Craft kitchen plainville connecticut
Connecticut Craft Beer
2014.01.06 17:18 marleymarl Connecticut Craft Beer
Discussions and announcements related to craft beer in the state of Connecticut, with links and maps to breweries, calendar of events, brewmaster AMAs, and more.
2023.06.03 22:07 -BigBadBeef- How to cheese melee skills faster - guide!
I just found this out recently - its a high risk, high reward strat for leveling melee weapons skills as fast as possible. In case any of you are interested, these points should explain the gist of it.
- For each skill you intend to level, it applies the following:
Stack as many damage and crit debuffs as possible, Maxed out tired and exhausted moodles are minimum, but avoid debuffs that affect your attack speed. You must be also skilled enough to pull a single zombie from a group far away from where the other people eating compatriots may not be able to assist him.
After you've done that, knock your zombie on the floor, then stand on his legs - STAND on the legs, don't just aim at them (I could explain to you why, but it's complicated), then bash at the zombie's legs as fast as possible. You will notice that your ground hit animation is quite a bit faster than if you were hitting on destructible objects as some suggest. There are a few exceptions, but just keep hammering at the grounded zombie until all the shitty weapons you gathered give out or the zombie does, in which case you rinse and repeat. These tips should help you get a general idea on how to level the melee skills. Now here are the weapons I recommend for leveling each skill:
- AXE - Only use a crafted axe. Axes are worth their weight in gold since they are rare and useful for "real" zombie combat. Chipped stones and branches can easily be foraged, thus these axes can easily be crafted.
- LONG BLUNT - Use planks or gardening tools, or maybe 2x4 if you have the mod. There are not many shitty blunt weapons to my knowledge, only if you have weapon mods installed, then you can crack a plank to get a 2x4 which has god-awful damage per hit. If you're using gardening tools, go crazy, but spare the shovel, you need it for farming.
- SHORT BLUNT - Plungers and rolling pins lol. Technically speaking, you can use whatever you find in the kitchen and bathroom, but saucepans and frying pans are actually useful in real zombie combat, while they don't do as much damage as proper hammers, they have the same chance to knock down zombies as hammers do.
- LONG BLADE - There are no bad Long blade weapons I'm afraid. You should only use this strat if you're modded and have easy access to long blade weapons.
- ! SHORT BLADE ! - Use spoons and pens. This one is an exception. since the ground stab animation is slower than poking a zombie standing, you do not want to knock the zombie down, but rather keep stabbing him standing
- SPEARS - Umbrellas lol, and spears crafted from branches with no attachments. The only truly bad spear weapon is the umbrella, but these aren't common. Make spears from branches, not planks since you can never have enough planks for carpentry, and only use disposable knives or rocks to craft them. You'll be going through them fast, thus you want to be economical with making them.
- MAINTENANCE - Just use my recommended weapons for each type and maintenance will go up on its own. If you're using shitty weapons with low durability then leveling maintenance is no biggie.
That's it. that's all that is to it. You will want to swing those weapons as fast as possible and hurt a target for valid melee xp as little as possible, and this guide just about sums it up. Its a little bit dangerous, but oh so sweet once you master it!
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2023.06.03 19:50 ThatDoodch Show Review: Memorial Meltdown (5.28.23)
Eventually... these write-ups may have another home... but for now here's a little something I wrote about the day I attended Meltdown. Looking forward to doing a lot more of these as the year goes on. Also, we just hit 900 subs! The official climb to 1K is upon us!
Dogs In A Pile were a hot topic of discussion on a equally *HOT* day in Lake George, NY at Charles R. Wood Park. Fans adorned with Dogs merch galore roamed the second day of Memorial Meltdown waiting for their heroes to take the stage at 5:30pm. One Time Weekend opened the day’s festivities with a bouncy and surprisingly versatile set. Interested in catching them based on word of mouth from Dogs bassist Sam Lucid, I was not disappointed. The band had the ability to make the crowd groove and headbang at the drop of a dime. Lead-vocalist Ian D’Arcangelo mentioned they will play on Saturday at Peach Music Festival in a few weeks (Dogs will play on Friday). By the audible reaction, it seemed as if the talented and young Connecticut group earned more than a handful of fans that would gladly show up.
The next slot belonged to Mihali & Friends as Twiddle’s frontman Mihali Savoulidis and a group of rotating talent went on to please the continuously filling-in crowd. The phones came out of many-a-pocket as Dogs guitarist/vocalist Jimmy Law plugged in for his first of two songs as a special guest on stage – he would later join Twiddle in their headlining set for a tune (“Breakididown”). Mihali’s cover of Dave Matthews Band’s “#41” was a hit in a region of the country that has heard many epic versions of the song by its original creators.
With the scorching sun winding down, the Dogs took the stage following a loving introduction by their friend and festival promoter Dave Ehmann. “These guys have my heart and I know they have yours too”, Ehmann said to the crowd before mentioning the band would return to the park for Adirondack Independence Music Festival in September.
Naturally, the Dogs started their set with “Frosty” on an 86-degree day. Lead singer Brian Murray, looking effortlessly cool with his groovy sunglasses and festival crew shirt, led the charge on what’s become a fan-favorite since being debuted late last summer at Garcia’s in Port Chester. A “Blues for Brian” sandwich followed with a “2001” filling that knocked the collective socks off the rambunctious Dog Pound – a special contingent of supporters who always create a fun, safe and energetic dancefloor for fans old and new alike to enjoy.
Should they rename the event space “Charlie” R. Wood Park? The Dogs made their case with a ripping rendition of “Charlie”, one of their premier jam vehicles, that segued into an epic “No Quarter” cover with keyboardist Jeremy Kaplan manning the mic. A set highlight “G Song” allowed Jimmy Law to command a wonderfully earned solo.
From there, it was time for drummer Joe Babick to wow attendees on the kit as he showed off his chops and stamina while beating the instruments of his craft to a pulp. This led to Twiddle’s Adrian Tramontano joining the band to finish off the “Drums” section and break into Dave Ehmann’s favorite Dogs cover “Samson and Delilah”. “Say Something”, which has become a staple show-closeencore, ended the set on wildly successful high note.
As the night came to a close and with Twiddle recently announcing their upcoming hiatus, one couldn’t help to wonder if Dogs In A Pile are destined to plant their flag as one of the premier Northeast jam bands. An accolade amongst an endless list of benchmarks the five-piece band can accomplish along their career. With their current trajectory and future outlook, their stars are starting to shine as bright as the sun was coming down on a beautiful Memorial Meltdown day filled with family, friends and something the Dogs are very used to providing – joy.
Catching up with Sam Lucid post-show, he was graciously open to contributing to what I hope to be a building tradition. Asking one of the guys what their favorite jam of the night was! We’ll call this edition “Sam’s Jam”.
Sam’s Jam: G Song. “I felt like we really connected on that jam”, Lucid said. When asked if he thought that would be the unanimous pick across the board for the band he interestingly mentioned: “we all respect each other’s opinions on what works and what doesn’t work. It can differ from night-to-night. But that’s how you grow closer together and as a playing unit. Everyone has a voice in Dogs In A Pile.”
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2023.06.03 17:29 RedArcc New LO not tested yet
Think I got it close but looking for feedback on what might be out of order or not needs. I'm about to do a clean wipe before installing so be HARSH😅 I've had some crashing issues in the past with the Courage spell for some reason and use to have an issue with Meeko not going to the shack but that have been fixed.
EXTRAS AT START
TRULY ABSORB DRAGON SOULS
STAY ARROW STAY
HEARTHFIRE 2X GOLD USSEP
UNLIMITED RINGS AND AMULETS
LEVEL UP IN SILENCE
STONES OF BARENZIAH
THE PAARTHURNAX DILEMMA
JIUBS OPUS AND ARVAKS SKULL
ALL THEIVES GUILD JOBS
DEAR DIARY LOCKPICK INTERFACE
FAST BEAST PERKS
STRONGER SPELLS AND MAGIC
50 PCT MORE PERK POINTS
PERKS & MAGIC MEGA BUNDLE
BETTER ADVENTURERS BACKPACKS
PEACEKEEPER ARMOUR M&F
ARMORS OF THE DRAGON CHAMPION
KS SWITCHABLE HAIRSTYLE #1
CRAFTABLE EVERYTHING DAWNGUARD
CRAFTABLE EVERYTHING DRAGONBORN
ENHANCED BOUND WEAPONS
ENHANCED BOUND WEAPONS ORDINATOR PATCH
BOUND SHIELD WITH FX
GET BO MORE DEAD MERCHANTS
REMOVE 48HR RESTOCK
CLOAKS OF SKYRIM
PRIVATEEYE'S HEAVY ARMOR
FACTION OVERHAUL-NO CC
CLOAKS FACE MASKS BUNDLE
THERE WILL BE BLOOD AND BUBBLES
KIP AHRK BAHLOK FOOD REBALANCE
LEIN'S SKYRIM NPC OVERHAUL
LOVERBOY DEFAULT 1K
KEO'S SKIMPY OUTFIT CBBE CURVY
EROUS FOLLOWER ABIGAIL
SUPERIOR LORE FRIENDLY HAIR
MARRY ME SERANA
IMPROVED HELGEN STARTER EQUIPMENT
LAKEVIEW AUTO SELLING CHEST
JK'S INTERIORS AIO
NORTHERN ROADS 1K
JK'S SKYRIM AIO
NR & JKS AIO PATCH
NR & CC SAINTS PATCH
SHEZRUE'S LAKEVIEW HEARTHFIRE KITCHEN
HEARTHFIRE UPGRADE BUNDLE
IA92 ENHANCED LAKEVIEW MANOR
LAKEVIEW GARDEN EXTENDED
CARRIAGE STOPS OF SKYRIM
CSS SURVIVAL PATCH
IMMERSIVE HOLD BORDERS IHB CONSISTENCY PATCH
FOS FORESTS OF SKYRIM
ORIGINS OF FOREST 3D GRASS
VEYDOGOLT GRASS AND LAND OVERHAUL
KNIGHTS OF THE NINE BATTLEMAGE
THE LADY TEMPLAR
INCREASED MINING RESOURCES X3
VITTORIA VICI'S SECRET
CRUSADERS KNIGHTS TEMPLAR
LESHYS MAGIC CART
SRP ARCHITECTURE 1K/512
BIG ULTIMATE KILLS
CINEMATIC DRAGON SOUL ABSORPTION
BIG JUMP 2X
IMPROVED TABLE TRANSITION
2B MOVEMENT AND IDLE REPLACER
REAL WILDLIFE SKYRIM SE V1.5 NO FOOD
DIVERSE DRAGONS 1K
DRAGONBORN DLC IS PART OF SKYRIM
DOG FOLLOWERS ARE HUSKIES IFD LYDIA
NO MORE STUPID DOG COMMENTS
NR & IC PATCH
UPDATED ELFX NO SMIM
ELFX FIXES AIO
LANTERNS OF SKYRIM
CLEFS FORT DAWNGUARD
IC AND ELFX HARDCORE PATCH
JKS INTERIORS AND IC PATCH
SKILL TRAINING EXPANDED
MULTIPLE FLOORS SANDBOXING
GO TO BED
DOUBLE BEDS FOR TWO PPL
DOUBLE BEDS FOR SPOONING
UNDRESS FOR BED
MONSTERS SHOUTS BUNDLE
REBALANCED LEVELED LISTS
HET SERIOUSLY OVERSTOCKED MERCHANTS
QUALITY WORLD MAP VIVID
HEARTHFIRE MULTIPLE ADOPTIONS
MY HOME IS YOUR HOME
JKS INTERIORS ELFX PATCH
JKS INTERIORS ELFX FIXES PATCH
LANDSCAPE FIXES FOR GRASS MODS
NR LANDSCAPE FIXES PATCH
NR AND COMPLEMENTARY GRASS PATCH
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2023.06.03 17:15 lobmarinho A Dazzling Dream Turns into a Grueling Nightmare: My Journey with the La Marzocco Linea Mini
Just like many other coffee connoisseurs, last month marked the culmination of my long-standing aspiration - to own a resplendent RED Linea Mini for my coffee bar. As I unpacked it from the immaculate pallet box, the anticipation swelled within me. It was a handmade Italian marvel, exuding a promise of uncountable delightful espresso-filled mornings, a longing that had only intensified since the pandemic's culmination.
My counter, the holy sanctuary where this coffee masterpiece was to reside, was all prepared - the sturdy coffee-brown granite surface, the 220v outlet, my minimalistic tamper, and WDT. Everything was primed for the grand arrival of the Linea Mini.
With the machine securely nestled on the counter, and the water tank filled to the brim, I was ready to embark on an extraordinary voyage to the coffee Valhalla. And it was just a power switch away.
As I turned it on, the pump hummed into action, the lights flickered on, and then - an eerie noise emanated from the heart of the machine. It was a disconcerting sound that didn't sit right with me. The pump kept running, the strange noise amplifying, with no sign of water reaching the boiler. Apprehension took over, and I immediately switched it off, reaching out to the local LM distributor.
The distributor recommended a few tests, which I carried out meticulously, but to no avail. The following day, he came over, and after a painstaking inspection, discovered a defective valve that had to be replaced - an unfortunate manufacturing mishap. After a couple of hours of arduous labor, replacing the faulty valve and reassembling the myriad parts of the machine, we finally had it ready to craft the most heavenly espressos.
However, the respite was fleeting. A month down the line, my dream turned into an unending nightmare. Upon switching the machine on yesterday, the pump went into an overdrive. The boiler pressure gauge spiked to an alarming 3, reminiscent of a Maserati thundering down the Autobahn. Water gushed out relentlessly, draining the reservoir dry before the pump came to a halt. After a quick refill and a moment to gather my composure, I attempted to power it on again, only to be met with the same dread.
Sifting through posts online, I realized I wasn't the only one. Some others had shared a similar horror story of unstoppable draining. Today, the only thing I yearn for is to get rid of this monstrous RED nightmare that looms over my kitchen counter. A modest Gaggia Classic might just be the soothing balm to mend my coffee heartbreak.
Out of the box...
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2023.06.03 17:03 subredditsummarybot Your weekly /r/industrialmusic roundup for the week of May 27 - June 02
Saturday, May 27 - Friday, June 02
Top 5 Most Commented
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2023.06.03 16:09 wavvysoul subleasing!
hi !! i’m looking for a subleaser for the Pavilion on Berry !! Private bedroom that locks, has its own closet and bed. rent is $709/month, utilities included Share a bathroom with one other roommate, kitchen is shared, living area is shared. Close to UMN campus, parking is available and the light rail is near the building. Housemates are fun, all have hobbies related to cooking, crafting and music. Very lowkey group of girls. The house is visitor friendly. Good communication, cute decorations, clean, respectful. + anyone able to sign on i will throw in an extra $100 (i desperately need this spot filled) ++ dm me on insta if you’re interested! @w.avvysou.l
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2023.06.03 15:38 obeliskposture Short story about bad times & bad jobs
I've shared fiction here before and it didn't go altogether too poorly, so I'm going to press my luck and do it again. This was written about a year ago, and I'm tired of trying to peddle it to lit magazines. Might as well share it here, know that it met a few eyeballs, and have done with it.
It's relevant to the sub insofar as it's about urban alienation and the working conditions at a small business run by IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE people. (I tried to pitch it as a story of the great resignation with a momentary flicker of cosmic horror.) It's based on a similar job I took on after getting laid off during the lockdown, and the circumstances of the main character's breakup are faintly similar to one I went through several years back (her job sucked the life out of her).
Without further ado:
* * *
It was getting close to midnight, and the temperature outside was still above 80 degrees. We’d locked up the shop at 10:15 and walked over to Twenty, the dive bar on Poplar Street, where a single wall-mounted air conditioner and four wobbly ceiling fans weren’t putting up much resistance against the July heat baking the place from the outside and the dense mass of bodies giving it a stifling fever from within.
Just now I came close to saying it was a Wednesday night, because that was usually when the cyclists descended upon Avenue Brew, the gritty-but-bougie craft beer and sandwich shop I was working at back then. Every Wednesday between March and November, about fifteen to twenty-five Gen Xers dressed in skintight polyester, all packages and camel toes and fanny packs, locked up their thousand-dollar bikes on the sidewalk and lined up for IPAs and paninis. They reliably arrived around 8:00, an hour before we closed, making it impossible to get started on the closing checklist and leave on time at 10:00. The worst of them were demanding and rude, and even the best got raucous and stubborn after a couple drinks. There were nights when bringing in the sidewalk tables couldn’t be done without arguing with them. Most were sub-par tippers, to boot.
After Wednesday came and went that week without so much as a single 40-something in Ray Bans and padded shorts stopping in to double-fist two cans of Jai Alai, we dared to hope the cyclists had chosen another spot to be their finish line from there on out. But no—they’d only postponed their weekly ride, and swarmed us on Friday night instead.
I was the last person to find out; I was clocked in as purchaser that evening. The position was something like a promotion I'd received a year earlier: for twenty hours a week, I got to retreat from the public and sit in the back room with the store laptop, reviewing sales and inventory, answering emails from brewery reps, and ordering beer, beverages, and assorted paper goods. When I put in hours as purchaser, my wage went up from $11 to $15 an hour, but I was removed from the tip pool. On most days, tips amounted to an extra two or three dollars an hour, so I usually came out ahead.
This was back in 2021. I don't know what Avenue Brew pays these days.
Anyway, at about 8:15, I stepped out to say goodbye to everyone and found the shop in chaos. Friday nights were generally pretty active, the cyclists' arrival had turned the place into a mob scene. The line extended to the front door. The phone was ringing. The Grubhub tablet dinged like an alarm clock without a snooze button. Danny was on the sandwich line and on the verge of losing his temper. Oliver was working up a sweat running food, bussing tables, and replenishing ingredients from the walk-in. The unflappable Marina was on register, and even she seemed like she was about to snap at somebody.
What else could I do? I stayed until closing to answer the phone, process Grubhub orders, hop on and off the second register, and help Danny with sandwich prep. After the tills were counted out, I stayed another hour to take care of the dishes, since nobody had a chance to do a first load. Oliver was grateful, even though he grumbled about having to make some calls and rearrange Sunday's schedule so I could come in a couple hours late. Irene and Jeremy, Avenue Brew's owners, would kick his ass if he let me go into overtime.
Danny suggested that we deserved a few drinks ourselves after managing to get through the shift without killing anyone. Not even Marina could find a reason to disagree with him.
The neighborhood had undergone enough gentrification to support an upscale brunch spot, an ice cream parlor, a gourmet burger restaurant, a coffee and bahn mi shop, and Avenue Brew (to name a few examples), but not yet quite enough that the people who staffed them couldn’t afford to live within a ten-minute walk from the main avenue where all these hep eateries stood between 24-hour corner stores with slot machines in back, late-night Chinese and Mexico-Italian takeout joints with bulletproof glass at the counters, and long-shuttered delis and shoe stores. Twenty on Poplar was the watering hole set aside for people like us. It was dim, a bit dilapidated, and inexpensive, and usually avoided by denizens of the condos popping up on the vacant lots and replacing clusters of abandoned row houses.
When we arrived, Kyle waved us over. He didn’t work at Avenue Brew anymore, but still kept up with a few of us. He was at Twenty at least four nights out of the week.
So there we all were. I sat with a brooding stranger freestyling to himself in a low mumble on the stool to my left and Oliver on my right, who tapped at his phone and nursed a bottle of Twisted Tea. To Oliver’s right sat Marina, staring at nothing in particular and trying to ignore Danny, who stood behind her, closer than she would have liked, listening to Kyle explain the crucial differences between the Invincible comic book and the Invincible web series.
I recall being startled back to something like wakefulness when it seemed to me that the ceiling had sprouted a new fan. I blinked my eyes, and it wasn’t there anymore. It reminded me of an incident from when I was still living with my folks in South Jersey and still had a car, and was driving home from a friend’s house party up in Bergen County. It was 6:30 AM, I hadn’t slept all night, and needed to get home so I could get at least little shuteye before heading to Whole Foods for my 11:00 AM shift. I imagined I passed beneath the shadows of overpasses I knew weren’t there, and realized I was dreaming at the wheel.
I was pretty thoroughly zombified at that point. Heather and I had broken up for good the night before, and I hadn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Calling out at Avenue Brew was tough. Unless you found someone willing to cover your shift on like six hours' notice, you were liable to get a writeup, a demotion, or your hours cut if you couldn't produce a doctor's note. So I loaded up on caffeine pills and Five-Hour Energy bottles at the corner store, and powered through as best I could.
I finished the last thimbleful of Blue Moon in my glass. Oliver wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a napkin and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the KiwiFarms thread he was scrolling through. Pool balls clacked; somebody swore and somebody laughed. The TouchTunes box was playing Bob Dylan’s “Rain Day Woman #12 & 35,” and enough bleary 40-something men around the bar were bobbing their heads and mouthing the words to make it impossible to determine which one of them paid two bucks to hear it. A guy by the cigarette machine who looked like a caricature of Art Carney in flannel and an old Pixies T-shirt was accosting a woman who must have been a toddler when he hit drinking age, and she momentarily made eye contact with me as she scanned the area for a way out. Danny was shouting over the bartender’s head, carrying on a conversation with the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, who was sitting on the horseshoe’s opposite arm.
I never got his name, but when Oliver first referred to him as the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, I knew exactly who he meant. Philly scene kid par excellence. Mid-20s, washed-out black denim, dyed black hair, thick bangs, and dark, gentle eyes. He was only truly alluring when he was on the job, because he seldom smiled then—and when he smiled, he broke the spell by exposing his teeth, stained a gnarly shade of mahogany from too much smoking and not enough brushing.
“How’s Best? Marcus still a joker?” Danny asked him.
“Yeah, you know Marcus. You know how he is.”
So the Hot Guy had been working at Best Burger (directly across the street from Avenue Brew) ever since Pizza Stan’s owners mismanaged the place unto insolvency. (Afterwards it was renovated and reopened as a vegan bakery—which incidentally closed down about a month ago.) Danny used to work at Best Burger, but that ended after he got into a shouting match with the owner. I happened to overhear it while I was dragging in the tables and collecting the chairs from the sidewalk the night it happened. It wasn’t any of my business, and I tried not to pay attention, but they were really tearing into each other. A month later, Oliver welcomed Danny aboard at Avenue Brew. I hadn’t known he’d been interviewed, and by then it was too late to mention the incident. But I’d have been a hypocrite to call it a red flag after the way I resigned from my position as Café Chakra's assistant manager two years earlier—not that we need to go dredging that up right now. Let's say there was some bad blood and leave it at that.
Anyway, I was thinking about giving in and buying a pack of cigarettes from the machine—and then remembered that Twenty didn’t have a cigarette machine. I looked again. The Art Carney-lookalike was still there, fingering his phone with a frown, but the girl was gone—and so was the cigarette machine.
I had only a moment to puzzle over this before Danny clapped me on the shoulder and thrust a shot glass in front of me.
“Starfish!” he said. (Danny called me Starfish. Everybody else called me Pat.) “You look like you need some juice.”
He distributed shots to everyone else. Marina declined hers, but changed her mind when Kyle offered to take it instead.
She and Kyle had stopped sleeping together after Kyle left Avenue Brew to work at the Victory taproom on the Parkway, but Marina was still concerned about his bad habits, which Danny delighted in encouraging.
We all leaned in to clink our glasses. Before I could find an appropriate moment to ask Marina if I could bum a cigarette, she got up to visit the bathroom. Danny took her seat and bowed his head for a conspiratorial word with Kyle.
I watched from the corner of my eye and tried to listen in. Like Marina, I was a little worried about Kyle. He got hired at Avenue Brew around the same time I did, just before the pandemic temporarily turned us into a takeout joint. He was a senior at Drexel then, an English major, and sometimes talked about wanting to either find work in publishing or carve out a career as a freelance writer after graduating. But first he intended to spend a year getting some life in before submitting himself to the forever grind.
He read a lot of Charles Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. He relished the gritty and sordid, and had already been good at sniffing it out around the neighborhood and in West Philly before Danny introduced him to cocaine, casinos, strip clubs, and a rogue’s gallery of shady but fascinating people. (None were really Danny’s friends; just fellow passengers who intersected with the part of his life where he sometimes went to Parx, sometimes came out ahead, sometimes spent his winnings on coke, and sometimes did bumps at titty bars.) Kyle recounted these adventures with a boyish enthusiasm for the naked reality of sleaze, like a middle schooler telling his locker room buddies about catching his older brother in flagrante and seeing so-and-so body parts doing such-and-such things.
Marina hated it. She never said as much to me, but she was afraid that the template Kyle set for his life during his “year off” was in danger of becoming locked in. The anniversary of his graduation had already passed, and now here he was trying to convince Danny to contribute a couple hundred dollars toward a sheet of acid his guy had for sale. He wasn't doing much writing lately.
I was the oldest employee at Avenue Brew (as I write this I’m 37, but fortunately I don’t look it), and when Kyle still worked with us I felt like it was my prerogative to give him some advice. The longer he waited to make inroads, I once told him, the more likely he’d be seen as damaged goods by the publishing world. He needed to jam his foot in the door while he was still young.
I could tell the conversation bored him, and didn’t bring up the subject again.
The bartender took my glass and curtly asked if I’d like another drink.
“No thanks, not yet,” I answered.
She slid me my bill.
I missed the old bartender, the one she’d replaced. I forget her name, but she was ingenuous and energetic and sweet. Pretty much everyone had some sort of crush on her. Sometimes she came into Avenue Brew for lunch, and tipped us as well as we tipped her. Maybe three months before that night—Danny witnessed it—she suddenly started crying and rushed out the door. Everyone at the bar mutely looked to each other for an explanation. (Fortunately for Twenty, the kitchen manager hadn’t left yet, and picked up the rest of her shift.)
She never came back. None of us had seen her since. But drafts still had to be poured and bottlecaps pulled off, and now here was another white woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black tank top, a pushup bra, and a scrunchie, same as before. Twenty’s regulars grew accustomed to not expecting to see the person she’d replaced, and life went on.
“How’re you doing?” I asked Oliver, just to say something to somebody, and to keep my thoughts from wandering back to Heather.
“Just kind of existing right now,” he answered. His phone lay face-up on the counter. He was swiping through Instagram, and I recognized the avatar of the user whose album he hate-browsed.
“And how’s Austin been?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Not even three weeks after getting over the jetlag from his trip back from the Cascades, he’s off touring Ireland.” He shook his head. “Living his best life.”
He’d hired Austin on a part-time basis in September. We needed a new associate when Emma was promoted to replace a supervisor who'd quit without even giving his two weeks. There was a whole thing. I'm having a hard time recalling the guy's name, but I liked him well enough. He was a good worker and he seemed like a bright kid, but he was—well, he was young. Naïve. One day he found Jeremy sitting in the back room with his laptop, and took advantage of the open-door policy to ask why the store manager and supervisors didn’t get health benefits or paid time off. Jeremy told him it "was being worked on," and that he couldn’t discuss it any further at that time. I understand the kid got argumentative, though I never knew precisely what was said.
Irene started visiting the shop a lot more often after that, almost always arriving when the kid was working. No matter what he was doing, she’d find a reason to intervene, to micromanage and harangue him, and effectively make his job impossible. A coincidence, surely.
It’s something I still think about. By any metric, Jeremy and Irene have done very well for themselves. They’re both a little over 40 years old. I remember hearing they met at law school. In addition to Avenue Brew, they own a bistro in Francisville and an ice cream parlor in Point Breeze. They have a house on the Blue Line, send their son to a Montessori school, and pull up to their businesses in a white Volkswagen ID.4. But whenever the subject of benefits, wages, or even free shift meals came up, they pled poverty. It simply couldn’t be done. But they liked to remind us about all they did to make Avenue Brew a fun place to work, like let the staff pick the music and allow Oliver and me to conduct a beer tasting once a day. They stuck Black Lives Matter, Believe Women, and Progress flag decals on the front door and windows, and I remember Irene wearing a Black Trans Lives Matter shirt once or twice when covering a supervisor's shift. None of the college students or recent graduates who composed most of Avenue Brew's staff could say the bosses weren't on the right team. And yet...
I'm sorry—I was talking about Austin. He was maybe 30 and already had another job, a “real” job, some sort of remote gig lucrative enough for him to make rent on a studio in the picturesque Episcopal church down the street that had been converted into upscale apartments some years back. Austin wasn’t looking for extra cash. He wanted to socialize. To have something to do and people to talk to in the outside world. He wanted to make friends, and all of us could appreciate that—but it’s hard to be fond of a coworker who irredeemably sucks at his job. Austin never acted with any urgency, was inattentive to detail, and even after repeated interventions from Oliver and the supervisors, he continued to perform basic tasks in bafflingly inefficient ways. Having Austin on your shift meant carrying his slack, and everyone was fed up after a few months. Oliver sat him down, told him he was on thin ice, and gave him a list of the areas in which he needed to improve if he didn’t want to be let go.
When Austin gave Oliver the indignant “I don’t need this job” speech, it was different from those times Danny or I told a boss to go to hell and walked out. Austin truly didn’t need it. He basically said the job was beneath him, and so was Oliver.
It got deep under Oliver’s skin. He did need the job and had to take it seriously, even when it meant being the dipshit manager chewing out a man four or five years his senior. He earned $18 an hour (plus tips when he wasn’t doing admin work), had debts to pay off, and couldn't expect to get any help from his family.
The important thing, though, the part I distinctly remember, was that Oliver was looking at a video of a wading bird Austin had recorded. An egret, maybe. White feathers, long black legs, pointy black beak. Austin must have been standing on a ledge above a creek, because he had an overhead view of the bird as it stood in the water, slowly and deliberately stretching and retracting its neck, eyeing the wriggling little shadows below. As far as the fish could know, they were swimming around a pair of reeds growing out of the silt. The predator from which they extended was of a world beyond their understanding and out of their reach.
The video ended. Oliver moved on to the next item: a photograph of the bird from the same perspective, with a fish clamped in its beak. Water droplets flung from the victim's thrashing tail caught the sunlight. And I remember now, I clearly remember, the shapes of like twelve other fish stupidly milling about the bird's feet, unperturbed and unpanicked.
Danny peered at Oliver’s phone and observed a resemblance between the bird—its shape and bearing, and the composition of the photograph—and a POV porn video shot from behind and above, and he told us so. Elaborately. He made squawking noises.
“And mom says I’m a degenerate,” Oliver sighed. “Can you practice your interspecies pickup artist shit somewhere else?” Oliver flicked his wrist, shooing Danny off, and held his phone in front of his face to signal that he was done talking.
Danny sagged a little on his stool and turned away. I sometimes felt bad for him. For all his faults, he had the heart of a puppy dog. He really did think of us as his tribe. There was nobody else who’d only ever answer “yes” when you asked him to pick up a shift, and he did it completely out of loyalty.
He was turning 29 in a week. I wondered how many people would actually turn out to celebrate with him at the Black Taxi. Kyle probably would—but even he regarded Danny more as a source of vulgar entertainment than a friend.
Then it happened again. When I turned to speak to Oliver, there’d been a pair of pool cues leaning side-by-side against the wall a few stools down. Now they were gone.
This time it might have been my imagination. Somebody passing by could have casually snatched them up and kept walking.
But a moment later I seemed to notice a second TouchTunes box protruding from the wall directly behind me. I let it be.
Marina returned from the bathroom. Danny rose and offered her back her seat with an exaggerated bow. Before she got settled, I asked if she’d like to step outside with me. She withdrew her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her canvas bag, which she left sitting on the stool to deter Danny from sitting back down.
Marina never minded letting me bum cigarettes from time to time. I couldn’t buy them for myself anymore; it’s a habit I could never keep under control, and was only getting more expensive. Like everything else in the world. About once a month I reimbursed her by buying her a pack.
The air out on the sidewalk was as hot as the air inside Twenty, but easier to breathe. After lighting up, Marina leaned against the bricks and sighed.
“I wish Oliver would fire Danny already and get it over with.”
I nodded. Marina rarely talked about anything but work.
“He sneaks drinks and doesn't think anyone notices he's buzzed,” she went on. “He steals so much shit and isn’t even a little subtle about it. He’s going to get Oliver in trouble. And he’s a creep.”
“Yeah,” I said. These were her usual complaints about Danny, and they were all true. “At least he’s better than Austin.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Three dirt bikes and an ATV roared down the lonely street, charging through stop sign after stop sign, putting our talk on hold.
“Remind me. You’ve got one semester left, right?” I asked after the noise ebbed.
Marina was a marketing major at Temple. She’d had an internship during the spring semester, and her boss told her to give her a call the very minute she graduated. Her parents in central Pennsylvania couldn’t pay her rent or tuition for her, so she was a full-time student and a full-time employee at Avenue Brew. Her emotional spectrum ranged from "tired" to "over it." She’d been waiting tables and working at coffee shops since she was seventeen, had no intention of continuing for even a day longer than she had to, and feared the escape hatch would slam shut if she dallied too long after prying it open.
She’d considered majoring in English, like Kyle. She went for marketing instead. I couldn’t blame her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of off all day.”
I gave dodgy answers, but she asked precisely the right follow-up questions to get me going about what happened with Heather the night before.
It was the new job. Before the pandemic, Heather worked as a server at a Center City bar and grill. (That's where I met her; we were coworkers for about a year, and then I left to work Café Chakra because it was quieter and closer to where I lived.) When the place closed its doors and laid everyone off during the lockdown, she got a stopgap job at the Acme on Passyunk, and hated it. Then in March, she found a bar-and-lounge gig in a ritzy hotel on Broad Street. Very corporate. Excellent pay, great benefits. Definitely a step up. But her new employers made Irene and Jeremy look like Bob and Linda Belcher by comparison. It was the kind of place where someone had recently gotten herself fired for leaving work to rush to the hospital after getting the news that her grandmother was about to be taken off life support, and not finding someone to come in and cover the last two hours of her shift.
Heather seldom worked fewer than fifty-five hours a week, and her schedule was even more erratic than mine. At least once a week she left the hotel at 1:00 or 2:00 AM and returned at 9:00 the next morning. Neither of us could remember the last time she’d had two consecutive days off, and it had been over a month since one of mine overlapped with one of hers. She’d spent it drinking alone at home. All she wanted was some privacy.
I’d biked to South Philly to meet her when she got home at 1:30. The argument that killed our relationship for good began around 2:30, when I complained that we never had sex anymore. Heather accused me of only caring about that, when she was so exhausted and stressed that her hair was falling out in the shower. Quit the job? She couldn’t quit. The money was too good. She had student loans, medical bills, and credit card debt, and for the first time in her life she could imagine paying it all off before hitting menopause.
So, yeah, I was cranky about our sex life being dead in the water. Say whatever you like. But at that point, what were we to each other? We did nothing together anymore but complain about work before one or both of us fell asleep. That isn’t a relationship.
She said my hair always smelled like sandwiches, even after bathing, and she was done pretending it didn’t turn her off. I told her she was one to talk—she always reeked of liquor. As things escalated, we stopped caring if her roommates heard us. “You want to be a father?” she shouted around 4:00 AM. “Making what you make? That poor fucking kid.”
We fought until sunrise, and I left her apartment with the understanding that I wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t be calling her ever again. I biked home and sat on the steps facing the cement panel that was my house’s backyard. After my phone died and I couldn’t anaesthetize myself with dumb YouTube videos or make myself feel crazy staring at the download button for the Tinder app, I watched the sparrows hopping on and off the utility lines for a while.
At 11:40 I went inside. One of my roommates was already in the shower, so the best I could do was put on a clean Avenue Brew T-shirt before walking to the shop and clocking in at noon to help deal with the lunch rush.
“That’s a lot,” Marina finally said. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. She was sixteen years my junior, after all, and just a coworker. She didn’t need to hear any of this, and I definitely didn't need to be telling her. But who else was there to tell?
She’d already finished her cigarette. I still had a few puffs left. She went inside.
I decided to call it a night.
The second TouchTunes box was gone—naturally. Danny had taken my stool, and regarded my approach with a puckish you snooze you lose grin. I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d just pay my bill, give everyone a nod goodnight, and walk the five blocks back home.
And then Danny disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next—gone.
Danny didn’t just instantaneously vanish. Even when something happens in the blink of an eye, you can still put together something of a sequence. I saw him—I seemed to see him—falling into himself, collapsing to a point, and then to nothing.
You know how sometimes a sound is altogether inaudible unless you’re looking at the source—like when you don’t realize somebody’s whispering at you, and can then hear and understand them after they get your attention? I think that was the case here. I wouldn't have known to listen if I hadn't seen it happen. What I heard lingered for two, maybe three seconds, and wasn't any louder than a fly buzzing inside a lampshade. A tiny and impossibly distant scream, pitchshifted like a receding ambulance siren into a basso drone...
I don’t know. I don’t know for sure. I’m certain I remember a flash of red, and I have the idea of Danny’s trunk expanding, opening up as it imploded. A crimson flower, flecked white, with spooling pink stalks—and Danny’s wide-eyed face above it, drawn twisting and shrinking into its petals.
For an instant, Twenty’s interior shimmered. Not shimmered, exactly—glitched would be a better word. If you’re old enough to remember the fragmented graphics that sometimes flashed onscreen when you turned on the Nintendo without blowing on the cartridge, you’ll have an idea of what I mean. It happened much too fast, and there was too much of it to absorb. The one clear impression I could parse was the mirage of a cash register flickering upside-down above the pool table.
Not a cash register. The shape was familiar, but the texture was wrong. I think it was ribbed, sort of like a maggot. I think it glistened. Like—camo doesn’t work anymore when the wearer stops crouching behind a bush and breaks into a run. Do you get what I’m saying?
Nobody else seemed to notice. The pool balls clacked. A New Order track was playing on the TouchTunes box. A nearby argument about about Nick Sirianni continued unabated.
Finally, there was a downward rush of air—and this at least elicited a reaction from the bartender, who slapped my bill to keep it from sailing off the counter.
“Danny,” I said.
“Danny?” Kyle asked me quietly. His face had gone pale.
“Danny?” Oliver repeated in a faraway voice.
After a pause, Kyle blinked a few times. “You heard from him?”
“God forbid,” said Marina. “When he quit I was like, great, I can keep working here after all.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Kyle. Did I ever show you those texts he sent me once at three in the morning?” The color had returned to Oliver’s face.
“No, what did he say?”
Oliver tapped at his phone and turned the screen toward Kyle.
“Oh. Oh, jeez.”
“Right? Like—if you want to ask me something, ask me. You know? Don’t be weirdly accusatory about it…”
I pulled a wad of fives and ones from my pocket, threw it all onto the counter, and beelined for the exit without consideration for the people I squeezed through and shoved past on the way.
I heard Marina saying “let him go.”
I went a second consecutive night without sleep. Fortunately I wasn’t scheduled to come in the next day.
The schedule. It’s funny. Oliver was generally great at his job, and even when he wasn’t, I cut him a lot of slack because I knew Irene and Jeremy never gave him a moment’s peace. But I could never forgive him those times he waited until the weekend to make up and distribute the schedule. This was one of those weeks he didn’t get around to it until Saturday afternoon. When I found it in my inbox, Danny’s name wasn’t anywhere on it.
As far as I know, nobody who hadn’t been at Twenty that night asked what happened to him. We were a bit overstaffed as it was, and everyone probably assumed Danny was slated for the chopping block. The part-timers were, for the most part, happy to get a few additional hours.
Oliver abruptly quit around Labor Day after a final acrimonious clash with the owners. I never found out the details, and I never saw him again. Jeremy and Irene took turns minding the store while a replacement manager was sought. None of the supervisors would be pressured into taking the job; they knew from Oliver what they could expect.
About three weeks after Oliver left, I came in for my purchasing shift and found Jeremy waiting for me in the back room. I knew it was serious when he didn’t greet me with the awkward fist-bump he ordinarily required of his male employees.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” he said. Business for the summer had fallen short of expectations, it was true, and he and Irene had decided to rein in payroll expenses. My purchaser position was being eliminated. Its responsibilities would be redistributed among the supervisors and the new manager, when one was found. In the meantime, I'd be going back to the regular $11 an hour (plus tips of course) associate position full-time.
Jeremy assured me I'd be first in the running for supervisor the next time there was an opening.
I told him it was fine, I was done, and if he’d expected the courtesy of two weeks’ notice, he shouldn’t have blindsided me like that.
“Well, that’s your choice,” he answered, trying not to look pleased. His payroll problem was solving itself.
I racked up credit card debt for a few months. Applied for entry-level museum jobs that might appreciate my art history degree. Aimed for some purchasing and administrative assistant gigs, and just for the hell of it, turned in a resume for a facilitator position at an after-school art program. Got a few interviews. All of them eventually told me they’d decided to go in a different direction. I finally got hired to bartend at Hops from Underground, a microbrewery on Fairmount.
I’m still there. The money’s okay, but it fluctuates. Hours are reasonable. I’m on their high-deductible health plan. There’s a coworker I’ve been dating. Sort of dating. You know how it goes. In this line of work you get so used to people coming and going that you learn not to get too attached. I walk past Avenue Brew a few times a week, but stopped peering in through the window when I didn't recognize the people behind the counter anymore.
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2023.06.03 14:45 SchlesingerMindy323 [HIRING] 25 Jobs in CT Hiring Now!
Hey guys, here are some recent job openings in ct. Feel free to comment here or send me a private message if you have any questions, I'm at the community's disposal! If you encounter any problems with any of these job openings please let me know that I will modify the table accordingly. Thanks!
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2023.06.03 13:02 mybestluxe What is Napier Jewelry? A Complete Guide to Timeless Elegance
| || |https://preview.redd.it/vb3kt2wmbs3b1.png?width=2240&format=png&auto=webp&s=8604b8c9aaf5c43b8c11454c64025d63827e2988 submitted by mybestluxe to u/mybestluxe [link] [comments]
What is Napier Jewelry
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2023.06.03 11:30 LiseEclaire [Leveling up the World] - Academy Arc - Chapter 759
Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :)) At the Beginning
Adventure Arc - Arc 2
Wilderness Arc - Arc 3
Academy Arc - Arc 4
Previously on Leveling up the World…
This is somewhat nostalgic, the armadil shield said.
“Walking through copyette ruins?” Dallion’s opinion differed. “Hardly.”
You patched up things with Eury here, I remember.
The comment made Dallion slow his pace. That was indeed true. The first time their relationship had been on the rocks, searching the ruins had helped patch things up. It also helped that the entire city was under threat of destruction.
“There’s nothing to patch up,” he said adamantly.
Right. It’s the world that’s keeping you apart.
Reaching the staircase to the city above, Dallion hastened his pace. Half a dozen cleric guards stood at the higher levels, making sure no one without permission went up or down. Aware of the mage’s authority, they quickly stepped back, letting him pass. Some of them mumbled the obligatory “initiate”—a title Dallion cared little about.
A second half dozen was placed in the arena corridor, just beyond the stairwell. Feeling in a good mood after his magic level up, Dallion was about to let them know that he was done, when he spotted something that made him stop. At the end of the corridor, surrounded by his ever-present fury bodyguards, stood the general.
Damn it! Dallion said to himself. He had hoped that he’d manage to leave the city without having to talk to the snobbish snake. If there was someone he wanted to avoid at all costs, that was it.
“What a pleasant surprise to find you here, Dal,” the general said with his superior smile. Dallion’s rank in society might have increased since the last time the two had spoken, but it didn’t matter. He still had a debt to pay, and if there was one thing the general was good at, it was collecting. “Or should I say mage Dallion?”
“Nice to see you too, General.” Dallion remained calm. “I was considering seeing you,” he lied.
For a moment, he considered whether to blow him off completely. Being a mage, he had the authority to do so. Sadly, in the short turn, that would create more trouble than it was worth.
“Delightful. I’d invite you to my usual room, but it’s being redecorated.” The general tapped his chin with a finger. “I decided to go with something a lot more imperial in mind.”
“On the other hand, the arena field is empty right now. Maybe we could have a brief talk there?”
It was made to look like an amicable invitation, but there wasn’t a person in the corridor who couldn’t tell it was a threat.
The countess was moved out of the city, and yet this squirmy toad remains behind? Dallion grumbled internally. Worse than a cockroach.
Leaving his furies behind, the general went along the halls and corridors to the arena field. Despite it and the stands being meticulously well kept, a sense of emptiness emanated from everywhere. There were times when it was filled with dozens of challengers and enough crowds to fill a medium-sized town. Dallion had seen it from both sides of the fence: he had taken part in the tournament as well as observed it from afar.
“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” The general looked around. “If there was one thing about the countess that everyone will miss, it’s the Nerosal Festival. That was an event to remember. Even the northern provinces were envious, even if they’d never admit it. Tell me, is the Academy still holding its tournament?”
“Ah, a shame. I was told that they, too, were rather magnificent. I’ve seen echo recreations, of course, but it could never beat the real thing.”
Dallion remained silent, patiently waiting.
“In a way, you can say that everything started here,” the general continued. “If a member of the imperial family hadn’t died that day, none of the following calamities would have taken place.”
“Doubtful.” Dallion tried his best not to smirk. “Another excuse would have turned up.”
“Oh, that’s definitely true. With the toys Adzorg had been playing, it was inevitable that something would follow. Who knows, if he had been just a bit luckier, the city might have been destroyed well before the Star had the chance to drag it into the wilderness. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“What do you want?” Dallion pressed. “I don’t have time for your usual performance.”
“My, my.” The general’s smile widened. “I guess it’s true that magic makes one arrogant. But you’re right. Both of us are busy people, so I’ll get straight to the point.” He paused for a few moments. “I think I can help you.”
Using that line already? Each time the snob had used it, Dallion had ended up worse off.
“Everyone knows you’re hunting Adzorg.”
“Not hunting,” Dallion corrected. “And I expect you to know where he is?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. The man has managed to elude the Academy and the Order’s best. There’s no way I could find him. However, I can help you find the thing he seeks.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, even former archmages.” The general’s tone shifted. “In this case, the mistake was made years ago. The old man had grown impatient and came to me asking for a specific item. It was believed to be difficult to find and impossible to get. In fact, I was planning to use you to find it for me. It was quite unfortunate that some of my other associates failed to do their part.”
“Let me guess—they ran off with the item in question.”
“Didn’t even find it. Needless to say that our business relations came to an end. Anyway, the important thing is that Adzorg never got the piece.”
“And you know where it is.” Dallion crossed his hands. “What makes you sure that he hasn’t found it by now?”
The response made Dallion arch an eyebrow.
“I’ve narrowed down its location, but there’s no guarantee that he hadn’t found it. The reason I’m assuming he hasn’t is because the world is still here.”
“So, you have nothing to offer?”
“You seem to be confused, mage. It’s you who owe me. The debt you have is guaranteed by your Moon vow. I’ve been generous enough leaving you run around, but even my patience has its limit.”
Dallion would hardly call what he’d been doing “running around.” Unfortunately, he was the one with the debt.
Confident he had made his point, the general took out a small scroll from beneath his shirt and handed it to Dallion. Unrolling it revealed the picture of a very peculiar and well-crafted gear wheel. More precisely, it was a stack of gear wheels arranged like a cone.
“The item is said to be the size of a large shield,” the general said. “It’s made of a combination of sea iron, sun gold, and moon platinum. The materials alone will make every hunter want to have it. According to Adzorg, it’s hidden in a large clay or stone statue. Find it first and you’ll find your ex-mage.”
“Thanks,” Dallion grumbled.
“And just to be sure, there are no misunderstandings. I want the item.”
“You’re thinking of taking on the Order? Now I’m impressed.”
“Don’t act stupid, it doesn’t become you. The item is useless on its own. Owning a piece of something that could enslave all humanity, though… Now, that’s priceless. Bring me my prize and your debt is paid.” The man turned around. “What you do with the old man isn’t my business.”
Dallion folded the scroll and added it to the pile of things he was carrying. This was exactly the sort of “help” he had expected. The only positive thing was that he could be fairly sure that Adzorg had at least one piece missing.
“Oh, one last thing,” the general said over his shoulder. “Some of my associates were convinced that the statue is located in the dwarf kingdom of Alor, or at least it had been before the poison plague broke out.”
The kingdom of Alor. From what Dallion could remember, that was a small kingdom relatively close to the empire’s northwest province. The issue was that it was also close to the Azure federation.
“I wish you the best of luck.” The snob waved.
Mentally Dallion clenched his fists. A single spell would be enough to reduce the general to cinders. And yet the Moon vow wouldn’t allow it.
I told you to avoid the arena, the armadil shield said.
“Not now, shield.” Dallion hissed, then cast a flight spell. Even with all the positives he had achieved in the last hour, the conversation with the general left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. How could someone be so arrogant to gamble with the fate of cities? He had practice, that was for certain, constantly relying on someone else taking one for the team and dealing with the consequences of his actions.
The flight to the Gremlin’s Timepiece lasted less than a minute. As he approached, Dallion instantly spotted several air currents coming from the inn. Living under the countess had taught Diroh to be careful. That was good.
No longer bothering to remain incognito, Dallion flew directly to the inn door and stepped inside. He expected a crowd to start forming, but the place was remarkably empty. The only people present were Hannah and Diroh. Even Pan had remained in the kitchen, preferring not to get involved.
“Take everything you want to bring along,” Dallion said unceremoniously. “We’re leaving.”
The fury stood up to protest, when Hannah gave her a sign not to.
“Go, Di,” she said in a calm voice. “Only the things you’ll miss.”
“You’re letting him take me? Why? I thought—”
“Just do it, Di. He might be a jackass, but he’s right—people have already noticed and until we get a strong lord mayor, you’ll be safer with Dal than with someone else.”
A bouquet of emotions emanated from Diroh. There was a lot of disapproval, anger, and rebellion, of course, but also a bit of eagerness and joy as well subtly hidden. Walking deliberately slowly, she made her way to her room. Dallion and Hannah kept looking at each other, not saying a word the entire time the fury was there. Once gone, the innkeeper drew a dagger from beneath the counter and slashed all the air-currents Diroh had “forgotten” behind.
“If something happens to her…” the woman began.
“I won’t be alive to defend myself if it does,” Dallion finished for her. “Besides, she’s learned a trick or two.”
“She only had a year. You had five.”
Had it been five already? Dallion had lost track.
“I’ll make her my apprentice,” he said. “Once she has the title, no one will be able to harm her.”
“Other than all the mages that joined the other sides.” Hannah returned the dagger to its place. “Do you have enough authority? She’s not a full mage.”
“She’s close enough. Besides, I’m owed a few favors. She’ll become my apprentice, and with a bit of help from the Academy, a lot more.”
For several long seconds, Hannah kept on glaring straight into his eyes, then shook her head.
“I never thought you'd turn into this.”
“That’s not true. You knew it from the moment you saw me.” Dallion glanced briefly at the kitchen door. “I bet you knew how all of us would turn out. Is that part of your curse?”
“Heh.” The woman grabbed a bottle from the nearby shelf, then poured herself a glass. “My curse.” She gulped it down in one go. “They say that every awakened who lives in Nerosal but isn’t born there has a curse. Mine was to help people I knew would move on. Eury, Jiroh, you…”
“You still have Pan.”
“Only because his curse is even worse than mine. I didn’t expect you to chase after Captain Adzorg like a pup of the Academy, but I knew you’d hurt me.” She filled her glass once more and drank it. “And still, you’re the safest bet that girl has. Pan doesn’t think so, neither does March, but they don’t know you as well as I do.”
“I bet you say that to every otherworlder.”
“When I look at you, I see a hurricane of change. You’ll hurt a lot, more than you have hurt already. You’ll scar the world itself.”
“In that case, why put Di under my care?” Dallion felt a slight chill at the back of his neck.
“Because as long as she’s with you, she’ll be in the eye of the hurricane.”
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, consider joining my patreon or check out my other stories on redditserials:
The Scuu Paradox (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Cassandrian Theory (a Space Opera Sci Fi)
The Impeccable Adventure of the Reluctant Dungeon (Dungeon Core Adventure Comedy)
Uncharted Waters (An Urban Fantasy Detective Noir)
submitted by LiseEclaire
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2023.06.03 09:13 Even-Alternative-395 Solid Brass & Stainless Steel Handles – Dluxdekor
| || | submitted by Even-Alternative-395 to u/Even-Alternative-395 [link] [comments]
Dlux Dekor is a renowned supplier of premium hardware solutions, specializing in exquisite solid brass handles and stainless steel handles. Their solid brass handles
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In addition to their solid brass handles, Dlux Dekor also offers a diverse collection of stainless steel handles
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2023.06.03 07:21 MyDogLovesmooch Complementing Dishes and Sauces for Perfectly Cooked White Rice
| || | submitted by MyDogLovesmooch to u/MyDogLovesmooch [link] [comments]
White rice: a humble, blank canvas that possesses an uncanny ability to adapt and enhance the flavors of its accompanying dishes. For many around the world, a meal seems incomplete without it. Yet, pairing the perfect white rice with the right dish and sauce can be transformative, taking your culinary journey to new heights.
Let's explore those delicious combinations.
The Versatility of White Rice
From the bustling streets of Thailand to the serene hills of Japan, white rice is a staple that holds together diverse cuisines. Its subtle flavor profile and soft, fluffy texture allow it to complement an array of dishes - from the spicy, and the tangy, to the subtly sweet.
In its simplicity, white rice carries the remarkable potential to elevate an ordinary dish into something extraordinary.
Understanding Flavor Profiles
Cooking is an art, and like any good artist, understanding your palette is key. The mild, subtly sweet flavor of white rice pairs beautifully with diverse flavor profiles, providing balance and complexity to your meals.
Be it the savory depth of umami, the kick of spiciness, or the refreshing hint of sourness, the unobtrusive charm of white rice provides the perfect backdrop, allowing these flavors to shine.
Meat-based Dishes with White Rice
Succulent Teriyaki chicken with its sweet and salty glaze, savory Beef stir-fry boasting vibrant vegetables and a tangy sauce, or hearty Chicken curry bursting with spices - these are classic examples of how meat-based dishes pair exquisitely with white rice.
The rice absorbs the flavorful juices and sauces, creating a harmony of tastes in every bite.
Vegetarian and Vegan Combinations
Fear not, plant lovers; white rice has plenty to offer you, too.
From a colorful mixed vegetable stir-fry brimming with crisp textures to a rich, protein-packed chickpea curry, the combinations are endless.
The key is in building flavor using herbs, spices, and condiments like soy sauce, sesame oil, or coconut milk, enhancing the overall dish while retaining the unique tastes of the vegetables.
For seafood lovers, white rice can be your best culinary ally.
Imagine a plate of garlicky shrimp scampi or a bowl of delicate salmon teriyaki on a bed of fluffy white rice, or pan-seared scallops paired with rice and a drizzle of lemon butter sauce.
The rice helps balance the richness of the seafood while absorbing the flavors of the accompanying sauces, resulting in a delicious harmony of tastes.
Sauces That Elevate Your Rice Dish
From the complex spice medley in a rich curry to the simple, comforting soy-based dressing, the right sauce can elevate your rice dish to restaurant-grade quality.
Whether you prefer a hot and spicy Szechuan sauce, a sweet and tangy Teriyaki, or a delicate, savory broth, these sauces seep into the rice, transforming each grain into a flavor-packed delight.
Perfecting the Art of Stir-Fry
Stir-frying is a quick, flavorful, and versatile cooking method that pairs perfectly with white rice. Start with your choice of protein, add a mix of colorful vegetables, and season with your favorite sauces and spices.
The key is to cook on high heat for a short time to retain the freshness and crunch of the vegetables while infusing the dish with vibrant flavors.
Rice Bowls: The One-Pot Wonders
One of the most popular ways to serve white rice is in a rice bowl. From the Japanese Donburi to the Korean Bibimbap, these dishes are a festival of flavors and textures.
Layered with your choice of protein, a mix of fresh and cooked vegetables, and topped with a perfectly cooked egg or a generous drizzle of sauce, these rice bowls are a testament to the versatility of white rice.
Choosing the Right Tool for Perfect White Rice
Just as the right ingredients can make a difference in your meal, so can the right tools. A well-cooked, fluffy white rice can be a game-changer, and one tool that both home cooks and professional chefs swear by is the Zojirushi NP HCC10XH
. Renowned for its superior performance and consistent results, this rice cooker effortlessly transforms raw grains into perfectly cooked, restaurant-grade white rice.
With its advanced technology and multiple cooking settings, the Zojirushi rice cooker ensures each grain is cooked to perfection. The convenience it offers, from easy cleaning to a timer function, makes it a trusted appliance for any kitchen.
Whether you're whipping up a quick stir-fry at home or crafting a gourmet seafood delight in a professional setting, this rice cooker can be your trusted partner. After all, the first step towards a perfect pairing is ensuring that your white rice is cooked flawlessly.
What is Your Culinary Experience?
White rice, with its unassuming presence, has been the silent hero of many dishes across the globe.
Now, armed with this knowledge of perfect pairings, we hope you're inspired to embark on your culinary adventure. Remember, the best dishes often come from creativity and personal preference.
So, don't be afraid to experiment and explore new combinations. Do share your experience by commenting.
2023.06.03 03:44 MumziDarlin Nautical Rehearsal Dinner Flags for Glasses/Cups?
| || | submitted by MumziDarlin to weddingplanning [link] [comments]
Hello! We are hosting a rehearsal dinner for our two lovelies getting married, and they both love the ocean/beach. So we are having a casual nautical theme. It is a distance away so we are having the food catered, but the venue they wanted/we are using is in a beautiful building at a city-run park by a lake - it has bathrooms, but no kitchen, so we are opting for compostable everything, except for some handsome stemless ceramic wine goblets and melamine cups for the kids. Those are intended for everyone to take with them. We don't want assigned seats, so we thought maybe we should make some kind of name "flags" - I'm not really thrilled with the idea of lots of flags sticking out of the tops of the glasses - maybe on the kids' cups? - does anyone have an idea for the adult/ceramic pieces (for ID-ing them, and for letting them know that they are for them to use/bring to the tables - there will also be other compostable cups there.) I'm at a loss, so appreciate the help. I am handy, with lots of crafting/power tool experience and am not afraid of a challenge. (In case it helps, the colors are neutrals and seaglass blue-green with pops of color from the flowers. - we aren't doing an "Ahoy There" type of theme - just referencing their love of the ocean.). Thank you!
2023.06.02 23:48 mostdefnot Re-Modeling villagers homes
So I completed enough homes to be able to remodel my own villagers homes on my island but I was wondering if I don’t put a kitchen or work bench in their homes will they never be able to craft things for me?
submitted by mostdefnot
to AnimalCrossing [link] [comments]
2023.06.02 22:04 wellnesshap123 Wellness Event in Plainville
Wellness Event in Plainville
VFW Hall in Plainville Sept 17, 2023
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VFW Hall 7 Northwest Dr. (Off RT 10 on Farmington town line) Plainville, CT 06062 45+Readers & Vendors !! *FREE ADMISSION- REQUESTED DONATIONS*
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2023.06.02 21:50 WhiteBoxStudio Seeking feedback on first chapter of general fantasy novel. [3,667 words]
Thank you very much in advance.
Nestled at the crossroads where shattered dreams and whispered promises converged, the fabled port city of Iria revealed the bittersweet allure of freedom. Its streets, like the intertwining tendrils of a thorny briar, embraced the hopes and sorrows passed down through generations.
Deep beneath the streets, a labyrinthine network of tunnels and caverns bore secrets of a forgotten past. Legends spoke of the Nords, who sculpted the fate of these subterranean realms through violent conquest, drawn by the ephemeral radiance that once bathed these untrodden lands.
Echoes carried the stories of Gillikristr, the visionary founder of Iria, whose sacrifice quelled the vast military power and unearthly horrors that threatened to consume the city.
Within the weathered embrace of its walls, the very essence of Iria's foundation permeated the air, the weight of the city's destiny rested upon the tavern's timeworn shoulders.
At it's center, the Briar Thorn Tavern stood proudly as a timeless sanctuary emerged from the veils of misty twilight that tenderly caressed the city's cobblestones. It transcended its once-homely status, becoming a hearth for the downtrodden, restless, and lost. Beckoning weary souls yearning for respite from the burdens of existence. Aged beams, polished by countless hands, emanated the warmth of ancestral embrace, while ancient tales reverberated throughout, blending with patrons' hushed murmurs seeking solace from the tumultuous world.
Here, adventurers found respite where their journeys merged in a symphony of shared experiences.
As its doors swung open, sensations overwhelmed the senses. A cavernous chamber unfolded like an amphitheater. Benches filled with patrons alive with anticipation, where their laughter was interwoven with resonant notes, saturating the air in a vibrant revelry. It was a place where the past danced with the present, where the weight of the world momentarily lifted, and where the echoes of forgotten heroes found solace in the hearts of the living.
In these crowded halls, a kaleidoscope of thorny roses and blood red petals adorned the surroundings. Paying homage to Iria's fabled House of the Red Grave, where weathered gravestones—adorned with intricate carvings—honored those brave men and women who defied their chains. Their stories intertwined with the tapestry of Iria's ever-evolving narrative, serving as a poignant reminder of the struggle for emancipation. The sacrifices made for freedom.
Adorned in her finest party attire, Isabel navigated the bustling crowd, fiery curls flowing like molten copper, half pinned up and half dancing freely in the wind. The half-dwarf strummed her lute, dressed in a distinctive bodice dress. Half-leather, half-silk, it shimmered in eggshell white-yellow with a touch of gold trim.
Donning a wide-belt and a sword at her hip, she gracefully navigated the crowd, seeking refuge in a quiet pub corner. Her gaze fixed on an intricately engraved ledger, captivated by its allure.
Amidst the dust motes and lamplight, Isabel opened the book, delving into its contents. With unwavering focus, her green eyes traced the precise rows of figures, engaging in a silent conversation with the ghosts of numbers.
A mischievous grin adorned her porcelain face, mirroring the intrigue that brewed within. Her finger traced a curving figure on her account, the sly grin transforming into an incredulous smile. The past month had been extraordinary, with a generous patron lavishing coins upon her. A mysterious benefactor, undoubtedly observing her fortunes.
'Och gods...the ink's bleedin' through,' Isabel thought to herself. The accounts, usually orderly and precise, now seemed to mirror the joyful chaos surrounding her.
'Guess I'd best get this in order before folk start gettin' drunk an' cause too much a' ruckus...'
After several minutes of writing, she leaned back in her chair, stretched, and yawned hard. Her weary eyes glanced over the darkening floor of the inn, and she raised a hand to rub at her jaw. She tried her her best to avoid the crowd's raucous calls in favor of getting the ledgers out of the way.
It was to no avail. The strain of the work had taken its toll. She let out a sigh and closed it, setting the book aside with the intention to revisit it.
Isabel's gaze shifted to the walls adorned in festive decorations that filled every corner, transforming the tavern into a celebration itself. The tantalizing aromas from the kitchen hinted at delightful treats prepared with extra care, each dish a tribute to the upcoming revelry. Amidst the lively crowd, Isabel felt a sense of purpose and excitement. A grand festival approached, and she was determined to create unforgettable memories for the attendees.
Resigned, the half-dwarf stretched her back and legs, scraping her red stilettos across the stone floor to ready herself for her rounds across the tavern. She meticulously adjusted her outfit, ensuring every detail was perfect. Eyes glimmered with determination, she stepped into the midst of the crowd, and embraced the spirited celebration.
"Guid evenin' tae ye all! Ye're lookin' bonnie, ye are. Micht I tempt ye wi' a warmin' ale or a cool stout? Or maybe a cider? We've a special brew fer ye tonight. Our cider's been aged in dragon fire-hardened casks."
In the midst of the vibrant tavern, all eyes converged on the resplendent figure that graced the stage of the Briar Thorn. A flame-haired maiden, adorned with an intricate tapestry of freckles, commanded attention with each movement, a testament to her practiced grace and unyielding confidence. The air crackled with anticipation as the bard's emerald eyes met those of her audience, mischief sparkling within their depths. With a playful wink, she set off a chorus of hearty laughter, an orchestration of mirth resonating through the space.
Among the sea of eager faces, a burly man, boasting a thick black beard and wielding an imposing war hammer, raised a hand, his voice booming above the fray. "I'll take two."
Suppressing a contagious burst of laughter, Isabel delicately clasped a hand over her lips, a radiant smile illuminating her features. "Two ciders, then, comin' up," she responded with a melodious lilt.
Unyielding in their desire for libations, another voice chimed in, belonging to a stern-looking woman whose scowl mirrored the sharpness of the war axe slung across her back. Leaning forward in her chair, she waved her hand, demanding attention. "We'll take two as well."
The large man, undeterred by the rising clamor, added his voice to the mix. "Three, then. And a pitcher of your best stout, if you would be so kind."
Amidst the boisterous revelry, the tavern erupted in a chorus of laughter, cascading like a waterfall of mirth. Isabel, ever the enchantress of the stage, acknowledged the uproar with a graceful bow at the waist, her every movement a testament to her showmanship. "Of course. I'll tend to that in a moment," she assured, a playful wink accentuating her words. "Now, as I was sayin', I'll get yer orders in a minute."
A burly man, his eyes twinkling with mischievous delight, directed his attention toward Isabel, a crooked smile gracing his lips as he ran a hand through his bushy beard. A war hammer nonchalantly slung over his shoulder and a massive war axe tucked in his belt added to his formidable presence. "Hey Izzie, yer gonna be performing tonight? Or do I need tae bless the dancers again?"
In response, Isabel's laughter danced through the air, a joyous melody in harmony with the crackling firelight. "Nah, I'm performin' tonight. Though ye might have tae beat my record," she teased, her voice laced with a playful challenge. A sly wink directed at her brother punctuated her words. "I think I might set a new one."
The burly man's eyes widened, their dark depths shimmering with excitement. "Aye? That's impressive! That's better than our last record. Did ye hear about that?"
Isabel's curiosity piqued, her emerald eyes narrowing as she shielded them from the flickering firelight, sweeping the room in search of answers. "No, I dinnae," she replied, her voice filled with anticipation. "Who was it?"
With a conspiratorial lean forward, the man shared his knowledge in a hushed tone, as if guarding a precious secret. "Our new patron. We're to be blessed by him tonight. We've a few others too, but the lads were talking about him earlier."
A spark of excitement ignited within Isabel, her voice taking on a hushed tone to match the weight of the revelation. "A patron? That's wonderful! Who is he? Does he have a name?"
Isabel's vibrant emerald eyes widened with eager anticipation as the burly man confirmed the identity of the mysterious patron.
A man with hazel eyes, clad in an intricately embroidered jacket and pants of fine silk, strode confidently toward the stage. The crimson-lacquered armor that adorned his form seemed to shimmer in the light, like the ruby at the end of a rosebud. A regal demeanor seemed to permeate every gesture as he surveyed the crowd, his posture betraying the confidence of his stature. With an easy grace, he settled on a chair, his eyes locking with those of Isabel's. A smile played on his lips as he motioned for her to join him, a clear command in his demeanor.
A wide smile stretched across her face, illuminating her freckled visage. "He's a bard like me?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with excitement. "I cannae wait!"
With a quizzical expression, the man raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer to share a whispered revelation. "Not exactly," he revealed, his tone tinged with intrigue. "He's quite different. I don't think you'll see many of his kind at The Briar Thorn, if you know what I mean."
Isabel nodded, her curiosity now piqued, her mind conjuring visions of the enigmatic newcomer. "I do. I've been told they're rare," she confided, a soft giggle escaping her lips. "I wonder what he looks like? I hope he's not one a' them."
In response, the man chuckled, his cheeks flushing as he met her infectious smile. "I doubt it. He should be back in a few. Left his ledger with Gerik."
The mention of the ledger prompted Isabel to stifle another burst of laughter, her hand pressed against her mouth. "Och, that was his? I was in there earlier, and it's a mess," she admitted, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.
The man's face contorted into a perplexed grimace, his confusion evident. "Aye? You looked like it was all in order." He shook his head, puzzled. "Weird. Guess he's just new... though that doesn't explain why he speaks so... peculiarly. Claims he's from Draigfell, yet he talks like he's from a different continent."
Isabel chuckled, her voice laced with amusement. "He's from the north. Maybe he's more... formal? Aye, that sounds like it," she pondered, her eyes distant as she mulled over the possibilities.
The man shrugged, leaning back in his chair, his tone one of indifference. "Aye, that makes sense." He raised his hand and signaled to a busty lass who was weaving through the crowd toward the bar.
Eyes glued to the mysterious patron, intrigued, Isabel leaned forward with her curiosity eager to unveil the mysteries surrounding the enigmatic Micah. "Aye? What does he say?" she inquired, her tone infused with genuine interest.
With a bemused shrug, the man struggled to articulate his observations. "Ah... nothing much. Just strange," he confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of intrigue and perplexity. "Maybe he's just not used to taverns."
The burly man, his eyes glimmering with excitement, clasped Isabel's shoulder and pulled her into a warm embrace. "He's coming back here later tae join us. Maybe ye can find out why this Micah fellow left us so much gold. You'll have tae tell me later."
A smile blossomed across Isabel's features as she leaned forward and hugged her brother tightly. "I will," she promised, her eyes twinkling with joy. "But I cannae tell ye why ye're getting so much coin."
"We'll figure it out, ye'll see. Ye better get ready to perform," he insisted. "An' get that ledger in order."
Isabel nodded and turned toward the kitchen, her steps sure and graceful. "Aye, I will," she assured. "I'll be back with yer drinks soon."
With a parting smile, Isabel gracefully glided toward the kitchen, her freckled face glowing in the flickering light. The tapestry of laughter and merrymaking resonated within her as she emerged, ready to fulfill her promise of delivering three orders. The Briar Thorn Tavern thrived with the boisterous banter of adventurers, their stories and camaraderie filling every nook. Amidst the lively crowd, Isabel weaved her way, greeted by a raising mug and reciprocating with a mischievous wink. Laughter harmonized with the crackling firelight, but her focus remained on the enigmatic patron.
After deftly fulfilling the orders and sating the thirst of eager patrons, Isabel embarked on a purposeful journey toward the table where the enigmatic Micah sat. A flicker of anticipation ignited within her, a fire stoked by the allure of the unknown. Every step she took exuded a captivating showmanship, a ballet of grace and poise. As her emerald eyes met his hazel gaze, a current of intrigue surged through her veins, ensnaring her curiosity in its enigmatic grasp.
Approaching with measured elegance, Isabel bestowed upon him a subtle bow, a testament to her refined demeanor practiced countless times. Her movements, like a finely choreographed dance, exuded an air of cultivated grace. The sweep of her arm and the dip of her head were executed with precise control, each gesture crafted to convey both respect and a hint of playful intrigue. It was a performance perfected through countless repetitions, a display of practiced finesse that now played out before Micah's watchful gaze.
"It's good to see ye're 'ere," said Micah, his tone measured and confident, his Draig accent adding a sing-song lilt to his words. His hazel eyes glimmered with intrigue as he studied her, a curious smile gracing his features. "I see Gerik raised 'is children well. 'ow are ye feelin'?"
Isabel's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face, studying him as if she were peering into the depths of his soul. Her demeanor remained composed as she regarded the enigmatic Micah. "I'm fine. We've been talkin' about ye," she admitted as she twirled a lock of hair between her fingers.
Micah nodded, his posture betraying his composure. "I'm sure ye have," he said.
'Ah dinnae know ye," Isabelle asked, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. "Do ye want me tae get ye somethin' tae eat?"
"I'm fine," Micah said, as he brushed off the concern with a casual flick of his hand, his grin spreading like sunlight on a dew-kissed meadow. The charm in his words danced with the musicality of a whispered melody, ensnaring Isabel's attention further into his web. "I'm Micah, a fa'miliar face 'at 'as graced these walls fer twenty-five years. The bonds o' friendship 'ave woven through the tapestry o' time, connectin' yer family and mine in a shared 'istory."
"So ye're a bard, like me," Isabel exclaimed, her eyes dancing with excitement and anticipation. "I've heard rumors of yer arrival at the tavern. Tell me, what 'appened tae yer band? Where have they gone?"
"I'm the last o' me band," Micah admitted, a tinge of melancholy seeping into his voice as he reminisced about his companions. "They were swept away by a tempest, lost to the unforgiving storm. I miss them dearly. They still visit me in dreams," he confided, a solitary tear glistening in his expressive eye.
Isabel's voice resonated with warmth and empathy as she extended her condolences. "I'm truly sorry tae hear o' yer loss," she offered sincerely. "Ye dinnae speak much 'bout yerself, but I'm eager tae know ye better. How 'bout we share a meal together? We can talk and ye can share yer story."
"That would be delightful," Micah replied, his countenance softening as he bestowed her with a genuine smile. "I would enjoy that greatly."
A genuine smile graced Isabel's freckled visage, brimming with delight. "Wonderful! I'll fetch ye a meal," she promised, her voice tinged with enthusiasm. "What tickles yer fancy?"
"Anything will suffice," Micah responded, his tone imbued with sincere interest. "I have the coin. I'll be waitin' 'ere for ye."
Isabel's smile blossomed as she nodded in agreement, his genuine tone assuring her of his welcome. She directed her attention towards the bustling kitchen, her mind ablaze with thoughts of crafting a delectable menu for her newfound companion. The tantalizing scent of freshly prepared cuisine mingled with the symphony of clinking pots and pans, captivating Isabel's senses.
'I reckon a savory meat pie or a plate of spiced vegetables would be to his likin'. I don't think he's fond of overly spicy fare.'
Isabel's imagination swirled with culinary possibilities as she surveyed the kitchen, her eyes darting between the diligent kitchen staff and the array of tantalizing ingredients. Contemplating her options, hands confidently resting on her hips, she made her way towards the bustling heart of the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the savory treasures at hand.
After careful consideration, Isabel selected the perfect meal that would both cater to Micah's palate and ignite his taste buds with delight. A sly smile played upon her lips as she emerged from the kitchen, carrying a plate brimming with culinary delights. The aroma of the freshly prepared feast permeated the air, adding to the festive ambiance of the tavern.
With a warm smile gracing her features, Isabel approached Micah, the alluring scent of the food enveloping them. "Here ye are!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "I've got somethin' special for ye. Ye're bound tae love it."
"I have no doubt," Micah assured her, his curiosity piqued as he returned her smile. "Thank ye kindly."
Placing the plate before him, Isabel gestured towards the enticing dish, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "Go on now! Give it a try!" she encouraged eagerly. "It's one o' the tavern's finest specialties."
As his gaze fixated upon the presented meal, Micah's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "A fine choice," he acknowledged, curiosity lacing his words. "Though dinnae ye 'ave a performance soon? Shouldn't ye be preparin'?"
"I shall," Isabel urged with a playful glimmer in her eyes. "Just try it."
With a glint of mischief in his eyes, Micah nodded, his fingers gently tracing the contours of the freshly baked crust as he studied the meal before him. "Aye, I will," he assured, his brogue adding a touch of charm. "I'm sure it'll be a feast for the senses."
Isabel's fiery waves of hair, tamed and cascading down her back, framed her face with a wild elegance. She slipped into her performance costume, the fabric embracing her like a second skin, its deep green hue accentuating her curves. The subtle reveal of skin hinted at a hidden sensuality, while the golden cuff, shaped like a wolf's mouth, added an enchanting touch. She could almost feel the spirit of Caledonia whispering through the intricate design, igniting her spirit.
A knock on the dressing room door interrupted her reverie, and the voice of Archie, the stage director, filtered through. "Isabel, are ye ready? The stage awaits."
She turned toward the door, a radiant smile illuminating her face. "Almost there, Archie. Just a few finishing touches."
Stepping out of the dressing room, Isabel found Archiewaiting, his eyes widening with awe at her transformation. His voice softened, filled with admiration. "Isabel, ye look absolutely stunning. The crowd won't ken what hit them."
Isabel's laughter danced through the air, her voice carrying a mixture of excitement and determination. "Thank ye, Archie. But it's not just about the looks. Tonight, I'll weave a tale that'll stir their hearts, ignite their spirits, and leave them yearning for more. Tonight, Caledonia will come alive on this very stage."
Archie, resonating in her words, nodded, his eyes reflecting a profound understanding of her power. "I have nae doubt, Isabel. Ye possess a gift—a voice that carries the stories of our land, the dreams of our people. They'll be captivated, enchanted by yer every note."
Isabel took a final deep breath, feeling the energy of the night pulsating through her veins.
"Together, Archie," Isabel whispered, her voice filled with determination. "Tonight, we'll create magic."
And with that, they stepped into the hallway, the sounds of anticipation and muffled conversation filling the air. The stage awaited, the audience yearned, and Isabel was ready to cast her spell, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who would join her in this symphony of life.
The curtains drew back, revealing the expectant faces of the crowd, their eyes alight with anticipation. Isabel took her place at the center of the stage, her gaze sweeping across the sea of faces, her voice a velvety caress that cut through the silence.
"Listen closely, mah friends," she began, her voice filled with a tantalizing blend of mystery and longing, her Scottish lilt enchanting every syllable. "For tonight, I shall unveil the hidden melodies that reside within the soul of Iria. Tonight, we embark on a journey of love and loss, triumph and despair. Let yer hearts be swept away by the stories that dance upon the threads of our existence."
And so it began. The tavern exploded with applause as Isabel gracefully stepped to the side of the stage, beckoning to her audience as she sang the opening verse of the ballad. All fell silent as the rain battered the cobblestones outside, protecting the warmth of the firelight.
submitted by WhiteBoxStudio
to WritersGroup [link] [comments]
2023.06.02 17:34 kellydn7 Schedule with 6, 4 and 1 year old
6:00am Shower, get ready for day, eat breakfast. Unload Dishwasher.
7:00 am Girls wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast.
8:00am We do some learning type stuff I set out on the table for them, I pack snacks/lunch. Start laundry. Make beds.
9:30am We try to leave the house every morning. Park, library, dance class, play date, grocery store. Transfer laundry before we go.
11:30/12pm We come back home, have lunch if we didn’t already eat.
12:30/1pm I put on a movie for older girls and I put baby down for a nap. I rest. Thaw dinneplan dinner. Fold laundry.
2/2:30pm read some books if baby is still down.
3:30pm Start dinner, girls do crafts at table.
4:30pm Husband gets off work (he works from home).
5pm Eat dinner (usually tacos, spaghetti, breakfast for dinner, chicken and rice).
5:30 I go for a walk. Husband plays outside with kids.
6pm I give girls bath, husband goes for a walk.
7pm Husband reads to girls, I put down baby.
7:30pm I sing songs to girls, Husband cleans kitchen and runs dishwasher.
8pm Kids are asleep and husband and I collapse on the couch for an hr before we go to bed.
We’re exhausted but it mostly works 🤪 I try to do as much as I can in the morning.
Any similarities? Is your life with 2-3+ kids just as scheduled or are you more to with the flow? Next year my daughter will be in full day first grade so it’ll be a little different!!!
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2023.06.02 17:28 Thatfetuskid ARHLO Guest mix/Interview
Feature mix in the link below: https://on.soundcloud.com/PJBRW
What does "Arhlo" mean and how'd you come up with it?
Arhlo: My oldest child's name is Thomas Arlo. There are a lot of Arlo's in the producer hemisphere so I doubled down and threw in the "h" to help make my name unique.
So speaking on that is it true you produced lullabies for your son during his infancy?
Arhlo: Yes. I felt creative enough and alert enough to do this. I knew what lullabies were. Very simple melodies. The point of a lullaby is to make someone sleep, no? I did that and made a soundtrack to my (then) infants life to help them go to sleep. I actually made 5 more lullabies when my second was born. I played them once for him and deleted them forever. I am weird about keeping my songs out in the open. I don't like attention.
Now digging a little deeper into YOU, you went through the Icon Collective course, ultimately do you feel it was a worthy experience, would you recomend it to other producers who are on the fence about it?
Arhlo: YES. 100%. Granted, I didn't physically attend Icon, but my experience has made me who I am today. Icon will throw out ideas you thought to be canon, and then shake up your life more. I was able to nuture and grow my strength as a producer through their curriculum. Icon was the difference between wanting to do something, and doing the f*cking thing.
You also went to school for jazz as well, yeah?
Arhlo: Correct. I spent almost 3 years going to college for Jazz performance. That was my major when I left. I grew up in Connecticut, and subsequently went to school in the state as well. I used to sit through jazz history classes, then take the train into NYC to go to jazz clubs like 55 Bar and Smalls and hear some of the greatest players in the world. Unfortunately 55 is now closed but I have fond memories of taking $50 to take the MTA into Grand Central, walking an hour down to the village, and going to one of the aforementioned clubs to spend my last dollar to hear these cats play. It is still the Mecca for musicians. No doubt about it.
I heard a rumor you had an ep mixed and mastered by Mayhem?
Arhlo: Yes the EP is on my private soundcloud. I just didn't feel it was right to release it at that time. Maybe now might be the time. I don't know. My barometer for music culture is so out of touch I didn't even know Alison Wonderland was pregnant until a week ago
So now that we have our more basic questions out of the way; we are gonna get a little personal, because we know you personally.
Arhlo: Understood. Cue the Shaq meme.
We have been to A LOT of shows together, that night at tabernacle, was waiting with me an hour and a half worth it?(you bought those tickets)
Arhlo: Yes. We saw an amazing show. Rickyxsan and NGHTMRE? Are you kidding me? Then we waited in the pouring rain. Luckily we caught Tyler coming out of the venue with Ricky and got to chat with them. Between Tyler blowing up and Ricky holding it down for the underground, we had an awesome time picking brains and taking names. (NGHTMRE) is an outlier in terms of mainstream artists, he is a consummate professional. He told us that he gave away the majority of his profits to increase the value of the show for the audience, something that is not done today at all by artists at his level. He would use his profit and throw it into the production, so the lights, sound, and overall experience were pieces that were curated and amplified due to his hard work and what he contributed to the production.
So when we talk about great djs, what seperates, a good dj from a bad dj?
Arhlo: A bad DJ plays what people want to hear; a good DJ plays what they want to hear. If the two sync up in some sort of serendipitous way, that's a great dj.
If you could have a conversation with yourself on the day you started pursuing music, what would you say?
Arhlo: I would tell myself to make music that makes myself happy. Don't try to be someone you're not, be the creative that you organically are. That's how one gets a unique sound and it's how you develop and evolve as a producer.
Whats a piece of advice you were never given, but try to pass on to other DJs?
Arhlo: The piece of advice that I try to pass on is that you're going to be faced with a lot of rejection. A musician I admire once told me you will fail 9/10 times, but that 1 time will make all the difference. Just brush off the rejection and move on. There's no time to dwell on rejection.
Who has helped you the most or supported you the most, this is the time to shoutout and thank your folks!
Arhlo: First off I want to thank YOU. You have supported me since the day we met. You're a true friend and fan and will always be there to support and give advice. You're honest and extremely helpful when it comes to bouncing ideas around and showing you WIP's. Other "mentors" I've had that have helped me get to where I am as a producer and DJ today include Protohype, my first mentor at Icon, Mayhem, for being the premier Atlanta producer and DJ, Pryzms, who has had an amazing journey here in Atlanta, and Blvk Sheep. I've taken several lessons from Blvk Sheep over the years and he has great knowledge when it comes to not only the craft, but the industry as well.
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2023.06.02 15:43 AlluringAilurophile What should I get my husband (32m) for his first Father’s Day gift?
I (32F) want to make the holiday special for my husband (32M) as he really has been such a great help to me and our daughter since we had her last summer.
I don’t really have a good baseline of gifts to give for Father’s Day, as when I was young my mom would just give my dad a card and sign our names to it til we were old enough to make or buy something ourselves.
He works in a kitchen, so things like ties and all the items falling under that category are useless. He doesn’t really watch sports or play them. And he has an alcohol allergy so he can’t drink.
I want to make sure it’s memorable and that he feels loved and appreciated on his day, and in some way incorporated our 11 month old into the gift idea.
For his birthday I had her “make him” a card by putting paper in a ziploc with paints I let her choose and smushing all around til it was a nice little design. I can always do some kind of craft again, but I feel like they eventually get pushed aside or tossed and forgotten.
Any cool creative ideas that you’ve gotten your kids fathers/your own fathers that might make the day a little more special?
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2023.06.02 14:25 Desperate_Bee3776 Lodha Hebbal Bangalore Upcoming 2, 3, and 4 BHK Residential Project
2023.06.02 14:06 RASCALSSS Mystic River Chocolate, Bean to Bar Handcrafted Chocolate and Craft Beer in Historic Downtown Mystic Connecticut! Featuring our own Organic Chocolate, Drinking Chocolate, Craft Beer, Gifts, Artwork and more!
Has anyone tried their BEER?
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2023.06.02 09:06 PeterHickman Something old I found on my hard drive. Enjoy or not