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deniigi · 3 years

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Blame @petrichordiam for this.

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Title: centerstage

Summary: An academic goes to a conference and is jazzed to see a jedi speak there. He unknowingly sits next to this jedi’s Support Squad.

The jedi Support Squad is like 85% clones, and 15% Jedi Generals.

No one mentions that the jedi speaking has never done this before and is petrified out of his blessed little mind.

*Anakin is like 19-20ish here.

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Sion Jissard has spent the last ten years of his life in the dredges of archives, digging through documents and testing fibers found between the flimsy, papery pages of old texts—scrounging for clues to recreate the conditions of the great conference halls and small, tucked away offices in which some of the most powerful people in the galaxy once gathered to whisper and shout over the fate of whole planets.

He has a hypothesis that the conditions in those rooms affected the decisions made in them. His hypothesis is strong enough that it has endured several rounds of peer-review and escaped those vulture-like clutches mostly unscathed in published form—both in journal and, his chest swells to recall, in book formats.

His book has sold several hundred copies and been cited in a plethora of upcoming article submissions.

The last eight years of tension in his marriage has eased in light of this. The salary from the professorship obtained in light of the book certainly hasn’t hurt it either.

His two doctorates are set on the wall of his office and when he receives word that a conference on ‘Intergalactic Unionism and Peace Negotiation’ is to be held in two months time, he opens up the speakers list and raises his head to gaze upon those two solid frames.

There will be jedi speakers at the conference. Several, actually. The whole thing is to be held on Coruscant, in the small visitors’ wing of the Jedi temple itself.

Sion Jissard pinches the fabric of his suit and then lightly slaps at his cheek to make sure that he is not dreaming.

He has only recently begun studying the jedi order’s material world and the role that world plays in their intergalactic peace-making practices. Prior to this, he considered the subject too on-the-nose. Jedi studies are rampant. Everyone wants a piece of that pie—the allure of it being that the jedi themselves, scholars in their own rights, refuse to partake in examinations of their culture.

They are notoriously obstinate. Their grandmasters refuse to let outsiders into their archives. Their masters shut down any and all attempts to obtain interviews or transcripts or documents with empty expressions or gentle, pitying smiles. Their knights blink with confusion at personal and personal-adjacent questions, and the little ones, the apprentices, are shielded behind all of these people as though the elbow-padded questioners are threatening their precious little lives.

In short, the jedi are happy to listen but loathe to teach. If you are not one of their soldiers or one of their fellows, they will lie to your face and tell you that it is their religion to do so.

And yet here they are, offering up a scholar’s wetdream and even allowing a handful of their own to present on their areas of expertise.

Sion Jissard will pass up this opportunity only upon pain of death.

He applies for the conference as a participant, not a speaker, and is delighted to receive confirmation of his place within mere minutes.

He puts the date on his calendar and starts looking into transit to Coruscant for the event in two months time.

Sion arrives on Coruscant, at the foot of the Jedi Temple itself, and stares up at it for so long that he begins to feel sick to the gills.

He fumbles for his confirmation at the little table set up in the interior courtyard behind a side-entrance door. He is distracted by the fact that the woman he is standing in front of is a Jedi. She is helped by two small children and holds a baby who is dead-set on unraveling the knots that decorate her thick waist band. Even the baby is dressed in double-collared cream-colored robes.

Sion has so many questions he wants to ask.

The jedi asks him for his name. She has a collection of name badges before her, but none of them are his. He gives his name and the master turns to the little girl sat at her right elbow with a brush in hand and instructs her to write it out.

The jedi child—not an apprentice, her robes are cream still, there are no additional earth-colors layered on top of it—writes Sion’s name in beautiful script on a little card and hands the card to the master, who puts it in a holder with a pin on it and places it into Sion’s hand.

She instructs him to go through the side door and enjoy some refreshments before the event begins. The baby in her lap looks up at her abruptly and bonks his sweet little head against her chin.

Sion forgets himself.

“How old?” he asks automatically, gesturing to the baby.

The master looks down into her lap.

“He is eight months and 75% lung,” she says affectionately.

“Ah. Mine was like that, too,” Sion says. “He grew out of it. He’s only 40% lung now.”

The master smiles.

Sion removes himself from her table before he embarrasses himself further.

There are enough people inside the front room of the jedi’s visitor’s wing to nearly fill it to capacity. The volume, though everyone is whispering, is great enough to be heard from outside the door. The room itself is earth-colored with a high ceiling. Its walls all contain niches with rounded borders. Columns with deep-cut creases in them arch high to the skylights.

It is all beautifully geometric, stoic, and clean. And even though the walls and floor are built from materials of warm tones, the skylights overhead and the surrounding addtion of books and holorecords set into the walls lend it a cooling quality.

What should have been imposing architectural feels more like holy space. The room is one that reverberates with reminders to respect all around you.

Sion’s fingers yearn to document this, but there is a sign right by the room’s entrance that asks politely for no recordings or holographs to be taken.

“Professor Jissard,” a familiar voice says.

Sion feels his whole body droop. He turns to see Teo Detras stood before him in his obnoxious, roaring red robes.

“I’m pleased that you too were able to secure an invitation, sir,” Teo says as though he has not attempted to place Sion on the metaphysical chopping block for each of his premises since the time they began their academic programs.

Sion opens his mouth to point out that this is also his area of study and that Teo has no monopoly on the field of Jedi architecture when a quiet passes over the room. Sion watches the heads around him lift and searches for the source of the sudden shudder of silence.

He finds it in a tall master with dark skin standing at the very front of the space. The man has tucked his hands neatly into the mouths of his sleeves.

He is Jedi Master and General Mace Windu. Sion has read and reread his essays, not caring so much for what he is talking about but how he is talking about it. His metaphors and examples should have been insight into the common experiences of those living in the Jedi temple.

Sion has found, however, that Jedi Master Mace Windu does not especially care for eloquence or metaphor. He cares only to methodically destroy the argument (if it could be called that) published by a jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn many years ago. Though Master Jinn has not published for several decades now, Master Windu’s writings remain agitated by his interpretations of the jedi’s Spiritual energy, the Force.

Just gazing upon the man now, Sion would not think him capable of agitation.

Master Windu welcomes the academics to the temple and says that he regrets not having more time to speak with each of the attendees as individuals, but there is a war on and his clone troopers require his services. He encourages people to refrain from any recordings of the temple due to its sacred nature, and he asks that attendees be mindful of the jedi Initiates (the white-robed children) who are confused and intrigued by all of the non-jedi people inhabiting their usual playroom.

He cautions everyone that if anyone slips on a toy, he warned them, and the temple is not liable for their medical bills.

This is a joke.

People are unsure of whether or not to laugh. Some laugh awkwardly far too late. Master Windu gives no sign on his face that he appreciates or disapproves of this.

Instead, he steps from his space of honor and leaves in his place a young man with feathery blonde hair and a highly expressive countenance, who drops his armload of documents on the floor obnoxiously and flings himself down to snatch up only the conference program, as if this was the most efficient way of finding it.

People know to laugh this time.

The young man begins announcing panel topics and rooms and give his strong opinions on each of them.

More people laugh. It feels less like a sin.

“And that’s all, my dears and darlings,” the young man says, “Mind your step into the conference rooms, our predecessors derived joy from an unexpected drop.”

Sion has only one panel that he will kill at minimum three bodies to sit in on. It is the one on peace strategy and resource management. He is not here for the peace strategy or the resource management parts of the talk; his burning interest yearns instead in listening to how and if people talk about their space and things. He wants to write down the language they use. He wants to learn about the physicality of peace.

He thinks ‘The Physicality of Peace’ would make a very compelling title for another book.

So he slips through the arched doors of conference room 3 and finds himself in a tiered lecture theatre. There is a small balcony with rows of pew-like benches that hangs over a lower seating area. He takes a seat at the edge of the front pew and sets his datapad on his lap for note-taking. At the front of the room there is a long bench—not a quite table, but definitely a tall bench, and behind it, there is an enormous screen for displaying images and information. Someone has very kindly thought to place a jug of water and some cups at the center of the bench by a microphone.

Sion gets the impression from its awkward, dead-center placement that it is an addition that the jedi themselves usually forego.

He wonders what that means. He only wonders for about 15 seconds before a hand touches his shoulder and he jerks in alarm.

“My apologies, sir. We were just wondering if the space next to you is available?” says the smooth-faced, copper-haired man standing above him.

He is wearing white armor on top of his layered robes. The arms and legs that emerge from his long off-white tunic are dark in color, but his boots are hard and white and come up and over his kneecaps.

Sion is speechless.

This is General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has touched Sion’s shoulder and apologized to him.

He doesn’t have words. He can only make fish-mouthed motions and then point and nod.

General Kenobi accepts this with grace and stands up straight. He waves behind him to call his companions over to join him on the balcony’s edge.

They arrive as a pack.

Instead of coming around and staggering past Sion’s knees at the edge of the bench, General Kenobi climbs over its back and settles in. He then twists back over the row and holds his hands out; a Clone Trooper in full armor hands to him a strange bundle of woolen, brown robe. It produces legs and arms and then bright blue and white lekku once Kenobi has situated it next to him.

“Fooled ‘em,” the little Togruta that emerges from the cloth says brightly.

“Shh,” Kenobi says. “Cody, you next.”

“No, I want Rex to sit with me.”

“Ahsoka, shhh.”

“Rex.”

“Child, this is how people like me get banned from meetings; you’re not even supposed to see—”

“REX.”

“HUSH. Okay, okay. Rex. Pst. Cody, get Rex. Cody, oh for the love of—Wolffe, yes—no. Wolffe, look at me. Get Cody to get Rex.”

Sion cannot believe what he is seeing. General Kenobi appears to be sneaking half of his command into the balcony area. There are more than a few clone troopers there are at least twenty. They are somehow visibly excited despite their matching helmets. The General is able to tell them apart easily. He leans over the back of the bench again and crooks his finger at one of the troopers who leans forward. He tells them to throw something at their commander.

The Clone takes off his glove, stands, and nail a clone standing in the aisle in the head with it. The slap of contact makes this clone cease speaking in serious low tones with a clone decorated with blue edging in front of him. The first clone draws himself up perfectly straight and turns around with a fury that even Sion can feel the heat of.

His armor is painted yellow in places.

He holds the glove in his hand like a threat. The clone who threw it winces and points wordlessly to General Kenobi, then sits down in a hurry. Kenobi smiles wide and white. He has freckles on his face that do not appear on any of the images of him that appear on the news.

He’s also shorter than Sion himself, even sitting.

“Sir,” the white and yellow clone says stiffly.

“Rex,” Kenobi says through that threat of a smile. “Get over here.”

The Togruta child twists around excitedly as the clone in white and blue exits the conversation with the one in white and yellow and surveys the rows of his fellows piled into the space behind the General and the child. He has to squeeze past the line of knees and then climb over the bench to sit down next to the child, who immediately cuddles up to him.

��Hey, that’s my seat,” a new voice whispers.

Sion looks back to see General Quinlan Vos with his arms crossed over his chest, recognizable in any setting. Behind him is General Koon. General Kenobi slaps a hand to his forehead and grumbles, then shoos the blue edged clone and the child a few seats down.

The generals clamber just as awkwardly as the blue clone through the sea of knees of the troopers and then over the back of the bench.

Somehow, Sion has won the jackpot. He is now surrounded by jedi culture, literally.

“All of you, back,” Kenobi snaps down the bench when everyone is just starting to get comfortable. “Cody. Commander, come here.”

The clone trooper with the yellow edging does not want to play this game. He shifts his weight back onto his other heel as Kenobi pats the newly vacated space next to him. General Vos croons in a teasing tone something about Kenobi being especially fond of this clone.

Kenobi lurches out across the empty seat to punch him in the gut and then returns peacefully to patting the space over the sound of Vos’s moaning.

The Clone Commander has no choice. His general is giving him a directive. He gives in to the inevitable and makes his way through the knees and—much more neatly than the others—steps over the back of the bench to its seat and then into sitting. Kenobi beams at him, practically purring.

Sion needs desperately to take notes, but the subjects of said notes are right there and rudeness is intolerable in retaining his vantage point.

He fights the urge to vibrate in space as the lights begin to dim overhead and the panel chairman comes out to introduce the topic and speakers. It is only about a minute or so when a hand lands firmly on Kenobi’s right shoulder—the one by Sion’s arm. Sion jumps, but Kenobi resolutely stares directly down at the speaker.

“Obi-Wan,” Master Mace Windu’s low, low voice says right into the space between Kenobi and Sion’s ears, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Kenobi begins to melt but catches himself.

“You didn’t for a while,” he said.

“Get her out of here.”

“She has a right to see her Master.”

“What part of these orders are challenging for you?”

Kenobi still does not turn around to see Master Windu, but his eyebrows sink and his brow becomes more pronounced.

“No padawans,” Master Windu says. “Ahsoka. Out.”

The togruta, still bedecked in that heavy cloak, turns to stare owlishly at Master Windu while the person at the front of the room moves on to introducing the next speaker.

“But I’m not a padawan,” the child says. “I’m obnoxious. Master Kenobi said so.”

Kenobi holds his face in a hand.

“You can be both. Come,” Master Windu says, holding out a hand.

“But I’m a cloak,” Ahsoka tries instead.

Kenobi crumples further. Master Windu’s hand finds his shoulder again. Sion can feel its heat.

“If not her, then you,” he says.

“After,” Kenobi says.

“I’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

Master Windu vanishes from behind them. Sion shudders. Kenobi turns to the side and hisses at Ahsoka,

“Now look what you’ve done.”

“You’re my co-conspirator,” Ahsoka hisses back. “My—my—Rex, what’s the word?”

Clone Commander Rex does not want to give her the word. Ahsoka tugs at him.

“Rex,” she insists.

“Enabler,” Commander Rex says with bitter regret coating his words.

Ahsoka beams over the laps of the other Generals at Kenobi. He glares back through a squint. He starts to say something, but General Vos tells him to shut up in a sharp tone.

Sion looks back to the front of the room and finds that a young man with dark hair has come out to the center of the front table-bench to speak.

He is a jedi. His robes, however, are dark in color. Blacks and browns with knee-high boots.

He’s very young. Very, very young.

And nervous.

Very, very nervous.

Even from the balcony seats, Sion can see his hands shaking. He is holding a stack of white paper. It is trembling like a branch on a windy day.

“Go, go, Master, go, go,” chants little Ahsoka.

Sion finds himself abruptly appalled by the realization that the child on center stage is the master of the child a few seats over from him.

General Koon gently shushes Ahsoka. Commander Rex helpfully wraps a gloved hand over the bottom half of her face to keep her distracted.

Sion looks from them to the young man and finds that he’s already knocked over the jug of water on the bench and looks about ready to sob about it. He gathers himself, though, and brings the microphone closer to him.

He is General Anakin Skywalker, Sion now understands. He is the first speaker and he’s never in his life presented a paper at a professional conference before.

His voice shakes as he reads out the title of the article that he published (and that Sion has read) on battlefield surrender. After the second paragraph, Sion brings a hand to his lip to help him contain the emotions that come with the understanding that this boy is about to read his article, word for word, in front of a room full of academics.

He thinks now that he has been too harsh with his students.

General Skywalker is not a strong public speaker. Clearly, his expertise is in action. He stammers. He loses his place in his reading and accidentally rereads three whole sentences. Only twice does he look up from his paper, and each time it is not at the audience but at Obi-Wan Kenobi, sat next to Sion, serious as a plague.

Kenobi nods sagely.

General Skywalker is General Kenobi’s apprentice. Was General Kenobi’s apprentice. However, it is clear to all who are present today that General Skywalker is still General Kenobi’s apprentice. Desperate, the poor thing is, for Kenobi’s reassurance.

His confidence in reading grows under his former (current?) master’s approving eye until he turns a page and—horror of horrors—drops the stack of paper.

Sion’s whole body tenses in sympathy and second-hand embarrassment. Skywalker flings himself down and messily collects the papers. He hurriedly reorders them, all while stuttering ‘ums’ and ‘uhs.’

Yet, when Sion chances a peek down the line of Generals next to him, he finds that not a single one has winced. No one has laughed. Even the clone troopers all around them are as silent and steady as the night itself.

It seems like they are all listening intently to their young General on center stage. The only giveaway that sympathy is being had by any is the tiny gesture Clone Commander Rex is making with his hand. He is moving it almost imperceptibly in a circle, as if to say ‘come on, come on.’

Sion looks back to young Skywalker and waits patiently as he finds his place and carries on reading again, this time faster. This time he does not look up for his master’s eye.

He wants only for the torture to end.

He gets to the end of his paper without dropping it or repeating himself and is flushed red. He does not ask for questions. He merely says quietly into the microphone, “Thank you.”

The panel chair waits a beat before walking over to Skywalker and asking the crowd for questions on his behalf. Skywalker becomes even more luminous. Sion cannot decide whether asking a question would be more or less stressful for this poor boy.

No one asks a question.

The panel chair then starts to ask for applause for Skywalker, but before he can even finish the sentence the whole balcony breaks into uproar.

General Kenobi hoots and whistles piercingly in Sion’s ear. General Vos claps and shouts what sounds like ‘You FUCKING did it, kid. You FUCKING did it. Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH,” the Clone Troopers behind General Vos finish for him in perfect unity.

“Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH.”

More applause and congratulations erupts after this.

General Skywalker slams his paper into his face and bursts into tears at the front of the room.

He bolts for a doorway that Sion hadn’t even noticed was right next to the bench. General Kenobi whacks at his Clone Commander’s shoulder, and Commander Cody wraps hands around his waist and hoists him up so that he’s standing on the guardrail at the edge of the balcony. He leaps from there to the lower level then goes jogging out the same doorway his former apprentice ran through.

After another moment or two, Commander Cody stands up and snaps at the whole collection of troopers in their language. Everyone shuts up and sits back down. Commander Rex gestures for Ahsoka to put up her hood and takes from General Vos a small datapad which he gives to the child—presumably for her to occupy herself with for the next hour and a half of papers. She takes it and immediately becomes absorbed in its lightly-glowing screen.

The balcony is once again on its best behavior.

Sion doesn’t bother with listening to any of the other papers. He feels no shame at all in beginning to furiously take notes on his last twenty-five minutes with the jedi.

Upon leaving the conference room nearly two hours later, he finds himself swept up in the clone troopers’ swift and orderly exit from the space. They line up outside the hall in lines by regiment and they wait for their commanders and generals to arrive before marching back towards the visitors’ wing’s exit.

After two or three minutes, only two lines remain.

Clone Commander Rex and Clone Commander Cody stand perfectly at attention beside their lines of men. Clone Commander Rex has his jedi’s apprentice thrown over his shoulder; he has balanced her on one arm while she sleeps.

It’s very sweet. She obviously trusts the Clone Commander very much.

“Gentlemen.”

The clones snap to even tighter attention as General Mace Windu appears, walking briskly their way.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to them. “Commanders, you will remain. Obi-Wan and Anakin will join us shortly.”

“Sir,” both commanders say simultaneously.

There is a pause, and Sion sees that all of these people are now looking at him.

“Can we help you, sir?” General Windu asks.

Yes. And Sion will pay any amount of money to just know this one thing. This teeny, tiny detail.

“Sir?”

“Is that normal for you?” he blurts out.

The Clone Commanders stare. The general stares. The apprentice coughs lightly in her sleep.

“I regret to say that it is not only normal, but expected of these general and units,” General Windu says. “Please vacate this area.”

Right.

“Thank you,” Sion says.

He stiff-legs it back to the crowd of other academics and hunts down a liquid to soothe his parched throat.

The new book’s title will not be ‘The Physicality of Peace.’ It will be ‘All is Fair in Love and War: The Jedi Order and Ideologies of Family, Part I.’

--------------- Yeah, so anyways, Myth and I decided that Anakin is bad at public speaking and nothing anyone says can take this from me now, I’m invincible. (If you want this on Ao3 let me know).

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #the clone wars #clones #guys sometimes anakin is allowed to be cute #but only like every so often I don't want him getting uppity #and thinking I actually like him or something like that #ahsoka and rex's relationship is everything to me #fic #ficlet

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alizrak · 3 years

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Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy (Book II: Greater Good) REVIEW

Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy (Book II: Greater Good) is the latest book by Timothy Zahn that takes us deep into a complex web of intrigue, family politics and manipulation happening in the background of the Chiss Ascendancy after the events of Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy (Book I: Chaos Rising).

Publisher's summary:

Thrawn and his allies race to save the Chiss Ascendancy from an unseen enemy in the second book in the epic Star Wars: The Ascendancy Trilogy from bestselling author Timothy Zahn.

Thrawn's latest triumph still rests newly on his shoulders. Despite leading the Chiss to victory and bringing glory to the House of Mitth, the true threat to the Ascendancy has not yet been extinguished. Their foes do not send threats or ultimatums, or mass ships on the edge of the Chaos. Their weapons come cloaked in smiles and generosity—gifts offered freely, services granted unconditionally.

Across the Ascendancy, seemingly inconsequential events could herald the doom of the Chiss. As Thrawn and the Expansionary Defense Fleet rally to uncover the enemy plot, they discover a chilling truth. Rather than invade Chiss capitals or pillage resources, this mysterious enemy strikes at the very foundation of the Ascendancy by widening the rifts between the Nine Ruling Families and Forty Great Houses below. As rivalry and suspicion sow discord among allies, each warrior must decide what matters most: the security of their family, or the survival of the Ascendancy itself.

Spoiler Review after the cut

To start with, I must confess this might be my least favorite Thrawn book so far. Thrawn feels absent for most of the story, only being present for a few character interactions and battles. If someone said he's in 1/5 of it I would say that's actually quite generous. Additionally, all the Memories chapters that added so much to understanding Thrawn’s motives and personality in the last book, are instead focused on the enemies to give some context on the situation on their side of the plot.

There are a few gems of character development for Thrawn, and a reaffirmation of his personal convictions and morality, as well as a couple of mentions that Thrass is dead and the Outbound Flight incident with the Vagaari happened... but all of that it's overshadowed by the sheer amount of new characters and factions, and their plotlines taking up most of the story. We are talking about a dozen new characters with specific roles, which makes the book HEAVY on family intrigue, politics and mind games that have little to do directly with Thrawn until the last few chapters where he conveniently discovers the enemy's plot against the Ascendancy merely by coincidence.

There is such a thing as too much worldbuilding if you don't make it matter to your main character... and the problem here is that you can't say Thrawn is the main character of this book. The one who comes out on top at the end? Yes, definitely, as is always expected, but the weight of the story is instead carried by Thalias, Lakinda, a Chiss farmer and Haplif, the enemy alien.

Just like last time, Thalias brings the empathetic side to the table, worrying about the moral and ethical implications of Thrawn’s actions. Lakinda is a refreshing addition to the cast, struggling between duty to her family and duty to the CEDF. Lakphro the Chiss farmer is perhaps our first real look at the Chiss “commoner” that has to deal with being at the whims of the higher ranked members of his family, and while I found it interesting, his characterization reads too much like an Americanized space farmer. Haplif is the driving force behind the conflict, setting up a web of lies that plays on the politicians’ wants and desires to manipulate the Chiss families into an all out Civil War.

I am sure there will be people who will enjoy this level of intrigue, but in stark contrast with Chaos Rising, where we got to see how Chiss society affects/relates directly to Thrawn and the people around him, this was the opposite. I didn't feel as invested into the plot for that same reason... which made it more difficult to enjoy given the elaborate manipulation going on for half the book.

When you read Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy (Book II: Greater Good), temper your expectation of this being a “Thrawn book” and take it more like an introduction to the backstage machinations within the Ascendancy. The book will certainly add a new layer of information to anyone wanting to write about the Chiss society in the fandom and sets up a much more interesting situation for the next installment, as they tease the existence of a secret history of the Mitth and a new weapon at the very last page. Not ideal for my taste but certainly welcomed, especially as we know Thrawn Ascendancy: Lesser Evil will come out this year so the wait will be short.

I would have to give it a 3/5.

#Star Wars #Thrawn #Thrawn Ascendancy #Greater Good #Chiss #Chiss Ascendancy

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braindeacl · 3 years

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So a Zombie and a Mara Walk Into a Bar | Eilidh & Marley

SETTING: The Perfect Pint. TIMING: Before Marley went into the portal. PARTIES: @detectivedreameater & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Marley and Eilidh discuss the strangeness of the town over a stiff drink. WARNINGS: N/A

The Perfect Pint, a wonderful instance of wandering turned discovery. Eilidh found herself drawn to the place at infrequent times, a feeling of longing compelling her forward. It wasn’t the same as she remembered. It never would be again. But, confusingly, the compulsion still remained, despite the sting. On this instance, the place was sprinkled with what looked like a few frequent patrons, and a dash of new, but overall, the crowd was sparse. She looked up to the screens decorating the walls from every angle. Each displayed a different game, and none seemed to be live. Slow night. Perfect. While a pub of drunk, passionate men was fun and brought a sense of nostalgia that both filled and ate at her chest, it was a dreadful setting for storytelling. And even better, the low occupancy made her easy to spot. The lone woman at the bar. The woman’s attention turned elsewhere, the first thing Eilidh noticed were long locks of black hair. It reminded her of the sea during a storm. Then, the dark waves receded as she turned closer, revealing a face. Revealing sunglasses.

“Feasgar math!” She called over to Shane, the owner, who returned with a cheerful, “Dia duit! The usual?” With her nod, he began his work. Black pudding was pulled from the fridge and dropped into hot oil. As they cooked, he prepared a glass of whiskey. The empty barstool next to Marley became quite familiar with Eilidh, then. Her eyes briefly glanced at the edges of scars that peaked beyond the surface of the glasses. A flash of curiosity struck her eyes, but then calmed. “Marley Stryder? Pick your poison.”

Marley wasn’t sure going out for drinks was really the best idea, but she was back at work and she’d been feeling much better lately. She still didn’t understand what exactly had happened after her accident, but one day she’d just woken up feeling refreshed and fine. Well, mostly fine. Her ner normal fine, at least. She’d settled the sunglasses on her face, and thrown on her favorite leather jacket, before heading out to the bar they’d agreed to meet up at. The Perfect Pint. It was neither perfect, nor pint, but they served up a good one, and, really, that was all that mattered to Marley. She didn’t even mind getting to the bar early, taking a seat by herself and glancing around the joint to see if there was anyone there she recognized. Even in this small town, in this small bar, there wasn’t. Most of the other cops hung out at Al’s or Shannahan’s, close by bars in case they got a call. She was just getting ready to flag down a bartender to order a drink when a voice interrupted her and she looked up to meet tender, brown eyes and a smiling face. Something about them seemed...off, but Marley wasn’t about to delve into that. Not when she didn’t really care.

“You must be Macleod, then, “she said, turning to face her. She could see eyes tracing over her scars. “Whiskey works for me.” She looked over at the bartender and nodded. “Double. Neat.” Facing the other woman again, she watched curiously herself as she settled. “So, you come here often? I know that sounds like a cheesy opener, but, well--” she motioned to the bartender, working away at their drinks, “you seem pretty familiar.”

At the mention of her name, Eilidh nodded to confirm. Smile curled higher at the observation. “Only sometimes.” And it was true. She probably would be a regular if she could experience all of alcohol’s benefits. “Ol’ Shane took a shine to me ‘cause he knows if he’s mean I’ll tell everyone what he’s actually muttering about.” Shane yelled something across the bar in Irish Gaelic, causing Eilidh to chuckle. Done with her food, he placed it on a plate and slid it to her. Two glasses of whiskey were placed in front of them. Upholding the deal, she set a bundle of cash on the bar, which contained a generous tip. Probably another reason why they liked her. Securing her glass, she motioned it to Marley, then to the few behind the bar. “Sláinte.” Slightly tipped back, she took a sip, letting it swirl around in her mouth. Simply enjoying the texture and smallest hint of taste. The only things she could enjoy. Placing it back on the bar with a clink, she beheld her food. Blood pudding, with extra spices added. A lot of extra spices. Before taking a bite, she turned her attention back to Marley. “What about you?”

Marley was intrigued. She raised a brow, though it was hidden behind aviators that fit perfectly to her face, hiding the red glow behind them. “You speak Gaelic?” there weren’t many people that still did, though she supposed the language was more common here, considering the fae population. Was Macleod fae, perhaps? Marley’s thoughts went temporarily to Lydia and she felt her stomach churn. She shoved the thought down by lifting her whiskey glass and taking a hearty sip. “Not really. Not here, at least,” she said, “I got my favorites, not that I mind this one.” She observed the other woman’s food, not unaware of what black pudding was, curiouser with each passing moment. She didn’t often indulge in human foods, though she had been more lately, since she’d been living with Erin. “You been in town long?”

Eilidh nodded. “Aye, I do. Not the same as he does. But I know enough.” It was one of the few languages she was able to hold onto after… the incident. Which she refused to consciously make that connection. Instead, she took a testing bite of her food. The level of spices allowed enough of a tingling on her tongue to register as something good. It reminded her of the food she would prepare in times of old–when they actually took the time instead of eating the flesh raw. A habit which has still stuck with her. She took another bite, and before it was fully consumed, she continued. “Not too long. Lots of things are still a mystery to me.” Which was true, but she wouldn’t reveal the full extent to what she knows. The food was briefly ignored as her full attention rested on Marley. “Maybe you’ll shed a light? Rumor has it you’ve been here long enough for some interesting stories.” That spark of curiosity filled her eyes again as she playfully referenced their previous correspondence.

“Still something, right?” Marley said, raising her glass to take another sip. The alcohol burned but it felt good. Being here and in her mind felt good. She watched curiously as the other woman bit into her food. She could smell it, the spices, but she didn’t know what it was or what they were. Human food was...such a mystery to her still. The most adventurous thing she’d tried was peanut butter and pickles on a dare as a teenager. She could still remember the horrid taste decades later. “A fan favorite?” she asked, nodding at the plate, as she swirled her drink. Let out a chuckle. “I’ve been here long enough for plenty of those, yeah,” she answered, crossing her legs as she leaned back in her chair, facing Macleod fully. “What do you wanna hear about first? The case of all the missing heads or the flayed bodies? Or maybe something less exciting to start, like how Dark Score lake turned to glass. You hear about that one, yet?” Whatever story she wanted to hear, Marley was willing to share. She had an inkling Macleod had more to herself than she was letting on, but everything would come in due time. Until then, Marley wanted to enjoy the challenge, and the company, and the whiskey.

“Oh, yes. They know how I like it.” With the main components of blood and fat, it was one of the few plates Eilidh bothered ordering. Others had too much filler—carbs on carbs with maybe a touch of foliage. But being completely carnivorous, those foods were pointless, sometimes downright sickening to her. She took another bite, letting it sit on her tongue, the spices penetrating and offering a hint of flavor. She eyed the matching space on the bar in front of Marley, noting it was sparse. “Just a liquid diet for you, then?” Upon Marley’s next words, those eyes snapped back to her face, flashing with that same intrigue as before. Missing heads. Flayed bodies. Such words could surely be applied to multiple cases, based on what she knows of this place. But the lake. She remembered that. When first encountered, she thought it was just ice. It had been winter, after all. But the more she had looked, the more the details weren’t right. Ice had imperfections—a sign that indicated it was there. But none could be found. Just a solid, almost invisible barrier. With malicious intent seeping into the air. “I saw it, actually. You ever figured out what caused it?” Her line of work would surely increase the chances of that locked wisdom. The real question is if she would share even a crumb with Eilidh.

“Not much for bar food,” Marley answered, shaking her glass and making sure the bartender saw how nearly empty her glass was. He nodded and pulled out a glass for another one. “Besides, my--” she paused, feeling the word already trying to slip out as she swallowed the first half of it, “--friend is obsessed with making home cooked meals so she’s always bringing me leftovers and shit.” And neither statement was a lie, not technically. Marley didn’t like bar food, and Erin was often bringing her food even if she didn’t really eat it. She smiled, clicked her fingers against her glass, eyeing the difference between the ice inside and the smooth crystal exterior it sat in. She remembered looking at the lake and seeing the smooth surface of it, only to come back a bit later and see that it had shattered into millions of tiny pieces. Clean up was a bitch. They had to bring in outside volunteers from the forest service and even recruit town members who were eager to volunteer. Now it sat as an empty crater, with chunks of glass still reminding those who visited what had happened. “Would you believe me if I said it was magic?” More specifically, magic that had encapsulated Bloody Mary and the Sandman. Best to test the waters first.

Eilidh slipped over another bill across the bar. But her charity wouldn’t last forever—watching someone get drunk was only amusing when other matters weren’t at hand—and she made a mental note not to pay for the next. Unless Marley began to offer something juicy. “Ah. That’s sweet.” She detected the awkward pause in the statement. A secret not wanting to be revealed. Which was understandable, she was a stranger after all. Still, a part of her wanted to know, as she did with all things. But something much more intriguing presented itself. Despite their online discussion hinting to Marley’s knowledge of those things left unsaid, she hadn’t expected magic to come out of her lips. She seemed so pragmatic. And those like that were usually so tough to crack. But this town would make a believer out of anyone. Unless Marley had been connected to magic all along. “Yes.” She leaned in closer, eyes searching. A crumb finally offered, and she intended to bite off more. “What kind?” She had suspected, practically knew, such a source when first discovered, though she lacked the knowledge to decipher more. Magic kissed the world in many ways, but how certain people utilized and manipulated such energies was mostly lost to her.

“Sweet, yeah,” Marley mumbled, tapping her fingers on the side of her glass. She noted the slight look of annoyance and wondered why it might’ve been so easy to feel that way after only buying a stranger their second drink. Marley could remember all the multitude of drinks she’d bought other women she wanted to take home from the bar, but, then again, it seemed like Eilidh’s reasoning was different from those. Eilidh’s admission to magic came as a slight surprise. Usually people tried to bargain it away, to explain that it probably wasn’t real, or magic was just something else, they didn’t understand, yadda yadda. Eilidh just said yes. Marley shuffled. “Real powerful kind,” she said, “I wasn’t there when it happened, but there’s no way it wasn’t. There were, uh-- some bigger issues in the town at the time. The glass lake supposedly subdued them. But all magic comes with a price, right?” She sipped her new drink. “Or so I’ve been told.”

Made sense. Despite her lack of knowledge, except for the practices she learned in her youth, Eilidh had felt power sizzling in the air. And when the next she visited what remained, as if the lake had been scooped up by a giant spoon, and then whacked, she knew something must’ve happened. Other mysteries had stolen her attention, as it often did in such a town, but she lapped up anything she could learn now, interest grown anew. “Bigger issues?” Bigger issues. Bigger issues. She thought back to that time, many months ago. Was there anything of note? She was fairly certain that had been around the same time that entity in the mirror yelled at her. Something, something, repent for your sins, something, something. And that might’ve been the month she saw a kelpie again for the first time in years. Both intriguing, and the later additionally exciting, but neither screamed bigger issue to her. “A price. Like how it’s a crater now?” Eyes still focused on Marley, eagerly hoping for more answers. Her fingertip pressed against the rim of her drink, tracing that thin path, counter-clockwise. When the circle was complete, she secured the full glass in her hand, and took another sip.

Marley scratched at her cup, a long nail tapping against the glass. She’d wondered what the glass lake had sounded like, when tapped on. Did it make crackling noises as the ground beneath it shifted to support the weight of the new matter? Whatever had shattered it had been loud. So loud, some of the alarms in town had gone off. Windows had shattered. She only knew of a few species that could make noise like that. “Something like that,” she answered. Eilidh was growing more curious, the less and the more Marley gave her. Her answers were short but informative. She knew how to hook someone in. “I more think the crater was...simply an after effect of whatever happened there. It’s still quite a mystery. I don’t know of anyone who has the full story, start to finish. But I’ve been piecing things together myself. Who knows if I'm right. But,” she lowered her voice, as if this next part were a secret, “I think the lake was used to imprison something or someone.”

An entire lake as a prison. Creative. Though not creative enough, as evident by the resulting crater. Eilidh’s mind wondered as to who or what could’ve caused such a massive display of power. And what they did to warrant the need to place them there—if it were justified or caused by fear or both. The two thoughts congealing into an impressive figure. “Makes sense. Nothing likes to be kept in a cage.” She would know; more than most. Small wrinkles adorned her forehead as eyebrows pressed close, close like those walls had been for all those centuries. The expression lasted a moment before flattening. Wonderous twinkle in her eyes returned. “Guess whoever it was is out and about then? Wonder what they’re up to.” That air seemed angry that fateful day. An anger that wouldn’t simply go away overnight. “Or if they’re back.”

Marley wondered if Macleod might be talking about herself. But, then again, Marley hated being caged, as a child. Strapped to a bed while she screamed and cried and begged for food. They hadn’t known, it wasn’t their fault, not really. She still blamed them. She flicked at the bartop. “Suppose not,” she agreed, watching her closely. The crowd, though small, seemed to be getting rowdier. Men were shouting at each other just down the bar and Marley’s eyes drew to them like magnets. No fear yet, but chaos. And chaos inspired fear. She ran her tongue over her lips before her attention drew back to her companion. “Could be,” she answered, blinking, drawing herself back to the current conversation. “Not really sure. Maybe they died being trapped in there. Or shattered with it.” She didn’t honestly care. As long as it wasn’t fucking with the town or Erin, she just didn’t care. “But really, that’s not even the strangest--” She had started to pull up the memory of another strange occurrence in White Cres, when someone was shoved against her and her chest thumped against the bar, her drink spilling. It was the two men who had been yelling at each other earlier, and now their anger was in Marley, too. She shoved back on him. “Hey!” she growled, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “Watch it.” The man tried to yank away, grinding his teeth at her. “Or what?” he chided.

Eilidh had been so enthralled at the story slowly being weaved, she hadn’t noticed the steady increase of the crowd. It might as well have just been her, Marley, and their dwindling whiskeys. She had half a mind to preemptively order Marley another, more gifts for her continued answers. But then a man brushed against her extended elbow, jolting her back into her surroundings. Eyes snapped in his direction, a mixture of startle and anger. When their eyes met, his own widened and the patron simply took a step back, the brief touch merely accidental. It calmed her nerves. A second was taken to regain her attention. It shifted back to Marley, electrifying at the hintings of another tale. But then another man interrupted. And this one was less forgiving. As Marley’s body thwapped against the table, a growl rattled in her throat. It only got louder when she made eye contact with the aggressor. “Piss off.” She splashed the remainder of her drink onto the man’s face. As alcohol entered his eyes, he let out a shriek. His friend immediately went into action, tight grip securing her braid. He gave it a hard tug, trying to pull her off the chair. So she sent her nails, her claws, digging into his hand. Her legs kicked widely, most landing on his calves and thigh. And then one finally met the target: his groin. Jackpot!

All it took was one man grabbing one woman-- her companion for the night, none the less-- and Marley was set off. She could punch him, easily. She wanted to punch him. Her fist flew out and connected with his jaw, just as Macleod’s foot came up into another man’s crotch. Marley snorted, but the few seconds were enough for the man who she’d punched to wind his own fist back and swing for her. Sunglasses cracked and flew from her face and she grit her teeth, whipping her head to look back at him. Red eyes glared him down until he suddenly wilted, screaming under her gaze. And, for good measure, she swung her foot up into his crotch as well and pushed him over with the heel of her boot. Wiping her hands on her jacket, she leaned down to pick up her bent glasses. “Don’t touch the glasses,” she snarled at him before depositing them back on her face. Frowned, because they were crooked. Frowned even more because now the rest of the bar was rowdy, too.

Eilidh was not expecting the sound of a secondary impact. Almost as if it was planned, the man suffered a double tap in one go. A laugh blurted out of her. But when the man returned the favor, striking Marley across the face, that laughter died and she was growling again. Her body wanted to jump into action and was cocked to do so. Red eyes froze her onto the barstool—sent a chill down her spine, sent dread into her mind. Whoa. Was she a Mare? The reaction of the man—who suffered under the full weight of that crimson gaze, who crumbled into himself as if it would get him further away, who screamed because that’s all he could really do—confirmed suspicions. Despite the eruption of unease at the sight, wonder still tingled in her eyes. She tore her eyes away, blinking as the forced fear subsided into her true emotions, and was instantly greeted by the first man, having regained himself. Who eyes too were red: from the burn of alcohol and of rage. Her teeth snapped shut with a harsh click. “My turn.” Launching herself onto the man, she used the momentum to send him tumbling onto the ground. Before he could compose himself, she struck him across the cheek. As she revved up another attack, a random patron knocked her down, disrupting the motion. Before becoming engulfed by that sea of passion and fury, she hopped back up onto the barstool. Left the man to fend for himself. “This place got lively!”

Marley stood by as Macleod threw herself at the other man, who was soaked from the drink that had previously been thrown on him. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was too preoccupied with watching that she didn’t notice the others approaching them, or the bartender, rushing around the side of the counter, grabbing his baseball bat, and waving it at some of the other men who were rushing over to the commotion. She almost forgot, too, that she was a police officer. She wasn’t supposed to incite violence like this, rather she was the one called to stop it. Someone else bumped into her from behind and she swerved to glare at them, too, watching them shrink away, as red eyes pierced them ever from behind the glasses. She didn’t much care anymore. The bartender grabbed at her and then Macleod next as Marley laughed at her statement. “Sure did!” she was being shoved towards the door, but she didn’t much care. “Can’t say I’m complainin’!”

Eilidh’s eyes locked onto the baseball bat and an amused breath escaped her. “So dramatic! Like this’s anything new.” The bartender paid her comment no mind, only focusing on what needed to be done. When their hands seized her arm, Eilidh snapped her teeth threateningly. Those canines that had met flesh time and time again bared themselves to naïve and apathetic eyes. Ensnared arm jerked, straining against the hold, on the edge of freeing herself. But her eyes locked onto Shane, who simply shook his head in disapproval. Fucking hell. Those blood puddings were on the line. Her arm relaxed, but a tension still riddled her body. She allowed the bartender to drag her away, back to the door where this all began. The sound of laughter brought up her mood, and she joined in her own. Mirth and hostility danced in her voice. “Too bad we can’t finish the job!” And with that they were shoved out the door.

#so a zombie and a mara walk into a bar #chatzy #;— interactions #ft. marley s.#this was fun!

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mermaidcashton · 4 years

Text

i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?”

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self!

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely.

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street.

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ‘tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite.

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green. “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it. Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked.

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down.

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained, making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again.

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him.

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk.

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!”

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again.

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!”

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory.

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you.

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you.

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation.

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum.

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-”

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose.

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you.

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…”

collab masterlist • my masterlist

#5sos writing collab #my writing #mermaidcashton #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael 5sos #michael clifford x reader #michael 5 sos x reader #5sos x reader #michael clifford fic #michael 5sos fic

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kopicrypto2 · 3 years

Text

Dubai Coin

Dubai Coin, Secured Service Trading Solid Platform

Dubai Coin

The number of companies operating in the financial and technology sectors has increased dramatically in recent years, especially those working in blockchain and security technology using cryptocurrencies. Many companies have applied for stock market listings simultaneously due to the current shift and intersection between finance, technology and stocks. Digital financial investments can be very rewarding, but growing your money in an online environment can be challenging because of the need to track transactions, manage a community presence, and optimize capital. Too much to do on too many platforms can lead to mistakes, missed opportunities, and unpleasant situations. It's time to use DhabiCoin to streamline the whole process. dhabikoin is an all-in-one platform that can handle all your trading, payment and cryptocurrency needs. DhabiCoin is a blockchain platform funded by Dubaicoin Digital Assets to increase users in the blockchain industry. Do you know what differentiates DhabiCoin from other cryptocurrencies?

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What Makes DhabiCoin Unique?

With its many qualities, DhabiCoin is an electronic asset that will preserve the UAE economy and have the potential to revolutionize the general market. Customers will be able to collaborate, learn, generate shares and much more thanks to the multi-stage integration of DhabiCoin into one powerful organic framework. With a focus on items as well as customers who are members of the natural framework of DhabiCoin. However, there are some different features of the current DubaiCoin.

Support: When clients buy/sell, for example, they will be given a course that will take them quite a bit from the start.

KYC/AML: DhabiCoin will implement the KYC/AML framework to ensure that the company follows the requirements.

Social Networking: DhabiCoin provides an online media platform that allows users to communicate with other users.

Smart Contracts: DhabiCoin manages their fantastic arrangement based on Binance BEP-20, ensuring that the relationship is completely secure and transparent.

Infrastructure: To provide a beautiful and stable platform, DhabiCoin is prepared with the most up-to-date technology and by a professional and experienced team.

Security: Customers can have confidence in the protection of DhabiCoin.

Transparency: DhabiCoin has established plans to provide customers with a prominent type of assistance, from ICO connections to group shares, which will be reported to customers.

Blockchain Advantages in DhabiCoin

Chain Accuracy In blockchain networks, transactions are approved by a good network with a large number of computers. This virtually eliminates individual participation in the verification process , resulting in less human error and more precise data records.

Cost Reduction Often, the customer pays the bank to confirm the transaction, the notary to sign the letter, or the priest to marry them. Blockchain eliminates the need for third-party verification and the costs that come with it. Businesses pay a small fee when they accept credit card payments.

Decentralization Some data on the blockchain will not be stored in one location. In most cases, the blockchain is duplicated and spread across computer networks. When each new block is added to the blockchain, each computer updates its blockchain to reflect the transition.

Secure Transactions Once a transaction is recorded, the blockchain network must check its legitimacy. Thousands of blockchain computer systems secure to ensure that the order's

the data is correct. After the engine validates the contract, it is added to the blockchain block

MANFAAT BINANCE SMART CHAIN BERBASIS DHABICOIN

The main benefit of electronic forms of money, such as DhabiCoin, is that they allow for fast trades, taking only ten minutes. This is the amount of time it takes to agree a deal. There is no need for agents or banks to intervene in cryptographic cash trading. Cryptographic forms of money, accordingly, are very helpful for both organizations and clients, as they eliminate some of the bank fees that are reflected in the last expense. Binance DEX, the top decentralized exchange, supports a growing digital asset ecosystem:

Low transaction fees of only one penny

High performance, with a network that can generate blocks every three seconds.

A DeFi method that works across the chain to improve DeFi interoperability

The Binance ecosystem supports several DeFi initiatives by funding and bootstrapping them.

Binance.com and Binance DEX have a thriving ecosystem of millions of users.

BSC is already collaborating with a network of significant crypto initiatives.

📷

Let's Know About Smart Contracts and ICOs

Smart Contract

Before knowing about DhabiCoin's Smart Contracts, you should have a clear idea of Smart Contracts. Smart Contracts are important programs that are recorded on the blockchain and executed when certain criteria are met. They are usually used to speed up contract execution so that all parties involved are confident of the outcome without needing a mediator or wasting time. They can also control a process, triggering the next phase once certain conditions are met. Common 'if/when' lines are included in blockchain code to execute smart contracts. Once the predefined conditions have been met and validated, the action is performed by the network. When the transaction is complete, the blockchain is refreshed. This means that the exchange is immutable and only those who are allowed to see the results can see it.

ICO

Initial Coin Offering (ICO) is a type of digital currency that businesses use to raise funds. Investors earn unique digital currency “tokens” in return for their financial investments through the ICO business platform. It is a type of crowdfunding where digital tokens are created and sold to raise funds for project development. These tokens act as a form of money, allowing investors to access certain aspects of the company's approved projects. This coin is unusual in that it contributes to the funding of the project that makes the software accessible. It will not be easy to fund this through standard methods. The protocol of the Dhabi Coin Token (DBC), which is based on the Binance Smart Chain (BSC) smart contract, is compatible with several encrypted wallet applications, including Trust Wallet, Metamask, and MyEtherWallet,

📷

DhabiCoin Is The Best Secure Solution

If you want to invest in DhabiCoin, you must be sure it is safe. Any online service that handles customer payments has a responsibility to keep those payments as secure as possible. Security breaches have become common in recent years, resulting in the loss of assets of exchange users and millions of cryptocurrency-related services. The DhabiCoin network was built with security in mind from the start. It does so using strategies such as:

Always use the latest technology.

Always use an outside security consultant during the development process.

Use third party consultants to hire vulnerability testing services; Anti-DDoS CDN on a global scale.

Choose the most appropriate hosting partner based on security and certification; ISO 27001, PCI DSS and other security standards are followed

Why Should You Invest In DhabiCoin Token?

The Binance Smart Chain (BSC) environment has built-in developments in the DhabiCoin Token (DBC), a phase with absolute security in its transactions, minimal fees, and clearer agility in peak time information bottlenecks, relying on a fantastic group of helpers in multiple languages. You can manage anything at any point you get into our current situation. Anyone with a cell phone and access to the internet can participate in the entire business environment. The Binance blockchain and the cryptocurrency DhabiCoin bring a wealth of cutting-edge capabilities to the crypto-active world.

High Scale

● Fast Trading

Wallets In Different Stages

Unchangeable Savvy Settings

Safe Association Guarantee Show

ICO of Dhabicoin

Dhabicoin has a motivated team to build an innovative network and take the next step in the evolution of the market. This is a bold project, with the hope of completing all modules in just one year. While development is well underway, with social networks and exchange modules running, a complete roadmap requires a worthy investment. As a result, DHABICOIN will raise funds through contributions through this ICO.

Initial coin offerings (ICOs) are the cryptocurrency industry equivalent of initial public offerings (IPOs). A company that wants to raise money to create a different coin, app or program launches an ICO to raise money. Interested investors can buy into the offering and get different cryptocurrency tokens released by the business. These tokens may involve some utility in using the merchandise or services the business provides, or may simply represent a stake in the business or project.

Pra-ICO

Prior to the ICO, we will have a phase aimed at larger investors, who wish to acquire large amounts of tokens.

📷

ICO

• Presale (Putaran 1) Nilai Token DhabiCoin US$ 0,0 2

• Presale (Putaran 2) Nilai Token DhabiCoin US$ 0,04

• Sale 1 (Round 1) DubaiCoin Token Value US$0.0 7

• FINAL Sale (Round 2) DubaiCoin Token Value US$0.13

ICO steps

Pre-sale 01

pra-garam 02

Final sale

● Token — 300 M Harga: US$ 0,02

● Token - 250 Million Price: US $ 0.04

Sale of 01 Tokens — 150 B Price: US$ 0.07

● Token — 100 M Harga: US$ 0,13

Why Dhabicoin chooses Initial Coin Offering (ICO) Fundraising

Initial Coin Offerings (ICOs) are usually a popular fundraising method used primarily by startups looking to offer products and services, usually related to the cryptocurrency and blockchain space.

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ICOs are similar to stocks, but sometimes have utility for the services the software program or product offers. When a cryptocurrency startup wants to raise money through an ICO, it usually creates a whitepaper outlining the project, the needs the project will meet upon completion, how much money is needed, how many virtual tokens the founder will keep, what kind of money will be accepted, and how much. how long the ICO campaign will run.

During the ICO campaign, fanatics and project supporters buy some project tokens with fiat or digital currency. These coins are referred to by buyers as tokens and are comparable to the shares of the organization sold to investors during the IPO.

Dhabicoin infrastructure and security

Any online service that is responsible for handling user funds has a responsibility to be as secure as possible. In recent years, security breaches have become widespread, leading to the loss of funds from exchange users and millions of cryptocurrency-related services.

The DHABICOIN network was designed from the start with security in mind. For this, they adopt practices such as:

• The use of technology that is always updated;

Hiring external security consultants during development;

• Employ vulnerability testing services through third party consulting; I Global CDN for anti-DDoS

protection. Choose the best hosting partner based on security and certification; I comply with security standards like ISO 27001, PCI DSS, etc.

Multi-factor authentication

Two-factor authentication (2FA) is a requirement for users who have funds on the network since, without at least a second authentication factor; online account security is greatly reduced.

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The second recommended authentication factor is through a security code generated by a mobile app, such as Google Authenticator.

Apart from these factors, other factors can be configured in the account, such as PIN (personal identification number) requirements and also confirmed via email. Enabling all these factors, we have an intruder-proof account and complete security in withdrawals, payments, or e v en purchase and sales orders in the opening exchanges.

Self development

Network development is carried out internally, together with his team. This way of working ensures security, agility in updating the platform and solving problems.

It also ensures the future of the platform is controlled, both by DHABICOIN and its users, as internal development provides flexibility to direct the project according to the needs of the community.

Technical support structure

The optimized support structure, using modern tools and aligned with the SAC 2.0 concept will ensure that user doubts will be cleared in the most effective way possible in the shortest possible time.

In addition to traditional channels, online support channels in real-time via chat available 24/7 / 365. With this channel, users talk to a real person, not a robot, and technical problems they solved in a matter of minutes.

📷

Dhabicoin provides a friendly and secure digital currency service, thereby bringing more people into the new cryptocurrency economy and offering innovation to those already using it. It has high Scale, Fast transactions, Wallets across multiple systems, Immutable smart agreements, and protected network insurance protocol features on its platform. So, it is the most convenient platform where you get all the benefits and rewards together.

Contact With Us:

Situs web: https://dhabicoin.ae Penjualan ICO: https://dhabicoin.ae/public/invite?ref=UD00002 Telegram: https://t.me/joinchat/94HGhsK4sDNlN2Jk Reddit: https://www.reddit. com/user/dhabicoin Twitter: https://twitter.com/DhabicoinUae Whitepaper: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hP9VhhWtPuI1ON3Iw-8GJLJzRo0wVy_C/view Medium: https://dhabicoin.medium.com

Username: MohamedSalahh

Link: https://bitcointalk.org/index.php?action=profile;u=3122527

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lynxfur9 · 3 years

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Healthy Proteins.

Peptide Bound Glutamine Vs Basic Glutamine.

Content

Legal Use Declaration: Aqua Peptides.

Post Information.

Sarms Discussed.

Freshwater Pearl Sarm Locket > Rosely".

On average it takes 7 working days for the blood examination results to come back from the medical facility, depending on the precise examinations requested. Some specialist examination results might take longer, if examples have to be sent out to a referral research laboratory. If you are signed up to make use of the on the internet services of your local practice, you may have the ability to access your outcomes online. Not eating for 8 to 10 hours prior to blood testing is generally needed. There are 4 phases of protein folding, primary, secondary, tertiary and also quarternary. Individuals getting the therapy required much less insulin, recommending they could still make several of their very own.

The initial NMR experiments obtained will certainly check out the state of the healthy protein as well as it's viability for refresher course at the selected NMR healthy protein focus, acquiring 1D 1H and/or 2D 15N HSQC spectra. When a peptide includes an inner proline, solid ion series because of internal bosom are observed, extending from the proline in the direction of the C terminus. Pieces will only be spotted if they bring at the very least one charge. If this charge is kept on the N terminal fragment, the ion is classified as either a, b or c. If the fee is kept on the C terminal, the ion type is eitherx, y or z. The Hypo Program is the world's first as well as only organized education program.

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C-peptide may be gauged when there is abrupt or persisting hypoglycaemia. Signs and symptoms consist of sweating, palpitations, appetite, complication, visual troubles and also seizures, although these symptoms additionally can occur with various other problems. The C-peptide examination may be made use of in these situations to help determine the source of excess insulin, i.e. whether it is being generated in your body or originating from extreme shot of insulin.

If incapable to send example instantly, freeze at -20 ° C as well as send out at ambient temperature in the blog post. For long-lasting storage (e.g. to batch examples), we advise freezing at -80 ° C.

Lawful Usage Statement: Aqua Peptides.

Hannah has a degree in Human Biology and many years' experience working in laboratories around London. Utilizing this experience, Hannah delights in turning intricate science right into interesting, appealing and easy to absorb items to read. In her spare time, Hannah runs, practices yoga exercise and also enjoys cooking plant based foods. Yet with this comes the concern that they might then be little sufficient to go into the blood stream, as well as the long term effects of this are yet unidentified. Every occasionally, a brand-new skin treatment ingredient goes along as well as guarantees to be the following big point consequently back the clock and also making our skin soft, supple, hydrated, plump as well as younger. Others assure to complete great lines as well as creases, whilst others claim they can lighten locations of pigmentation or aid to reduce the scarring brought on by acne. For adults, 5 ml of blood taken right into a slim gold or rust top tube.

Do peptides make your hair grow?

Peptides, being “smaller proteins,” when applied, cause changes in cell behavior, stimulate follicle growth, and promote natural hair production and improvement of hair color.

AminoA items are natural bio-stimulants gotten with chemical hydrolysis. The manufacturing technique warranties that the end product is of the highest standards and quality. Chemical bodies that have an "amino" team as well as an "acid" group. As they have an alkaline team and an acid group, they can act as an acid or an antacid, relying on the pH of the solution in which they are had. Our unflavored Multi Collagen is the excellent enhancement for soups and full-flavored recipes. You can imagine, after that, a polypeptide particle as a chain made from flat rectangle-shaped plates joined by the Ca atoms.

Write-up Info.

In a beta-pleated sheet, the chains are folded up to make sure that they lie together with each various other. The next layout reveals what is referred to as an "anti-parallel" sheet. All that means is that next-door chains are heading in opposite directions. Provided the means this particular folding occurs, that would certainly appear to be inescapable. Hannah de Gruchy is a freelancer writer who is experts in wellness as well as health. She has an eager rate of interest in the biology of skin as well as enjoys utilizing her words to assist divide the actual science of skincare from the pseudoscience of some skincare brands.

Our 30% peptide blend contains an ingenious shipment system which makes certain that all our peptides can dive deep into the lower layers of the skin for ideal result.

Peptides usually find it hard to reach where they require to be; they are large as well as dislike being around oil so they have a hard time to fit through the small, oil-based spaces in between skin cells.

Use high quality specialist glass and polypropylene vials can reduce this problem.

Collagen and elastin manufacturing is enhanced, fine lines and creases are smoothed as well as the skin's all-natural stores ofhyaluronic acid are elevated.

We provide a total range of peptide and healthy protein solutions from brochure products with to GMP manufacture from very early stage to business launch.

As the light-weight lotion is massaged right into the skin, the 30% peptide complex starts its multi-faceted technique to renewing the skin.

Almac's peptide as well as healthy protein technology offering is a key component within our suite of solutions.

Sourced from Bovine-- We resource our collagen solely from Europea livestock which are pasture-raised as well as finished, their diet is 100% GMO cost-free as well as they are likewise without antibiotics and also hormones too. Where this comes in beneficial is when you are comparing tablet computers or blends of collagen, if a 10g offering size claims there is just 1000mg of collagen, after that you can see that there is just 10% collagen in this tablet/sachet.

Sarms Described.

For the blood examination itself, an example of blood will certainly be drawn from your arm as well as it shouldn't take far more than a minute. If you take blood glucose lowering drug you will likely be asked to quit taking these in the run up to the test. Instead of MHC class I, MHC course II molecules do not dissociate at the plasma membrane. The systems that control MHC course II destruction have not been developed yet, but MHC class II particles can be ubiquitinised and after that internalised in an endocytic pathway. Versus Arthritis was developed in 2018 following a merger of Arthritis Care and Arthritis Research UK.

youtube

CP1 is an unflavoured powder that conveniently liquifies and also mixes right into any kind of cool or warm beverage, without adding any type of flavour. Each scoop of CP1 gives you with over 90% pure healthy protein, that improves the nutritional profile of any kind of drink, smoothie or other drink. There is no safe level of drug use.Use of any medication always brings some threat-- even medicines can generate unwanted side effects. Polar zippers in between neighbouring beta sheets resulting in the formation of wide and also stiff nanoribbons. The brand-new test is currently in available in many NHS depends on, as well as is now supplied to everyone diagnosed as Type 1 diabetes mellitus for at the very least 3 years in Glasgow as well as Edinburgh. The Exeter group has developed a brand-new urine test for C-peptide, as well as shown that a straightforward blood test when a person is seen in clinic can also accurately measure C-peptide, changing previous methods which were costly as well as taxing. These examinations are currently offered in virtually every hospital in the UK, as well as expense as little as ₤ 10.

The remaining grammage will be comprised of the additional bulkers, fillers or components. This is a bit of an advertising and marketing term used in the collagen sector, however, it can be handy to comprehend just how much collagen is actually in a serving of an item. If the collagen brand name can not give you with information of where the livestock, poultry or fish are from - move on as well as choose a firm that can. When keeping an eye out for a collagen supplement be sure that you recognize where the pets have come from, as not all collagen coincides.

But https://pharmalabglobal.com/product-category/melanotan-2/ of the therapy will need to be examined in future tests with even more individuals and longer period. The primary function of the test was to check the new therapy for safety and security, but scientists also observed some positive impacts of peptide immunotherapy. However if the entire immune system is compromised, people are extra vulnerable to infections and cancer.

This clumping of hydrophobic molecules is called hydrophobic communication. An example of thioester link is the one between the thiol team of CoA and the carboxylic group of acetic acid in Acetyl CoA. Glycosidic bond undergoes deterioration in a process called glycolysis. It is a hydrolytic procedure in which a water particle is used to damage the glycosidic bond and release the carbohydrate and also various other residues. Based on the stereochemistry of the anomeric carbon or its alignment in space, a glycosidic bond can either be an alpha-bond or a beta-bond. In an O-glycosidic linkage, the carbonyl team of carbohydrates responds with the hydroxyl group of an additional substance. This causes a substance in which the sugar or carb residue is affixed to the oxygen of the other compound, thus the name O-glycosidic bond.

Tumours can typically avoid being targeted by these T Cells by resembling a cell found generally in the body commonly referred to as "self". If a team of T Cells can be motivated to recognise these tumors as foreign as well as not self after that they will attack the tumor as well as supply a reliable treatment versus it. If the result of UCPCR runs out keeping with other professional searching for after that we would certainly recommend repeating the examination specifically if it is unexpectedly low. Patients tipping out boric acid preservative from pee collection tube, in an example taking more than 3 days to reach the research laboratory can lead to unnaturally low outcomes. UCPCR is mainly to be made use of in individuals on insulin treatment to analyze endogenous insulin secretion. Steady for 3 days in Boric acid containers at ambient temperature level.

But unless you're devouring on these on a daily basis, opportunities are you'll have a hard time to get an optimum amount of collagen with diet regimen alone. In light of this, there are some terrific methods to increase your collagen consumption with normal diet plan by taking a genealogical approach as well as eating a genuine food diet plan. to pharma lab global Purchase Sermorelin can improve your collagen consumption with typical food by eating more organ meats, making bone broth as well as making use of points like oxtail, ears as well as trotters.

You will need to quick before a C-peptide blood test if the results will certainly be used to assess hypoglycaemia. Additionally, a suitable blood sample taken throughout a hypoglycaemic episode might be enough.

So scientists are working to selectively target parts of the body immune system believed to be straight in charge of the attack in Kind 1 diabetic issues. There are additionally concerns over whether collagen can make it through the digestion process. Collagen is discovered in and as a result typically originated from pets such as cows, pigs and also fish or other fish and shellfish. Products having collagen are not vegetarian as well as might be unsuitable for people with various other dietary demands. HydroPeptide is the future generation of anti-ageing with sophisticated peptide modern technologies.

AsclepiX Therapeutics, Inc. Doses First Patient in Phase 1/2a Trial of AXT107 Intravitreal Self-Forming Gel Depot Peptide for Diabetic Macular Edema (DME) Proteins and Peptides News Channels - PipelineReview.com

AsclepiX Therapeutics, Inc. Doses First Patient in Phase 1/2a Trial of AXT107 Intravitreal Self-Forming Gel Depot Peptide for Diabetic Macular Edema (DME) Proteins and Peptides News Channels.

Posted: Wed, 06 Jan 2021 09:57:58 GMT [source]

Opt for pasture-raised, European cattle if opting for bovine as well as check that there is no antibiotics or hormonal agents utilized - along with no GMO feeds. Enhances Joint and also Bone Health and wellness-- Collagen replenishes, brings back and also enhances joints and also bones. Supplementing the diet regimen with collagen has actually been shown to raise bone toughness, promote healthy bone turnover as well as decrease the effect of ageing on our skeleton. Purchase AOD- pharmalabglobal.com provide the body with a source of collagen that is incredibly bioavailable, so they can start to work their magic as soon as they're ingested. If diet regimen alone isn't mosting likely to make the cut when it comes to wrecking your collagen consumption after that the issue is intensified when you think about the reality that our all-natural collagen production slows down as we age.

The diffusion pressures set up would certainly suffice to hold the folded structure with each other. You will certainly likewise discover that this specific version has 2 various other particles locked right into it. These are the two particles whose response this enzyme catalyses. The colour coding in the model aids you to track your means around the framework - going through the spectrum from dark blue to wind up at red. It is feasible to have some a lot more challenging folding to make sure that next-door chains are in fact heading parallel. We are getting well past the needs of UK A degree chemistry currently.

NT-proBNP is released into the blood circulation in equivalent total up to the active hormonal agent but is substantially a lot more secure and for this reason forms a good pen of BNP result. N-terminal professional B-type natriuretic peptide (NT-proBNP) is an inactive peptide released together with the active peptide hormone BNP when the walls of the heart are extended or there is pressure overload on the heart e.g. by fluid overload. BNP then acts upon the kidneys creating liquid as well as sodium loss in the urine as well as mild vasodilation so launching the pressure. Proteins are 3-D macromolecules made from at the very least one polypeptide chain.

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mike-c4c-blog · 4 years

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Week 25: Node+JS Interactive 2019

Dec 9 - 13, 2019

This week has very much been a build week, starting to build the foundation for a new prototype around “No Booking Tool”. For Monday and Tuesday I kept my head down, coding and coding.

I was lucky enough to score a ticket to Node + JS Interactive in Montreal, so on Tuesday night I jumped on the train and headed up to Quebec to see what’s new in JavaScript this month.

Open JS Foundation provides a neutral home for open source JavaScript projects supported by companies as big as Google and Microsoft. This week they’re putting on a conference in Montreal, so it was time to get nerdy amongst other developers and learn some new things!

On Wednesday morning OpenJS Foundation presented some updates, including the use of Node.js in space (accompanied by some nervous laughter from the audience), new Node Certifications and the announcement that they’re taking on the excellent desktop app framework, Electron, which is the framework behind Slack and Visual Studio Code.

The highlight of the morning though was the conference’s first live coder and advocate for women in tech, Ellie Galloway. Ellie demonstrated Jewelbots’ codeable wearables, which were created to get kids interested in coding and STEM topics. I personally can’t wait to experiment with my MXChip from Microsoft!

I attended some great talks learning about efficient streams and worker threads by Liz Parody, as well as a talk by Microsoft on how to run my own dev box in the cloud with Visual Studio Code, which even allows you to share screens and pair program together!

A talk on UX by Maurice Hayward really drove home a lot of what I’ve learnt during the fellowship. He talked about accessibility, and how if we make software accessible, we’re making it better for everyone. With an audience of developers, he showed us that as developers, we’re making decisions that impact UX.

At this point it was time to take a break from the conference and connect with the rest of the fellows on our cohort wide call.

David Horvath from HackerOne talked about security vulnerabilities and gave some data-based insights on current security vulnerabilities. The OWASP Top 10 famously lists the top 10 security concerns in software, however David pointed out concerns vary greatly, depending on their discoverability and the skill of the hacker.

Next up I made my first VS Code extension, making a function that re-factored a JavaScript function by interacting with it using the Abstract String Tree, a way of manipulating the syntactic structure of code. These types of extensions are great for linting code as well as being able to detect when code is invalid before you even run it.

At development conferences, booth crawls are always a lot of fun (+ there’s always a lot of swag up for grabs!). Google, Microsoft and Heroku were all there to talk about their cloud services. Working with these platforms is one of those necessities of being a developer. I always enjoy talking to technical staff at these events and always come away with new knowledge that will make my life easier.

Thursday was mostly about the geekier topics, some of which I understand, some of which I’ll leave to the maintainers of Node.

Marian Villa, CEO of Pionerasdev spoke about how her not-for-profit organization helps Colombian women learn to code in a safe space. It was inspiring to see it has grown from something small, a few people getting together to code, to something that will impact peoples lives and careers.

A refresher on Electron by Felix Rieseberg from Slack was a highlight. For me it’s something I tried towards the beginning of my career as a dev, and at that time it was quite new, but Electron has matured and has gained quite a following. Unlocking the world of desktop apps for web developers, Electron allows us to build cross-platform desktop apps with Javascript, HTML and CSS. I’m looking forward to finding an application to try this one out!

Ayesha Mazumdar from Optimizely gave a great talk about scaling accessibility. She provided examples of common pitfalls with accessibility, many of which I’ve been guilty, and provided constructive ways to prevent the gotcha using component libraries.

Alessandro Segala introduced us to the world of the Inter-Planetary File System. No, it’s not just a concept, it really works! It’s a way to serve files and, as he demonstrated, static web apps on a distributed network.

Mixing cats and code seems to come naturally for programmers. Constanza Yáñez Calderón presented her solution to getting home late to upset cats. She made a cat feeder, based on node-cron running on a Raspberry Pi. It was great to see her project progress, and the mishaps she encountered with cron that gave her (very happy) cats new food every hour instead of every day!

As a developer, you tend to spend a lot of time in the command line. Ruy Adorno from npm showed us his favourite command line tricks to help workflows and add interactivity to the terminal, making things like switching git branches or selecting folders a lot easier. My favourite quote from Ruy was “The command line is an amazing user interface” - I agree!

Kadir Topal talked about the Top 10 Frustrations for designers and developers. #1 is having to support specific browsers (IE11 anyone?) and in the top five, we blame four of those things on browsers!

Then that was the end! Node + JS Interactive was over. Next time I’d love to see more front-end content, and with Electron now in the mix, I’m sure the next event in Austin in June 2020 will have a full-stack lineup of interesting talks.

#codeforcanada #nextgentravel #nodejsinteractive #prototyping #conference #montreal

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micjohnsonn59-blog · 5 years

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The Number One Question You Must Ask for Roxys Prices

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Lots of Organic items to pick from too. Summary It is becoming more and more evident that gabapentin could be subject to abuse specifically populations. Additionally, it creates severe respiratory issues that cause fatal also whenever the medication is used for a very long term it may get the individual to be addicted to the drug so care ought to be taken in the consumption of oxycontin. That feeling of euphoria is in the brain and won't ever go away. Methadone is among the most effective drugs known to man. Select your favourite pharmacy to purchase cheap generic Roxicodone 30 mg. In many instances, forcing yourself to do yoga when you're sick will make your wellbeing condition worse. Endurance can decrease if you're tired, because some yoga movements are also rather heavy, especially if done when you aren't feeling well. If that occurs, you're able to still practice yoga as usual. However, there may be uncomfortable and at times dangerous side effects.

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spacebookettes · 3 years

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Leopardoria

A city in future India... it’s mascot Metal Leopard, adorns the multi levels of skyscrapers and cyber park statues. Crystal leopard fangs tip every rooftop to stop the giant insect invaders, should they ever return.

A small park on skyscraper level 23 has a shaft of light that reaches down and illuminates a small leopard icon fixed into an ancient concrete wall. A crystal face with snarling whiskers and flashing ruby eyes. There’s a lot of water in the old cyber park drained down from the endless showering surfaces above. Clean alpine water of the lightest sapphire hue. It pools in the white marble pathways and raised areas. There is also a pond, no sign of a fountain.

Not many people visit this old relic of a park. A woman visits every week to feed the moths. Giant flecked moths. A woman who always says hello to the crystal leopard. And sometimes on an evening when the light hits just right, the crystal leopard head refracts pieces of iridescent rainbows all around the park.

A woman sits on one of the ancient benches made out of some old wonder material that never corrodes or fades. A woman sits with a future ipencil drawing luminous 3d shapes in the air; they hover and she rotates them changing the colours, drawing on holographic googly eyes, sets them to gliding and rotating around the park. A glittering Michelangelo’s David escapes from the tip of the ipencil and sits next to A woman. It can be hard to find solitude in a 30 mile high city of multi levelled skyscrapers... though really, you just have to know where to look... follow the giant moths.

The End

By Peter Stringer

Internet Zombies

The zombies had eaten everyone.

A driverless van stopped outside a house. It’s contents of fresh food brought to the back door and placed inside after the auto lock opened up the house… it was getting tight in the kitchen, for boxes. All the well to do houses had lots of boxes.

A window cleaning contraption un-clicked from it’s recharging housing on the side of the building. It happily washed the windows again. A zombie got excited about the movement of the contraption but soon lost interest… no flesh for a hungry zombie.

The cows were happy. The contraptions kept bringing them food and they were let out everyday to eat the fresh grass. Scratching posts contraptions kept their coats neat and their bodies relaxed. No one came to the slaughter house; those contraptions hadn’t been turned on for quite a while. A computer monitored the cow behaviour and adjusted as needed. As the farms filled up with the cow babies, mothers would be allowed onto the fields to raise as they pleased.

Buses of zombies did the commute, buses of zombies went to the coast; though they were dead the zombies realised it was quicker to use the automated bus services on their endless journey looking for brains.

A robot opened a door and let a few zombies into the automated Patisserie, they didn’t seem interested in the freshly baked good, but they came every morning the smell perhaps seemed like life or perhaps croissants smell like brains a little.

The street cleaner contraptions kept the roads running smoothly for the driverless cars on their way. The hopeful faces of the zombies checked for drivers. Nothing.

A jet flew over with only the usual junk mail onboard, the halls of the houses around the world filled up with useless paper.

A robot tapped the code to get into a secure room in a power station. The solar panels were all working efficiently still.

A gleaming high tech factory… raw materials in one end new solar panels out the other, loaded onto delivery trucks.

A sewing machine runs through it’s programming for the delicate detailing on some net curtains. The boxes of new net curtains were piling up… an efficiency droid was having to do some serious reorganising.

Trees have started sprouting in the gardens and in the in-between grassy patches.

A dog steals a pastry.

The end

By Peter Stringer

RATS

Rodent Augmented Terrestrials.

The Rat wanted to be a witch, she had a little sparkly black hat. The hotel was fun since the humans had left. A skeleton crew of maintenance contraptions all that was left to watch over the long corridors and bright spaces. Someone had forgotten to set the traps for the rats.

Auntie Ratty had knitted the Rat’s hat. Strands of glitter ran through the wool they had found in the back of some lost storage space. Robot rats are quite handy with wool and string, paperclips and buttons. They had found a jar of iridescent pearly buttons in the storage place. A tiny black one, with flecks of rainbow, was sown onto the Rats hat.

Who had created the crafting metal rodents they didn’t know. The rats found all kinds of scraps and odd ends. The hotel rooms were covered with little paper houses, knitted helter skelters and cardboard assault courses. Real rats had started living in some of the paper architecture, taking daily exercise in the ratty theme parks. The robot rats opened food for the real rats in the kitchens. Filled the sinks with water for bathing and refreshment.

A military droid… Power Reconnaissance Inspector Noncombatant Casualty Enabler. Was searching the halls of the abandoned hotel. The Rat saw its shiny exoskeleton and was impressed. She climbed up its legs torso and neck and snuggled it’s ‘cheek’… I don’t know what robot magic or quantum fairy caused what happened but the Rat started growing and glitching, rainbows streamed from her metal joints. Her red eyes threw sparks of lightning into the air as her rodent back straightened and she stood up, long limbs laser energised from her rodent claws. She stood fully humanoid with giant sparkling woolen hat, black sparkly woolen cape. Metal humanoid hands caught the light as she stretched them out in her gaze. A full robot witch with rocket broomstick and potion gadget belt. The military droids ocular sensors fizzed with new programming. It broke off it’s arm cannon, threw it to the floor. A knitting needle wand sprouted another sparkly woolen hat. Two robot witches flew with fireworks exploding out of the back of their rocket broomstick. Creating calamity in a moon lit night and off into a mountainous distance, snow avalanches following.

The end

By Peter Stringer

Nanobot and germ

The nanobot spied the little germ, usually nanobots left the immune system to work on it’s own. But the occasional nasty invader could be disposed of. The nano bots multi micro pincers picked up the germ. LIGHTNING STRUCK the woman, all the nanobots in her body froze and slowly came back online. An urgent repair meant busy nanobots. Our nanobot was still frozen it’s micro eye sensors locked on the germ. Nanobot’s pincers brought germ closer. Some entanglement had occurred between them, now nanobot had to save germ. But where would be safe. Nanobot took germ all around the woman’s body. Nothing seemed safe from the immune system and the other nanobots. A journey would be needed, outside the body. Nanobot reached some skin opening and looked across the vast expanse of the outside world. It leaped floating among the dust particles and pollen. Nanobot and germ floated along a bright day. Around others heads, white walls and sterile equipment. Where could nanobot take germ in the hazardous place of soap and alcohol gels. They drifted around white corridors and down a black elevator shaft.. Nanobots little thrusters launched them toward an exit and out into a fresh crisp spring. Nano was worried about germ in this cooler environment. It searched the internet for ideal conditions for a germ. Warm and humid seemed to be the ideal. Nanobot passed a gargantuan ear, a humongous coughing mouth projected them back towards their exit. Nanobot’s micro thrusters saw them back on their journey and through a giant closing door. A warm place, a clean place, too clean. Nanobot dare not rest on any surface so they hung there on a new journey. Nanobot rested on a floating piece of skin cell and let germ have a snack of it. Sirens meant a rushing. The vast doors opened blowing nanobot and germ around the cavern. A flat line sounded, a giant moved back and forth but the flatline kept pouncing. Nanobot rested on a dead hair folicle. Nanobot stayed there for days an eye sensor on germ who was having a great time of it. Strange organic music and darkness. Nanobot waited. Nanobot said good bye to Germ who didn’t even notice. A long journey through deep soil and then a crisp spring landscape. Sunshine.

The end

By Peter Stringer

#leopard #book #scifi writing #art #india #Leopardoria #scifiandfantasy #creative writing #cyber park #crystal cat

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Bridgerton Review: Netflix Series Redefines Period Romance on TV

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This Bridgerton review is spoiler-free.

With concise storytelling, character development, and big-budget Hollywood aesthetics, Netflix’s latest original television series, Bridgerton, represents the best of British period drama. The series is based on Julia Quinn’s romance novels and production company Shondaland adapted the books with a unique focus on Black and POC representation rarely seen in period dramas. It is safe to say the series has set a new standard for other productions in the genre to follow. Some viewers may be concerned that the pre-release promotion and dialogue around Bridgerton may just be giving lip service to advancing diversity and representation. But, when it comes to racial inclusivity, Bridgerton lives up to and even surpasses expectations.

Adapting the Bridgerton novel series for TV is particularly tricky as each book focuses on one romantic relationship with other characters moving in occasionally conflicting orbits as supporting characters. The series’ scripts successfully transform the story into a true ensemble effort while also weaving in occasional changes and characterization shifts original to the series.

The main focus of the miniseries is, of course, the Bridgerton family, as widowed Lady Violet Bridgerton (Ruth Gemmell) attempts to steer her eight children through growing up and the marriage market. From oldest to younger: Anthony (Jonathan Bailey) inherited his father’s title Lord but he’s shirking his responsibility. Benedict (Luke Thompson) is a spare heir and realizes he can forge his own life outside of the strict lines of the Ton. Colin (Luke Newton) is now exploring the marriage market. But all eyes are on the oldest daughter, Daphne (Phoebe Dyvenor), as this is her debut into society. Her younger sister, Eloise (Claudia Jessie), rejects the marriage market but still manages to pay attention to the society gossip.

Lady Violet is not the only mother in the Ton with daughters to marry off. The brassy and ostentatious Lady Portia Featherington (Polly Walker) wants Prudence (Bessie Carter), Phillipa (Harriet Cains), and Penelope (Nicola Coughlan) to secure good matches, but suitors aren’t exactly keen. It’s also not exactly helpful that they have to host Lord Featherington’s (Ben Miller) hot cousin from the countryside, Marina Thomspon (Ruby Barker), who could turn potential suitors her way.

Although Queen Charlotte (Golda Rosheuvel) is the head of the social scene, the real boss is the gossip mill. The mysterious Lady Whistledown (voiced by Julie Andrews) knows who was the worst dressed at the ball, who had a tryst, and who made a major social faux pas and is all too eager to spill everyone’s secrets in print.

Although Lady Whistledown is perhaps the most fantastical element in the script, her omnipresence in everyone’s affairs is a necessary representation of the limits on reimagining Regency society. At its core, the Ton is obsessed with sustaining wealth, titles, and property. Marriages of virgin women to the eligible bachelors ensure financial and social security for the next generation. The high class single men could have numerous liaisons while only at worst be called a “rake” while the reputation of a wealthy single woman is completely destroyed. This dichotomy is essential to understanding the novel and, in turn, the choices the characters make throughout the episodes.

Although there are constraints in terms of gender and class politics, the plot leaves the Black and POC characters free from interacting with slavery and colonialism. This is where the impact of having Black and experienced inclusive drama writers, such as Doctor Who’s Sarah Dollard, can be seen the most. While some critics may insist that this is a piece of realism the show needs, the intense focus on fantasy renders the need for realism moot. There are only two references to slavery: one is an illusion of a historical event during the slavery era and the other is a reference to Black assimilation into society. Both could be interpreted as classism clashes, but the first is definitely a historical Easter Egg of sorts. All of the Black and POC characters deal with family, relationships, and in some cases financial conflicts that anyone can relate to.

Simon, the Duke of Hastings (Regé-Jean Page), is the Ton’s most eligible bachelor. He contains the multitudes of Regency leading man tropes. Simon is handsome, has several million pounds in the bank, and refuses to marry despite being the most eligible bachelor. The script does a much more effective job in portraying Simon’s backstory to explain his hesitancy towards marriage and raising a family. Viewers see flashes of Simon’s father mocking his stutter and calling him a disgrace to the title. At the same time, the development of Simon’s character shows an acute awareness of avoiding negative stereotypes of Black men, especially regarding anger and assertiveness. His pride and intransigence is clearly a trauma response. By the end, even the most skeptical book reader will recognize that a switch in physical appearance didn’t completely change Simon’s personality.

Lady Danbury (Adjoa Andoh) acts as Simon’s godmother and advisor. She is an imposing figure but her strength comes from her political and business connections and not from the usual “strong Black women” tropes and, on the flip side of her power moves, is her firm yet tender relationship with Simon. One can argue she is above both Lady Bridgerton and Lady Featherington in the social hierarchy. Black characters like Lady Danbury are extremely rare in period dramas and it is due to the screenwriters’ commitment to shifting the existing narrative. It would have been easy for the screenwriters to stop there as far as featuring Black characters, but Bridgerton adds original to the show characters to enrich the book narrative.

Will Mondrich (Martins Imhangbe) is a boxer who is hoping to provide a more stable living for his wife and kids. The character is a nod to history as Bill Richmond, a former slave turned bare-knuckle boxer is a Regency celebrity. Will is also Simon’s friend and occasional sparring partner. Their conversations end up revealing information the women in their lives are not privy to. It would be easy to label him simply as a foil for Simon, but his livelihood presents an intersection of class and sporting ethics at a time before professional regulation. Men of the Ton spend thousands betting on Will’s fights, but he takes home only a fraction of those winnings. Not only is there more exploration of what Regency men did in spaces away from women, Bridgerton ensures that there are Black and POC characters representing every level of society.

Marina’s storyline is clearly a byproduct of class and gender politics versus race. She is the opposite of Daphne and the Featheringtons, as she comes from the countryside and lives modestly. Lady Whistledown makes particular note of her ability to attract interested suitors. Her natural hair and visibly African features are seen as a positive thing, and many come to call on her which is such a refreshing sight in a genre so stuck on white standards of beauty. Marina may not wish to be constrained by the rules of the Ton but she does not have that luxury. She must make her way through society to make the best of what is offered to her.

Many in the audience may also be looking to see if Bridgerton measures up to previous Regency dramas. It measures up in terms of acting quality and set design but it will fail if people insist on holding the show to historical accuracy standards the creative team rejects. First of all, it is disingenuous to compare a modern romance novel adaptation to adaptations of novels written during or shortly after the Regency. In addition, the show’s extensive focus on the richest members of Regency society is in stark contrast to previous miniseries which portray rural landowners and minor gentry. Austen’s characters in particular are at least one to two full social classes removed from the Ton.

The costumes are the biggest visual assistant towards crafting a different aesthetic than previous productions. Queen Charlotte’s sky high Afro wig paired with massive brocade gowns, Penelope’s sunshine yellow embroidered dress, and differences in the cut of the mens’ breeches only scratch the surface of the purposeful design choices. 7,800 costumes are featured in total in Bridgerton, which is easily double or triple the amount of variety in lower budget UK productions. This is a cornucopia of stylish treats for fans who are willing to set aside their design biases. Many will end up seeing themselves as possible members of the Ton and imagine themselves at a ball. Some historical costumers are already discussing which characters they want to recreate costumes for.

Those who wanted to see an exact replica of existing white-centric aesthetics should definitely avoid the show. It should also be pointed out quite a few of these critics gave productions such as the 2016 War & Peace miniseries, the live action Beauty and the Beast, and Marie Antoinette, a pass on anachronistic and fantasy styling purely because white actors were wearing these costumes.

All that’s missing in the Ton’s elegant mansions, country estates, and stately townhouses is indoor plumbing and electricity. Despite all the talk by showrunner Chris Van Dusen and others on the production team about Bridgerton purposefully moving away from recreating history, the set design of the interior and exterior locations show a surprising level of attention paid to era-accurate details. Netflix’s almost unlimited budget resources were skillfully used to secure the best UK locations, furniture, and set decorations. The design of scenes such as the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens and the are where the influence of historical advisor Dr. Hannah Greig is most visible.

Genre purists may bristle at Bridgerton being described as a “Regency Gossip Girl” but the Lady Whistledown subplot was an overarching plot in the book series before the show existed. Her commentary ties all of the main and subplots together in an effective introduction for non-readers and is an essential component of building the world of the Ton as distinctive from previous productions.

Every good drama needs some mood music to set the tone. Kris Bower’s score is a creative mix of orchestral music and sweeping instrumental covers of recent pop tunes. What’s better to evoke the mood of drama at a ball than a cello pushing out “Bad Guy” by Billie Eillish? This is one other aspect where sticking to authenticity would result in blandness. Bower’s work is one more example of the show featuring Black creatives behind and in front of the camera.

From Bridgerton to Hamilton: A History of Color-Conscious Casting in Period Drama

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

How Bridgerton Can Avoid Outlander’s Mistakes

By Amanda-Rae Prescott

Romance, lust, and love are critical components of the miniseries. Viewers that are opposed to more than hugs and kisses should give the series a wide berth. Despite Regency society being known for having strict rituals around courtship, they were not prudes. Bridgerton replaces the Victorian and modern religious tropes common in the genre with vivid portrayals of male and female desire in hetero and queer relationships. A lot of the strictly PF relationship content viewers expect from Regency dramas comes from Victorian purity culture plus religious moralism and is not accurate to the era. These ideas also have racist undertones as well. Having an open minded approach to the variety of human emotions around relationships enriches the overall story versus productions which use sex scenes for shock value. Some critics may believe this to be the case, but this is a fundamental misunderstanding of what romance fiction is all about.

Although the entire cast brought their A-game to Bridgerton, there are a few standouts that must be specifically mentioned. Phoebe Dyvenor and Regé-Jean Page have excellent chemistry and anti-chemistry depending on the scene. Ruth Gemmell brilliantly portrays Lady Violet as iron-willed but with an endless supply of affection for all her children. Adjoa Andoh brings out the best of Lady Danbury from the books. Nicola Coughlan proves she’s a formidable force in drama as well as comedy. Sabrina Bartlett’s past work in portraying women on the margins of the 18th and 19th Centuries comes through in Siena Rosso.

The main elements the show loses points on are certain teasers for future plot development. Some viewers may feel that the series falls slightly short on queer representation as that plot line isn’t fully developed by the last episode. In addition, the resolution to the most problematic element in The Duke and I may still leave some viewers unsatisfied as ethical questions remain.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Bridgerton’s eight episodes show the endless possibilities for expanding diversity in romance and period drama on-screen if screenwriters are willing to work alongside authors on a fresh take of their literary world.

The post Bridgerton Review: Netflix Series Redefines Period Romance on TV appeared first on Den of Geek.

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neakco · 4 years

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TNA - Ch. 2

Ch.1 Ch.3

Warning for mild violence near the end.

Chapter 2

Azalea watched Julian be escorted out and smiled to herself, Theodore Sapphirus was going to be a great friend. Her eyes widened slightly and she turned to her brother and spoke in a mesh of French and Italian, "Briar, what do friends do with each other?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He replied in his own mix of languages as he maneuvered them towards the back of the room. "Talk about common interests maybe. I mean people that like cards play card games together, maybe you participate in activities you both enjoy."

Azalea looked thoughtful, "Do you think he would enjoy robotics or programming?"

"I think you should ask him that. You have known him longer." Briar leaned against a wall to observe the room.

"I know he likes puzzles and mind teasers. Mostly we discussed other people and our observations of them." She grinned, "Maybe people watching is a good friend activity."

Briar stiffened suddenly and Azalea's gaze followed his to see a petite women wearing a soft pink gown cowering away from a man in a stiff suit cornering her against a wall.

She sighed, "Go save her. I will be fine here."

She watched him go play the hero with a fond grin. Hopefully he doesn't hurt Stiff Suit.

She jumped and her hand twitched towards a weapon as a voice spoke beside her. "Awful nice of you to let your man go save her."

Azalea analyzed the taller man quickly. While he was wearing an expensive suit his vest appeared to be heavy duty and possibly bullet proof. The man's suit was also too loose to be fashionable, he probably carried weapons. His eyes were sharp and observant so she let her eyes linger on his vest as she asked, "Expecting trouble?"

His posture relaxed a bit, Azalea guessed that he had deemed that she wasn't a threat to him. "Am I expecting trouble in Lattuck? Always." He bowed extravagantly, "Robert Umbra at your service Miss..."

"Azalea Willowbirch. To what do I owe the honor?"

Robert gestured towards where Briar was now obviously flirting with the petite women he rescued. "Was planning to intervene but my job was done for me. It seemed to me that keeping a pretty petal like you company while your man flirts was the least I could do."

Azalea had to stifle her laugh, "My brother is quite free to flirt if he wishes. Though I feel I must tell you that I am nothing as delicate as a petal Mr. Umbra."

"Never said you were delicate Petal. In fact I know of some fairly deadly petals." He smiled companionably. "Now please call me Rob, or Robert. I am no one near important enough to be addressed so formally."

Azalea seemingly relaxed against the wall in order to keep an eye on her new companion while still being able to survey the venue. "So how did someone as unimportant as you say not only get into this event but also afford a suit of that quality?"

Robert looked at her a little quizzically but smiled, "Boring story, my adoptive family is really high end. My father is hoping that I will grow out of my enjoyment and grunt work though if he keeps having me attend these things." His smile turned a little more dangerous, "Since I answered your question Petal you want to tell me how security at the gate didn't find your weapons?"

Azalea grinned, she enjoyed these types of conversations. It was one of her favourite games to play, figuring out how much to tell him without giving away everything. "I am quite impressed that you could tell Robert, I am guessing it was the twitch when you first approached that gave me away." At the look he gave her she smiled and continued, "Knives made to look like ribs. I use them to hide the bullet proofing in my dress. They are not the most effective but you yourself said that this is Lattuck."

Robert's eyes filled with wonder. "Seriously Petal? Can I get the name of your tailor? I need one of these if only to bet my guys at work that I can kick their asses while wearing a dress."

Azalea couldn't stifle her laugh this time and she earned some glares from some young women lurking nearby. "I do not see why not." She opened the smallest ever pocket near the top of her skirts and pulled out a business card, "It will not be inexpensive."

"The money shouldn't be a problem. Thanks Petal." He looked to the nearby lurkers before stepping from the wall and bowing exaggeratedly. "Care to dance?"

She frowned, "but we were having such a nice conversation."

"Nothing romantic Petal, you aren't my type." He grinned and held out a hand, "Honestly my boyfriend is out of town right now and those ladies are starting to look like they want to eat me."

Smiling she accepted his hand, "Looks like I get to rescue all the strong lads from tedium this evening."

Robert started to lead in her in a complex waltz, "So Petal, how well can you use those weird knives of yours?"

"Well enough to keep me alive. Possibly enough to work as a bodyguard if I chose. I have survived some fairly hostile places." She smiled as she allowed him to twirl her.

He started to ask her about different weapons and fighting techniques that they both knew as they danced. It wasn't hard for her to see he was passionate about it even if he did like guns more than knives.

The song was just coming to an end when Azalea saw a hand tap on Robert's shoulder. "May I cut in?"

Robert turned to look and revealed Theodore, "That is up to Petal here little brother."

Azalea smiled up at Theodore, "He is my friend Robert. I would be happy to share a dance with him."

Robert bowed and gracefully passed her over, "Then I shall go introduce myself to your brother and the lovely flower he rescued."

Taking Theodore's hand she grinned, "Got tired of talking business with board members?"

He flushed lightly as he pulled her in close to dance, "A little, mostly I wanted to spend more time with you. I vastly enjoy your company over theirs."

She laughed lightly as she watched her brother pull both Robert and the girl to dance with him. Seeing her brother reminded her of a question she had, "So what do you do in your spare time for fun?"

He didn't seem to realize that they were slowly dancing closer together as he thought about her question. "In the free time I do manage to find I like to solve puzzles as I think I have mentioned to you before. Though sometimes my friends take me clubbing. It isn’t really something I do for fun though."

"Why not?" Azalea was confused, she loved dancing, "You seem to be enjoying dancing right now."

"I don't like dancing with strangers. It is uncomfortable having people in my space."

Her face fell slightly, "Oh, is this bothering you? We can stop if you wish, i don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Theodore tightened his grip on her waist to keep her from moving away, "You're not a stranger to me Azalea, we have known each other for months now. You're my friend and I trust you enough to know you won't kill me in front of this many witnesses."

"I like you too much to kill you," Azalea laughed as she leaned in and rested her head against him, "Next time your friends drag you out invite me along, I can dance with you so you don't have to worry about strangers."

Theodore's face was slowly getting redder but Azalea didn't notice.

She continued, "You could always just dance by yourself too. That is what I usually do when I go out."

Theodore did his best to collect himself, "That could be fun, I think I would enjoy that."

"I will give you my number after a few more songs."

The moment they were done dancing Azalea grabbed his hand and skillfully led them around people until they reached the refreshments and both of their brothers.

"Briar I need my phone please."

He threw it at her and she caught it without batting an eye. She opened up her contacts and handed it over to Theodore.

As he entered his contact information Briar took the time to introduce his new friend.

"Azalea this is Roisin Ballantyne. Roisin this is my twin Azalea and her friend Theodore."

Azalea carefully lifted her skirt in a graceful curtsy, "It is a pleasure Ms. Ballantyne."

Briar smiled, "Roisin is interning under Godfrey Enterprises COO to better learn how to help out at her father's company back in France."

Azalea noticed her brother's use of the women's first name but decided to address that later and instead smiled at Roisin. "That is quite an impressive position, how long is the internship?"

"It is only for a few months while my father is here for business." Roisin smiled sweetly, "What is it you are in town for Azalea? Briar only mentioned that it had to do with your family business."

As she accepted her phone back from Theodore she glanced discreetly at her brother who shrugged. "It is just some minor things in need if clearing up. We had hoped they would have been resolved quickly but I believe we may be here for some months still."

"Oh that is such a shame." Roisin looked at her own phone as it vibrated. "I do have to go now, but it was lovely meeting you. Au revoir " She waved and then gave Briar a kiss on the cheek before disappearing through the crowd.

Azalea looked at her brother with narrowed eyes before hissing in Greek, "Family business?"

"I had to tell her something." He returned in a mix of Greek and Russian. "I didn't want to lie to her. She is sweet and I asked her to be my girlfriend."

Azalea started to mutter to herself in a mix of Spanish, Italian and Greek about her brother's stupid romantic tendencies.

Theodore cleared his throat, "Do you always mutter about romance in a plethora of languages?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I temporarily forgot it wasn't just my brother and I "

Theo handed her a glass of punch, "I didn't realize how many languages you both know."

Briar took a sip from his own drink, "We learned French and English to help with Grandfather's business. The rest we picked up as we traveled. In some places we had to learn quite fast and it almost gets easier the more languages you know."

"It almost takes more effort to stick to one language now. Thankfully English was the 3rd language we learned so it is a bit easier." Azalea added.

Rob suddenly paled and quickly shoved a tiny earpiece into Theodore's hands which caused the twins to realize he had been wearing one the whole time that they hadn't noticed.

"Some trouble near the front doors, could be nothing but I'm going to check it out." He pulled out a gun and Azalea smiled to herself, she knew he had weapons on him.

Before he ran he looked back at Azalea and Briar, "Stick together and stay safe. Theo can hear me and I know you two can defend yourselves." He didn't wait for an answer as ran to the front.

"How worried should we be?" Azalea asked Theodore as Briar vanished into a shadowed alcove.

"Rob likely has things handled." Theo maneuvered them to the wall side of the refreshment table. "The staff here are trained for situations as well." He lightly gestured towards some of the staff in the distance. "They are slowly evacuating guests through side passages in a way that doesn't incite panic. Since we are near the back of the hall we will be some of the last to be evacuated."

Azalea nodded but also made sure that her knives wouldn't get stuck on any folds in the fabric. "You really don't seem concerned."

Theodore smiled, "That is because I am not. Someone desperate always tries to crash these larger events."

Only them and seven other guests were left in the hall when a voice rang out near them, "Looks like our distraction out front paid off boys." The man pointed a gun at them, "We seem to have ourselves a Godfrey heir."

Azalea scanned the room and saw 2 other men with guns rounding up everyone else in the room. She made sure not to look towards her brother's hiding spot and slowly walked around the table with Theodore. Seemed like they were hostages.

Apparently the man pointing his gun at them was in charge since the other two thugs forced their hostages to group up with them.

The men tossed ropes at the hostages and made them help tie each other's hands.

Theodore leaned in as he was forced to tie her hands, "Rob is on it. Don't worry."

Azalea just hummed in response as they were then all forced to sit on the ground. She did so with her skirts laying at weird angles.

"Now that everyone is all nice and comfy how abouts you tell us where the auction items are being held." The man in charge sneered at Theodore.

"I can try and guess but I really don't know." Theodore made himself look meek and scared but sitting so close to him it was easy for Azalea to tell he wasn't.

The thug aimed his revolver towards Theodore's face. "Let’s try this again." The man slowly growled out every word. "Where is the loot?"

"I don't know." Theodore sat straight, he really didn't think these guys would shoot him.

"Wrong answer."

Azalea launched herself into the bullet's trajectory. It hit her in the side with the crack of bones and the force left her winded enough that she didn't react as man lifted her up.

He was furious with her. "You blocked my shot!"

Her voice was breathy and barely a whisper, "Better me." Internally she swore, who knew that bullets at close range hit so hard.

The thug threw her at the goon farthest from the wall, "Dispose of the whore before she starts to bleed out."

Theodore sat in shock. Azalea just sacrificed her life to save his. Why? He thought that the man was talking to him but he couldn't register any of the words. The most amazing women he had ever met just sacrificed herself, for him, he had only just started getting to know her.

A sharp whistle broke through his shock and he blinked slowly as the goon closest to them suddenly collapsed to reveal a grinning Briar. Goon two collapsed almost instantly after as Azalea's foot hit him hard in the face.

Theodore felt like he watched in slow motion as the main thug turned to shoot at Briar only to drop the gun as a weirdly shaped ivory knife embedded itself in his hand. Theo blinked again and Briar was suddenly right in front of him and knocking the man out with the hilt of a large dagger.

Azalea was then kneeling in front of Theodore and snapping her fingers. "You okay?"

He looked around and saw Briar untying the other hostages. "Yes I'm..." he paused. "Am I alright!? Az you just took a bullet for me! Are you alright?"

She laughed and used another thin and oddly curved blade to slice through his restraints. "There will probably be a bit of bruising and one of my knives broke, but I am mostly uninjured."

As soon as Theo's hands were free he reached up to feel where the bullet had impacted her and ended up finding a flattened bullet. "How?"

She grinned as she helped him stand, "This is Lattuck, I just dressed appropriately."

Briar approached, "If you are done flirting can you inform Rob that we have three unconscious and restrained men near the refreshment table."

Theo blushed a deep red and Azalea could hear laughter coming from the earpiece. "I think he heard you brother."

When Robert finally managed to find his way to them he wasn't sure if he should believe his eyes. Petal was showing a pale older man how to disarm a mugger as two others sat nearby watching intently, Thorn appeared to be talking down three panicked people, one of which was a large man that looked like he could snap even him in half, and his younger brother appeared to be tolerating some women falsely wailing like a banshee. His brother also kept sneaking glances at Petal, it was nice to see him with a crush for once.

Rob then looked around again and spotted three men all tied with sturdy rope, one also appeared to have extensive bandages wrapped around one of his hands. On the refreshment table next to them he also spotted three guns, all had been unloaded and slightly dismantled.

"Is everyone here okay?"

There were a couple yeses and a few nods.

Petal actually walked up to him and gestured towards her twin. "Those three appear to be in shock and probably need a qualified person to take a look." She then pointed and the man with a bandaged hand. "He also needs to be looked at. I may have embedded a knife in his hand when he tried to shoot and I didn't think it wise to leave the knife with him. I did what i could to bind the wound with pressure though."

Rob motioned for some of the security officers to take control then looked back at her. "Where did you find bandages?"

He watched as Petal smirked then reached down to one of the folds in her skirts, it came apart with the sound of magnets as it opened to reveal a compartment holding medical supplies and.....wait

"Is that what it looks like?"

"Depends what you think it looks like." Azalea grinned as she unstrapped the sword and handed it him.

Her held it gingerly as he examined it, "Petal, this is Japanese steel."

Briar laughed as he and Theo came over. "If you think that is impressive you should see some of the others we have back at home."

"Rob give Az back the sword, I can see Father headed this way." Theo whispered out harshly as he stood straighter and stepped slightly in front of Azalea.

"Shit, I would have thought he was long gone after all this." Rob handed back the sword before turning around and helping Theo block Azalea from sight so she could successfully re hide the weapon.

Both men seemed to become cold and emotionless as they greeted their father.

"Boys." The man was taller then them and mildly intimidating, he had a look that said he got whatever he wanted when he wants it.

"Father." They answered in unison.

"I trust everything has been handled."

"Yes sir." They again spoke at the same time.

The man then looked sharply towards Briar. "Who is this?"

Theodore stepped to the side to reveal Azalea. "Briar and Azalea Willowbirch father. They saved my life."

"So they are dangerous."

"No they..." Theodore trailed off at his father's glare.

"Clean up and post the items online. I expect you both back at home tonight."

"Yes father." Both men lowered their heads as the man walked swiftly away.

"Is he always so pleasant?" Briar asked with a smirk once the man himself was out of sight.

"No, usually he is worse." Rob grinned in return.

"To be fair we can be dangerous when cornered." Azalea laughed.

"So what needs to be done anyways" Briar asked. "We can help."

Rob pulled a checklist out of an inner pocket and showed it to Briar. "Mostly just making sure all the guests and staff are accounted for."

"Sounds easy enough. Theo, can you pass me your earpiece? It will be faster if we split up." As soon as he had the small communicator he headed through the staff door into the kitchens.

Rob shrugged and headed off through a different door.

"Guess that leaves me helping you." Azalea grinned, "Just point me towards a computer and tell me what I need to enter."

"You already helped me a lot tonight Az. You really don't need to help more." Theo argued slightly while walking towards the hall they had talked in earlier.

She followed behind skipping, "Do you expect me to do nothing while waiting for my brother?"

"Of course I don't."

"Ah, so I am to make my way home alone?" Her grin behind his back was filled with mischief.

"What? No. I..." he turned to look at her, "You are teasing me."

"Just a bit." She laughed. She then tilted her head in curiosity as Theo opened what was obviously a storage closet.

He grinned at her expression and took out his phone, "Welcome to the storage room." He then dramatically pushed a button on his phone and the back wall started to move.

"You sly fox." Her eyes were wide, "this is so neat."

Theo only grinned as he closed the door behind them and walked over to a desk.

He offered the chair to her as he leaned down and logged into the auction site. That done he grabbed a camera out of a drawer. "The starting auction prices are all listed in this section of the site, all we have to do is activate the links and make sure they all have photos."

"Easy enough." Azalea's fingers began to fly over the keys, "That weird ugly statue to your right needs some photos."

Theodore couldn't help but think that for once this chore could be fun.

#Truths of the New Atypical #Azalea Willowbirch #Briar Willowbirch #TNA #original story #original writing #chapter 2

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cleverwolfpoetry · 7 years

Text

Psycho-pass Movie Novel Chapter 4 - Final Part

Sorry, sorry, sorry for making you wait for so long, it may take me some time but I’ve not stopped working on Psycho-pass novels at all. Two jobs and a family are not easy to handle. Anyway, here we are with the final part of chapter 4.

As always, the sentences in italics are the characters thoughts.

The line of vehicles had been arranged in a huge elevator as it was. It didn’t give the sense of being on the top of a building, that huge elevator. Large as a soccer ground, it was climbing steeply the city tower, heart of Shambala Float. When the elevator came to a stop with a loud sound, the top floors of the city tower opened up to the eye with their magnificent view. The sky gardens of Krita Yuga. A lot of green — not artificial, but real plants growing everywhere. One could tell at first sight they were real because of the taste of the refreshing air.

In the pictures: the huge elevator and the sky gardens of Krita Yuga.

The rest after the cut…

Positioned across the large courtyard, the Chairman’s official residence was a compromise between the colonial style and a medieval palace. Got off the car, Tsunemori’s group stepped into the Chairman’s official residence. Rather than human soldiers, security drones made in Japan were overwhelmingly larger in number. Under Nicholas’ guidance, she advanced all the way to a special parlor.

“Excuse me”

Walking through a thick door made of the best mahogany wood, she stepped firmly onto a luxury carpet.

Chuan Han, the SEAUn’s Chairman, was already sitting at the head of the table far from the entrance.

“I am Tsunemori Akane, Inspector at the Japanese Ministry of Welfare’s Public Safety Bureau”

“I am Chuan Han”

Han went to offer his hand to Tsunemori who was standing up. She answered with a rather unconvinced smile.

“Surely I didn’t think that the Chairman would have met me personally”

“The thing is that I am very interested in you”

“Ah…”

Han sat down. Then, he invited Tsunemori to take a sit too.

A dictator, leader of the military clan — . Though she had been told so, she hadn’t realized straight away*. An intelligent elderly man, well-trained for his age and dressed in a custom-made suit that really suited him.

“Our Shambala Float. How is it? I would really like to hear your impressions as an inspector from Japan, birthplace of the Sibyl System”

“I think that even with limited machineries and materials, you’re searching for the best way. However, you still have many things left to do…”

“Ah ah ah, this is harsh”

Han laughed in a businesslike manner.

“…this time, I’ve been told I can receive your help in the international investigation?”

“The man you’re after, I heard he’s a terrorist who’s supporting the guerrilla, isn’t it?”

— the fugitive Kougami Shinya.

“…we have such a suspicion but…”

“About the measures against guerrilla in this country, I simply want to repress it. I don’t call that an investigation”

Even while laughing, Han was intimidating her with an inner glow in his eyes.

However, Tsunemori also stared back at him without flinching.

“Won’t I receive help?”

“…of course you will, you’ll receive unstinting aid. Only, the situation of this country and even its foundation are different with the ones of your country. I hope I can get your understanding at least on that”

“…I understand”

“In case you go out of this special district of Shambala and visit the key facilities, always act together with the guard that’s been arranged here”

“Together…with the guard?”

“Is it a nuisance?”

“No…”

Han looked towards Nicholas,

“I’m counting on you. Treat her right”

“Leave it to me”

It had been arranged that Tsunemori would stay in the residence for foreign important guests located in a corner of Krita Yuga’s sky gardens. Despite its name of vip guest house, hers wasn’t a place where people with a status of heads of state or ministers stayed for the night, but a relatively modest sleeping quarters for the retinue. RELATIVELY MODEST* — . And yet, it was doubtlessly the same class one could find in the suites of first category hotels. A loft structure built in a cottage-style mainly made of grained wood. She could enjoy the city view from the big windows.

The self-moving suitcase had reached the room first.

“Open case”

At Tsunemori’s words, the suitcase opened on its own.

The contents were scarce, the bare minimum. However, Tsunemori noticed a pouch she didn’t remember placing inside that case and let out a doubtful “mm?”. When she picked it up to examine it, she saw it was accompanied by a card with Karanomori Shion’s kiss mark.

On the card, the sentence “open it if you’re in trouble”.

“Geez, Shion-san…”

She appropriately took off her shoes and clothes and lied down on the bed.

“Ha…”

Tsunemori opened the documents she had previously prepared in Japan on her portable terminal. Visual and written data got displayed one by one on the holographic monitor.

— Chuan Han. Former General of the Army. The Shogun leading the military which has fought for the hegemony on the union.

He gained the support of Japanese Government on condition that he created a special district governed by Sibyl within SEAUn’s territory and overwhelmed the rival powers. He founded the newborn Parliament.

However, the voice opposing to the political power obtained through the military force hasn’t stopped, and the situation within the territory is unstable as ever. Even in the special district of the maritime Shambala Float, the arrangements for a strict defense are ongoing by means of a collection of unmanned weapons…

The terrorist group who entered Japan illegally…after all, I guess they are members of the antigovernment guerrilla. Han’s power base lies just in the Japanese Government’s support. The distant Sibyl System is the one supporting Shambala Float. Military drones. So, has Tōkyō become a target of retaliation terrorism…?

At that moment, the room interphone announced a visitor.

“Excuse me, may I come in?”

“Ah, yes”

A young girl dressed in modest maid clothing stepped into the room. She must have been around 14 years old, right? A healthy brown skin and lovely round eyes. She was wearing that collar showing she was a latent criminal.

“I am honored to look after you. My name is Nyan Yō. If you need anything, I’m at your service”

“I am glad to meet you too”

“I can surely arrange your meal immediately. I don’t have to care about access restriction so, if you let me link to your portable terminal, I also shall be able to receive your order through that. Even late at night me or my coworkers will meet your requests. Besides, I was told by Nicholas-sama that in case you go out, as long as it’s a building classified as restricted or ‘the other side of the bridge’, there is no problem even if you move by yourself, Tsunemori-sama”

“I see”

“As the restriction on buying and selling of alcoholic products is going to start in a week thanks to the System’s influence, if you want to try some this is the right time. For the time being, you can control entirely the room features with the touch panel on your bedside table. If you need a holo avatar…”

“Well…”

“Yes?”

“It’s a personal question so, is it right for you?”

“If I can answer…”

“This…life you’re leading at ‘Shambala’, is it happy?”

After smiling in a slight melancholic way, Yō answered.

“…of course”

“But, that collar… it must be a menace for you. In the worst case it could even take away your life*”

“If I can keep my psycho-pass stable enough I will be safe, isn’t it so?”

“…I’m sorry. Manners here are different from Japan’s, I can’t get used to it no matter what…”

“No, don’t apologize like this…”

“Does it mean that you approve a domination by means of Sibyl System? Even if it was that collar?”

“The inhabitants of this island, every one of them is really thankful to Chairman Han who introduced the Sibyl System”

“…”

“…not so long ago, there were no safe places everywhere in this country”

Night came on. The real investigation activity would have been tomorrow. Tsunemori had decided to eat dinner in the busy quarters of Dvapara Yuga lower stories. The bustling streets extended outwards from the base of the city tower. That was the place for middle class citizens with good hue and psycho-pass rather that for the wealthy class. It wasn’t as much a mess as the ‘outside’ of the city on the water but it was rather disorderly.

Tsunemori let her guard down if only just a little at the night view of the new refreshing country. Even the huge images casted by the Japan-made hologram devices had a rich exotic charm and the religious mood was quite strong. A combined atmosphere of labyrinths and a lot of towers — the lower story was like encircled by walls. Even though it should have been a cramped space, the view of the holograms was open and distorted the sense of distance.

She roamed absent-mindedly around the bustling streets.

What a hot country — .

The hot air of the daytime still remained on the floor surface of the mega-float. She wiped lightly the sweat formed on her forehead and entered a street with stalls all lined up. There were some stalls selling food and others selling small furniture and accessories.

Tsunemori didn’t enter a restaurant but an eatery with a cheap appearance. She mingled with the local people and ate South-eastern Asia’s typical dishes. A Vietnamese spring roll* made of shrimps and vegetables. A salad with coriander and an acidic dressing. Curry with chicken and potatoes. The curry had a taste different from the Japanese one, the red pepper paste and coconut milk had been dosed with just the right balance. Even if she was tired, that dish tasted like she could eat as much as she liked.

— this heat makes me thirsty.

The sweaty shirt was sticking to Tsunemori’s skin. As in the upper stories the air conditioning was impeccable, it was not probable that this sensation could be tasted there.

Tsunemori, who had finished her meal, bought a bottled beer at a stall. She was slightly surprised because the old man of the stall used an anachronistic unfamiliar utensil called ‘bottle opener’. There was a small park on an elevated ground that allowed to look down on the bustling streets, Tsunemori leaned against a railing there and drank directly from the bottle. A cold beer. The carbon dioxide fizzed in her throat and a refreshing taste popped inside the chest.

“…”

May I have gotten drunk — ? Tsunemori looked at the ghosts*.

Kagari Shusei, Masaoka Tomomi, Funehara Yuki had gathered around her before she could notice it. Everyone sent to Tsunemori an affectionate glance that seemed to ask her ‘Are you well?’ ‘Are you happy?’

If Kougami Shinya was here, things would be completely like in the past— .

(ah…that’s right)

— maybe in my subconscious I was comparing the Division 1 I had been initially assigned to with the present Division 1.

A good team. The Division 1 from the times Tsunemori was still a newbie. Even now, somewhere deep in her heart, the feeling that they were the best team at those days was still remaining. Even after the Makishima case had been solved, she couldn’t get rid of that feeling. If Kougami, Kagari or Masaoka teamed up with the present Ginoza become an enforcer, what kind of job would have they done?

“That’s not good…isn’t it?”

Unintentionally, I can’t but think about things fallen apart.

Livening up, she swallowed the remained beer.

NOTES TO TRANSLATION:

*Though she had been told so, she hadn’t realized straight away: a little explanation of this sentence cause it may sound not clear. In Akane’s mind, Han’s interest for her doesn’t make sense. Why should a politician, leader of the country, dictator, etc., be interested in a common woman like her? At that moment, she doesn’t understand the reason and smiles unconvinced. Then Has tells her that he wanna hear her opinion about Shambala…well, there may be other reasons to be interested in her. After all he is one of the brains of Sibyl, but we can only make suppositions about it.

*RELATIVELY MODEST: I guess that after 4 chapters you already know why it’s written in capital letters. Same reason of all the other parts: in the book this sentence is written with dots above the kanjis.

*it could even take away your life: I’d like to point out this sentence in the text. Instead of using the verb 殺す (to kill), the author used the verb 命を奪うtake away your life (literally to steal your life). I like to think (but it’s just my personal thought) that it is a way to underline how Akane is always attentive to life and how she keeps it as precious, as her grandma used to say to her.

*Vietnamese spring roll: in Japanese namaharumaki (生春巻き), in Vietnamite it’s called Ram. Ram is always made from whole shell-on shrimp or chopped deshelled shrimp and some green onion, wrapped in rice paper and deep fried. Ram, like most specialty food items from central Vietnam, are not widely available in Vietnamese restaurant overseas. (from Wikipedia).

* ghosts: the word used in the Japanese text is 幻 (まぼろし) that means both ghost/ phantom and illusion/vision/dream. Both of the meaning are really fit for the situation.

Thanks for reading and always supporting me!!!

For more psycho-pass translations you can browse the indexes on my website.

#psycho pass translations #psycho pass movie novel #chapter 4 final part #tsunemori akane

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thedoozydiary · 4 years

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Word On Waff

The city of Lagos is home to over 20 million people. The streets are always busy, and rainy days can be quite warm. Dubbed ‘The centre of excellence’, there’s an aspirational spirit to Lagos very few cities possess. WAFFLESNCREAM (abbreviated to WAFF) is a skate brand with strong intentions – to challenge preconceived notions of urban youth in Lagos city. The whole idea is the synthesis of different interests: skateboarding, BMX, fashion, art and music. It entails a group of people that have a passion for creativity in its different forms. The brand seeks to shed light on Lagos, the forgotten heroes, and forgotten heroes to be. WAFF celebrates authenticity and particularly embraces innovation; it embodies the purist approach to individual culture.

To get a good idea of what WAFF really is, you can’t speak to just one person: at its core it is a circle of friends that have become extended family – Nif, J, Elijah Zgambo, Kofo, Slawn, Onyedi, Leonard, Nuda, Jide, Fadekemi, AJ, Jordan Thomas, Dae, Millabad, Donnika, Thai Hibbert, Be, Saidi, Bai aka Fuzxy, Anthony Wildman aka Wildest, Omi, KC, and Eva, and that’s naming a handful. WAFF has become network of like minds scattered across three continents and counting. Here’s an image of ‘The Family’ from a past pop-up.

Humble Beginnings, History & Formation

Speaking to AJ, a skater who did videography on the first WAFF skate tour from Leeds to London we get first hand perspective of the brand’s humble beginnings, “WAFFLESNCREAM started in Leeds as a concept, no clothes, no ‘brand name’, just skating,” he explained via Facebook messenger. “Leeds was the first experiment, simply a vibe; there was no reference to home. But Leeds had its own unique style of skating and associated lifestyle we embodied. There was a mutual want to bring something different to skateboarding, and the Bello brothers [J and Nif, who started the brand] had strong ideas of how they would like to represent skateboarding. That brought them to their ‘we’re gonna get this’ moment. The filming and photography was approached with a focus on representing this pocket of life.” This process of organic growth happened again in Lusaka, Zambia when J teamed up with Elijah to help kick start a skate scene that is now in the thousands, before its latest reenactment in Lagos.

At the time of the first skate tour, the Bello Brothers (J and Nif) were between Reading and Leeds. The original Leeds skate crew had been about their antics as young skateboarders for some time, but J had to move away to Reading for univeristy. The actual concept of WAFFLESNCREAM as a brand was created while in Reading, long after the crew was birthed. J would design apparel while Skype-ing Nif, who made sure the merchandise got to the Leeds crew. And just like that, the first wave of WAFF had begun.

Shortly after, WAFF collaborated with Redbull to go on their premier skate tour, this is when AJ was brought on board to help document the trip. He credits his loyalty to friends to WAFF eventually becoming his family, “The reason I went to London with them was no one else in Leeds really knew about them and didn't want to ‘dip their toe’ as it were, and trust them. So people saw it as just another early 2011 hype and an exploited idea. I stuck with them because the other riders [in the Leeds crew] were my close friends and eventually J became that also.”

The first skate tour was ten years ago, and since then seven collections have been released; the last release [titled ‘007’] being two years ago. It seems that for the past 2 years, WAFF has been in hibernation. After expanding the brand through regular apparel releases and pop-ups between London and Lagos, the family doubled down on their mission: to make skating a reality for the kids back “home”. When AJ is asked about the strides WAFF has taken, he tells the classic story of a diamond in the rough, “You know, people who used to snigger are now so surprised at their success and I just assumed it was only a matter of when. On the other hand, the last 10 years speak their own experience and validation. Besides this, the name can definitely turn someone's interest by merit of being so unique. It happens so often when I crack out the ‘Crack is Wack’ [an adopted slogan used in their first collection] windbreaker and everyone's like ‘yoooo’. Hahaha”.

More Than a Skate Brand

The last editorial from 007 was shot in 2015 on Elegushi beach in Lagos, this would serve as a preview of things to come. The core of the WAFF family are now based in Lagos and thus, the focus has shifted to a large extent. But there are still representatives across the UK, USA, Ghana and Zambia, who are still loyal to the house J built.

One of the key components of the brand of WAFFLESNCREAM is its ‘facelessness’. Founder and head honcho, J, is notoriously opposed to any sort of personal press or media angling to portray WAFF as one man’s passion project. And those that have met him know just how passionate he is about it: it has quite literally been his life for a decade now. This selflessness is refreshing in a country where everything seems to be about the individual rather than the collective: from the fashion world to the oft-criticised political realm. J’s personal detachment to the general public has allowed the brand to develop an identity that is independent of any individual figurehead, and it is reaping the benefits. Behind the scenes it's a web of commitments where all the team members bring their strengths to the table. Nuda - a London based creative - has modelled and done creative direction for past editorials, Onyedi solely recorded footage for the last edit (‘Jide’), Slawn does graphic work and illustration for their coveted t-shirts, and Leonard does Illustration and photography. Most recently, Nif (who daylights as a product designer) is drawing up sketches for Lagos’ first skate park: the crowning achievement for the Bello brother.

When WAFF initially relocated to Lagos on a more permanent basis, J and the family brainstormed on ways to integrate into the underground culture of the city. Whilst this was their home, they were still seen by some as foreigners, coming from the UK. The family soon started sporadic underground music gatherings named VIBES. Established in 2015, VIBES was a perfect platform for WAFF to make their mark in Lagos. Bringing people from different walks of life into one room. Be it avid skaters, streetwear aficionados, or simply Lagosians tired of the repetitive bottle service clubs and overpriced bars - VIBES was a safe haven. At the time, WAFF had no office, staff or skaters but VIBES was a way to connect what would eventually become family through the universal language of music. Since its inception, there have been numerous, and usually spontaneous VIBES nights with selectors from the family [Dae, Omi and Fuzxy] all gracing the decks. Special guests such as Seun Kuti and M.I. Abaga have also been in attendance, with the events varying from the back garden of friends to art galleries. The VIBES DJs recently released a mix titled Indigenous Mix Vol. 1 - wonderfully hectic collection of tracks, which currently acts as the soundtrack to the flagship store. Harking back to the early noughties, the mix is only available in CD format, exclusively at the store in Lagos.

When talking about the familial ethos to work and skating, Slawn states, “Family is what the group considers itself to be. Because we know not everyone will accept and understand what we’re doing”. It comes as no surprise to find out the crew celebrates birthdays and engagements alike. Negative sentiment associated with the ‘otherness’ of emerging cultures stays true to skateboarding in Africa. Elijah [who helped set up the first Lusaka crew] has recounted tales of being arrested and locked up in Zambia on numerous occasions, in a previous conversation with HUCK Magazine.

Community Ties

The locals in the area around the store have mixed opinions on skateboarding. The vast majority of them are interacting with the sport for the first time and they are still trying to understand what it is exactly that these kids are doing. They mostly see skateboarding as an unnecessary hazard, but will cheer on when a skater’s ‘impossible’ stunts are landed - pun intended. For now, spectators are watching with an a gaze of amazement, but not quite admiration yet.

It takes a lot to be a skater in Lagos. Most of the city is flat so you haven’t the luxury of cruising down hills. It’s a lot of kicking and pushing to get around (this is the only way to pick up momentum when skateboarding). In addition to this, the best areas to skateboard are usually fenced off and/or have security guards. Sometimes skateboarding is wearily condoned at best, but this is without any future guarantees from proprietors of spaces the skaters frequent. Negotiating their way around to find the perfect mix of smooth ground and ‘skatable' obstacles can be challenging, but definitely makes being able to skateboard even sweeter when they can. Everyone learns a trick from someone else, which means that the skate community is connected in a spiritual way too; it nurtures feelings of camaraderie and humility amongst the skaters. Leonard rants on the challenges of skating in Lagos, “You don’t have facilities, or even good roads. You don’t have people who have trained for years with skills you can catch up to, you just have to have a fuck you attitude towards these obstacles and keep grinding. Hopefully, someone picks up a trick from you, you learn from them, and the cycle continues.”

Leonard chimes in again with a frustrated but humorous tone, “Lagos is trying to be a megacity but the parks aren’t physically accessible, nobody's making their way under a high speed bridge for r&r [a reference to the public parks built by the state in hard to reach areas]". The WAFF crew is constantly on the lookout for interstitial spaces to skate. Sidewalks are few and far between outside the older parts of Lagos Island, which really comes down to city planning. When Nif and J break the news of a potential skate park, it’s met with as much excitement as relief.

Go Skate Day (an international skateboarding day) is being celebrated by the crew: on June 21st skate films will be screened all day at the skate shop and their second skate edit titled ‘Linda’ will be premiered. A half pipe being constructed for The 24th of June follows this; it's surely a good time for the skaters in Lagos.

The Future of WAFF

It has been an interesting past few years for WAFF, the brand now boasts West Africa’s premier skate shop in the shape of their flagship store in Victoria Island, Lagos which opened in January 2017. With intentions of making a global impact, it’s fitting to find that the shop’s address is 234 Muri Okunola Street (+234 being Nigeria’s international code). Senegal and Ghana are two other West African countries with a skateboarding scene but have no supplies. This makes the skate shop a regional game changer.

Despite their considerable strides, international distributors do not always believe that WAFF exists, sometimes going as far as asking for pictures of people buying apparel in-store to prove it’s legit. Kofo, the store manager recalls, “Every proposal feels like a 419 scam, with the ‘Nigerian Prince’ gag and all. The landlord still doesn’t understand what we do. People in public and even parents ask why we do ‘this thing’, they can’t make sense of it”. Outside of Nigeria, there is growing list of African countries with blossoming skate scenes, but only Zambia and South Africa boast skate shops. The possibilities for skateboarding on the African continent are still presenting themselves as the sport gains popularity in little pockets.

What the store means for Lagos is a cultural meeting point for skaters and creatives alike. After the soft launch there was a 5-week ‘Friends & Family’ exhibition featuring photography, illustrations, graffiti, paintings and music from different members of The Family. The space changes to suit its needs as it grows, while keeping the environment interesting and cosy. The original back office is now a production room. Recently the till was removed completely only to be replaced by a sofa. There’s a cat that roams around, but mainly just chills in the stock room.

In a country where the WAFF crew is more of an outsider pack, only the youth and future generations may enjoy the luxuries of a developed skateboarding scene aided by private and public support. The marginalised action sports enthusiasts - the skaters, bmx’ers, and more - may soon find themselves represented on an international stage. Skateboarding was just green-lit for the Tokyo 2020 Olympics and the intro to an epic underdog story has been penned. The question if Nigeria (or even Africa) will have its own Cool Runnings moment will surely be answered in due time. Other extreme sports in the region need a way to tell their own stories, but it’s the Wild West right now and there are no rules. WAFFLESNCREAM dually serves as a source of inspiration, and the benchmark to inspire other brands to come forth. London and New York are two cities that have seen skate brands revolutionise youth culture, and we can only hope Lagos is next. The infamously media-averse J finally speaks on the record when I ask him about his views on the future of skateboarding: “Africa is ready, let’s see what happens.”

Words: Baingor Joiner

Editor: Seni Saraki

Client: Native Magazine - ‘Birth Issue’

#native magazine #wafflesncream #lagos #skateboarding #article #published work #word

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[RF] Tom the Bartender (4 stories in 1)

Tom was alone for the time being. They gave him a key two weeks ago and, gradually, he started coming in earlier and earlier. He was a restless soul. He needed things to do and, behind a bar, there’s always something to do.

Service wouldn’t start for an hour and a half, so Tom had plenty of time to settle in. He needed to juice citrus. He needed to restock the low boy with beer, white wine and rose. He needed to refill the backstock for the rail. He needed… a cup of coffee… yeah. He needed that.

The morning brew was a beautiful ritual. Grind the beans. Push the button. Walk the hell away. Do everything else as fast as possible cause that pot of coffee will be ready in 5 - count ‘em! - 5 minutes. Tom hustled to the radio. He cranked up something good. Something with rhythm and depth. Something to bring his mind to life and get his body going. Something real fucking good.

He didn’t dance, but there was rhythm to his movements. He kept with the beat. Sometimes, for a verse or two, he’d even sing. Most of the time, he was too busy making everything sparkle and shine. It was a beautiful bar, but it could be a mess in a flash. He had to maintain the space. All his cocktailing instruments were aligned for efficiency and a subtle touch of presentation. Everything was in arm’s reach. Everything was fresh. Everything was clean… well, not quite, but Tom would take care of it.

He was never mad about the close. More work for him meant less time to sit and stew with nothing to do. Call him a busy body. Call him crazy. Tom just knows what keeps him at ease. Puts his mind at peace. Routine. Cleanliness. Order. Coffee.

5 minutes.

It was a locally roasted blend. It tasted like coffee. The caffeine was the heart of the matter. Tom had been down the coffee snob road. He could taste those subtle notes, the delicate floral and citrus hints in a light Ethiopian single origin coffee and the harsh, burnt, oily flavor of a fuckin’ French Roast. This cup tasted somewhere in the middle, so it was damn perfect.

Restocking took a little time. Must’ve been a busy night. Juicing took as long as it always takes. Plenty of juice, but, really, just enough. They’re big on not wasting anything around these parts, but, at the same time, citrus is citrus is citrus. If you get it, you get it. Some sweeping was required. Some tables needed to be reset. Some other shit was left from the night before. It’s whatever, Tom will take care of it. There’s plenty of time.

He doesn’t sleep much, that Tom. He gets enough sleep, to be sure, but it's sporadic, inconsistent, restless. He’s used to it, but everyone tells him it’s unhealthy. He fills his days with as many shifts as possible… until he burns out and takes some time off. “Time off” in his mind is an extra day off now and again... or maybe just not working a double. Whatever he can get, really. Such is life. This is adulthood. This is having a career. This is working with what he has.

Bartending, hospitality in general, is an inherently love/hate relationship. Tom loves what he does. He loves doing it. He, sometimes, hates who he does it for. Some people are just the worst. It’s true. When the pay is dependent on the kindness of strangers, there’s a sense of trepidation that comes with every interaction. “What if this person is a greedy miser who is going to basically use me for my services and then not compensate accordingly? What if this asshole is cheap?!” It is what it is, though, and most bartenders, most good bartenders, hope for the best, treat each guest equally, and are often tipped as such. Tom is a pretty good bartender. He’s comfortable there.

It’s too cold for outdoor seating, so Tom is leaving the tables locked up and the chairs stacked. The lights are on, the sign is out, the chef is prepped, the day has begun. Now. Now we wait.

There’s a small lunch rush. A handful of tables. A couple at the bar. A woman on her lunch break with a laptop who is in a hurry but wants two martinis, back-to-back, start the second as soon as you’re done making the first, thankyouverymuch. The favorite customer of lunch sat at the end of the bar, headphones in, watching a game on his phone. He had a guinness. He had a sandwich. He had some whiskey. He finished with a good cocktail. He didn’t say much, but his words had meaning behind them. He was present. He enjoyed everything he had. He left a 15 dollar tip. Hell yeah. “Come back anytime, my friend.” Tom smiled.

There was a helluva lull before dinner, and Tom was alone all day. The bottles whispered behind his back. Taste. Taste. Taste. He didn’t need to, though. He knew what they tasted like. He’d had them all before. Just another voice in his head. Another thing to ignore. To pretend wasn’t there.

Dinner was abysmal and the late night crowd was atrocious. They tipped well enough, but they ordered food at the very last second and wanted all cocktails all night long. All in all, not a great day, but it balanced out financially. Tom was tired, a few steps from exhausted, but he still had work to do.

He blew out the candles. He turned off a few lights and set to his closing tasks. He swept. He mopped. He counted down the drawer. He logged his tips. He collected his things. He poured himself a well deserved shot and popped open a beer. It was a long day… but, hey, could be worse, right?

It was getting close to the end of Tom’s shift when Jess walked in. He saw her milling around outside, pondering entering. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if the place is even open. She pieced it together eventually and made her way in, crossing the space and taking a seat at the bar.

“Welcome. Hi.” Tom said genially, but with a tinge of ‘I’m getting out of here soon’ on the back burner.

Jess smiled. A good smile. One of the best Tom had ever seen. “Hi!” Jess said, reaching for the menu Tom was passing to her. “How are you?”

“No complaints. Quiet, relaxing day. I’ll be wrapping up my shift soon. How are you?” Tom replied.

“Thirsty…” Jess mused, flipping through the menu.

Tom grinned. “I have the cure.” He presented her with a glass of water. “What are you in the mood for, apart from water?”

Jess put her fist to her chin and rested upon the bar. “Ya know, I’m usually in the mood for a cocktail, but I don’t want to be that complicated right now.”

This girl… Tom thought to himself. “Cocktails don’t have to be complicated, and I’m bored enough to actually want to make one. What’s your favorite base spirit?”

“Gin.”

“Cool. Gimlet, Tom Collins or Martini?”

“I know two out of three of those.”

“Which don’t you know?”

“I’ve heard of a Tom Collins, but I can’t remember what it is.”

“Gin, lemon, simple syrup, topped with club.”

“Mmm, that. Please.”

“You got it.”

Business hasn’t been great so Tom has been juicing to order. The gin was rail, the juice was fresh, the club soda is a fancy brand, and he prepped the syrup himself. A simple classic made with love and care, that’s what Tom was all about. He shook the gin, juice, and syrup with ice and strained into a Collins glass with four nice, sizable, clear ice cubes. He slowly topped the beverage with club soda, gave it one quick stir and slid it Jess’ way. She took a delicate sip and smiled. Dimples appeared and then subsided. Tom… didn’t know what to think.

“That’s so refreshing.” Jess exclaimed.

Tom started to clean his shaker and tools. “I’m glad. Now that you have a drink, how’s your day?”

“It’s pretty good. I’m not doing much of anything today. Just waiting. Killing time. Drinking, apparently.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Tom reassured her, “I’d be where you’re sitting if I had the day off. What are you waiting for?”

“My boyfriend.” Jess smiled to herself and quickly sipped her drink.

Naturally. Tom thought to himself. “Gotcha.” He spoke.

“So.” Jess straightened her back and folded her hands on the bar. She stared at Tom. Through him.

“So?” Tom replied, raising his eyebrows and meeting her gaze with all the confidence of a bartender who was safely and comfortably secure behind their bar.

“So tell me something. I don’t know.” Jess shrugged. “It’s just you and me here. We might as well talk.”

“Ah, I see.” Tom pondered. “Well. Ok. My name is Tom.”

“Jess.”

“There. I’ve told you something.”

Jess did not smile. No dimples for that one. “No, tell me something interesting. Like… entertain me.”

“Ha!” Tom laughed. “That’s how it is? Want me to sing and dance?”

That brought the dimples back. Jess perked up and clapped her hands. “Can you sing and dance?!”

“I mean, I know how to, but I’m not going to right now.”

“Damn. Why not?”

“Because… I’m on the clock?”

“So?”

“I don’t get paid to sing and dance. I get paid to make drinks.”

“I’ll pay you to sing and dance.” Jess gave a devilish smirk. The kind of smile that speaks leagues of the person beneath.

“You couldn’t afford it.” Tom crossed his arms.

“Oh really? Well, you can’t blame a gal for trying.” Jess took another sip. “That’s so good! So you make good drinks and you can sing and dance. Tell me something else.”

“I hate talking about myself.” Tom admitted.

“Too bad. You are my captive. Tell me everything.” Jess leaned forward, eager for Tom to expound upon himself.

Tom shrugged. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Says you.”

Tom smiled wide. “Very well. Hello, bonjour, hi. I’m Tom. I’m a bartender who wants to do something else. I’ve had an exciting life full of adventures and experiences, but, the way things have been going, that’s all behind me. I just bartend. All day. Most days. I like people and love talking to my guests when it’s slow, but I hate crowds and can’t stand when it’s busy. My home life is dull. My cat is an asshole. My car needs repairs. I’m tired. How’s that?”

“You have a cat?”

“Yes.” Tom sighed. “He’s the worst.”

“How so?”

“He doesn’t know how to show affection and claws at all me all day. But he sleeps under the covers at night. That’s pretty cute.”

“That’s adorable. Yeah, some cats are terrible. Not mine, though. She’s a sweetheart.”

“That must be nice.” Tom was bemused. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like. He’s the only cat I’ve ever had.”

“Does he have a name?”

“He did when I adopted him, but I just call him ‘You Motherfucker’ these days.”

Jess laughed. “I can’t tell if that’s a joke.”

Tom smiled. “It’s the truth, but it’s a funny truth.”

“How long have you had your little Motherfucker.”

“Two years, which is two years too long.”

“Aw, poor guy. Do you really hate him?”

“Nope. I love him, but he’s very bad for me.” Tom lifted his pants leg to reveal fresh scratches and scars. “See?”

“Oh no.” Jess was shocked. “Why do you still have him if it’s that bad?”

“No one wants him.” Tom admitted. “I barely do, but the other option is… yeah. I’m stuck with the little bastard.”

“Geez… ok. Different topic. How long have you been bartending?”

“Years. Getting close to 5 years.”

“Oh wow. That’s a career.”

“Yes, I am a career bartender.”

“But you said you don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Yes, correct. I am a career bartender.”

“Ah. I get it.” Jess looked around the space. “This bar is beautiful. It’s, like, really cool.”

“I’m glad you think so. I spend a lot of time here.” Tom glanced around the space that he inhabited most of the time. It wasn’t super fancy and it wasn’t a shithole. It was a step above some other spots in the area, just enough of a concept to be different but still a welcoming, comfortable bar. Tom loved it, but…

“Is it yours?” Jess woke him from his ponderings.

“Nah. I’m a cog in the machine.”

Jess looked at Tom funny. “What machine? You’re the only person here.”

“Fair. I do work alone most of the time.”

“So you are the machine.”

Tom looked off into the distance, confidently. “I suppose I am.”

Jess drained the last of her Tom Collins and placed the glass on the bar. There was a moment. A pause. She was contemplating if she wanted another. Not another Tom Collins, another drink in general. She did. She really wanted another drink. She wanted to stay. Tom wanted her to stay, too. Neither of them needed to say it, either, but Tom is a bartender at work and there’s an empty glass, so he’s naturally going to break the silence.

“Another beverage?”

“I think I should go.” Jess admitted.

Tom smiled. “What happened to waiting for your boyfriend?”

“He’s on his way. He doesn’t really drink, so…”

“I gotcha.” Tom slid over to the register, rang in a rail gin, and presented the check to Jess. “Well, thank you for coming in. It was nice to meet you. Good way to wrap up my shift.”

“No, thank you. This was a perfect little respite.” Jess dropped $15 on the bar. “That’s all you.”

Jess gathered her things and made her way to the door. Tom began the lonely task of cleaning up after her. He kept his head down, so he didn’t see her look back as she exited. It didn’t matter, either way, she wasn’t there for him. She needed a drink. That’s why she went in. That’s all.

It was getting late, there were a few patrons nursing libations, and Tom was starting to close down the bar. He had a good hour before he could think about hustling his guests toward the door, but there were social cues he could use to send a clear message.

Step one was a change in atmosphere. Tom turned on some old, sad country music to bring the night down. Familiar tunes that spoke to the soul if you let them. A couple at the bar took notice as one of them started to nod and hum along with the first song. There was a man sipping a beer toward the end of the bar. He came in often, spoke rarely, and tipped accordingly.

“Who picks the music here?” The man spoke up.

“Yours truly.” Tom smiled.

“What’s with the country?” He pressed.

Tom was slightly taken aback. “I like it. I don’t know what else to tell ya.” Tom grabbed a pitcher and moved to refill glasses and check in on tables.

“I mean, it’s ok. It’s not bad country. It’s just different. I wasn’t really expecting it.” The man talked after Tom as he passed from table to table, refilling water glasses and checking if anyone needed anything. One manhattan on the rocks for table 12, seat 2. Everyone else was sitting comfortable.

Tom grabbed a rocks glass, tossed in a few cubes, and topped the ice with a luxardo cherry. He stirred the rye whiskey, vermouth and bitters concoction for a little less than usual. He wanted to leave time for the ice in the glass to melt without it watering down the drink too much. It was a boozy beverage made with a bold, high proof rye. The vermouth was subtle and the bitters added a little extra depth and character. It was good. Ready to be served.

“What’s that?” The gentleman at the bar asked.

“A manhattan on the rocks.” Tom answered as he delivered the drink.

“Can I have a manhattan, but up?” The man finished his beer.

“Of course.” Tom cleaned his utensils quickly and set to the task of repeating every step he just did, but in a different order and with a different time table. Ice in the coup glass to chill it. Stir the ingredients for longer, but not too long! Dump the ice in the glass. Pour the cocktail. Drop a cherry in at the end. Serve. The man sipped.

“It’s good.” He stated. “Now, seriously, what’s with this sad cowboy music?”

Tom, safe and sound behind his bar with the knowledge that at least one more person in the space was feeling the music, decided to push back. “Well, I like it.” He instinctively went to cross his arms, but stopped himself. “I usually crank up something that I like at the end of the night.”

“End of the night?” The man checked his watch. “It’s only 9:10.”

“Yes.” Tom stood firm. “We’ve reached the final hour.”

“You close at 10:00?”

“Yes, indeed.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “I know that I’ve been here later than that.”

“It must’ve been a friday or saturday. We stay open til midnight.”

“Huh.” The man sipped his drink. “I guess.”

Tom stepped over to his clean glassware and took to the long, arduous, mechanical, mindless, instinctual, habitual and all around compulsive act of polishing glassware. He smiled at the couple that were enjoying the country music. “Sitting tight, my friends?” He asked them.

“Everything is perfect. I never get to hear this music when I’m out.” The middle aged man said.

“You’re feeling it?” Tom grinned.

“He loves this stuff.” His apparent wife (rings on fingers, talk of kids at home, it was a safe assumption) spoke up. “I’m not a big fan, but I do love how goofy he gets when he hears his old country.”

“Some of these songs… can be silly.” Tom admitted.

“Some can be downright offensive.” The woman stated.

“Too true, but I think I’ve managed to filter out most of the bad ones from this playlist.” Tom said with pride.

“Hell yeah,” the man smiled. “Good for you.”

“I do what I can.” Tom nodded and took a break from polishing to check on the tables. Table 12 was thoroughly enjoying their manhattan and was ready for their check. Table 31 was also ready for their check, and table 20 sheepishly asked for another round, which Tom was more than happy to oblige. He was starting to lag and, in his mind, longed for closing, but two quick pours of wine weren’t going to make his life any worse.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. From the bar to the table to the register to the table to the server’s station to the table to the bar. There’s a pattern, an order, to everything. Efficiency is key. Every movement, every moment has a purpose. Atleast, that’s what Tom tells himself.

“I’ll take my check,” the lonely soul at the bar broke Tom from his rhythmic movements, “since you’re trying to close up.”

Tom let the accusatory statement go, printed out the man’s check, and presented it with all the warmth of a brick wall. “Whenever you are ready, my friend.” Tom said reflexively.

The night wound down comfortably. By 10:00pm, Tom was alone. He cranked the music, but kept the somber country tunes rolling. It was a sunday and he didn’t work the next day, so Tom took his time closing. He stirred up a potent libation to sip as he went about his closing duties. He counted the money before his mind started to swim from exhaustion and booze in an empty stomach. Every other step of closing was mindless.

When he had checked everything off the checklist on the wall and the checklist in his mind, Tom, satisfied, grabbed his cash tips and made his way to the alarm. He punched in his number, turned off the lights, and stepped outside. It wasn’t cold but it wasn’t warm. He was holding his jacket. He tried to remember where he parked in the morning. It all seemed so long ago…

He turned his key. His key. He loved having a key. He really did.

He wandered around, debating popping into a late night spot, but ultimately found his way back to his car. It was a long walk, and he needed it. Time to reset. A good jaunt to re-establish his identity after another day of playing the game for a wage. Another good night’s rest on the way.

It was cold. Damn near frigid. Tom was always behind the weather, never with the right jacket or number of layers. The wind picked up as he skipped up the curb. The sun wasn’t up yet. He parked a few blocks away so he could get a few extra steps in. As if he didn’t walk enough. He tells himself he’s not neurotic. He tells himself a lot of things. It was going to be a long day. He’s trying not to think about it.

There was an event in the morning and normal service at night. They were a little understaffed, so Tom was on for the whole day. He didn’t have to close, but he didn’t sleep well and events can be hit or miss. Sometimes they’re way more work than they’re worth. Sometimes they’re a cakewalk. Tom had a low ABV punch to prep and had to juice oranges, then he was in charge of coffee and tea. The event started at 10:30. It was small compared to what Tom grew up doing, but, again, they were a little understaffed.

Jenna, the events manager, was printing out labels in the office. Other people slowly showed up, groggy and uncomfortable with this hour of the day. One lead bartender. One lead server. One barback. Jenna. Two in the kitchen. Tom. Point him in a direction and tell him what to do and it gets done. Everyone else had their assignments. Tom preps, builds, floats, assists and breaks down. He smiles. He gets the damn event over with.

Events were a cerebral experience for Tom. He grew up catering. His summers were spent feeding kids around his age at summer camps. His weekends were focused on 8 to 10 hours from beginning to end, the rest was unimportant teenage screwing around. When there was a job to do, it had to get done. People to be fed. Good times to be had by all. Money to be made. When it was time for an event, he turned down the volume in his mind and went on auto pilot. Jenna was his captain. He needed to follow directions.

Still, Tom couldn’t get his mind off the evening’s service. They were going to have to rush breaking down the event and prep for the night. It was going to be tight, and the tighter it got, the later he’d have to stay to back up the night crew. His mind was on the lunch service downstairs, too. He’d been running Saturdays for a few weeks now and they’ve steadily grown in popularity. Business was getting good. Finally. He needed his lunch coverage to crush service and prep for the night. He needed a cup of coffee, too.

All was moving steadily. Some people were dragging in the early morning light, others had a newfound energy. Most of them hadn’t been up this early in years, and it was working in their favor today. Tom, used to the early morning grind and a general lack of sleep, warned everyone not to burn out too early. There would be a pop at the beginning for the bar, the buffet would be frantic and madness for a few minutes at a time and the bar would be overwhelmed at last call. Tom was wrapping up his initial duties so he could start assisting with the rest of set up.

Up stairs and down stairs. Extra chairs. Chafing dishes. Cambros. Tea bags, mugs and sweeteners. A desperate, frantic hunt for clean tablecloths. A haphazard, taping together of smaller table clothes to make the buffet table look presentable. They always made it work, despite the hindrances that existed. The space wasn’t designed for events, but it was relatively adaptable and this wasn’t the team’s first rodeo.

Once guests arrived and the event was underway, a general sigh of relief was exhumed by all on staff. Less guests than had been projected. No mother-in-laws present to hastle the staff. It wasn’t a young crowd, nor was it a group of old folks. Right in the middle. Some guests tried to order off menu from the bar, as usual, but the lead bartender had built the minimal menu herself and wasn’t about to stray from the selection. Tom stood to the side, pouring mimosas and beers. He wasn’t on cocktails, which was nice.

The food went out and disappeared quick enough. More food replaced it, and a good thing, too. A few late comers arrived hungry. For noon on a Saturday, the crowd did come thirsty. Tom spent more time behind the bar than expected, but nothing was difficult. He was wondering when that would fall through.

They ran out of coffee an hour and a half before the event was slated to end, so Tom rushed downstairs to brew a fresh pot. Anthony was in the downstairs bar, hustling. There were outside tables, a practically full bar and a few couples smattered around the dining room. There was a familiar, frantic and wild look to Anthony. Tom saw it from a distance, before Anthony realized he had come down from the event.

“I’ll hop on in a second.” Tom broke Anthony’s anxious concentration and his eyes flashed with rage, confusion and then palpable relief. Anthony was weeded. He was making cocktails as fast as he could. He was still prepping for the day. He didn’t have a bus bin. Tom opened in his eyes wide and took in all he could as he prepped the coffee. He made a quick list.

“Holy shit. Thank you.” Anthony spoke, exacerbated. Tom started the coffee and spent the next five minutes refilling waters, taking orders and assisting as well as he could. The bar was Anthony’s, there was no way to assist with that, but he touched all the tables, took some food orders, poured some beers and left a few cocktail tickets on the counter for Anthony. Tom only had so much time before he had to get back upstairs.

When the coffee was ready, Tom promised he would be back down as soon as he could be and bolted upstairs. He resituated the coffee station and checked in with everyone. The event was winding down. Guests were leaving early. The bar was still steadily moving but most dishes were cleared and the buffet was ready to be broken down. Tom started the break down, Jenna came to assist, and the barback walked up and asked if there was anything he should focus on. This was Tom’s chance.

“Anthony is getting destroyed downstairs. How badly do you need me at this point?” Tom asked directly. He didn’t like being in charge, but he knew how to take charge when necessary. Jenna released Tom from the buffet and told him to check in at the end of the event. Tom flew back downstairs and he and Anthony tag-teamed service for 45 minutes. The outside tables left. The inside tables closed out. The bar started to empty. Everything right on time.

It’s safe to say at this point in the day that Tom needed a change of clothes. He had 30 minutes before his downstairs shift technically started, but there was enough of a lull between afternoon and evening service that he would probably get a break. Probably. He trekked back upstairs. A few guests were making their exits. Tom squeezed by apologetically and returned to the floor. There wasn’t much to breakdown, just a lot to be resituated. Less of a work out than the morning, but still a bit of cardio, a bit of heavy lifting and a lot of frantic energy burning away at every little calorie from his meager breakfast.

There was a tray of leftover food in the office that everyone had picked at. Tom jammed some french toast in his month and got back to work. The evening crew was starting to show up and assisting with set up for the night’s service. Tom was graciously relieved of his duties. Those who didn’t have to work anymore shared a round. Tom was gifted a shot and he threw it back before heading downstairs.

Anthony was wrapping up the paperwork from the day shift and Eric was taking over the bar. Tom asked if he could run to his car, change, and maybe take some time. Eric laughed “You take all the time you need.” He changed his shirt, added a tie, and checked to see how exhausted he looked. Pretty exhausted, but he could fake it. It was going on 4:30pm and Anthony should’ve been relieved half an hour ago. Anthony didn’t mind working extra and had insisted Tom take his time, too. Alice would be arriving around 5:00pm. Everything was fine.

So Tom checked in downstairs then went for a walk. A quick escape. Fresh air. Time to breathe…

The neighborhood was alive. It was brisk but pleasant outside and people were coming out from the city, in from the county. A line started to form for upstairs. Downstairs wouldn’t be busy until later in the evening. Tom walked for a good 20 minutes. Frantic energy keeping his steps steady. He was cooling down. Relaxing. Rolling his shoulders and reaching for the sky. The tension of the day was starting to subside… making way for the tension of the night.

Alice had arrived when Tom came back to the bar. There were a few guests sipping drinks, but most everyone had been waiting for upstairs. That was fine with Tom. He was hoping for a passably easy night. Time would tell.

Eric was taking care of the bar and in charge of cocktails. Alice was running most of the inside tables. Tom picked up the outside tables as the large groups started to arrive. Tom apologetically informed his new guests that Happy Hour was not offered on Saturdays. A part of Tom wanted the guests to be so perturbed that they left. The other part of him wanted everyone to order as much food and drink as possible so he could actually make some money this week. It’s a balancing act, being exhausted and being an attentive and charismatic host.

The temperature dropped with the sun and the outside tables cleared. Tom was happy to be back inside, mostly assisting where needed. It was around 9:15 that Eric started to disappear and reappear for minutes at a time. Tom knew exactly what Eric was doing and Tom’s heart started to flutter. Tom was finishing up a round of cocktails for a table when Eric snuck up behind him and said the magic words.

“You trying to get out of here?”

Tom smiled. Eric had been eating his dinner on the sly. 30 minutes early. It was a small victory. Tom checked in with Alice and gave her an update on the tables he’d assisted with. They all toasted to the evening and Tom ducked out before anything crazy could happen.

As Tom made his way home, he reflected. It wasn’t bad, the day, but it was a lot. Did he feel like he accomplished something? Sure. Did he feel like he had achieved something? Maybe, when he gets his paycheck, he will. Did he feel like he needed to go to bed? Yes. Hell yes.

So he did. He had to open the next day, after all.

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