bland food, and the black device on the other side of the bars that looked like it could hold a single person, like a coffin. She'd been wary of that for a long time, thinking they'd use it to shut her up, but now she just glared at it whenever it pulsed and interrupted her sleep.

Shadow gave it weird looks whenever he came in, too.

He'd first visited a few days after capturing her. He'd gloated, she'd demanded. They carried on like that for a week or two, until Zelda decided that she was very tired of it and switched up the script a little.

The day started as usual, with boring but filling rice, and then her self-mandated schedule of light exercise and magic practice. As the princess of Historic Hyrule—an inherited title that just meant she was the strongest living descendant of the Hero of the Sky—she had quite the natural capacity for magic. Everyone expected her to be a prodigy, so she'd been practicing since the day she'd turned nine.

She still wasn't very good. But that didn't stop her from using what useful tricks she had.

Shadow's entrance startled Zelda out of her trance, which had been going very well. She'd almost been able to hear the conversation of the guards in the break room above her.

"Princess," Shadow smiled, smug as a cat as he leaned up against the doorway.

Zelda grunted and rubbed at her head to dispel the sparks. "Dust bunny."

"Nice to see you, too. You know where I just came from?"

"The garbage disposal?"

His smile turned a little brittle. He never liked it when she insulted him, for all that he played up the charming trickster persona. "The R&D ship. You know that Link has relatively recent Yonaill ancestry?"

Zelda had to wrack her brain for the term. "I didn't. What do you have him doing for you now?"

"He's never done anything for me, personally," Shadow said. "For Sorcerer Enterprises, though… well, he's our new test subject."

"You kidnapped him, too?"

Shadow laughed and started to pace. "It wasn't hard. He's sitting over there right now, waiting for the drugs to wake him up. After that, well, either he'll be dead, or he'll be different."

It was about this time in the conversation that Zelda would probably start telling Shadow that Link was heroic and smart, and that she had better be on the next shuttle home.

Instead, she looked Shadow dead in the eyes and said, "He won't die, and no matter what you do to him, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'll make your life hell."

Shadow blinked. He stared for a long moment. "Did you just…"

"In fact," Zelda continued, "this whole operation is a bit shady."

After several more seconds, Shadow dissolved into laughter. For once, he left her cell visibly happier than when he'd entered.

He hadn't been lying about Link changing, though. Link's mind remained the only one Zelda could consistently sense, if not communicate with or hear, but after that day, it felt… fragmented. Different. It was like messaging a best friend only to find out that their whole family was on a group chat.

Shadow explained what had happened, and the names each of the Links had given themselves. Zelda found it just as funny as Shadow did, perhaps even more, since she was familiar with Link's habit of finding awful names. She mourned Link, but each of the new four seemed good, healthy and relatively happy as they were. She could reach their minds easier than ever, as if their split had left them open to her.

She managed to actually contact Green once, but only because he was on the verge of passing out. She didn't want to rely on that.

Though Zelda and Shadow weren't friends, they began to get along. He even brought her a deck of round Gerudo playing cards, extra-shimmery, and she taught him how to play six-seal slap. They didn't get much of an opportunity to play, though, since he started visiting less often.

"Vio's on my side, now," Shadow told her one day, settling down to lean against the bars and pick up the hand she'd dealt him. "We're best friends. You were wrong."

"Maybe," Zelda allowed. She dealt three cards face-up to start the round. "But I doubt it."

Shadow put down his first card. "Green is dead."

On principle, Zelda never believed anything Shadow said right off. Instead of panicking, she laid down her own first card and looked at him. "Is he?"

"Vio killed him," Shadow said with relish. He started laying down cards, and Zelda was caught off-guard. She began to lose.

Zelda frowned down at her cards and tried to play catch-up, though she didn't know if she could hope to win this round.

Shadow kept talking. "Vio is mine. Green is dead. Red and Blue are idiots with too much enthusiasm and too little brain. They'll be easy to keep in line now."

"Don't count them out so quickly," Zelda warned him, eyes on the cards. "Even at his weakest, Link was…" Stronger than you. "...formidable."

"Hmph. No, no. You're right. I need to make sure. Vio's always saying that I should try to be more responsible and follow through with stuff." He slapped a pile and pulled it over to his side.

Zelda frowned and concentrated harder. "Those are good habits to get into."

They finished their game, and Shadow won, but by a slimmer margin than Zelda had expected. They argued about noodles versus rice (noodles were superior), magic versus force energy (Zelda liked technology, Shadow didn't want to trust it as much), and education versus schooling (Zelda considered herself to have both, while Shadow was mildly fascinated by the idea of schooling. He didn't have much to contribute on the matter.)

When he left, Zelda sighed and sat back. Green was dead, was he? Despite how tired she felt, she closed her eyes and ran through her meditations.

There was Vio, feeling happy but anxious. Blue, mostly just anxious with a nice sprinkling of excitement. Red, pretty happy. And Green, driven to move forward as always.

He wasn't dead. Yet Shadow thought that Vio had killed him… Zelda didn't know the specifics, but she could guess well enough. She worried for Shadow. She also worried for Vio, and the rest, but their danger would be more physical. Shadow's was emotional.

Zelda didn't see him for a few days.

She played solitaire several dozen more times and made up another few janky games to play alone. She wore herself out trying to figure out how to do a handstand. She kept trying to reach out to one of the boys, or the dreams of one of the Maidens. She discovered that she could sense Shadow's presence, which just made it all the more disconcerting when she felt that presence suddenly dim, like a light going out.

Worried but still carefully not panicking, Zelda went still and checked up on the others. Green: sad, worried, and relieved. Blue: confused, impatient, and determined. Red: very upset, keeping it together, and also very relieved. Vio: more upset than Red, but hiding it better. Shadow didn't have any emotions. Shadow… was dead?

Hold on. That wasn't fair. Not to anyone.

Zelda sighed. She clawed her way out of the meditation and pulled her knees up to her chest. It seemed like Shadow would have few mourners. She decided to be one of them.

The digital clock on the door's control panel ticked forward. Zelda sat in silence for about fifteen minutes.

And then the coffin beeped. The three gauges on the sides lit up with bright colors, each fluctuating for several seconds before settling. The level in the blue gauge fell slowly, at the same rate the level in the green one climbed. The yellow stayed still, and a few red lights blinked on and off.

Zelda uncurled her legs and stood. She couldn't help being curious. That thing had haunted her this whole time.

She heard a violent hiss, and the horizontal seam split, opening just like the coffin she'd imagined it to be. Steam billowed out, oddly jagged and sharp in the corners. It took thirty long seconds to clear.

Inside… Zelda's mouth fell open.

Shadow flinched at nothing, then opened his eyes, wincing at the light shining into them. He raised a hand against it. Cyan sparks skittered over his exposed skin.

"Shadow?" Zelda said in disbelief. She didn't fall into a trance, but she did reach out with her senses, and yes. It was Shadow. She'd just spent fifteen minutes mourning him! She felt a little cheated.

"Mm." Shadow grunted, still clearly out of it. He sat up slowly and with shivers. He looked a little thinner than Zelda had last seen him, and he'd gotten a messy haircut. He was also a lot less clothed. She glanced away.

"How are you alive? I felt you die! What happened? Where are the others?"

Shadow glared up at her. "Shut up, Princess, and let me think!"

She shut her mouth.

Shadow struggled a little to move. He seemed stiff as he reached into the lid of the coffin and picked out a glowing crystal. Zelda recognized the shape—another of those necklaces. He'd never given her a straight answer about what that did. He held onto the crystal tightly, then finally turned to her.

"They killed me. What do you think happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean"—Shadow put his feet on the floor and rifled around inside drawers under the coffin for some clothing—"your precious Link hates me, and set off an explosion right under me."

"Okay, then how are you alive? You died, then you woke up in here? How—"

Oh.

She was an idiot. This might be Shadow, but it wasn't his original body, was it. "I thought clone editing technology was highly regimented and rarely successful."

Shadow tugged on a plain shirt and pants. "You underestimate the power and reach of Sorcerer Enterprises. Or, more accurately, Ganon." He spat the word.

Zelda grabbed one of the bars in front of her loosely. "Shadow. Are you okay?"

"Hell no. Would you be?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. She really only had one thing to offer him. "Do you… Would you like to… play a game of six-seal slap?"

Shadow paused and looked up at her, red eyes shining with an unidentifiable emotion. He was surprised, as wanted so badly to agree, she could tell. He'd been wrung out until all he had was his veneer of spite.

He answered far too late. "I can't." He stood up straight and flexed his arms out in front of him. "Those idiots are going to be taking on Vaati next, probably, and I… I…" Now he scowled, confused.

"You what?" Zelda prompted.

Shadow bared his fangs at her. "I'll help Vaati take them down for good."

"Is that what you really want?" She asked the question softly, trying not to aggravate him, but she needed him to really think.

"Yes! It is." Shadow turned around and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "I want those idiots to die, and - and suffer while they do. I don't belong with them, okay?"

Zelda took a breath. "If I try hard enough, I can sense the boys' feelings. Magic stuff. You know I use it."

"So what?"

"So, Vio was really happy up until tonight. And now, he's not just sad, he's devastated. Shadow… he cares about you."

Shadow whipped around. A few drops of blood fell from his fists where his claws dug into his palms. "He was trying to kill me! And then he did! Don't try to tell me that!"

She hadn't lied. She lifted her chin and stared him down. It may have been her inside the cell, but it was Shadow who looked trapped. She let him read her face and see the truth.

More cyan light pulsed under his skin. He blinked. "...Vaati is stupid. Maybe I can let them take him down."

"Do you think they can?"

Shadow pressed his lips together and looked at his hands. "No. Maybe. If…" He stared for a long time.

"I'm falling apart. Did you know that? Clone editing tech really isn't that refined yet, and the only reason I'm actually alive is because of all the force. This body's been incubating for a while, but… it doesn't work as well. They might decide I'm useless and just deny me force again."

Zelda frowned. She wouldn't say that it would be better if Shadow had never existed, but where was Sorcerer Enterprise's Din-damned board of ethics? Just one more thing to add to the list of reasons she had to make sure they were shut down for good.

"You know what?" Shadow looked up at her. He grabbed his necklace and stood a little taller. "Let's burn it all down. Vaati won't let me live, but if he's dead, maybe…" He shook his head, then reached out for the door of her cell.

"Wait, you're letting me out?" Zelda blinked, watching the door open. That was one thing she could honestly say she hadn't expected.

"Sure." Shadow grinned at her, though it looked a little fragile. He held the door open for her. "Let's go get your Maidens on a ship back to the Plains, too, just to rub salt in the wound when we inevitably fail."

She smiled back at him. "Cool. Let's cause some chaos, then, shall we?"

#fsa spaceship au #four swords

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magicalbuffalotransformerman · 11 months

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[been a while since i did a lore post. sorry for the wait if you actually wanted to see my garbage lol. got a good couple of fics in the works right now. otherwise. enjoy this. i guess.]

[devastator's rolling around on the moon. intel says that there's an autobot outpost up here that lord megatron wants gone. he cites personal reasons. devastator assumes that his personal time's been interrupted more than once by the outpost somehow.]

[devastator spots a shining light across the vast lunar valley, so he stops to spy on whatever's casting it from long range. turns out: yup. autobot outpost. big one, too.]

D: lunar rover to ground control, i've spotted the target. how copy, over?

['ground control', in this case nebula, responds.]

N: loud and clear, lunar rover. give 'em a good old-style whoppin' for the boys back home. over.

D: roger, moving to devastate. over and out.

[devastator begins rolling once more, crossing the kilometer worth of valley between his cliff and the outpost's front gate in a couple of minutes.]

[An Autobot security personnel halts the unknown vehicle in its tracks.]

Guard: This is a high-tech Autobot outpost! Identify yourself!

[devastator aims for the face, and obliterates him.]

[The Autobot is decapitated, and his corpse glides smoothly away from the impact point, before coming to a controlled stop against the wall.]

[since sound doesn't travel on the moon very well, someone would've had to have seen this happen for the alarm to begin blaring... unfortunately for devastator, someone did see this happen, and so the alarm's lights flash red across the outpost.]

[devastator blasts the gate apart, and rolls in to fight the autobots inside.]

[...it only takes 30 minutes.]

D, in need of repairs: lunar rover to ground control: outpost liberated. what's next; over?

N: discussing what's next with the boys back at base. sit tight. over and out.

[devastator transforms, relishing in the destruction he caused to the lunar outpost while he waits for clarification. he hops around on one foot, the opposite leg's hip actuator having been damaged.]

N: boys. what's next?

BC: how's the outpost? any damage to speak of?

N: oh, yeah. it's damn well devastated.

BC: good to hear. let's have marrowbomber haul devastator and any good loot out from the wreck and call it mission accomplished.

N: i hear ya. transmitting to devs.

BC: make sure he returns in one piece - marrowbomber too. i hear the moon's dust particles are particularly brutal against our metal.

N: understood.

N: ground control to lunar rover: you're free to haul any worthwhile loot out from the outpost and get it home. over.

D: alright. how will i get it home; over?

N: same way you got to the surface: marrowbomber; over.

D: affirmative; moving to locate and contain the good stuff. over and out.

[devastator searches the compound for some good loot to bring home, and finds a bunch of resources such as experimental weapon blueprints and schematics for new vehicle modes. he even finds a nice lunar rover to bring along for the ride.]

[marrowbomber sets down next to the outpost.]

MB: shuttle to lunar rover. howdy.

D: hey, air support. what took you so long?

MB: had to stretch my legs. you don't know how stressful it is to try and fly in an atmosphereless environment in a conventional jet form.

D: i pray to never find out. here; i got some good stuff from the wreck. moving it inside your hold now.

[marrowbomber waits patiently for devastator to get it all in, and get in himself.]

MB: alright... where to now?

D: home sweet home. i trust you'll get home fine?

MB: ...pray to primus.

[marrowbomber takes off with a little bit of effort, escaping the moon's gravity swiftly and trying his god-damndest to get home safe and sound.]

[it takes him quite the unholy amount of effort... but god damnit, he makes it to the earth's atmosphere. not without some trauma, of course. no one wants to be lost in space.]

MB: oh. oh, god. homeward bound! fuck...

[devastator whistles in a satisfied and grateful sort of tone.]

[muffled celebrations erupt over the comms.]

N: welcome back to antarctican airspace, marrowbomber!

MB: thanks for the warm reception. that was... fucking horrifying. i never want to do this shit again.

N: i hear ya loud and clear, don't you worry. i'm setting down now to greet ya properly.

MB: see you then.

[marrowbomber directs his attention to devastator.]

MB: devs?

D: that was some of the worst rattling i've heard yet. you gonna be okay, mate?

MB: i... do not think so, no. we need a dedicated shuttleformer. not me. never again.

D: yeah, i get that. you want some energon from my personal stash once we land?

MB: oh, fuck, please.

D: hah! you got it, big man.

[marrowbomber sets his wheels down onto the cold, icy runway once more, and skids to a stop.]

N: whey! how's the big man doin'?

MB: i need a nap. and probably therapy.

N: heh... yeah. understandable. i made a deal with bonecrusher, he'll let you rest for a few months if need be. take your time off, my man, you earned it. [she pats marrowbomber's wing.]

MB: yeah... thanks.

[devastator hobbles out of marrowbomber's cargo hold, and dirtbuster takes over storage duty.]

D: he says we need a dedicated shuttleformer. see you in the base.

[nebula nods in response.] N: sounds like a good idea.

[nebula sits with marrowbomber and chats with him about various topics while dirtbuster gets his cargo hold cleared.]

[it only takes dirtbuster a couple of minutes to haul the loot out of there, and pats his tail end to let him know he's free to transform.]

[marrowbomber transforms, kneeling on the ground and keeping his space sickness on the inside... somehow.]

N: ...hey, are you gonna be fine, marrow?

MB: [gag]... nope. wh... where's devs?

N: he's in the base. i saw him hobblin' pretty wobbly though. might be getting some repairs from patchwork.

MB: l... let patch know i might be sick.

N: yeah, you got it, homie. sit tight.

[nebula gets off of the ground and pats marrowbomber's shoulder, moving to let patchwork know.]

[he kneels there. his brain is spinning. his body is churning. everything feels like utter shit. he needs a drink. everything hurts. he can't think.]

[bonecrusher gets to marrowbomber's side, cuddling with him to keep him calm.]

BC: hey now, big guy... lay down, rest your head. you're gonna be fine, bomb bay.

[bonecrusher pushes marrowbomber over to the base, making sure not to put too much pressure on certain areas.]

[marrowbomber leans on the wall of the base, able to see inside through the window. he holds onto bonecrusher, grateful that he's being so comforting tonight. he keeps him close, needing some warmth from him.]

[bonecrusher nestles deep into marrowbomber's frame, cuddling him for as long as he needs.]

[noticing marrowbomber lookin' like shit outside the window, groundrumbler opens the window and hands marrowbomber a cube of energon to help him out.]

[well, ain't this nice.]

#mbtm!devastator #nebula #mbtm!bonecrusher #marrowbomber #dirtbuster #groundrumbler #i think that's all of them.#would tagging emetophobia be a good idea here. because. well. no one gets explicitly sick e.g.. That. but. well.#someone gets close #magicalNSFW #(plane man almost gets himself and a good friend killed x2 + swearing + alcoholism + panic attack)#(+ marrowbomber gets his mental shit rocked)

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burchdogan19 · 1 year

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Here Are Some Awesome Cat Facts From your Experts!

On the area, running a cat may look such as an easy job. Right after all, they can be famous with regard to being independent. While this is usually true, there are nevertheless several considerations when care for your pet cat. The following article will certainly illustrate what precisely these things are. Read in and learn. To keep your kitten joyful and even healthy, it has the crucial for you to schedule regular goes to for you to the vet. Definitely not only are regular checkups best for catching difficulties early, nevertheless regular visits can make sure that your cat retains up-to-date on its vaccines. Nearby know when often the last period your feline had it has the shots, routine an consultation for increaser shots without delay. Secure the cat through choking. Become sure to remove involving poultry and fish bone fragments safely. Wrap them throughout a report or cosmetic bag make them throughout your outdoor garbage can easily with the lid snugly secured. Alternately, place all of them inside a new plastic handbag and freeze them till junk pick up day. Have your current cat spayed or neutered. Pet overpopulation is a good growing trouble, with millions of homeless cats and kittens and cats euthanized every year. Apart from the problem associated with too many kittens in addition to not enough homes, unfixed cats can have a good large number of behavior complications. Guys who will be not neutered with a young age often start off spraying for you to mark their very own territory, and women who will be allowed to come in to temperature yowl incessantly like they make an effort to escape to be able to find a mate. Kittens can begin to breed as early as 4 months of age, thus get your new kitten spayed or neutered as quickly as possible. If your kitten kicks litter all of over the floors, basically use a even bigger gift basket. A large, roomy bag with high sides helps make a excellent litter field. A big round hot tub also makes a great cat litter box. A restaurant measurement shuttle tub is a new capacious cat litter box. Providing larger sides and much more space is going to solve your current cat's kitty kicking difficulty. Whenever anyone take your cat at any place, use a cat company. Regardless of gentle your kitty will be, it could turn out to be frightened. In such a circumstance, the idea may bolt down and be quickly lost, wounded as well as killed. At the vet's office, your cat are going to be safe from unpredictable wildlife if you are using a pet carrier. Do not use treatments meant for a puppy on a cat. This is especially important for topical ointment medicines. Cats do their very own cleaning, and if a dog medicine is used on a kitty, your own pet can ingest it. There are some drugs that work regarding both cats and dogs, although only use them in case the vet says it is okay. Use brief words when you would like to express annoyance using your cat. A small 'no' will be kept in mind, even if not always followed. Some sort of lot of persons think that cats no longer listen to anything, yet small word commands will be absolutely understood by kittens and cats, and they will respond to these commands for anyone who is consistent using them. Make sure that you can find enough litter packing containers in your house for all involving the cats that are usually keeping yourself there. It is definitely optimal to own one fill box for each kitty. If you live around some sort of property that features some sort of lot of floors, there should be 1 on each flooring for each cat. Never reprimand your cat for lost the litter box. Normally, this kind of thing occurs if the field isn't getting tended to help effectively. In case you punish your own personal kitty for this, that may fear you later in the future. best toys for cats To make sure your own kitten can be properly socialized to humans, begin earlier in his existence, regarding ten to twelve days old. Be sure that will he is handled plus petted by humans in the family and simply by other individuals at the same time. When he is definitely older, he / she will be a calmer, friendlier kitten. If you have even more than one cat, you ought to have as many litter bins as you have cats. In the event lots of cats have to be able to share a similar litter container, the idea can mean disaster! The cats may select definitely not to share their particular removing space, instead, employing some other areas, such since clean washing or covered corners of the home to accomplish their business. In terms of owning a cat, there happen to be several responsibilities every user must be aware of. Having read the content over, you should presently have a good strategy of what those accountabilities are. Be sure plus implement typically the advice mentioned in order to keep your cat healthy and even happy.

#best cat toys #best toys for cats

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leisuremartini1 · 1 year

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Organize a business on the rental property

How do real estate investments work and who makes money on them? It seems that only experienced businessmen can do this. In fact, everyone started out at some point, including those who use Airbnb property management.

Do you know what the first attraction of real estate investing is? You don’t have to know everything about the market to do it.

It is a well-known fact that real estate is one of the most reliable investment options. Buying an apartment, you keep your investment, and over time it will only increase in value, especially if it is a new development, and the infrastructure near the residential complex is only developing. Let’s find out how much it costs to prepare the apartment for handover, and how much can be earned on it.

Renting through the Airbnb booking platform is a lucrative business that requires very little effort or money (assuming you already own the property). There is a wide range of potential customers, which has a positive impact on your profits. To organize such a business, you just need to register in the system as Airbnb host.

There are two ways to rent the most popular types of real estate (apartments and houses): daily and long-term rental. Long-term rentals are less troublesome in terms of constant maintenance of the premises, providing everything necessary and maintaining them in perfect condition. As for daily rent, there are more opportunities for income growth, but labor costs will be high.

After each eviction of guests it is necessary to change the linen and bath accessories, as well as to replace them with fresh sets. Daily rent is in high demand among tourists, people who come on business trips or seminars, as well as young couples. It is advisable to rent a house for a long term or season. Demand for such facilities is now gaining momentum. Many people choose to live in the countryside and appreciate the comfort and eco-friendly location.

Those who have been working in this segment of the market for a long time have long been calculating the profitability of their business using a proven formula, which consists of several parameters, listed below:

The size of the annual rent. This is the income you plan to receive from renting out the apartment daily at a fixed amount of the tariff. If we consider the business of renting an apartment for a long period, it is easier to calculate this parameter. To do this we multiply the rent amount per month by 12 (months per year). In the case of daily rent – then take the average rate of redemption accommodation at the level of 15 – 20 days. In this case, the daily value is multiplied by 20 and 12 (months of the year) and get the size of the annual rent of the property.

Annual Costs. This includes all current housing maintenance costs: utilities, Internet, appliances repair, intercom and garbage collection fees, and so on. All of these costs add up to a total for the year.

Total investment amount. This includes the price of the apartment and its repair.

What opportunity you get

Renting a garage via Airbnb management also will be a good opportunity to increase income, since the number of cars is growing daily and parking space is usually limited. If the garage is in a good location and meets all the requirements for keeping a car, with good advertising you can quickly find a tenant.

Additional profit can be made by renting out the property:

Renting out the property safely as offices;

The provision of shuttle services to and from the airport or other locations (if you have a car);

Renting out the garage as a rehearsal spot with an hourly fee.

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rainset · 2 years

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Story Practice (10/9/22) — DOG Part III

They didn’t view him as ‘normal’ by any means.

Because his face was partially plastic. Least, that’s what they told him.

There was a fire that broke out when he was even smaller, it was extensively caustic to be in any radius of due to the materials that their home was made of.

Fumes themselves would melt any organic material.

He wasn’t in the house but he was caught playing by it when it happened. Luckily nobody was inside but..

He took a step a bit too close.

Rest is evident.

They healed him with their advances in cycling but, it left a weird aftertaste in the community. Nobody had actually attempted this type of transplant before. Smooth, soft, white— pearlescent. Mimics skin in everything but sight and, maybe taste? Because it has this eerie translucences to it. Where there’s nothing seen of course, but.. there’s shadows within there, underneath. Under the right lighting it reveals the truth of human nature. Nobody, I mean- no body. Would want to see that.

Because who wants a reminder of what lies within?

For him though, this young boy, that’s the only thing that made him special. Transplanted cycle flesh. Different, weird, scary.

But otherwise? He was generic. Nothing too remarkable to him in design or intellect. Dark hair, bright eyed, fair skinned with disregards to that one addition.

He’s just, plain bread.

That not many wanted to talk to because of that one thing on his face ya can’t wipe away.

So, Jeremy Hoth spends his ten year old days alone. Playing in the empty public parks. Making crafts and hanging them around town when nobody is noticing. Watching from afar people who stop and analyze it. Or do double takes.

He has a knack for anatomy. It’s what made his particular creations remarkable. But well, the whole town is remarkable, really.

His other past time is perching and vicariously taking in social behaviors from people watching. He’d practice on makeshift friends when he’s alone and deeper in the trash heap. They’d play table top games and have conversations over the latest book he’s been reading, the old tv shows he’d get to see if he got lucky and the waves came by his way.

Nobody else was really talkative but he knew what they were saying instinctively. He treated his friends good because, they’re important. Get you through hard times, fight wars with you, be the family you never had.. yeah. Friends are the only thing that matters in their short feeble lives.

His domain was out of Treas and into the heap where more of Treas would become mapped out of. Eventually it’ll spread to here, the sprawl, but it won’t be for awhile. It’s his sanctuary and the place for more treasures one could hope for.

For anyone as generic as him, they too would try to covet the things left and thought of as shit.

Broken down tanks, old air ships— some space cockpits are still in tact!

It’s it own little wonder world amongst the dead and forgotten, the heap.

Time capsules each one and Jeremy would try to draw out what they are to hang in his new house’s walls. Mom and dad never really bother, they weren’t born here like him. Nor do they appreciate what Treas has given them either… maybe that’s why the Hoth house would be the only house in the village’s history to ever catch fire. Because, Hoths don’t care.

Jeremy cares.

He’s careful to avoid people too when he returns. It’s rude to show his face in public with how it spooks everyone. He usually crawls in through their new tunnel at the side of their trash heap. One of the few that isn’t converted into some spectacular marvel because— well. We know. Hoths.

He slips into a old shuttle door and slides down into their network of tunnels. Their home, a shack made of scrap and plastic that cuddles a large pile of archaic garbage. It’s the ugliest thing on their corner, Jeremy is grateful that they’re so forgiving, people of Treas.

They saved his life after all.. not his parents. They just burn houses down.

He pastes a new charcoal sketch onto his wall, currently, it’s mapping out his sanctuary. Jeremy steps back to admire the piece. Coming together, the whole thing is just a picture now but soon, he’s gonna walk into it.

It’s a doorway to what could be. Expanding his room and having a cockpit to the right and then the inner hull of an old war machine to the left with a big circular space between them.. yeah.. it’s gonna be cool.

He’s gonna make the village of Treas proud. Give back to them what they’ve given to him.

He looks over to the hole that’s his room doorway, there’s nobody seen in the kitchen. Figures.

Probably begging in Alderado. The place they wanna call home.

He drops into the kitchen and exits into the living room. Sitting up on the couch and watches out the front opening of their shack.

People walking about the main road that swirls and curls like in a fairy tale. People just looking around at the little doodads and marvels that is mashed into every nook an’ crany around them. Villagers and city people. From the ways of tarps and face paint, outlanders too. He wonders what the plains world is like… he hears of a green place beyond that massive tower city. Even the dwellers there envy the planes.

Most Alderado folk that come to Treas are the wealthy. Their clothes are sleek, clean, top dollar and top line. He analyzes every part of their design. It’s so alien and weird, but cool.

He hears people talk constantly and he’s gotten good listening in even on the faintest of voices.

He’s heard that the wealthy are the only ones who can physically leave Alderado. That many people on the daily stand at the city walls and look out, thinking about their fate. But they never leave. They can’t. They’re sucked in.

Jeremy knows it ain’t true. His dumb parents come there in and out daily to get their bread.

But he still pictures it. Figures standing on top of a wall, looking out at what could be.

Kinda like him in Treas.

Ever person is a potential conversation.

But no one to speak with. He doesn’t want to be rude or imposing.

He knows he’s disturbing. It’s just the way of things.

Still though, he yearns for it.

Each person he sketches, there’s a smaller figure besides them.

The ideal him. Jeremy de Treas. Talking to them.

He’s sheepish with sketches of those his age. He often crumbles them up and throws them away. Adults are way more comforting, easier. Intelligent. Kids are… scary. Mean. Judgmental and hurtful. Still though.. some of his best works are of him making the friends he’ll never have.

Sometimes he wishes he had siblings to practice this with but, this loneliness, is much more comfortable.

It hits him, his one brother.

He curses to himself. He gets up from his admiring of the flocks and runs back down his tunnels, not noticing the pair of innocent eyes watching back at him.

He pops out the other side of his home and dashed back to his sanctuary.

He forgot him, again.. he feels so guilty as he flees to be by his side.

Trodding down the rubble, he leaves a trail of noise for another pair of small feet to follow.

Jeremy’s trail blazing over hills and mounds back to his sanctuary, then even further in.

He takes in a deep breath as he falls back on the last high mound he’s on and slides down into a wide, deep, pit.

Arising from it is a half sunken in mechanical Goliath. An absolute beast. A black skeletal figure with fangs for teeth, hollow sockets, and tightly packed thick tubes running down its spine and neck. Giving this thing a look of girth that runs underneath more dark exoskeleton.

“Sorry! I’m- I’m sorry! I’m-“ he trips up as he lands onto semi solid ground, “-sorry.” He wades through the pit to his oldest friend and one who he looks up to, literally.

His one brother. He calls him ‘Dog’ because of his face. It’s skeletal face with its clenching snout has a human but animal look to it. He thinks it’s what a dog might look like. Wolf is his brother’s other name when he wants respect but, Dog is enduring.

“H..how are you doing.. you okay?” He touches Dog’s exo. His pale hand on its dark body beams out like a star in night. Jeremy sighs in relief. He senses Dog’s forgiveness. “Yeah sorry I got caught up.. how’s your day been?” He looks up to his older brother.

Dog remains there, inanimate.

Jeremy chuckles to comfort himself. “..yeah, really? What else happened- did you talk to them?”

There’s obviously no response. Jeremy nervously rambles on his answer- “..well it’s okay. Better luck next time, right?”

There’s a clamoring behind him. His head swivels back with intense fear.

How long has she been standing there? He’s mortified.

The illusion is broken and he crawls back beneath the machine as the small child descends down the trash heap. Calling for him.

“Hey- you there? Hey!”

Jeremy wants to scream. He does in his throat.

He looks for an escape- he sees it. It’s looser on this side of the giant machine’s tube lining, and he slides inside. Tight, cramped, he feels his lungs almost collapse as he tries to get in fully, legs first.

The stomping came closer and so does his fear.

He shields himself as he hears them approach.

“What are you doing?!” A small voice said.

He opens an eye to see. Then slowly moves his arm.

It’s a small girl. She’s got.. barely any hair on her head, it splotchy. Half an eye brow on one side.. wearing nothing but an oversized white jacket and shorts.

“Come out from there- it’s bad!!”

Bad-? What?

She’s already tugging on his arm to try and pull him out.

He looks fully and couldn’t help but kind of laugh. Her feet are sinking into the garbage as she’s trying to pull him out. Even the tugs on his arm feels kind of pathetic.

He starts to laugh. Snort an laugh.

“It’s not funny- GET OUT!” She pounds her fist on the side.

He doesn’t say a word but he slides out, still chuckling to himself.

She pouts in front of him.

“Do you know what this thing is?!”

Jeremy wipes the tears out his eyes, looking down at her, smiling.

“It’s an e v i l machine- don’t get close to it!! You might become bad too! “

Jeremy keeps his awkward crooked smile while looking down at her. He couldn’t speak.

The small girl keeps pouting. “Well? Com’ooon!”

Jeremy’s throat catches. He makes a sound but it’s weird. Really weird.

And she didn’t get it. “What?”

He tries again but there’s a disconnect in his head. God.. when was the last time he talked?

She relaxes and looks up at him with more analysis. She furrows her brow. “Aren’t you that creepy Hoth kid?” He says nothing.

“The one who didn’t flinch with a half melted face?”

He swallows.

“..yeah.”

His first word to a living human being.. in the longest of time.

He’s never even spoken to his parents this much.

———

#writers on tumblr #practice #my writing #writing #writings #morning practice #short story #DOG #sci fi #space fantasy #writerblr #original story #mecha

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 2 years

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old florida

"FLORIDA ROSE" I find it harder and harder to find something "Old Jupiter" feeling to photograph — but they're still out there! [Check out this offering from Dan Gladwin] Just beautiful!!

* * * *

“There was no Disney World then, just rows of orange trees. Millions of them. Stretching for miles And somewhere near the middle was the Citrus Tower, which the tourists climbed to see even more orange trees. Every month an eighty-year-old couple became lost in the groves, driving up and down identical rows for days until they were spotted by helicopter or another tourist on top of the Citrus Tower. They had lived on nothing but oranges and come out of the trees drilled on vitamin C and checked into the honeymoon suite at the nearest bed-and-breakfast.

"The Miami Seaquarium put in a monorail and rockets started going off at Cape Canaveral, making us feel like we were on the frontier of the future. Disney bought up everything north of Lake Okeechobee, preparing to shove the future down our throats sideways.

"Things evolved rapidly! Missile silos in Cuba. Bales on the beach. Alligators are almost extinct and then they aren't. Juntas hanging shingles in Boca Raton. Richard Nixon and Bebe Rebozo skinny-dipping off Key Biscayne. We atone for atrocities against the Indians by playing Bingo. Shark fetuses in formaldehyde jars, roadside gecko farms, tourists waddling around waffle houses like flocks of flightless birds. And before we know it, we have The New Florida, underplanned, overbuilt and ripe for a killer hurricane that'll knock that giant geodesic dome at Epcot down the trunpike like a golf ball, a solid one-wood by Buckminster Fuller.

"I am the native and this is my home. Faded pastels, and Spanish tiles constantly slipping off roofs, shattering on the sidewalk. Dogs with mange and skateboard punks with mange roaming through yards, knocking over garbage cans. Lunatics wandering the streets at night, talking about spaceships. Bail bondsmen wake me up at three A.M. looking for the last tenant. Next door, a mail-order bride is clubbed by a smelly ma in a mechanic's shirt. Cats violently mate under my windows and rats break-dance in the drop ceiling. And I'm lying in bed with a broken air conditioner, sweating and sipping lemonade through a straw. And I'm thinking, geez, this used to be a great state.

"You wanna come to Florida? You get a discount on theme-park tickets and find out you just bough a time share. Or maybe you end up at Cape Canaveral, sitting in a field for a week as a space shuttle launch is canceled six times. And suddenly vacation is over, you have to catch a plane, and you see the shuttle take off on TV at the airport. But you keep coming back, year after year, and one day you find you're eighty years old driving through an orange grove.”

― Tim Dorsey, Florida Roadkill

#Old Flordia #Florida #Tim Dorsey #Florida Roadkill #Dan Gladwin #Jupiter #Jupiter Old Days

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Written for a prompt by @soprompt: "This is unnecessarily complicated."

read on ao3

“This is unnecessarily complicated,” Anakin said as he took the controls of the shuttle in hanger 11 aboard the Separatist ship.

“Then make it uncomplicated,” Obi-Wan told him.

“I know, Master. I’m trying.”

“Well you had better do it quickly. Another few minutes and those droids will be crawling all over us.”

“Understood, Master.”

They were deep in Separatist territory. Their mission had been to save a fellow Jedi from Count Dooku, but the Count had fled, and well, the Jedi’s body was lying in a cell in the detention level.

Anakin would’ve liked to have taken an escape pod, but they’d all been deployed, leaving him and Obi-Wan stuck in this piece of garbage. It was barely hanging on, had just been sitting their for repairs and maintenance. Their attack had likely paused that.

Droids were coming down one of the passageways, and Anakin tried to take off. The shuttle made a guttering, whining noise as the engines sputtered and then failed.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan warned.

“You want to get out and push?” Anakin snapped.

The droids entered the hanger, leveling their blasters.

“I might have to. Lower the ramp.”

“I was kidding. Don’t actually go out there.”

“Don’t worry about me. Get this bucket of bolts flying!”

Anakin swore, and then lowered the ramp. What the kriff was his former master planning on doing? Committing suicide? Anakin didn’t want to be part of it. And they couldn’t very well leave with the ramp lowered.

Obi-Wan stood by the ramp, holding onto the stern of the ship, deflecting blaster fire.

Anakin smacked the console with his mechno-arm, metal fist connecting with the faulty wiring. There was an encouraging whir, and the ship started lifting into the air. Anakin engaged the thrusters.

Obi-Wan cried out from behind him, and then the ship tilted. A blaster bolt hit the hinges on the already-faulty ramp, and there was a screech as it began to rip off.

“Great!” Obi-Wan yelled. “Now how are we going to get out of here?”

“I’m thinking!”

While taking down more droids with their own blasts Obi-Wan said, “Well, think faster!”

Suddenly, a wild idea came to Anakin, and he left the controls in neutral, hoping the stupid ship would stay in place. He went to the gaping hole where the ramp had been.

“What in the galaxy are you doing?”

“Getting us out of here.”

Anakin reached out to the Force, and grabbed the ramp.

“Back up!”

The damaged ramp came at them, towards the ship.

“Anakin!”

“I said back up!”

The ramp worked as a shield against the blaster fire. Obi-Wan, catching on, helped hold the ramp in place.

“Okay, now run your lightsaber over it horizontally. We have to weld it on.”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s either this or have a one-hundred percent chance of dying in the cold, vacuum of space.”

“I’ll get to work.”

As Obi-Wan did that, Anakin ran back to the controls.

“Get ready!” he called back.

“This—is—too—complicated!” Obi-Wan cried.

Anakin laughed. “Look who’s complaining now. On three.”

“Oh hell.”

Anakin counted down, Obi-Wan trying to tell him he wasn’t ready yet, but the droids were trying to take out their main engines, so it was now or never.

“Here goes nothing,” Anakin said, pushing forward on the thrusters and leaving the hangar.

The ramp almost disengaged immediately, and Obi-Wan let out a yell as he had to hold it in place despite the welding job. In Anakin’s opinion, it was probably a hack welding job, but he wasn’t sure he could’ve done it perfectly either.

Cold air sucked at them, and Anakin felt the oxygen thinning. Metal clattered and screeched.

The scanner started letting out an alert, and Anakin checked the screen. Kriff, vulture droids were following them. Did the Separatists seriously have nothing better to but chase a falling apart shuttle? At this point, the stress of trying to get back to the Republic fleet was tearing Anakin apart, the adrenaline rush fraying his nerves.

There were guns on the shuttle, but as Anakin tried to fire one, using the Force so he could stay at the controls, the whole thing ripped clean off, and exploded against the side of the shuttle. It shook them, and Obi-Wan nearly fell. Anakin collapsed hard into the console.

“I hate flying,” Obi-Wan said.

For once, Anakin wanted to agree with him.

He twisted and whirled to avoid the blasts from the vulture droids.

“Putting in the hyperspace coordinates,” Anakin informed Obi-Wan.

“Great. That’s a sure way to get us killed.”

“It’s better than getting blown to bits by Separatists.”

“Fair point.”

Anakin finished setting the coordinates.

“Ready?”

“No.”

Taking that as his cue, Anakin jumped to light speed.

A horrifying minute that stretched on into eternity passed as Anakin and Obi-Wan tried to hold the ship together. But when they came out of hyperspace, they saw the fleet.

“Alright, boarding the Resolute.”

When they pulled into the hangar, the ship fell apart, and Anakin and Obi-Wan collapsed—Anakin in his seat, Obi-Wan against the deck—both exhausted, but glad they had made it back alive.

Rex and Ahsoka ran out to meet them.

“Let’s never do that again,” Obi-Wan got out.

Anakin groaned at the headache building between his eyes. “Agreed.”

#star wars #the clone wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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spaced0lphin · 3 years

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Counting Stars

“Bailie is determined to count Jeff’s freckles.” - @virusq

This takes place post-TBMS, after the events of ME2 and before ME3.

The evening was blue with twilight. Humidity and the whine of cicadas spilled into the kitchen through the open patio door. Shepard was still out there, leaning on her arms and staring into the black pines. The opened letter on the table turned his stomach. An Alliance insignia showed through the envelope. In disgust, he turned it over face down. This was the thanks she got for spearheading the operation to save the known galaxy; a warning. The message was simple: Either show up in court voluntarily in a week, or be dragged there.

Joker's own eyes looked back at him, his image caught in the glass door. It felt weird, but also good to be out of Cerberus fatigues. Sometimes it seemed like his reflection looked a little wrong without them, but he remembered feeling like that after putting away his Alliance blues for the last time, too.

A bizarre, almost musical croaking from outside caught his attention. It wasn't familiar - but Shepard, in all her stormy silence, didn't seem bothered by it. Dusk was settling fast. It was weird, this place. It was some little house on the far outskirts of the city Shepard grew up in. The warm, familiar rumble of the engine was traded in for wind in the trees, birdsong in the day, and whatever spooky noises the damn woods conjured up at night. Joker did not like the woods. Being so close to so many trees, all growing at once in strange, chaotic angles - it was unnatural. It and the nearby ocean smelled nice, though.

His Omnitool glowed, displaying the time. Two hours ago, she'd opened the mail and stormed outside. He picked up the offending letter and slid off the chair, putting the paper out of sight. This whole house in a familiar place thing was meant to be a break, a reminder for Shepard of what she was fighting for. Instead, all she'd found was this insult. He thought about hurling it in the garbage. It just wasn't fair.

The curious sound came again, this time from somewhere a little closer. Shepard hadn't moved an inch, nor noticed his approach. Not even the rap of his knuckle against the glass door, half-open to where she'd flung it a couple hours earlier could steal her focus.

He cleared his throat. "Hey," he said gently. "What was that sound just now?"

At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head as if snapped out of a spell. Her eyes were red and she sniffed. She'd been crying. A pang of guilt shot through his chest. He should have known. All this time he was sat twiddling his thumbs at the table like an idiot waiting for orders, she was out here, crying her eyes out with only the trees and mosquitoes for company. He slid the patio door closed behind him and leaned on the bannister with her.

"Uh, noise?" she asked, her voice thick. "Just now?"

"Yeah. It sounded like… uh." He screwed up his throat. "G-Ghauck," he tried. She recoiled, making such a face at the awful sound coming out of him he couldn't help but laugh. To his relief, she cracked a small smile, too. "No, no, wait, wait, hold on…" He did his best mimicry of the odd call. "Ghaaaawk. Like that."

"That's a raven," she answered, wiping at her eyes. "I think your first try was maybe a raven getting eaten by something."

"Heh. Maybe, I mean I don't know what's out there in… in that," he said, gesturing to the deep blackness in front of them. The little yellow light covered in bouncing moths could only do so much to illuminate even the first layer of branches. "It's so much worse than space," he grumbled. "At least you can see in space. Here there's things. So many things, and they all run and swim and bite, and… fly." He paused. Shepard wasn't looking at him - but up, at the sky. She tapped her Omnitool briefly, then all the lights went out.

They waited for their eyes to adjust. Stars separated out from the blueish darkness above. They looked so different beneath miles of atmosphere. Little swirling black dots blotted a couple of them out in patterns as tons of bugs did their crazy dance high above.

"You've never heard a raven before?" she asked with another sniffle, the sound a little loud in the darkness. He thought about her voice, and all the times he'd heard her be strong. In the course of everything, she’d yelled, commanded, screamed for her life, even laughed in the face of death. But never, never ever once that he knew of, had she actually cried.

"No, I guess not," he said. In the gloom, Shepard's shape started to materialise. She had her face tipped up towards the half moon, eyes closed against its light. He wondered at what she must be thinking. He couldn't imagine why she hadn't ordered a shuttle to Vancouver five minutes ago. How seeing that letter waiting for her hadn't sent her direct to HQ to scream in their faces about their ignorance and injustice. His own rage about it boiled hot in the back of his mind like the surface of a star. It didn't take much to picture himself cracking a rib telling them where to shove their trial. How dare they threaten her after everything? Where were they all this time to demand accountability now? Suddenly, he understood why she had been staring into those dark trees.

As she let out long breath after long breath through her nose, it hit him like a ton of bricks. Shepard wasn't on a shuttle right now doing those things, because Shepard had run out of fight. She had nothing left. She had given them everything already, and still they wanted more. They wanted her freedom. He knew that feeling, and in answer to it his throat grew tight.

"Hey," he said, nudging her arm gently.

She opened her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jeff. You were saying. Did you need something?"

"…C'mere." He pulled her close, tucking her head to his chest. She was silent. Her back shuddered a little, so he enclosed her in his arms as best he could. He kissed and stroked her short clipped hair. She carried the scent of vanilla, the sea breeze and everything good about the galaxy.

Shepard broke like glass. The sound of her wordless sob made his throat knot up so bad it was almost hard to swallow. Everything she went through, he was right there with her. Physically in only a few cases, but always in her helmet. Every hard decision and breath held in hesitation was a memory he shared, too. His way of dealing with it all was not to think about it most of the time. Always, he tried to focus on the next thing, and to give her someplace else to be when she was with him. But as her tears seeped through onto his skin, he knew she didn’t have that luxury anymore. He wanted to tell her it was okay, except it wasn’t okay, not at all. He didn’t dare shush her, the last thing she needed was to be told to shove it all back down inside herself.

After a little while, it felt right to sway, like when he was held once himself, a long time ago. Eventually, her halting breaths steadied, and tears slowly stopped spreading the wet patch on his shirt. He lost track of how long they stayed like that. He would have stayed the whole night like that if he could, but his left thigh trembled. Always the weaker of the two, his left had more extensive work done to the weak bones, and the muscles fatigued quicker. Just balancing on one wasn't an option.

"Mm, yanno, I didn't realise the fact I never heard a raven before would upset you so much," he whispered in her ear as he rubbed at a knot between her shoulders. She shook again, and Joker's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. But a second or so later, her quiet laughter made him sigh with relief. "Yeah… Okay. Hey, I need to get off my feet."

Her fingers curled around his as she followed him back inside. There was some long couch thing in the obscenely picturesque living room, and that would do just fine. He moved several of the fifteen cushions people always fill couches up with onto the floor and eased himself down, gingerly putting pressure on the twitching muscle. She reached over and pressed at it too. He kept waiting for her to speak, to address what just happened somehow, but kneading the muscle in silence was all she would do.

“Been a while since you shaved your head,” he said, running his fingers through the fine growth. “You growing it out?”

She smiled and scratched his chin pleasantly through his beard. “The reason I left flight school used to have a thing for long hair,” she said quietly. “I’ve kept it shaved ever since.”

“Oh. Right.” He took a second to admire the half-inch of rich chestnut brown. “Hey, only grow it out if you want to. Y’know, luscious vid-star locks or not, doesn’t matter to me.”

The weight of her head lay against his shoulder. “I think it’s time.”

“Because that doesn’t sound ominous.”

She smiled softly. Even red eyed, pale-faced, and her face wet with tears, Shepard was always beautiful. Dabbing at her eyes again with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she said, “I shaved it all off the same day I left flight school. It was… kind of a statement, back then.”

“Well. Whatever statement you’re making now, I’m listening,” he said. Her green eyes flicked from point to point, studying him. “Ah heh,” he added with a grin, “That sounded a lot less serious in my head. You know something I’ve always wanted to do, though?”

“What’s that?”

“This,” he said, and traced from her forehead down her cheek, as if tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her arms slid around him. She sniffled, then grinned wide, in that way she always did before saying something stupid. “You say you don’t mind my hairstyle choices, but I’d dump you if you shaved.”

He laughed. “Listen, I’d dump me if I shaved.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “I don’t actually have this killer jawline, it’s all just sculpted hair. I look like a yahg under this.”

She kissed his cheek. “You know, I’d never seen you in actual sunlight before today.”

“O-kay…? You say that as if I look different?”

“No, but stark light shows details, and I noticed something I never did before,” she said as she took his arm into her lap. “You’re covered in all these light freckles. The light from the displays washes them out and I’ve only ever seen you in dim light.”

“Uh… huh,” he puzzled. “There was that time your leg was all busted up and I took you to a café.”

“Yeah, but even in the day, the Citadel looks very different from Earth. Anyways. It reminded me of something from when I was very little.” Shepard turned his hand over and began drawing ticklish little circles in his palm. “My grandmother was a pretty interesting woman, from what I remember. She used to tell me that freckles were a kind of map,” she explained, squinting down at his skin in the darkness of the room. “She said they are a star chart, and they show a snapshot of the universe where a person’s soul was born.”

Joker lay his head back. Shepard’s little piecemeal memories of her family were always interesting, but very often bittersweet. If it had been anyone else’s anecdote, he might have made some kind of crack about such a sentimental idea, but as she curled up to his side, he couldn’t bring himself to wreck it for her.

“Well, let’s think,” he said. “I got a billion of these, all over, so clearly I’m from somewhere near Sagittarius. What about you, though?” It was hard to see much, but her skin tone looked smooth as ever. “I don’t think you have very many.”

“No. Just a handful, here and there. I remember wishing for a million of them, just like she had.”

“Ugh, you’re gonna give me a cavity,” he groaned. “Little baby Bailie at like five years old asking her gramma how to grow stars on her or something. It belongs in a cartoon.”

“Hard to tell, but I think you’ve got about sixty-seven right here… I need better light.”

“You’re… counting them?”

“I am,” she said. “It could be fun.”

“You have a weird idea of fun,” he said, shaking his head.

Her lips travelled up his arm, from his wrist to his shoulder. “Do I? I think our sensibilities might be closer than you think…” “Oh?” “I’ve been thinking.” “That usually ends in explosions somehow,” he said. She smiled softly. “I think... I want to spend these next six days finding out where you’re from.”

“How are you gonna do that by just counting ‘em?”

“Oh, Jeff. Don’t bring logic into this. Just go with it.”

“No I mean, wouldn’t you wanna cross-reference them with known star charts? I bet EDI could do that. Maybe she’d burn out a processor… Y’know, you might actually be right, that does sound kinda fun,” he said with a snicker.

“I don’t need to do that. I can use the star charts up here,” she said as she tapped her head. “See this little arrangement? Looks like the Five Sisters in the Aurean Expanse, kind of…”

“Wait, what? Really?” he asked. His forearm looked the same as it always did. Maybe there were five darker spots among them, but it was dubious at best.

“Oh, definitely,” she replied, never breaking his gaze as she kissed the spot.

“Pfft,” he said, before recognising the glint in her eye. “Oh. I mean, uh. Yeah, interesting. Y’know, with this first pass at it, maybe just take a look, and uh… mark anything you recognise? To look at. Again. Later.”

She moved fast when she needed a distraction. Her chilly fingers made him shiver in the best way as she slipped her hands up his shirt. He followed her lead and just lay back. Of all the stars to be counted, he figured he had a few lucky ones, himself.

#shoker #shoker pairing #tbmsfic #bailieshepard #bailie shepard #jeff joker moreau #hurt comfort #fluff #romance #this one was really emotional to write #i really needed this

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vegetacide · 4 years

Text

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 8.. )

Veg • notables: Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K)

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 8 - Susulan

Lady Penelope being true to her word found a wonderful woman who was well liked and sought after and she was one of several that Doctor Coxley had recommended to their Grandmother.

The tall Haitian by the name of Cecilia had credentials as long as Kayo’s arm and had worked in some of the best kitchens in the world. Several of which had Michelin star ratings due to her amazing contributions and somehow they’d managed to scoop her.

She was a true marvel and the whole family took advantage of her skills.

The boys were in heaven and so well fed that often they found themselves all camped out in the living room or out by the pool in various states of full bellied contended lethargy. Happily stuffed and satiated after a mind blowing meals. Before long it was like Cecilia had always been there and things in the house seemed to settle down back into some form of normalcy.

The two weeks following her arrival just seemed to coast by and as previously arranged the date of Doctor Coxley follow-up had come and gone with barely a hitch..

His trip had been a simple affair, the boys having been out on a call at the time. One of their security operatives had shuttled the doc to the island with little fanfare.

Kayo, though frustrated at being basically bed bound the last few weeks, found herself decidedly nervous. She was eager to know if the improvement of her condition would be enough to appease the doctor. She’d done research herself as she’d had plenty of time on her hands but she was by no means an expert.

Her pressure was down, bleeding tampering off to the odd bout of spotting. Energy levels were increasing daily and her appetite was healthy. She felt better now then she had in a while despite the lingering morning sickness and she was twitching to do something other than staring at the walls all day.

Grandma had been happy with the results as the forced rest seemed to have helped but there was no telling if she was going to be able to return to some form of duty or not.

Upon the Doctor’s arrival Grandma had shown him to their infirmary where Kayo had been waiting as patiently as she could.

After a quick but thorough exam her doctor had snapped off his gloves and tossed them in a bin before making a quick note on his data pad. When he’d turned back, he’d handed Kayo a towel and given her a hand up from the awkward position she’d had to sit in.

The island medical facilities were top notch for basic injuries but for things of this nature, not so much.

“Well, “ He’s begun pushing his glasses up his nose. “Things are looking good. The bleeding has for the most part stopped through you may still experience a bit of spotting. Typical of placenta previa.

“Baby’s heart rate sounds strong and your weight gain is all within acceptable levels for your age and fitness level.”

He’d paused as he’d looked over his note. “I’m pleased to see you’ve taken appropriate measures the last couple of weeks and I do see a marked improvement in your BP but,” he stopped for emphasis. “It’s still higher than I would like to see it.

I know you’ve been eager to get back to some sort of normal activity level but I would have to recommend that for the time being you refrain from anything too strenuous. At this stage of your pregnancy we don’t want to mess around as you still have some twenty odd weeks to go.”

Kayo had been disappointed by the results but she would do whatever needed to be done.

“Additionally,” He added, setting the data pad down to make sure he had her full attention. “Going forward I would like to be able to monitor you personally. Allowing you to come home was the best course of action given the situation at the time but I have my reservation about you not being within east travel distance of a hospital. It’s quite a hike out here even with access to the type transportation you have at your disposal but given the nature of your pregnancy I strongly recommend you relocate to the mainland.”

That certainly hadn’t been what she expected and her hand automatically settled on her middle. “Is there a problem?”

Doctor Coxley gave her knee a pat. “Just call me being overly precautious. I would rather have the necessary staff and equipment and not need it than need it and not have it.”

He’d smiled at her then, turning to gather up the equipment he’d brought with him. “I’ll advise Doctor Tracy of what we’ve discussed so arrangements can be made sooner rather than later. And I would highly recommend you make the move in the very near future as traveling any later could have detrimental effects that we would like to avoid.”

He’d left shortly after with directions to call him if she had any further questions.

It was definitely not what she’d been expecting to hear and her anxiety kicked up a notch.

The island was a secure haven but the outside world was a different story. If the media got wind that she was on the mainland and pregnant there would be no way to stop that shit storm that would follow. Their family privacy would be out the window in an instant and the vultures would start circling like that carrion loving garbage eaters they were.

She’d cursed as she dropped her face into her hands

“So, “ Virgil said, stepping from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his hips. “He wants you to be closer to medical help if need be.”

His wife gave a nod and he leaned a heavy shoulder against the door frame, arms crossing tight over his chest.

It wasn’t idle that was for sure, security wise it was a nightmare and as for call out the logistics were .. well to say it wasn’t the best was putting it lightly.

“We’ll talk to Scott and Dad in the morning. We’ll figure it out somehow.”

Fiddling with the end of her hair, Kayo looked off out the darkened window. “It’s not going to work with both of us being there. Two isn’t something you can just park anywhere without it being noticed. Even on a GDF base eventually it’s going to get noticed. And what about the pods?”

Brows dipping, Virgil pushed off the door frame. “What are you saying?”

She braided and unbraided the end of her hair, eyes distant and when she flicked her gaze up to him he caught on to her train of thought. Shaking his head he walked the short distance over to her and crouched at her feet.

“That is not an option and you know it.”

“Virgil, we don’t have much of a choice here. You’re needed here and we can’t just up and move Two and all her gear to the mainland for the next four months. It’s not logical or safe. It would be easier to set up a secure location for me. I can take a small security detail with me. Logistically its a sound option”

Virgil shook his head, taking her hands in his. “No, that is not a viable option, Tan. It’s too risky. Not with us having no idea where your uncle is or what he’s up to.”

“It’s been months since there’s been any sightings or news on him.. Maybe it’s time we stop hiding..”

Shocked, Virgil blinked at her. Five months earlier she’d thought that not having the baby was a better option than having it because of the Hood and now she was doing a complete about face.

“Kay, stop.” He gave her hands a squeeze running his thumb over the back of her knuckles. ‘What’s really going on here?”

She pulled away and got to her feet to walk across the room. Taking his shirt off the back of a chair she tugged it over her shoulder, her small frame dwarfed by it and Virgil got a flashback of a morning so many months ago.. One he didn’t care to be reminded of when there had been a real possibility of them not being in the position they were in now. Like having to make this sort of decision.

He would take this though over any other option as difficult as things were at the moment the alternative was not something he even wanted to fathom.

Her shoulders shrugged and she turned back to face him. “I’m just trying to not.. I don’t know...” Her shoulders slumped. “It’s just that things are so complicated and having to worry about ‘him’ all the time is exhausting.”

Going to her, he wrapped her in his arms. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s just not do anything rash before we’ve exhausted all the alternatives.”

Her slender arms slipped around his waist and she burrowed into his chest. When they were along like this was the only time he ever got to see this side of her. The vulnerable one that she tried hard to hide from the others.

Her confidence was always such a striking thing about her. Standing out and making her bigger than life but in the closed confines of their space the masks peeled away. Her guard came down and he got to see the woman underneath the warrior.

Pulling back, he took her chin in his hand and tipped her head up so he could see her face. Brushing his thumb over her pulse point, he kissed her brow and then each check reverently before skimming his lips over hers.

She sank into him easily, having long ago given up her internal battle against the feelings she’d hidden so well from him.

He caught himself though as her fingers pressed into his back. It was late and he could tell by the shadows under her eyes that Kayo needed sleep desperately. The emotional toil of the day having cost her considerably.

Her breath ghosted across his lips as she sighed, knowing like he did that stopping before things got out of hand was for the best right now.

“Come on, we can discuss this in the morning when we both aren’t dead on our feet.”

Her nod in agreement was singular and concise. A flicker of her confidence with the simple gesture returning behind the verdant green of her eyes.

She stood back, took his hand and tugged him towards the bed.

8-8-8

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #TaG Bloodlines #vegetacide #Virgil Tracy #Kayo Kyrano #virgil/kayo #Virgil X Kayo

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synthetic-ultramarine · 3 years

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i’ll apply to a job at some garbage sinister megacorporation - You know, I don't wanna name an actual sinister megacorporation so let's just make one up; let's call it "Aerolith Dynamics"

So I’ll board a space to shuttle to go to my new job and I’ll show up at the artificial satellite Typhon, and I’ll go, “can I have my memories back, please?” and the highly advanced self-aware artificial intelligence will go “No, you have permanent unrecoverable amnesia.”, And I go, "Okaaay!"

And then I go to the bathroom, And then I come out of the bathroom and I go, "Any updates?" And they go "Yeah, we’re gonna gaslight you now. Because we hate you. Now take this incorrectly issued ration card, go fetch!"

And I go, "Okaaay!" and I go over to the door of my room and go, "Can I open the door to my room?" and they go "NO!" And I go, "Okaaay!" And they go, "To open the door to your room you have to imagine being killed by a swarm of bees." And I go, "Nooo," and they go, "Do it, imagine being killed by a swarm of bees." and I imagine being killed by a swarm of bees.

And then I go over to the artificial intelligence, which is an oxymoron, and I go, "Can I please go home on a space shuttle?" and they go "No! In fact, we're gonna deliberately trigger your severe allergy to apitoxin, and you're gonna almost die!" And I go, "Why are you doing this to me?!" And they go, "Because we're Aerolith Dynamics, and life is a fucking nightmare!"

#i've started listening to sayer and i'm not sure how i feel about it so far. i'm just waiting for the plot to start I guess.#i keep waiting for something other than a second-person description of something gruesome to happen and.. not much else so far #feel like i should tag for something here but i'm not sure what #bees tw #?

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andromeda1023 · 4 years

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What Happens to Your Body When You Die in Space?

On July 21, 1969, when the Apollo 11 crew was due to depart the lunar surface after a 22-hour visit, two speeches were placed on President Richard Nixon’s desk. “Fate has ordained that the men who went to the moon to explore in peace will stay on the moon to rest in peace,” read the contingency speech. Would Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong live out the rest of their days staring at the blue glow of Earth from 250,000 miles away?

We’ve lost only 18 people in space—including 14 NASA astronauts—since humankind first took to strapping ourselves to rockets. That’s relatively low, considering our history of blasting folks into space without quite knowing what would happen. When there have been fatalities, the entire crew has died, leaving no one left to rescue. But as we move closer to a human mission to Mars, there’s a higher likelihood that individuals will die—whether that's on the way, while living in harsh environments, or some other reason. And any problems that arise on Mars—technical issues or lack of food, for example—could leave an entire crew or colony stranded and fending for themselves.

No settlement plans are being discussed at NASA (leave those to pie-in-the-sky private groups like Mars One for now), but a crewed mission has been on the docket for some time, and could touch down as early as the 2040s. NASA's "Journey to Mars" quotes an estimated three-year round-trip, leaving plenty of time for any number of things to go wrong.

"The real interesting question is, what happens on a mission to Mars or on the lunar space station if there were [a death]," says Emory University bioethicist Paul Wolpe. "What happens when it may be months or years before a body can get back to Earth—or where it's impractical to bring the body back at all?"

Today’s astronauts travel to space by way of the Russian Soyuz, then spend a few months on the International Space Station. Because astronauts are in impeccable health at the time of launch, a death in the ISS crew would likely result from an accident during a spacewalk.

"In the worst case scenario, something happens during a spacewalk,” says Chris Hadfield, Canadian astronaut and former commander of the ISS. “You could suddenly be struck by a micro-meteorite, and there's nothing you can do about that. It could puncture a hole in your suit, and within a few seconds you're incapacitated."

This hypothetical astronaut would only have about 15 seconds before they lost consciousness. Before they froze, they would most likely die from asphyxiation or decompression. 10 seconds of exposure to the vacuum of space would force the water in their skin and blood to vaporize, while their body expanded outward like a balloon being filled with air. Their lungs would collapse, and after 30 seconds they would be paralyzed—if they weren’t already dead by this point.

The likelihood of death on the ISS is low, and it’s never happened before. But what would surviving astronauts do if it did?

ISS and shuttle astronaut Terry Virts served two expeditions on the space station and one mission on the space shuttle. In total he’s clocked 213 days in space. But the astronaut says he’s never been trained to handle a dead body in space. “I did quite a bit of medical training to save people, but not for this.”

NASA's official statement to Popular Science on the subject left a lot to be desired: "NASA does not prepare contingency plans for all remote risks. NASA’s response to any unplanned on-orbit situation will be determined in a real time collaborative process between the Flight Operations Directorate, Human Health and Performance Directorate, NASA leadership, and our International Partners."

“In my 16 years as an astronaut I don’t remember talking with another astronaut about the possibility of dying,” Virts says. “We all understand it’s a possibility, but the elephant in the room was just not discussed.”

But NASA’s out-of-sight-out-of-mind policy on death may not be the norm. Commander Hadfield tells Popular Science that all international partners who train for missions to the ISS (including JAXA and ESA) do in fact prepare for the death of a crewmember.

"We have these things called 'contingency simulations' where we discuss what to do with the body,” he says.

Hadfield discusses these 'death simulations’ in his book An Astronauts Guide to Life. He sets the scene—“Mission control: 'we’ve just received word from the Station: Chris is dead.' Immediately, people start working the problem. Okay, what are we going to do with his corpse? There are no body bags on Station, so should we shove it in a spacesuit and stick it in a locker? But what about the smell? Should we send it back to Earth on a resupply ship and let it burn up with the rest of the garbage on re-entry? Jettison it during a spacewalk and let it float away into space?"

As Hadfield points out, a corpse in space presents some major logistical problems. The fact that a dead body is a biohazard is definitely the biggest concern, and finding the space to store it in is a close second.

Since NASA lacks a protocol for sudden death on the ISS, the station’s commander would probably decide on how to handle the body. "If someone died while on an EVA I would bring them inside the airlock first," Hadfield says. "I would probably keep them inside their pressurized suit; bodies actually decompose faster in a spacesuit, and we don't want the smell of rotting meat or off gassing, it's not sanitary. So we would keep them in their suit and store it somewhere cold on the station."

If submarines lose a crew member and can’t make it to land right away, they store bodies near the torpedoes—where it's cold, and separate from the living quarters. The crew of the ISS already stores trash in the coldest spot on the station; it keeps the bacteria away from them and makes smell less of an issue. "I would probably store them in there until a ship was going home, where they would take the third seat on the Soyuz,” Hadfield says. They could also store a body in one of the airlocks.

Freeze-Dried Funerals

NASA may not have specific contingency plans for a sudden death, but the agency is working on it; in 2005 they commissioned a study from Swedish eco-burial company Promessa. The study resulted in a yet-to-be-tested design called "The Body Back." The creepy-sounding system uses a technique called promession, which essentially freeze-dries a body. Instead of producing the ash of a traditional cremation, it would turn a frozen corpse into a million little pieces of icy flesh.

Freeze Dried Funerals and other thoughts: https://getpocket.com/explore/item/what-happens-to-your-body-when-you-die-in-space?utm_source=pocket-newtab

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semperintrepida · 4 years

Text

The Sellout: chapter four

four: the first thaw

This was a mistake.

Kassandra only had time for that one, brief regret as she toppled backwards into the display case. A bang clapped through her skull and left her ears ringing, and a manic grin loomed before her as the world desaturated to grey, then black... and then her vision returned in a shock of light and color as crisp as sunshine on fresh snow. Then time slowed down, down, down and she stopped thinking and started moving: finding her feet, grabbing fistfuls of the man's coat, and launching herself forward. She pushed him along, gathering speed as she angled him towards the windows, and then she threw him into the wooden bar hard enough to send the stools on top of it flying.

He bounced off the edge of the bar and landed on the floor in a sprawl, and as she sank to her knees, she heard the slap of his shoes against wood, then the door opening and closing, and then silence.

Every straight line in the room curved in on itself, and she pressed her palm into the floor to keep from falling over. Her chest was a furnace, each hot breath harsh in her ears, and she knelt there, staring at a knot in the floorboards, fascinated by the way it punctured the woodgrain around it.

Footsteps approached her in a hurry, then a voice, thin and tight, said, "Are you— Hang on, okay?"

Kassandra studied the cracks radiating out from the center of the knot. A weakness in the grain. Stupid. She'd thrown herself in harm's way for a woman who hated her. Why? She didn't even know the woman's name. So stupid.

She heard metal jangling against metal at the door. Then the footsteps returned, and the woman knelt beside her, a phone in her hand, its screen bright enough to sear a halo into the edges of Kassandra's vision.

"I'm calling 911—"

Kassandra put her hand over the screen, and as their skin touched, the woman jerked her hand and the phone away as if scalded. Kassandra sighed. "Don't."

"Don't what? Call?"

"He's long gone. The cops'll never find him, and they'll bring you more trouble than it's worth." And more trouble than Kassandra wanted to deal with to keep her name out of the newspapers and off of Twitter.

"Fine. No cops. But you should still go to the ER."

Her head ached too much to shake it. "No. I hate hospitals."

"Everyone hates hospitals."

"No ambulance."

The woman exhaled, sharp and quick. "Then what do you want to do?"

"Call an Uber, and go home." Despite her aching head and stiff neck, the burn in her lungs was fading, and the lines of the floorboards, and chair legs, and table tops were straightening back to true.

"That's a terrible plan."

Kassandra shrugged, and then she started to climb to her feet. She got as far as raising herself on one knee before her body refused to move any further. She swayed precariously. The floor seemed a long way down, and she imagined how it was going to feel when she smacked face-first into it — but hands grabbed her by her shoulders and held her upright. So much strength in those hands, but not an ounce of warmth.

"Sit here and don't move," the woman said, guiding Kassandra down so she rested with her back against the window. "I'm calling an ambulance."

Desperation drove Kassandra to catch her by the arm. "Don't. Please," she said, and the light in the room chilled from warm yellow to cold fluorescence, and instead of coffee she smelled disinfectant. She shuddered with the memory of medication and pain and being trapped in beds in white rooms, and it set off a fresh round of ringing in her ears.

The woman stared at Kassandra's hand wrapped around her forearm. "Okay, fine," she said, and when Kassandra released her, she rocked back on her heels, putting space between them. "Have it your way."

Kassandra shivered again, her spine cold where it pressed against the glass window.

The woman frowned and leaned closer. Her irises were rimmed with red, and graphite smudged the skin below her eyes. She clearly hadn't been sleeping much.

Kassandra could guess the reason why. She looked down at her hands. Stupid, coming back here — she should have left things to her research and legal teams and stayed out of the way.

"How does your head feel?" the woman asked.

"I've got a headache."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

"For a moment, if that."

"Stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

Footsteps, then rustling, and a drawer opening and closing. More rustling. More footsteps. And then the woman was back and handing her a bag of ice wrapped in a clean bar towel.

Kassandra took the ice and pressed it against the back of her head. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me. This wouldn't have happened if I'd locked the fucking door like I was supposed to."

"And you didn't because I was distracting you."

"You sure as hell did." The woman shook her head irritably. "Offering to buy me out. You don't even know what my books look like."

"I don't even know your name."

Her eyes widened a fraction. "Don't you have... people to figure stuff like that out for you?"

"Yes, but I was holding out hope you'd volunteer it."

She snorted. "Even after I told you to fuck off."

"I guess I'm just optimistic."

"No, you're just used to getting whatever you want."

It's called winning, Kassandra's brain offered unhelpfully, but she clamped her mouth shut around the words just in time.

They stared at each other in a silence that grew more and more awkward until the woman sighed and gave in. "My name's Kyra."

Kassandra extended her hand purely out of reflex. "Kassandra."

"I know," Kyra said dryly, and after the slightest of hesitations, she reached for Kassandra's hand and shook it.

A handshake was a message, and Kyra's said I don't suffer fools gladly. Her grip was firm but not crushing — though the muscles in her hands certainly held the strength to do so. Solid muscles, calloused skin. Powerlifter? No, too lean across her shoulders and thighs. Her mystery remained unsolved.

The ice was working its magic, tamping down the ache in Kassandra's skull. "I'll call that Uber now," she said.

"How did you get here?"

"Drove."

Kyra said nothing for several seconds, lost in thought. Then she gave a quick nod and said, "Look. I'll drive you home, or wherever. If you want. It's the least I can do after you..."

She didn't say ended up with a concussion on my behalf but she could have. Kassandra considered the offer. Passing out in her own car was more appealing than passing out in some random Uber, but there'd be a stranger at the wheel either way. She could see herself now: out cold in the front seat of her Audi, a flash of brake lights, the door opening, then Kyra dumping her into the nearest gutter...

Of course, if she was that worried about it, she could just call an ambulance.

"Okay," she said.

"Okay." Kyra sat back. "You all right with waiting a few minutes? I've got to close out the till."

"Sure."

Time passed in the form of sounds and silence, and then Kyra was crouching in front of her and asking, "Ready?" and when Kassandra nodded yes, Kyra offered a hand and helped haul her to her feet.

The room tilted out from under her, the floor bending like a rubber band.

A strong hand slid under her upper arm and steadied her. "You gonna make it?"

"I'm fine." She stared at the floor until its planks straightened again.

"Sure you are," Kyra said, but she didn't let go. She guided Kassandra around the stools that had fallen from the bar, and only released her when they stood before the door to the shop.

Kyra unlocked the door with a twist and jingle of metal keys, and then it swung open and Kassandra stepped into cool, night air. She waved Kyra's hands away and took a deep breath. The damp breeze sweeping in from the river was almost enough to cover the greasy carbon smell of exhaust. Around them, the sidewalks were already empty. No city packed up and went home as early as Portland did.

Her Audi sat by itself a few spaces up the way, lit by a streetlight. "I'm assuming that's yours," Kyra said, nodding in its direction, and she could have been pointing out a garbage truck for all the enthusiasm in her voice.

"Yeah." Kassandra walked gingerly to the car. The streetlight blazed down, bright as a spotlight. It made her eyeballs throb, and she squinted as she opened the passenger door and eased herself inside the car, grateful for the darkness of its interior.

It was disconcerting, sitting on this side of her own car, a mirror universe where everything was reversed and a stranger was sliding into the driver's seat. Kassandra leaned back so her head held the bag of ice in place — and then she pulled her seatbelt extra snug.

"It's like the cockpit of the space shuttle in here," Kyra said, as she ran her hands over the steering wheel and eyed the blank computer screen that took the place of a gauge cluster.

Kassandra grinned. "Push the big red button to start the launch sequence. Just don't... stomp on the gas."

But Kyra didn't leap at the chance to drive it like she'd stolen it. She took her time adjusting the mirrors and getting comfortable in her seat, and only then did she push the button to start the car, biting off a curse at the sudden roar of a hundred explosions a second being contained in the engine right behind her. Then she checked her blind spot and pulled onto Belmont as Kassandra worked the navigation system to make the route to her condo appear on the display.

Kyra's driving was competent and composed, and Kassandra began to relax despite the growing silence between them. They knew next to nothing about each other, and what they did know was something neither wanted to talk about.

The car turned as smoothly as a greased bearing onto the Burnside Bridge, the river an oily black ribbon below. At the far end of the bridge, the big "Portland Oregon" sign flashed its lightbulbs and neon, a vintage throwback that set the tone for the neighborhoods behind it.

Kyra changed lanes. "I'm surprised this thing doesn't drive itself."

"In a few more years I'm sure they'll come out with one that does, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?" The passing streetlights lit her face in alternating stripes of light and shadow.

"I like driving. The sound, the feel of it."

"Driving one of these, sure. You're like a shark among the sardines."

"True." Kassandra couldn't imagine driving a beater Honda in rush hour traffic, and was glad she'd never had to experience that particular displeasure.

They glided downtown in a smooth bubble of movement, and whether that was from the car or from Kyra's driving, Kassandra couldn't say. Downtown, where food trucks clustered under high-rise office buildings and tent cities squatted within sight of every luxury hotel.

Burnside Street took them to 10th and the Pearl District — a neighborhood as clean, shiny, and multilayered as its namesake. Dig far enough and you'd hit the industrial sands it was built upon.

"Turn into that driveway on the left," Kassandra said as she fished her keycard out of her wallet. The gate lifted and let them inside, and she guided Kyra through the cramped nautilus of the carpark until they reached another gate. This one led to her private garage, isolated and secure.

The garage had three bays, but she hadn't bothered to ship any of her other cars here. Instead, she'd brought a pair of motorcycles: her favorite Triumph custom for the street and another bike for the dirt. The riding here was supposed to be some of the best in the world, but she'd rarely had any free time to find out.

Kyra eyed the bikes as she shut the engine off and opened her door.

"You ride?" Kassandra asked from the other side of the car.

"Nah," Kyra said. "I'd never have the time." A shame. She'd look good swinging her leg over that Triumph, wearing a black leather jacket to go with the red lumberjack flannel and jeans she was wearing now...

Her voice brought Kassandra back to reality. "You've got someone at home to watch you tonight, right?"

This is what Kassandra would come home to: high ceilings, tasteful furnishings, a spectacular view of the city — all of it very, very empty in its solitude. She'd have to admit it one way or another, but if she stayed silent she wouldn't have to hear herself say the words out loud.

Kyra looked at her. "You don't," she said quietly, and Kassandra couldn't tell if she was surprised by it or not. "I fucking knew I should have driven you to Legacy and bounced you onto the doorstep of the ER."

"I'm glad you didn't," Kassandra said. "And now that I'm here, you've done your good deed and you're free to go. I'll call an Uber for you, or a taxi. Whatever you want."

"Oh no, I'm not about to let you go on alone, just so you can die all by yourself."

"Wanting to watch is a bit bloodthirsty, don't you think?"

It was a good thing there was a car between them, because Kyra looked about ready to strangle her. "That's not what I meant."

Kassandra couldn't help herself, and she laughed even though it made her headache flare. "Well, come on, then. You can hate me up close all you want."

Up close is exactly what they got: in the stairwell, in the narrow hallway to the private elevator that serviced the upper floors of the tower, and in the elevator itself, where Kyra stood as far away from her as possible. Kassandra slapped her keycard against the reader. The numbers on the floor indicator ticked higher and higher, until they weren't numbers at all, just "PH".

The elevator released them into a small foyer.

"I don't hate you," Kyra said suddenly.

"Jesus doesn't like it when you lie," Kassandra said as she used her keycard to unlock her front door, and whatever Kyra's answer would have been was swept aside by their arrival.

The lighting and window systems woke up as Kassandra's smartphone connected to her home network. A soft glow from unobtrusive fixtures brightened the open interior of the space, while the windows shed their tint to put the city skyline on full display.

Kassandra crossed the room and sank onto the low-slung couch with a grateful sigh. She kicked off her shoes, then set the melted bag of ice down on the glass end table beside her.

Kyra was still lingering by the door, where the nearest wall displayed a triptych of poster-sized, black and white photographs. A lone dirtbike outracing a dust storm across the desert. A crumbling building made abstract in shadows and light. A landscape of the mountains encircling the bowl of Death Valley.

"Who took these?" Kyra's voice echoed from across the room.

"I did." Back when she had time to ride and travel. Now most of her shots were hurried sketches taken with her phone.

Kyra's circuit of the wall pulled her past the flatscreen TV, past Kassandra's bookshelves, until she stood in front of the windows. "It's so beautiful," she murmured as she gazed at the twinkling panorama of the city's east side.

Kassandra nearly got lost watching Kyra enjoy the view before she remembered her manners. "Can I offer you something to drink? Beer? Water?" She grinned. "Coffee?"

That made Kyra turn and approach the couch. "Is it from Starbucks? Then no, thank you." She picked up the soggy bag of ice on her way past, holding up a hand when Kassandra sat forward. "No, don't get up. I can find my way to your fridge," she said, glancing at the kitchen in full view before them. A trace of humor instead of irritation. Seemed this evening would bring Kassandra one surprise after another.

But no surprise would top the fact that there was someone else here with her. She'd never invited anyone — no friends, no lovers — to her home, or to any of her homes, really, and now some stranger was rooting around in her refrigerator and cupboards.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of Kyra making herself right at home: the fridge and cabinet doors opening and closing, a quiet "Ahh!" of surprise as Kyra found her coffee stash, and then the kettle being filled and a gas burner igniting.

Then there was a gentle swirl of air beside her: Kyra, perching on the armrest of the couch, offering her a fresh bag of ice and a bottle of water. "You should drink this," she said.

Kassandra raised the bottle in thanks and took a swig.

"You've got beans from Camber and Sweet Bloom. So you do know something about good coffee."

"Not as much as I should. But coffee's not really my gig," she said, well aware of how it sounded. "I know a lot more about buildings and the land they sit on." She'd cut real estate deals and maximized returns on investments for over a decade, always high enough up the chain where the numbers involved had at least seven digits, insulated from ever having to see that the mom-and-pop competition belonged to real people instead of numbers on a spreadsheet.

Kyra's jaw clenched around a response. "I hope you don't mind me dipping into your stash," she said instead, keeping up the détente between them. "I'm going to be up awhile."

"Have as much as you want."

The sound of the kettle whistling drew Kyra away, and when she returned a few minutes later, it was with a mug cradled in her hands. She sat at the edge of the armchair across from Kassandra and closed her eyes as she inhaled the steam. "I'd offer you a cup, but I'm not sure you should with..." She gestured vaguely towards her head.

"I'm fine with this," Kassandra said, tilting her water bottle. "Which one did you pick?"

"The Sweet Bloom." Kyra sipped from the mug, then shrugged. "Aspirational, I guess, given our circumstances. And this particular roast cuts a nice profile."

"How so?"

"Light, honeyed, lots of florals. And brewed right, the results are"—she sipped again and smiled—"amazing."

That smile was enough to fill Kassandra with the irrational urge to keep her talking. "Who's your roaster?"

"Heart, here in town."

"Ahh, I should have known." They had a coffee shop of their own just up the street. "Why them?"

"They're local. And they haven't sold out to Wall Street like Stumptown did." She stood up, abruptly, and took her mug over to the windows, drinking from it as she watched the city lights. "Do you know why all the indie roasters started focusing on lighter roasts?"

"No."

"Because Starbucks went in hard on the dark roasts." Then she laughed, a brittle sound that bounced off the window glass. "I got into this business as a barista first, because I love how the best coffee tastes. I still do. I'll never serve anything less." She gazed pensively at the city, seconds stretching into minutes. Eventually, she turned to Kassandra. "How's your head?"

"Sore, but I'll live." She turned her neck experimentally. Still stiff. At least her head wasn't ringing anymore.

Kyra returned to the armchair and sat down. "Tired?" she asked.

"A little." More than a little. She'd been up since five and it had to be well past midnight by now.

"Sleeping would actually be good for you."

"Really? I thought it was the opposite," Kassandra said, remembering being poked and prodded on team flights and buses, kept from sleeping by assistant coaches after games where she'd cracked skulls with some opposing player. But that had been a long time ago.

Kyra flashed her a wicked grin. "That's why I'll be here to wake you up every couple of hours, to make sure you're just sleeping and not slipping into a coma."

Kassandra had been prepared for awkward silences, and perhaps some talking spiked with vicious, vicious words. But falling asleep while Kyra had free reign of her home... This was a terrible plan.

Kyra's grin grew wider. "Don't look so scared. My face is all over your security cameras and you know exactly where to find me." She made a show of studying her manicure. "Besides, murder's not really my style."

She had a point — and an actual sense of humor. Kassandra smiled. "I'm not so sure. You seem to know a suspicious amount about head injuries."

"I've seen enough of them to pick up a thing or two."

"I didn't know the coffee business was so dangerous."

"Not at the shop," she said, rolling her eyes. "Out on the rock, and in the climbing gym."

Rock climbing. How had Kassandra missed that connection? "Cliffhanger."

"My three loves put together."

Coffee, climbing, and books. "Tell me about them?" Kassandra winced at how inane the question sounded.

"I can definitely bore you to sleep if that's what you want."

"If I fall asleep, it won't be because I'm bored." And right on cue, she yawned.

"Well, this won't take long, then," Kyra said brightly. "So speaking of the folks at Heart — they called me up last week, all hot about this small, family farm they'd stumbled across the last time they were in Honduras..."

And Kyra talked, about heirloom coffee, and how roasters searched the world for the most interesting varieties, and Kassandra stretched out on the couch and listened, sometimes asking a question, but mostly resting in silence, mostly thinking about what it was like hearing another voice in a room that was usually so quiet and still.

And much later, she woke up to Kyra's hands gently tucking a blanket around her. "I'm awake," she murmured, wriggling in the blanket's soft cocoon.

"So you are," Kyra said wryly. She settled back into the armchair and picked up the book she'd set aside. "Go back to sleep."

"Not yet," Kassandra said, her voice thick and drowsy. The blanket was warm, like Kyra's hands had been. "I want to know what book... you're..." And then her brain tucked itself in and said good night.

Chapter four of The Sellout. Continued in chapter five...

#kyssandra #kassandra #ac odyssey #coffee shop au #the most purely realistic fight scene i've ever written lol #i've decided that kass doesn't have superpowers in this au #but she has some advantages that most people don't #i'm loving the pov switches in this one #even if they're tricky to keep consistent #the sellout

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jessethorn · 4 years

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Some Los Angeles Tips

People are always asking me what they should do when they visit LA. I am by no means the greatest LA expert on earth, but I’ve lived here more than a decade now, and I have some ideas for you. Note that I live in the far Northeast corner of LA, and really rarely travel to the western half of town. So if you are looking for advice on Beverly Hills stuff or Malibu stuff or whatever, I am not that helpful. Also this is very subjective and really non-comprehensive in general. Just some stuff I like!

In General

Rent a car if you drive, but don't be afraid to take the bus or subway. There are some very long distances to traverse, and not everything is convenient to transit, but the transit is reasonably comfortable and efficient for a lot of purposes (going downtown, for example), particularly when combined with some judicious ride-sharing. There's plenty of parking everywhere, despite what Angelenos would have you think. Don't try to do too many things in one day, or cross town on the 10, 101 or 405 at anything even resembling rush hour (ie between like seven and ten thirty or three and seven on weekdays). Stick to one area for the day, maybe two.

The Museum of Jurassic Technology This is the best thing in Los Angeles and one of the best things in the world. It is part museum, part art project. To explain it much further might ruin the experience of visiting it, but please take my word that it is one of the most amazing places in the world.

The Watts Towers As the name suggests, they're in Watts, a bit out of the way for some trips, but absolutely without a doubt worth the travel. They're an incredible artwork/building built in a backyard out of rebar, concrete, glass and tile by an illiterate Italian immigrant in the mid-20th century. Worth signing up for a tour, they are cheap (it's a city park) and not all that long. There's also a little gallery on the site. One of the great works of American outsider art and a deeply beloved city treasure.

Other, More Regular Museums LACMA is a world-class art museum. The collection is a bit scattered (and as of this writing a wing is closed for renovation and replacement), but it's really good. It's in Mid-City on the Miracle Mile, and surrounded by other museums. The Petersen Automotive Museum is pretty cool if you're into cars. La Brea Tar Pits are more park than museum, but the museum is fun in a kitschy way, if you're into prehistoric creatures. It's also a nice place to eat lunch. In Exposition Park are a few major museums - the Natural History Museum is pretty good, though not better than others in other major cities (the Field Museum or whatever). The science museum is OK but significantly outclassed by the competition (it's no Exploratorium), though it does have a real space shuttle, which is pretty sweet. The Annenberg Space for Photography does what it says on the label. A good mid-size museum of photographs, check what show is up. The Broad is a nice contemporary art museum in a beautiful building that's right near Walt Disney Concert Hall, also an incredible building. They have a second campus in Little Tokyo that's very nice but smaller.

Architectural Stuff The LA Conservancy runs affordable walking tours that take you into some of the most fascinating built environments in LA. The subject matter ranges from Art Deco in downtown to the modern skyscrapers of the 50s through 90s. They're mostly Saturdays, but a few also run on weekdays. Can't recommend them enough if you're up for a couple hours of walking. You can go inside the Bradbury Building and up into the upper floors! It's cool. (The Conservancy also runs screenings in the big movie palaces downtown, which are mostly otherwise closed to the public. Definitely recommend those.) A couple of other architectural highlights: the Hollyhock House is in Barnsdall Park in Los Feliz. It's a restored Frank Lloyd Wright estate willed to the city many years ago that as of relatively recently runs regular tours. Also in the park is the city art museum of LA, which sometimes has some cool shows. Cal Poly Pomona students run tours on Saturdays of the Neutra VDL studio and residences in Silver Lake, which can be combined with a nice walk around the lake and some middle-aged-hipster watching. The Gamble House in Pasadena is an absolutely breathtaking craftsman mansion with a lot of

Griffith Park Griffith Park is one of the largest urban parks in the United States. It has all kinds of stuff within it - the LA Zoo, the Griffith Observatory, some great hiking. It's a great place to spend some time. If you have little kids, they will love Travel Town, a train graveyard/museum that's inside the park (and free!). The zoo is good if you like zoos, though not incredibly great or anything. The Autry Museum of the American West is worth a visit if you're into that kind of thing.

The Grove I know that we talk about The Grove a lot on Jordan, Jesse, Go. Please do not waste your vacation time at the Grove. It's a mall. It's fine. This also applies to the Americana at Brand, which we sometimes talk about because we have talked about the Grove too much. Also a mall. A little nicer than some? I went there when I needed a new power cable for my Surface.

Dodger Stadium Look, I am a Giants fan and hate the Dodgers, but if you are a baseball fan, Dodger Stadium is a great place to watch a baseball game. Even I can admit that. Angel Stadium is about as generic as it gets, but if you go on a weekday you can take a train from Union Station in LA.

The Getty Center The Getty Center is a beautiful building on a breathtaking piece of real estate. It's pretty cool to visit, but be aware that most of the art is pretty early, so if you don't like busts or paintings of feasts and stuff from the bible, then it might not be your jam art-wise. And getting up there is a whole thing. That said: it really is a beautiful building and an incredible view, so you probably won't feel like it's a waste. And if you like busts, then get your ass over there.

Downtown Stuff I will again recommend the LA Conservancy's walking tours to get a flavor of downtown LA, which is very walkable and full of incredible stuff. The main library is a beautiful edifice, the history of which is detailed in Susan Orlean's The Library Book. Worth wandering around in. Grand Central Market is a great place to get a bite, though pretty bougie at this point. Right next to Grand Central Market is Angel's Flight, a block-long funicular that is a lot of fun and costs next to nothing. Besides this, there are still functional specialized commercial districts in downtown LA. The flower district is particularly fun - the big flower market opens early for wholesale sales but is open to the public and there are tons of stores selling silk and artificial flowers which are very fun to wander through. There are also areas with stores specializing in selling imported toys, store fixtures (a favorite of mine), jewelry and fabric. Most of the fabric is kinda garbage honestly but there is a good tailor supply store called B. Black and Sons and a great hat making store (worth visiting even if you don't make hats) called California Millinery Supply. FIDM also has a thrift store with cheap fabric leftover from LA-based factories.

Movies The Arclight is a fancy movie chain, and the Hollywood location (near Amoeba Records) is also the home of the Cinerama Dome, which is pretty fun. The Vista is a great single-screen theater on the east side. There are some great rep houses on the west side - check your local listings.

Comedy Stuff The UCB has a few great shows every night at both locations. It's hard to go wrong, though you should be aware you will be seeing things that are a little rougher than whatever makes it to your town as a road show. The signature improv show is Asssscat, which is absolutely as good as it gets. Dynasty Typewriter (right by our office) has a lot of great shows these days. A great standup show is Hot Tub at the Virgil. The big comedy clubs have pretty comedy-club-y comedy in them, not necessarily what I'd recommend, though you will certainly see a lot of relatively big names doing sets. The Improv Lab sometimes has MaxFun-adjacent headliners who've put together their own lineups, as does Flappers in Burbank. Largo has bigger-name shows of this variety as well, and if you go see a show there headlined by a Sarah Silverman or Patton Oswalt, the lineup will likely be packed with their pals, even if they aren't advertised.

Some Places To Eat This is NOT a comprehensive list. First: Jonathan Gold died a few years ago, but he is still the king of LA food. Anything he recommended in the Weekly or Times is still the gold standard (no pun intended). He was also a wonderful writer and a champion of foodways that are unfamiliar to many in LA, much less outside LA. If you are a food nerd, KCRW's Good Food is a superb local food show (and podcast) produced by Nick Liao, who used to work at MaxFun.

Philipe's The French Dip A restaurant that's been around for literally a century, with sawdust on the floor, big jars of pickled eggs, ladies in hairnets and really tasty French Dips. They have competing claims to having invented them but the other competitor turned into one of those goofy sleeve-garter-barman subway tile exposed lightbulb places about ten years ago. Philipe's is totally for real and great.

Pie N Burger This is just a burger place in Pasadena that sells classic SoCal-style burgers and is really great. Cash only, though.

Langer's The only one of the Jewish delis in LA that's really worth a special trip. The #19 (pastrami, cole slaw and swiss on rye) is truly one of the world's greatest foods. Pastrami here is better than anywhere else I've ever eaten, including those famous delis in New York.

Park's BBQ

One of many great Korean BBQ restaurants in LA, but the only one recommended to me personally by Jonathan Gold. (I also like Soot Bull Jeep, which barbeques over charcoal and will leave you smelling like smoke, and Hae Jang Chong for all-you-can-eat.) (There are LOTS of different kinds of Korean food, but I am not an expert on the soups and blood sausages and bibimbaps and etc., but if you're adventurous, you could eat a different Korean food at a different spot every month in LA and make out well.)

Guelagetza Oaxacan food is one of the best kinds of food in the world, and Guelagetza is an LA institution that serves good-quality Oaxacan food. Moles, tlayudas, queso fundido. If you've never eaten any of this stuff, a couple of chicken moles are a great place to start (as is Guelagetza).

Dim Sum You can drive all the way to the San Gabriel Valley and eat at one of the many wonderful dim sum places there. That's where the best stuff is. If it's not worth a special trip to you, I like a place called Lunasia in Pasadena, and they also serve dim sum for dinner. Not a HUGE menu but good food.

Mozza This pizzeria, now a sort of group of restaurants, is an unimpeachably excellent Fancy Meal in LA. So (per my producer Kevin) are the other restaurants run by the same chef, Nancy Silverton.

The Dal Rae This is an old-timey fancy restaurant in Pico Rivera, a semi-industrial part of LA. It's just a great place to wear a suit to and eat Clams Casino. Famous for their table-made Caesar salad (legit great) and pepper steak (too peppery for me). Generally the food is excellent in a 1955 sort of way.

Bludsoe's Best Texas-style barbeque I've had outside of Texas. Used to be a window down by the airport, now a fancier place on La Brea, but I'm told the food is just as good at the fancy place.

Pupusas I love to eat pupusas. Maybe my favorite food. I really like to eat pupusas at Los Molcajetes on Hoover in Westlake (near Koreatown). Note they are weirdly big here (a regional variation of some kind) and they only take cash. (Note also this is one of 10,000 restaurants in LA named Los Molcajetes.) I also sometimes eat at a nice sit-down Salvadoran place called Las Cazuelas on Figueroa in Highland Park.

In N Out In N Out is good! It will not change your life! But it is very tasty, especially for a $4 food! Some people complain about the fries, which are fresh-cut and fried only once and thus are less crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside than some others! I think they are fine! Try In N Out, why not! But maybe don't make a whole special trip to do so!

Tacos and Other SoCal Mexican Food Stuff Everyone has their own favorite taco places, and none of my favorites are so special they should be destinations. They are mostly my favorites because they are close to my home and work. But I can tell you that I like to get sit-down Mexican-American food at La Abeja on Figueroa in LA, where I eat a lot of carne adovada and enchiladas and sometimes albondigas or breakfast. I also really like to eat carne en su jugo at Carnes Asadas Pancho Lopez on Pasadena in Lincoln Heights. I eat tacos from Tacos La Estrella on York in Highland Park or the truck (with no name) across from the Mexican consulate on Park View at sixth in Westlake. At night I sometimes get cheap tacos (I like buche) from the place that opens up on Pasadena at Avenue 37. I like the shrimp and fish tacos at Via-Mar on Figueroa. I like Huaraches from Huaraches Azteca on York. The burritos at Yuca’s in Los Feliz (or Pasadena) are great, though they are totally different from the SF-style burritos that I grew up eating. I sometimes get nachos at Carnitas Michoacan on Broadway in Lincoln Heights, which feature meat and cheese sauce and are gross but also really, really good. I have also eaten at the very fancy Mexican restaurant Border Grill and to be honest it is really good even though the interior feels a little like a cross between a fancy restaurant in 1989 and a Chili's.

El Coyote This is a famous Mexican-American restaurant from the early part of the 20th century, but you shouldn't go there because the food sucks.

Stores I Like This is going to be REAL subjective, but a few stores I like which sell the kinda stuff you'd expect me to want. &etc - A great (small) antique store at 1913 Fremont in Pasadena. The Last Bookstore - A downtown bookstore that is the closest thing to a "destination" book store in LA. Good selection and reasonable prices on used books, and a nice art book room. (Records as well, but they're not very good.) Gimme Gimme Records - I like this record store in Highland Park. You'll pay retail here, but reasonable retail, and the selection (while not immense) is really excellent. Good stuff in all genres.

Secret Headquarters - One time at this small comics store in Silver Lake the lady at the counter asked if I was Jesse from Jordan Jesse Go and they won my business forever in that moment. Don Ville - My friend Raul makes and sells shoes (and repairs them!) in the northern part of Koreatown. If you have the dough, get him to make you some shoes! The Bloke - A really great little menswear store in Pasadena. Sells cool (expensive) trad-ish brands like Drake's and Hilditch & Key and Alden. The Good Liver - A beautiful shop in Little Tokyo specializing in perfect home goods. The perfect scissors, the perfect dish towel and so forth. Some things are expensive, some aren't. H Lorenzo Archive - The "outlet" shop of a designer clothing store on the west side. Discounts aren't huge, but the selection is really interesting, and they have a good collection of one of my favorite brands, Kapital. Sid Mashburn - Excellent classic clothing shop on the west side. Suit Supply & Uniqlo - if you haven't got these where you live, they're the places I usually send people for reasonably-priced tailored clothes (Suit Supply) and cheap basics (Uniqlo). Olvera Street - This is an old-timey tourist attraction, a street of folks selling Mexican handcrafts (and their Chinese-made analogs). Right near Union Station and Philipe's, and a great place to buy factory-made huaraches (the shoes, not the food). They even have sizes big enough for me, which is pretty much impossible to find in Mexico or most Mexican-American shoe stores. Thrift Stores - I go to a lot of thrift stores but if I told you which ones you might buy something I would have bought so I'm not going to tell you which thrift stores.

Flea Markets You may know I am at the flea market every weekend. The good fleas are on Sundays, and there's one every week. First Sunday of the month is Pasadena City College, a big (and free) market with pretty reasonable pricing. PCC has a pretty big record section in addition to the regular flea market stuff. Second weekend is the famous Rose Bowl flea, which is HUGE and has a big new goods section (blech) and vintage clothing area (good!). Third weekend is Long Beach Airport, which is a great overall show. Fourth is Santa Monica airport, which is smaller and a little fancier but very nice. The Valley flea is also fourth Sundays, at Pierce College, and that's not huge but sometimes surprises me. With all of these, the earlier you can arrive, the better you'll do (not least for weather reasons). I usually try to get there around 7:30 or 8:00. The Rose Bowl in particularl is a 4-6 hour operation if you do most of it. There are also a lot of swap meets - I don't know enought to recommend any in particular, but these are much more about tube socks and batteries and bootleg movies than antiques and collectibles. Still can be fun, though, and are certainly a proud SoCal tradition. (The Silverlake Flea and the Melrose Trading Post are garbage, don't go there.)

Going to the Beach I'm not a huge beach goer, but by all means go to the beach if that's your thing. The Annenberg Community Beach House in Santa Monica is a great place to base your operation, though you have to arrive in the morning on busy days to get a parking spot.

Kid Stuff I mentioned Travel Town, that's pretty great. Kidspace in Pasadena is a very good children's museum. The Bob Baker Marionette Theater is a great place to see a marionette show straight out of 1966. There's a good aquarium in Long Beach though it's a bit nutty there on weekends, and the zoo in Griffith Park is a good zoo. I really like Descanso Gardens, a big botanical garden northeast of LA. Huntington Gardens is also very nice, though it's much more expensive and hotter.

Geography Los Angeles is BIG. I'd say try to spend each of your days within about a sixth of it, geographically. It's entirely possible to do west side and east side stuff on the same trip, but don't try to do them on the same day. Look at a map and look at driving times when you're planning. Neighborhoods in LA are BIG, geographically speaking, don't assume two things in the same neighborhood are an easy walk. There aren't a ton of urban neighborhoods suitable for wandering in the way there are in some places. A few manageable general areas for stuff you might like: Silverlake/Los Feliz/Echo Park, Koreatown, Highland Park, downtown, Little Tokyo and the Arts District. (I live in the northeast part of town, and don't spend much time on the west side, which is one reason why this list focuses more on east side stuff. Some folks like West Hollywood and Venice on the west side. Long Beach and Pasadena are both neat towns with their own thing going on that might be worth a visit, too.)

Books & Media The Great Los Angeles Book is probably City of Quartz, a socialist-leaning history of LA. I really loved Susan Orlean's The Library Book, which is about the library as an institution, but also specifically the LA central library and the mysterious fire that nearly destroyed it. And a wild guy named Charles Lummis who was one of the founding fathers of LA culture and was really something else. (You can visit his house - it's right off the 110 near Highland Park.) An LA movie I love is The Long Goodbye, which is sort of a predecessor/inspiration for The Big Lebowski. A shaggy mystery directed by Altman where Elliott Gould just sort of wanders around LA. Another really cool one is Los Angeles Plays Itself, a long (long!) film essay about the ways the real Los Angeles has been used to create fictional worlds in film over the decades.

TV Tapings I'm not an expert in TV tapings. I can say that I've been to a few Conan tapings, and while it takes a LOOOOONG time to get in there, the show is fun to watch live. This is generally true of talk shows and most game shows, which tape more or less as-live. Sitcoms take WAY longer than you were expecting them to. Make sure to try to book tickets early if you have something you want to see. No matter what it's a most-of-the-day thing.

Nightlife Is a word that describes evening activities - especially dance clubs. I am old and don't know about these things.

The Magic Castle I can't get you in, please don't ask me to. I went a couple times. It's fine. If you're not into magic you're not missing too much. If you are, then obviously, it's a priority.

The Walk of Fame and Hollywood Not recommended, not worth it, don't bother.

Disneyland Why would you want my opinion about Disneyland? It's Disneyland. You're in or you're out.

San Diego If you happen to plan a side trip to San Diego, you can take the Amtrak there, and it is a breathtakingly beautiful and exceedingly pleasant trip. I have no San Diego expertise to impart beyond that, however.

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