#How to start an oil mill business

[minioilmill]

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[azsazz]

Dioxazine

Modern!Rhys x Reader

Summary: While at the art shop looking for the necessary supplies for your first semester of art school, you get a bit distracted by the cocky cashiers intriguing eye color.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,254

Notes: It’s 1am and now it’s Sunday so I’m posting rn so @writingsbychlo can see this when she wakes up. This one’s for you babes! I hope you love it.

P.S. Gosh I just love young, cocky Rhys so much. 😭

_________________________________________

You really should’ve grabbed a basket.

Your arms are stuffed with supplies: sketchbooks, pencils, oil paints, a roll of canvas, anything and everything you could need for the start of your classes in a few days. 

They’d given you a list of all of the tools needed for your first semester at art school and yeah, you could’ve ventured to the nearest chain store, but you thought it’d be better to support the local art supply in town.

That is, until you meet the cashier.

He looks anything but friendly, leant over the expanse of the counter, flipping through a magazine ever so lazily. The boy doesn’t even look up when you drop your supplies down, spilling across the surface with purpose.

“Hello?” you crow when you’ve been standing there for a solid minute while he reads whatever article is next to the full page perfume ad with a half naked model on it. You catch sight of his long fingers rubbing the corner of the pages, separating them from each other so that he can turn to the next.

“Hi,” he responds blankly, like you’ve just run into him and he doesn’t know why you’re speaking to him. Your brows knit together as you stare at him, wondering if he always acts so careless about his job or you’ve just caught him at a bad time.

“I, um…” you trail off, frustrated because all you want to do is purchase your supplies and you’ll be out of his inky black hair. “Can you look at me?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw in annoyance, which is fine because his rudeness is irritating you as well, so at least you have that in common.

Finally, he snaps shut the magazine and looks up at you. His glaring eyes are startling, not because he looks menacing, but you’ve never quite seen a color like that before, bright violet with flecks of a dark hue that reminds you of the stars in the night sky. 

They make you itch to test out your new paints.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he stands to his full height, and holy Gods, he towers over you by at least a whole foot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

You clear your throat, “Yes, actually. If you’re not too busy, that is.” You glance at the magazine, now facedown on the counter.

The side of his mouth quirks in a wicked smirk, “You’ve caught me at a good stopping point.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath that only makes him smile wider.

“I’m looking for the umber oil paint but I didn’t see any on the rack.”

“Freshman then?” his teeth are bright in his grin. He rounds the corner of the counter, leading you back the way you came. There aren’t many students milling about the small shop, and as you pass the pen section you have to talk yourself into not purchasing another just for the sake of how pretty it looks.

You make a face at his insinuation. “You can tell that just from my paint selection?”

“Yes and no. No, because umber is a staple color for most painters,” he glances at you over his shoulder as he slows to a stop before the rack of organized paints. He takes his time, giving you a once over that makes you flush and hug your arms across your chest. His smile only grows and you scowl in response. “And yes, because If you weren't a freshman you would’ve asked for a specific one. There’s burnt umber and raw umber.”

He plucks both tubes of paint from the shelf and holds them out to you, “Very different colors.”

“They look the same to me,” you mumble, studying the swatches on the tubes. They’re a few shades off from each other, surely that can’t make that much of a difference.

You definitely don’t take into account how small the tubes look in his large hands, and you’re absolutely not thinking about taking one just to compare the size difference between your hands.

“Trying to decide which one to get?” His question is innocent but the look on his face is anything but.

You flush and the collar of your shirt seems to tighten out of nowhere. “Yes.”

He stares down at you for a moment, making sure that you know he’d given you an out.

“You’re going to need both.”

“I guess I’ll take your word for it, since you seem to know so much about art.”

“That’s why I work at the art store,” he replies bluntly, letting you lead the way back to the register, “Because I know my shit.”

“Well it’s definitely not because of your less than charming personality,” you retort, shocking yourself. You’re usually not so rude to people but there’s just something about this guy that’s getting under your skin. 

All you want to do is go back to your dorm.

“You think I’m charming?”

You scoff, “Absolutely not,” You catch yourself peeking at how well fitting his pants are against the round of his ass as he makes his way back to the register side of the counter. You shake your head, scolding yourself. “Now are you going to ring up my stuff?”

“No, but I will check you out.”

You groan, “That was terrible.”

“Terrible or cute?”

You give him a pointed look, face straight. “Terrible.”

“I can try another,” he says as he finally starts ringing up your art supplies.

“No thank you, just the supplies for me today, thanks,” you try, silently praying that he hurries. You can’t stand the thought of being around him for much longer if he spouts another cheesy line that you know he’s probably used on plenty of girls before. You don’t care how cute he is.

“You know what else these are good for?” He holds up the tube of Dioxazine purple paint, the one that looks like a bottled color of his eyes.

“I really didn’t ask.”

“Finger Painting.”

The retort rolls quickly off your tongue and just as swift to wipe that smile off of his gorgeous face. “Should’ve known that’s what you’re into, since you act like a three year old.”

His eyes glow, taking the card you’re holding out for the transaction. You don’t even care how much the total is, you just want to get the hell out of here.

“Feisty.”

“Just give me the damn receipt,” you’re pretty sure your cheeks look like they’ve been brushed with the cadmium red paint in your bag as you hold out your hand for your card and the thin sheet of paper.

“Yes, ma'am,” he obeys, passing both over to you, sliding your bag of supplies across the counter.

“And don’t call me that.”

“What do you want me to call you? Darling? Or your name, perhaps?”

“No.”

“Any other requests?” he asks cheekily, planting his hands on the counter so he can lean toward it, towering over you.

You take the bag, fully planning on ignoring him in favor of taking a brisk walk towards the door but he’s shuffling around under the counter and trailing after you.

“Yeah, you can stop following me,” you remark, catching sight of the bunched up sweatshirt in his hands. It’s nowhere near cold yet so you don’t understand why he has that on him. Maybe it got cold in the store while he was sitting on his ass doing nothing.

“My shift just ended, Darling.” 

You halt as you step onto the sidewalk. He takes a few steps further, swinging around to face you when he realizes you’ve stopped.

Narrowing your eyes up at him, you say, “Didn’t I just tell you not to call me that?”

“You didn’t tell me your name, so I guess I’ll just have to keep calling you pet names, Darling.”

“(Y/N),” you nearly growl, “My name is (Y/N).”

He repeats your name and you clutch your bag tighter in your hands because you’d never heard it sound quite that lovely coming out of someone's mouth. It gives you goosebumps.

“I’m Rhysand, but you can call me Rhys.”

“I’m honored,” you respond sourly, hating that he’s smiling at your annoyance. “Can I go now?”

You try to step around him but he slides into your path again, blocking your way back to campus.

“You know my friends and I are throwing a party at my place tonight,” he starts, glancing up at the street over your head before returning those piercing eyes on yours. He shrugs.  “You know, before class starts up and all that.”

“Cool.”

He barks out a laugh that licks up your spine in the best way. “That was me inviting you, if that wasn’t clear.”

“It wasn’t,” you say, even though it was.

He cocks his head, grinning crookedly at you, “Don’t be like that.”

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at this cocky boy. You blurt the next question that comes to mind instead of giving him an answer. “Why are you even working here?”

“So I can meet pretty girls like you,” he responds innocently, dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks in an exaggerated manner.

You can’t help but to laugh, shifting your bag to the other arm, “Try again.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a wicked curve and your heart definitely doesn’t stutter and you certainly aren’t thinking about breaking out the oil paints you’ve just bought.

“I might work at the art supply store to get a discount on my own supplies,” he starts, “Or I might work at the art supply store so that my father thinks that I can be independent and make a living off becoming an artist instead of taking over the family business.”

And well, you weren’t expecting him to be so open about it. 

Unsure of what to say, you focus on the fact that he said he was also taking classes for art. 

“You’re in art school?”

“I know, the patchwork tattoos make me seem like something much more scholarly,” he grins and you had taken notice of the array of…interesting patchwork tattoos littering the tanned skin of his arms.

“Yeah,” you huff a laugh, “The Mickey Mouse one really screams finance major.”

Rhys’ smile falls, an offended scowl taking over his perfect face. “It’s not just a tattoo of Mickey Mouse,” he protests, turning his arm so the both of you can see the silly tattoo better. “He’s…on drugs, so it’s cool, ya know? An aesthetic if you will.”

You stare at it, then at him, an eyebrow raised. 

He gives in. “Okay…so it was a dare but there’s a good story behind it, I swear! I can tell you more about it on our date.”

“Date? I thought it was a party?”

“So you’re coming?”

You purse your lips, unimpressed. “I didn’t say all that.”

The blaring sounds of a horn cuts off his response, drawing both of your attention to the street. There’s two boys in the front seats of the gorgeous vintage Bronco, painted your favorite color. Your mouth nearly drops at the pristine condition of the car, and then again once you catch sight of the handsome passengers.

The boy driving the car leans over the one in the passenger, “C’mon Rhys, hurry up and get her number or we’re going to do this thing without you!”

The boy in the passenger seat glares at the driver, your cheeks heating up under their stares.

“You heard him,” Rhys says, smiling so wide you’re afraid his cheeks might split open. “Can’t have them thinking I didn’t get your number, right?”

“You didn’t.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, yielding only a small step when you take one forward. When you don’t say anything he continues, “At least come to the party.”

“No, thanks.”

“Please?”

You exhale an exasperated breath. He just won’t give up. “If I say yes will you get out of my way?”

“Definitely,” he nods his head eagerly.

“Then yes,” you finally relent and he beams, “I will see you there.”

“Sick,” he mutters proudly to himself. He shoves his hand into your bag and you fumble for a second, yelping and straightening the paper sack as he rifles around for something.

Rhys pulls a sharpie out and grabs your arm. You’re so caught off guard that you just watch as he writes his number on your forearm in thick black letters. Your mouth drops open in shock. You’ll have to scrub your skin raw to try and get it off.

He steps back, admiring his work. He caps the marker and tosses it back into your bag, “My number looks good on you, you should consider getting that inked. I have a friend, if you want.”

“Let me guess, he’ll be at the party.”

His grin is shit eating.

Rhys winks, pulling out a can of spray paint from beneath the bunched up fabric of his sweatshirt as he retreats towards the car, and it’s then that you realize he's only brought the jacket so he could take the paint, hiding it in the fabric so no one would see.

He shakes the can in the air for emphasis, swinging a leg up into the backseat of the convertible. The grin on his face is something you'll be thinking about for the rest of the day.

“I'll paint something pretty for ya, (Y/N). See you tonight.”

[whoredmode]

A DUBIOUSLY ACCURATE HISTORY OF STILWATER (& STEELPORT)

So if it’s not obvious by the obnoxiously long post I’ve made talking about the musical history of Stilwater, I’m fascinated by the worldbuilding of Saints Row. And in my quest of learning more about the setting of the series, I’ve pieced together my own headcanons on the general history of the city…and its cousin, Steelport. I’ve spent the last several days going over canonical histories of both cities, primarily Stilwater as it was my original goal, and put together my own ideas of how I think the cities developed prior to the start of the games in 2006. Some of this is based on actual canon evidence, other stuff is just my own conclusions. 

CANON TIMELINE

1783

Knight Plaza is founded, predating the founding of Stilwater itself

1787

Pennsylvania becomes a state

Unspecified year in the 1800s

Stilwater founded

1827

Steelport founded

1837

Michigan becomes a state

1940

Stilwater builds a new sewer system

Post-1940: An earthquake strikes Stilwater

1947

Sunset Park is built in Steelport

1970s

Vice Kings VS Los Carnales. Assumedly mid-to-late 70s into early 80s

1977: Stilwater is voted the most family-friendly city

MAPPING THINGS OUT

So it’s never exactly stated where Stilwater and Steelport are located comparatively. We know they’re in the Rust Belt, and Stilwater is expressly stated to be in Michigan. I’m inclined to say the cities are fairly close to each other (Stilwater in Michigan while Steelport is probably closer to Pennsylvania), probably several hours by car, if only because of similarities in industry, aesthetics, and even a few moments in-game. It can be fairly easily implied that the cities are within several hours driving distance of each other (my guesstimate is 7-8 hours away by car); especially given that in the beginning of SRTT they are able to land in Steelport so quickly despite assumedly not even being in the plane for more than an hour before they blow it up. 

TIMING THINGS OUT

The Stilwater Church is a gothic style church, assumedly a product of the gothic revival in the mid-1800s. Given that Steelport was founded in 1827, I’d say Stilwater was founded around this time as well, potentially ~1830. It was an unused territory for several years and did not get further development until after Michigan’s statehood was granted in 1837. 

I believe, given the architecture of Old Stilwater and the architecture of older buildings in Steelport, that both cities had a huge economic boom starting in the 1920s and had a period of growth and expansion. I’d say things were looking up for Stilwater going into the 1940s and 50s, but the earthquake sent the city into a really bad place economically. Worth noting that Steelport did not seem to be affected by the earthquake or tremors, which allowed it to continue to prosper while Stilwater tried to pick up its broken pieces.

Let’s go back a little into the 1800s, after Stilwater’s founding. I believe some time in the late 1830s/early 1840s, private railways were laid nearby to Stilwater, but the area itself would not get connected to the mainland of Michigan by rails until around the 1850s. Initially it was being used as a place for manufacturing, but wealthy people with railroad money saw the potential for a resort area. We’ll get into that in a moment.

Stilwater clearly had some manufacturing business as evidenced by the factories and boatyards, but I don’t think it ever reached the level of industry as Steelport did. Steelport also had the advantage of being founded a few years earlier. We know canonically that Stilwater has a steel factory and an oil refinery. I believe the steel factory is a minimill specifically, given its small size and the junkyard nearby; this means it uses scrap metal in its steel production. I’d date the mill around the 1890s but with several updates through the years until it was ultimately shut down. The oil refinery was probably built around the 1950s or 60s given its look, though it still appears to be somewhat operational? You can still see plumes coming out of the towers.

I know the Carnales own it, but I don't think they're necessarily refining oil or even using it as a cover for something; I think they’re getting profits from it and protecting it. From what I can tell the oil refinery may be the only factory still in actual operation, as the steel mill is just being used for the Carnales’ arms dealing. 

So where does that leave Old Stilwater’s actual primary industry? If it’s not steel factories like Steelport, and the oil refinery didn’t come into being until around the mid-20th century, what did the city do? All throughout Stilwater there’s old, decommissioned railway tracks.

Parts of them were obviously meant for more general transportation of products, as evidenced by the tracks near the factories, but others follow the slightly newer, raised tracks of the transit system. This implies that at one point, Stilwater had a need for moving people into and out of the city. Given that the tracks also led to a nice hotel at one point (the hotel underground in SR2), there was clearly a market for people getting around to some sort of entertainment and/or hospitality.

Which leads me to my theory/headcanon/whatever that Stilwater, starting in the late 1800s and into the early 20th century, had a nice trolley park and was known mostly for its entertainment. This became its primary source of revenue. 

For starters, all throughout SR2, there is talk about returning Stilwater to former glory, and tourism is obviously its most booming industry at that point in the series, so this seems to imply that it was known for tourism at one point. Stilwater itself has such a heavy emphasis on pleasure in the first two games, so it feels as if that’s always been a part of itself. Even just the fact that a record label was able to start and flourish there says that there is an entertainment scene in Stilwater and it’s a core part of its identity. Not to mention it being voted a family-friendly city in the late 70s, a point where it looked as if it might’ve started to recover from its post-earthquake troubles, further implies that there was a family-friendly image it kinda had. I think the idea of it being a trolley park in the late 1800s and into the 1900s makes a lot of sense. Stilwater itself is quite picturesque, and trolley parks began because of the rise in popularity of picnics. Families and friends went out to the nice waterside area of Stilwater, and suddenly there’s a need for more direct lines into and out of the area; next thing you know there’s new entertainment being constructed so more and more people want to come in. This all follows a pretty clear line in terms of what’s in Stilwater.

Trolley parks went out of fashion with the rise of amusement parks in the 1920s, and though Stilwater doesn’t have an amusement park, I believe Stilwater went in the direction of building venues for things like cabaret, bars, and brothels. It ended up leaning more heavily on adult entertainment, which makes sense given how it looks at the start of the series. Stilwater became synonymous with pleasure, even if it was starting to shy away from the more all-ages entertainment it had in the 19th century.  

So by the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, Stilwater was an extremely popular destination. It had great entertainment, beautiful hotels, and easy access to sex, drugs, and alcohol. All of this caught the attention of the Carnales, probably around the late 40s, and by the 1950s they began to have a hand in many of the institutions of Stilwater. 

One thing that caught my attention was a radio ad in SR1 in which Hughes says that his parents moved to Stilwater 50 years ago (so around 1956) and that, at the time, Stilwater was still a lively place. If we’re to assume the earthquake was the beginning of the end of Stilwater, we can easily guess that the earthquake either happened later that same year, or a year afterwards. With that in mind, around 1956-57, a huge earthquake hits Stilwater, razing most of the city. The place is in shambles, both physically and economically. That said, the Carnales are still expecting things like payments for their business, but now many people are unable to comply, having lost their means of income. In turn, the Carnales became a much larger, even more intimidating presence in Stilwater all throughout the rest of the 50s and 60s. 

Presumably at some point in the 1960s, a cult begins to form. People were seeking guidance and safety in the wake of such a huge natural disaster, and thus Philosotology began to take form. It stays relatively in the background for most of its life, but throughout the 60s, 70s, and 80s more and more people join, especially those in places of power. I won’t get too into the development of Philosotology, as this is about the more general history of Stilwater, but I would be remiss to not mention it. The point being, by the 80s and 90s, they’re running things from behind the scenes, to the point they’re just a staple of Stilwater come modern day.

As we move through the 20th century, the progression of the canon story takes form. In the 70s, Julius Little and Benjamin King—sick of the Carnales presence in Stilwater—decide to take back the city. So throughout the 70s, the Vice Kings and the Carnales fight, with the Vice Kings ultimately coming out on top. In the late 70s and early 80s, it seems as if Stilwater might return to former glory, as the birth of Kingdom Come Records helped revitalize the arts and music scene of the city. 

However, the economy of Stilwater does not recover. Generations of Stilwaterians have been hurt by decades of poverty, of negligence by those in power, and it is not the thriving coastal city it was in the early-to-mid 20th century. Obviously, these factors (and many more) contribute to how the events of the first game begin. 

A QUICK TANGENT ABOUT STEELPORT

So where does Steelport fit into all of this? I mentioned it at the start, so surely I must have something to say. 

Steelport was founded in 1827 in Pennsylvania. It was an industrial city, full of steel factories, and it stayed that way for many years. The city steadily grew over several decades, and around the turn of the century, a large number of people from Europe moved to Steelport for work. And it was around this time that the organized crime syndicates of Europe were beginning to take hold in Steelport. 

Fast forward to the 1970s. Phillipe Loren, a high-ranking member of the Syndicate in Belgium, had ties to several of the gangs that were now in Steelport, so he goes to the city himself to see if it’s worth a US expansion. Seemingly pleased, Loren uses his status to begin doing more work with the gangs in Steelport. By the late 80s, Loren had become head of the Syndicate.

It was also around this time in the 70s that I believe Steelport began to essentially fill the hole that was left after Stilwater was destroyed by the earthquake. There was a need for places like hotels, brothels, and casinos in this area of the Rust Belt—and Steelport, being flush with cash, was able to fill that demand. In Steelport’s later years, it became more of an icon of sin and pleasure, perhaps even more than Stilwater was. It was bigger and flashier. But despite its hedonistic charm, Steelport was not exactly heading in a great direction by the 90s. 

Similarly to Stilwater, it fell on hard times economically, with many areas falling into disrepair. Many of these areas are still like this even into the modern day as poverty is still a very large issue within Steelport, though as usual is not a topic of concern for those in charge. Thus, the Syndicate very easily continues to spread its control. By the 2000s, Loren and the Syndicate are running the city. 

Getting a little ahead of my timeline, but worth talking about real quick: in 2011, Loren gets into contact with Maero about arms deals and potential expansion into Stilwater. At this point, Loren was already in bed with Ultor so to speak, but this was his first contact with one of the other gangs. Obviously this deal is hurt by the Saints, but that will only come back to bite them in a few years. 

CONCLUSION

I wanted to write some grand conclusion about all this, but to be honest my eyes are starting to glaze over from hours of running around in the first two games, reading documents on my computer, and scribbling four pages of written notes. I read some official Michigan documents on the history of the railway system in the state. I’ve never even been. What am I going to do with this knowledge now.

Stilwater is interesting and was worth a deep dive into the potential history of the area. I used to be the teaching assistant for a class on worldbuilding in college, so this type of shit is just super fascinating to me. And Stilwater has so many bits of scattered information that I really wanted to try to piece everything together in a mostly coherent way. It’s just a setting I really love for some personal reasons, and I just thought I’d give writing its history a shot. Perhaps in some ways like a love letter to the fictional city, or maybe just as a way to fill my long weekend. Who knows.

[prisonprocess]

Learning a Trade

1.

One thing that makes Prison fun and interesting is the opportunity you get to learn a trade.

Parker didn’t want to go to prison.  He was a trust-fund baby who had a legacy admission to the best college in the state--which would have been good if the classes and labs hadn’t interfered with hanging out and partying.  One of his frat bros said that Parker was “an accident waiting to happen.”  True, though unoriginal (you can’t expect too much).  Whatever.  An accident did happen.  Parker happened to be at the right place at the right time to be sent to prison for 20 years to life.

The first couple of years were hard.  Parker had to live in a cell with three bunks stacked up in it, and because he was the last to arrive, he had to take the top bunk, with his nose about six inches from the rivets in the ceiling.  He couldn’t just walk from place to place; he had to march with his hands behind his back. Parker liked to talk, but when he talked in line he got punished.  He could never have a taco, or a margarita; he had to eat whatever grunge food they gave him in the chowhall, and if he didn’t eat it all, he got punished.  He couldn’t wear any styles; he had to go around in baggy denims and a weird gray shirt that felt like canvas.  He looked like one of those grunts that change your oil, except that he had his convict number stamped on his butt and across his back. He spent his days swabbing the floors in the Administration Building and standing with his nose against the wall whenever a CO walked past.

Then one day, while he was doing that, the CO said, “You.  Convict.  Get your ass in here.”  And he went into the room where they took everybody’s mugshots when they came to prison. Parker remembered that room very well, only this time, something had gone wrong; the con that was clerking in there had just been sent to the Hole.  “Can you use a computer?” the CO said.  Like, what a question.  Twenty thousand hours of gaming, that’s all.

So Parker leaned his mop against the wall and started entering the numbers and so forth of the fish that were being mugged that day.  After that, the Photo Room was his labor detail.  And when the con that was taking the pictures was let out of the joint—which would probably never happen to Parker—he was the one that got the job.

So that’s what he does now.  He knows everything about the big old-school equipment they still use.  And he likes to watch the fish, how they react.  When they come in, they may be wearing tie-dyes and flipflops, or they may be wearing some expensive business suit, but they all look at Parker like, “Oh my God, that’s a convict!  In a few minutes I’m gonna be lookin like him!”  Which is true—big black numbers on your back, big black numbers on your butt; now you’re a convict.   It’s like an execution—the last face you see is the guy in charge of the technical procedures.

So that was good. “Move to the left!  Not that far!  Look up!  Look at the CAMERA, dude!”  Parker Evans, convict number 82849, had learned a trade.

When he was in college, Parker took a lot of film courses.  “Detectives and Derelicts.”  “Weirdos and Werewolves.”  “The Anatomy of Camp.”  All totally gut--if you slung some jargon about hegemony or something, you were bound to get an A.  But Parker remembered one of those movies  It was the one that ends with the woman saying, “All right, Mr. De Mille.  I’m ready for my close-up.”

[doublegoblin]

Word Find Tag

Thank ya @randomstupidchaos for the tag, sorry it took a couple days!

My words were: road, blue, night, dress

Snippets will be noted where they came from, I want to try and draw from my One-shots because why not?

Road: Eyeshine

Those terrestrial embers, the local stars. Magical aren’t they? You really start to notice them early in life, but you haven’t a clue what they could be. You see them in the slow fade into the night, right when the world, just start to not make as much clear sense to you anymore. Little pinpricks along the roads that whiz away the moment you know they are there. Clusters of them scampering up and around the trees; they stop for a second burning brightly and then carry on their merry ways. Uncountable shines in the dew drunk grass. Or if’n you get real lucky. Outside your window burning a hole right through the glass while dozens more stand single file along the tree line.

Blue: Harvest Season

An empty field of sullen gray crops. The landscape pitted with pockets of pustulant pools. Stagnant water thrums with verminous life. Yet all else is still. No wind dares to cross this open void. Beyond the horizon carried through feeling alone is the sad song of a long forgotten windmill. Each squeak of steel the faint heartbeat of something else. Something a time away and abandoned. A melancholic sky scabs over with fetid clouds. Peeks of asphyxiated blue. Dreams once blossomed in a fertile frenzy; they have long turned sour. Spreading from a malignant source the mind rot spreads in cancerous rebellion. The single point of pride in this blasted land is the figure who lingers in the center. Bound in coarse cloth and faith. The form of a man with feet pointed towards the sky. Slick oil escapes from the cracks and tears of his fabric. Boiling and hissing it falls towards the heavens. What better means to scare away the crows?

Night: Eyeshines

So you start to ask about these ocular fireflies. You start asking your parents, teachers, friends, and anyone else who will lend you an ear. They all say the same thing but just with different words. That they are the eyes of creatures big and small. ‘Cept for your pals who say they’re ghosts or boogiemen coming to get you. So you start asking why their eyes shine so bright. Only your teachers give you an answer you can trust. It’s because these animals have a special part of their eye that helps them see at night. Keeps ‘em from getting eaten or helps them to instead eat. You start rattling off all the eyes you’ve seen from the deer on the road to the spiders in the grass. The strangest thing though is when you ask about the big one. Their face drains of color a little and that one gets brushed aside. This explanation lights a fire in someone. Why do they glow though? Why would prey have a way to be seen by predator? Is their only means of defense to close their eyes and wait for the danger to pass? Why don’t my eyes glow? Do my eyes glow? Why do only some people’s eyes glow at night?

Dress: Rituals and Red Tape (everything else was like address or something like it)

The soft chatter of keys being pressed. The drone of a document being printed. That horrible buzz of the overhead lights. Numerous figures dressed in sharp business suits milled about the aging cubicles. I closed the door to my office and took a seat behind my desk. The monitor blinking a reminder of my performance review. Shuffling papers I found a small note, what exactly traditional meant for each board member. My skin became delicate porcelain, my face bore no features, and my hair vanished into the aether. I still hate how my joints sound, like nails on a chalkboard. Double checking everything in a mirror I was sure I had it right this time.

I'll go ahead and tag @asterhaze @melusinewrites @pixelw0rds @tailoroffates and as always anyone else

Your wordies will be: Smoke, bloody, Breakfast, Glare

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Hesychia (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Ma by Rae

Auntie H by Pasithea

Age- 39 (immortal)

Location- Hearthwood neighborhood, New Olympus

Personality- She's lovingly introverted and takes solace in quiet solitude. She's calm & level-headed with a bit of mystery. She's currently single, making new discoveries about herself.

She has the standard powers of a goddess. As the goddess of quiet, stillness, rest, & silence her abilities include enhanced hearing (being sensitive to all sounds- no matter how faint), manipulating inertia, releasing a sound wave (which inflicts deafness on others temporarily), inducing people to rest for a short time, & being able to temporarily mute people, animals, objects, and electronics.

Hesychia lives in a cottage estate in the Hearthwood neighborhood of New Olympus. She likes the fact that her daughter Paregoros (goddess of soothing words) is just a 15 minute bike ride away. The color scheme of her cottage is in cool shades of powder blue, nutmeg, butterscotch, & cinnamon. There are no alarm clocks or timers to be found anywhere.

Her go-to drink is almond tea. She also likes iced tea, ginger ale, coconut milk, & sparkling water. Her usual from The Roasted Bean is an olympian sized black tea lemonade. She'll also enjoy a beer every once in a while.

She loves getting an egg & pepper sandwich (on pita bread) from The Bread Box. Hesychia also loves snacking on her homemade toasted coconut granola.

She has her own growing business- a series of nap hostels scattered throughout New Olympus. It's for all kinds of people- normal every day ones, busy University students, or folks in fast bustling careers. They can rent a room (starting for a half hour) where they can nap, rest, & regroup. For other work, she's a contributing writer for the magazines Hearthside & Vital Essence. Hesychia even lends her voice to narrate audiobooks. She also models for Olive Visbily.

She LOVES her new shaved 'do! After rocking a fro for several centuries, Hesychia referred to the moment of shaving her entire head as "one of the best freeing moments ever!" A go-to product for her that she likes to use is the Glory's Crown goddess strength hair & scalp oil (made with castor oil & black cumin seed).

In the pantheon, she's really fond of her daughter's best friend, Pasithea (goddess of hallucinations & relaxation) and her mother Nárkosi (goddess of sedation). Hesychia is also good friends with Mesembria (Bria) (goddess of the afternoon), Epione (goddess of soothing pain), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity), Praxidike (goddess of judicial punishment), Auge (goddess of first daylight), Sophia (goddess of thought), Nymphe (goddess of self-care), Anatole (goddess of sunrise), Tethys (Titaness of freshwater & clouds), Astraeus (Titan god of dusk), Pathos (god of emotion), Selene (Titaness of the moon), Paean (goddess of physicians), Elpis (goddess of hope), Leto (Titaness of demurity & motherhood), Eunostos (goddess of the flour mill), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Harpocrates (god of silence & discretion), and Alectrona (goddess of the sun & morning). She's also quite fond of Harpocrates' children- Momus (god of mockery, satire, & ridicule) and Oizys (goddess of anxiety, misery, & depression). She even takes part in The Moirai's monthly knitting/sewing circle.

She used to date Horkos (god of oaths), but they mutually decided to end the relationship, due to wanting different things. Hesychia is currently questioning her sexuality after having a NSFW dream about one of her good friends, Alectrona. She also had flings with Pan (god of the wild, satyrs, shepherds, & rustic music) and Tmolos (one of The Ourea).

In her free time, she loves spending time with her daughter whenever she's free. She also likes to keep busy by jogging, gardening, reading, writing, oil painting, basketball, golf, knitting, pottery, tai chi, bike riding, & acupuncture.

Her favorite meal is a cream of chicken & wild rice soup with a shredded brussel sprout salad drizzled in lemon oil dressing.

"In some moments, the quiet speaks the loudest."

[awawreckers]

How Car Wreckers In Perth Handle End-Of-Life Vehicles

In Australia, approximately 700,000 end-of-life vehicles with thousands of tonnes of valuable resources end up at landfills every year. As time passes, they start polluting the environment. Car wreckers Perth play a crucial role in managing these vehicles. They ensure that ELVs are disposed of responsibly while also contributing to the recycling process. They are promoting more sustainable ways to deal with vehicles that have no longer lifespan. 

However, in Perth, only certified and licensed car wreckers are allowed to purchase and wreck end-of-life vehicles. Certified companies like AWA Wreckers buy cars in all regions of Perth. This company offers both recycling and wrecking services. For recycling, they use advanced technologies and have professional teams to complete the entire wrecking process. This blog post describes how car wreckers in Perth handle ELVs.

What Do Car Wreckers Do With End-Of-Life Vehicles?

The best car wreckers Perth have massive salvage yards, and their team is equipped with the advanced technologies to handle ELVs. They buy ELVs because of the value of the metal scrap. The wreckers are responsible for the disposal of these vehicles' waste at their own expense. Here is the guide on car wreckers deal with End-of-life vehicles: 

The Initial Assessment - The process begins when a car reaches the end of its life, whether due to age, damage, or an accident. Car owners contact wreckers, who then conduct an initial assessment, often based on the car's make, model, year, and condition. This evaluation is crucial to determine whether the car should be bought for parts, scrap metal, or both.

Towing and Transportation - Once a deal is made, the car needs to be transported to the wrecker's facility. In Perth, most car wreckers Perth offer towing services to facilitate this. They employ tow trucks and drivers who are skilled in safely transporting damaged or non-functional vehicles.

Dismantling and Part Salvage - At the wrecker's yard, the car undergoes dismantling. Skilled technicians remove reusable parts like engines, transmissions, and electronic components. This process is meticulous, as the aim is to salvage as many usable parts as possible, which can be sold to repair shops or individuals.

Fluid and Hazardous Material Removal - An essential step in the process is the safe removal of fluids and hazardous materials. The best car removals Perth carefully drain oils, coolants, and fuel. It ensures these substances don't harm the environment. Batteries and other hazardous components are also safely extracted and disposed of or recycled according to environmental guidelines.

Crushing and Recycling

The remaining car shell, primarily made of metal, is then crushed. This metal is recycled and often sent to steel mills, where it's melted down and repurposed for new products. This recycling process significantly reduces the need for new raw materials, conserving energy and resources.

Environmental Responsibility

They are not just businesses; they are also key players in environmental conservation. By recycling as much of the car as possible, they reduce landfill waste. Their practices align with sustainable development goals. It makes them an essential part of the green economy.

Supporting the Local Economy

Apart from environmental benefits, car wreckers contribute to the local economy. They provide employment, support the used parts market, and contribute to the recycling industry. This role is critical in sustaining a circular economy where resources are reused and repurposed.

Conclusion

The role of car wreckers in managing end-of-life vehicles is fundamental. Their work involves not just dismantling and recycling but also a strong commitment to environmental sustainability and economic contribution. They ensure that when a car reaches the end of its journey, it does so in a way that benefits both the planet and the community. As awareness of environmental issues grows, the role of car wreckers will become increasingly important in Perth and beyond.

Reference URL - https://www.awawreckers.com.au/blog/how-car-wreckers-in-perth-handle-end-of-life-vehicles/

[andavarlatheworks]

How to Start an Oil Mill Business at a Low Investment?|Andavar|+91 89255 02800

[richeswithm]

The Marvelous $20 Mystery

The Marvelous $20 Mystery

Imagine, for the cost of a fancy dinner or a not-so-fancy haircut, you can enter the world of digital business mastery. It's like buying a winning lottery ticket, but without the questionable odds. But what do you get for this paltry sum, you ask?

Fully Automated Awesomeness: This digital business isn't your run-of-the-mill "get-rich-quick" scheme. It's a well-oiled machine that does all the heavy lifting while you kick back and count your earnings. It's so automated that it could put Rube Goldberg to shame!

Your Personal Pocket Rocket: Hold onto your smartphone because you'll have a custom app. Yes, you'll carry your business empire in your pocket! You can work, strategize, and profit while waiting for your coffee, or maybe even while getting a haircut (assuming you're not too engrossed in the latest celebrity gossip).

100% Complete Marketing System: You don't need a Ph.D. in marketing or a crystal ball to succeed here. Just follow the system – it's like digital paint-by-numbers, but with more zeros in your bank account.

Step-by-Step Success: Worried you'll be lost in the digital wilderness? Fear not! You'll get step-by-step training. It's like having your digital Yoda, but without the green skin and weird sentence structure.

Sales Funnels to Make Sales Rain: If you thought funnels were just for pouring ketchup on your fries, think again! You get not one, not two, but EIGHT done-for-you sales funnels that are more thrilling than a rollercoaster ride.

Email Marketing on Autopilot: Writing emails is so yesterday. You get done-for-you email marketing, so you can sit back while your inbox fills with money, not spam. We promise, your cat videos will still be there.

No Hidden Fees – Really: There's no sneaky ninja trying to pickpocket your wallet. Your $20 unlocks the digital door to unlimited earning potential, with no upsells or hidden costs ever.

The Magic of Automation

Did we mention it's fully automated? That means you're not chained to your computer, slaving away 24/7. It works while you sleep, while you sip your morning coffee, and even while you play your 37th game of "Angry Birds." How's that for multitasking?

The Globetrotter's Dream

This business is no recluse; it's a globetrotter. It's available in 144 countries – yes, you read it right – 144 countries! It's more well-traveled than your Aunt Mildred, who still insists on sending postcards from her trips to the local grocery store.

Money, Money, Money – Every Wednesday

In the land of digital dreams, you don't have to wait for payday. You get paid every Wednesday like clockwork. It's like having a personal ATM that dispenses cash in crisp $100 bills (or local currency, depending on your location).

The Seal of Trust

Still skeptical? Well, this digital endeavor is registered with the Better Business Bureau. It's like having a golden ticket that guarantees your journey to the Chocolate Factory of Financial Freedom.

One-on-One Enlightenment

Gatekeepers? Not here! If you have more questions than a two-year-old on a road trip, you can get one-on-one time with the mastermind behind this magic. Just subscribe on Secrets REVEALED! to unlock the secrets to financial freedom.

Remember, for the cost of a slightly overpriced hamburger, you can open the door to a world of financial freedom. It's time to stop scrolling through cat memes and start scrolling through your bank statements. Your journey begins at Secrets REVEALED!, and it's only $20 away!

So, what are you waiting for? Join the digital revolution and watch the dollars roll in. It's a deal so sweet, even your dentist would approve!

Disclaimer: No cats were harmed in the making of this financial freedom offer, but they may be jealous of your newfound wealth.

[minioilmill]

Groundnut Automatic Oil Press

Are you tired of spending hour’s manually extracting oil from groundnuts? Look no further! Introducing the Groundnut Automatic Oil Press, a revolutionary machine that will simplify your oil extraction process. With its advanced technology and user-friendly design, this automatic oil press is a game-changer for both home and commercial use.

The Benefits of Groundnut Automatic Oil Press

Convenience and Time-Saving

With the Groundnut Automatic Oil Press, you can say goodbye to the laborious and time-consuming task of manually extracting oil from groundnuts. This machine automates the entire process, from feeding the groundnuts to extracting the oil, making it incredibly convenient and efficient.

High Oil Yield and Quality

The automatic oil press ensures a high oil yield, extracting every last drop of oil from the groundnuts. It utilizes a powerful mechanical pressing system that applies optimum pressure to extract oil while preserving its quality. You can trust that the oil obtained will be pure, natural, and free from any contaminants.

FAQs about Groundnut Automatic Oil Press

Q: Is the Groundnut Automatic Oil Press easy to operate?

A: Absolutely! The machine is designed with user-friendliness in mind. It comes with clear instructions and intuitive controls, making it easy for anyone to operate, even without prior experience.

Q: Can I use the Groundnut Automatic Oil Press for other seeds?

A: Yes, you can! While it is primarily designed for groundnuts, this versatile machine can also extract oil from various other seeds like sesame, sunflower, and more.

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (64/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

“Blegh!” Tani exclaimed, ripping the makeshift mask off of her face and taking a heaving gasp for air. “We are never doing that again, do you hear me? Never!”

Roland couldn’t help but agree with her. Evan was caught up in the middle of a sneezing fit, too busy trying to breathe to give her anything but a miserable nod, and the others didn’t look much better. They had made landfall on the southern shore of Autumnia’s northern half just before dawn that morning, all of them glad to see solid land after a month at sea.

None of them, however, had been expecting to see the swamp of toxic green muck that had lay between their ship and Broadleaf proper. There had been no way around it, and only Batu’s quick thinking of cloth masks lined with some of the dried, unprepared Soreaway had let them pass through the poisonous cloud of gas and vapors the swamp had been emitting. Unfortunately, not even the fragrant herbal smell of the little plant had been enough to handle the stench. It clung to them like a pall, horribly acrid even to Roland’s nose. He couldn’t imagine Evan was handling it well.

Judging by how the boy was rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms, growling low and quiet, he was probably right.

“We’ll have to,” Evan rasped, causing Batu and Lofty to both groan. The Higgledies milling at Evan’s feet sagged at their waists and bent over. “We can’t just leave Ketch and his crew back there.”

“That’s—that isn’t—” Tani sputtered, then buried her face in her hands and groaned loudly. “Why did you have to start making sense, Evan?”

Evan laughed sheepishly. Shaking his head, Roland pulled off his mask as he looked around. From the outside, Broadleaf had towered over the dead and dry Sequoia Valley, the tallest thing for miles around. A tree made out of metal and glass, it creaked and groaned in the twilight winds. Up ahead, the gush of steam through pipes hissed at the edges of Roland’s hearing, the air only slightly cleaner than what they had just walked through. The acrid stench of poison was fading, replaced by the perhaps worsening smell of burnt oil and thick blackness of coal smog. A sneeze tickled at the back of Roland’s nose as the group headed for the stairs.

“What could have caused all of that,” Leander asked quietly; when Roland turned, the man’s eyes were back on the way they had come in. The Valley was turning brown and dark in the fading light of evening behind them. “Not just the swamp, but the damage to the land itself. Surely this isn’t sustainable.”

“It’s not,” Roland replied, turning away to cough. He waved off Leander’s concern, stuffing his mask into his arms band. “That green goop was industrial runoff of some kind, I think. A byproduct of science getting out of hand.” Too far out of hand, he thought. He’d only ever seen that color in Trevor’s cartoons before, an overdramatic rendering of…radiation.

Oh.

Roland shuddered. Tove crooned softly into his ear as he took a deep breath, shoving the thought into a box in the back of his mind. Now wasn’t the time to deal with that.

“It’s basically poisoning the land. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s done the same to the people, too.”

“Yes,” Leander said, his eyes narrowed pensively. “Though I will admit, I am surprised you are not one of them.” When Roland blinked, confused, Leander spread his hands. “You mentioned you were sensitive to Darkness. Do you not sense any here?”

Suddenly aware that there was no pressure building at the base of his skull, no one playing drums with his brain, Roland startled. He glanced sideways at Tove, but the little Higgledy looked back at him and shook his head. He wasn’t shielding Roland from anything now.

Just ahead of them, walking at Evan’s feet, Lofty went stiff.

“Ah, knickers,” he hissed. The three Higgledies that had been crowding around him had also gone stiff, and they all looked a little concerned. Evan glanced down at his Kingmaker.

“Lofty?” he asked, “What is it?”

“What I was afraid of, mun,” Lofty said, “There’s Dark here, but it ‘en’t Doloran’s muck. It’s…” He trailed off, looking at his hands. “…This 'en’t good.”

“Perhaps not,” Aranella said, “but if the Darkness here does not belong to Doloran, doesn’t that mean that he hasn’t gotten here yet?” She looked over the group, “Or established himself even if he is here? We might still be able to keep him from stealing President Vector’s Kingsbond.”

Evan pressed a hand to his heart, clearly relieved, but Roland wasn’t so sure. They had all seen Doloran appear and disappear in a wash of shadows. Even if this Darkness wasn’t his, what would stop him from taking advantage of it and just appearing the second that Vector was found wanting? Nothing much at all. It would actually be the smarter thing to do.

It would have been what Roland would have done, if he’d been the one stealing Kingsbonds.

He shuddered again.

“We must speak with President Vector,” Evan said; Roland jolted out of his thoughts as the boy continued, “And warn him. Before things can escalate any further. And—” Before he could finish, a massive sneeze ripped its way out of him. He floundered back a step, the Higgledies at his feet leaping out of the way with startled cries. Everyone stared at him, and then Tani put a hand to her mouth and laughed.

“Evan!” She giggled, “You have to be able to talk without sneezing first!”

“I know that!” Evan said, sniffling in a very undignified manner. Pulling a handkerchief from his arms band, he blew his nose before tucking it away. “L-let’s just head up and take a look around. See if we can’t figure out what’s going on here.”

It was as sound a plan as any. Their footsteps clanked on the stairs as they headed up a level, falling into their usual formation with practiced ease. This was the only thing that kept them from crashing into another when they all came to an unceremonious stop at the top of the stairs, looking around with wide eyes and dropped mouths.

Holy…, Roland thought.

Broadleaf was like something out of a science fiction book, all metal and glowing neon screens lit with green. Hissing steam burst out of open pipes in patterned regularity, clouding the humid air even further. Windows cut into the sides of what must have been the trunk of the tree allowed hazy light to pass through its hollowed out center, but the lights built into the sides of walls and houses built into the walls them selves lit more than the sun ever could. A massive flight of stairs curved up the side of the tree, leading so far up that Roland couldn’t see the top.

“The ‘eck is this place?!” Lofty burst out, bouncing up to Evan’s shoulder and looking this way and that. “’Ow can anybody live without the sun and the dirt and the wind?!”

Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe that was part of the problem here.

“They would be quite cranky, apparently,” Aranella said. Her footsteps made softer noises as she padded back over to the group from where she had slipped away unnoticed. She gestured back behind her as she said, “Those two men were talking about a protest taking place on the top level. An Anti-Vector protest.” She eyed Roland; he inclined his head at her unanswered question.

No happy people would protest their leader. The question thus became: why were they so unhappy? Batu snorted.

“Aye,” he rumbled, “I’d wager we’ll find our man up at that there protest. What say you, yer Majesty?”

Evan nodded.

“Everyone,” he said, looking back over the group, “Stay close, and be careful.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this.”

He wasn’t the only one. But there was no time to listen to the bad feelings or twisting guts. At a hurried pace, the Delegation made their way up the stairs, a flimsy guard rail the only thing between them and a lengthy fall back down. Batu kept himself between the kids and the drop as they trotted up the stairs, a muffled roar of voices rising in volume the higher up they got. One of Evan’s ears twitched.

“…We’re not slaves?” he parroted quietly, head cocked. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Roland said, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder. “But we’re about to find out.”

The top of the steps wasn’t far. From her spot at the front of the group, Aranella looked back. She met Roland’s eyes with a cautious frown; he nodded in return, and watched as she straightened out her shoulders. She crested the stairs first and came to such a halt that the rest of them nearly ran into her.

“Miss Nella—” Tani started, only to stop as she realized what was going on. Evan clapped his hands to his ears, staring at the crowd in front of them as they continued their chant.

”We’re not slaves, we’re not slaves!” echoed through the wide open space that was Broadleaf’s uppermost level, the sound bouncing off the blue glass that formed the under layer of leaves. The protesting crowd had gathered in front of a large building, probably the industrial hub of the city, and were hefting signs up over their shoulders. Roland squinted to see them through the constant motion.

”No rest, no work”,” Batu grumbled, “What in blazes are they on about?”

“Perhaps being made to work long hours without breaks?” Leander suggested pensively from his place in the huddle the Delegation had fallen into. “There are signs that say “No more overtime” as well.”

“They’re definitely overworked,” Roland said, scanning their faces. Nearly everyone in the crowd had bags under their eyes or were flagging, but no one seemed to be in any hurry to stop. “Look at them all. I haven’t seen people look this tired since we were still building housing back home.”

Desperate to be out of tents before the rains came, everyone had thrown themselves into the work. Even Evan had worked himself to exhaustion a few times, but they had all been tied together by the hope of a new nation. These people…they didn’t seem to have any of that hope.

“It isn’t just that,” Aranella said, holding Evan back with a hand on his shoulder. “They look angry. They’ve been pushed too far and now…”

And now they were one step away from a full blown riot. If something tipped this crowd over the edge, Roland thought, it would turn into a bloodbath.

“We should leave.” He said, and when Evan whirled around he stood his ground. “Things could get really ugly, really fast. We should find someplace safer to wait them out, come after Vector from another angle.”

“But—” Evan began, then stopped himself. One ear twitched backwards, then the other. He turned back around. “…What’s that sound?”

Everyone turned to follow his attention, and that was when they saw it. A massive door carved into the side of the tower was beginning to creak open, allowing a burst of chilled, fresh-smelling air to filter in and with it, the noise of rapidly spinning propellers. Evan clamped his hands over his ears again.

“What is that?!” He shouted to be heard over the racket. Just ahead of them, the crowd started yelling louder just to be heard. “Is that President Vector?!”

If it was, he had the worst sense of timing in the world, not to mention the worst sense of aesthetics. As the Delegation watched, a flying craft that looked to be a cross between the blimps and biplanes of bygone days in Roland’s world sailed into the open space…if the blimps and biplanes of bygone days had ever had solid gold faces welded to their fronts. Roland pulled a disgusted face as the noise of propellers died down, the ship hovering on some other form of power. It hung suspended in front of the crowd for a few tense seconds.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Without warning, a vibrant purple light began to glow from within the aircraft. Just below it, the air rippled. Sensing something was off, the protesting crowd began to go quiet. Roland narrowed his eyes.

“What’s…”

Lofty, hanging off of Evan’s shoulder, went stiff.

“Oh, no,” the little Kingmaker whispered, “Don’t tell me the blighter’s gonna—”

“He’s summoning his Kingmaker!” Leander shouted, but the warning came too late. The Delegation could only watch, stunned, as President Vector turned his Kingmaker on his people.

Roland had read about Bastion in Goldpaw’s library. The largest of the four known Kingmakers, he was almost turtle in shape, with four sturdy legs supporting a mountain of a body. President Vector had evidently upgraded his Kingmaker as well as his town, because the Bastion that rippled into view was clad in golden armor, the castle like structure on his back spewing steam into the already hot air. With an avalanche-like rumble, Bastion lifted a single massive paw above the crowd.

No one waited around to get stomped on. Terrified screaming split the air as the crowd scattered. Some ran into the building behind them, but most headed straight for the stairs. Faced with the wave of people headed their way, the Delegation moved quickly. Darting up the last few steps, they ducked into a nearby alcove, unable to do anything but watch as Broadleaf’s citizens ran for any cover they could find.

In the plaza, Bastion began to gather energy. The plaza crackled with sparks, the scent of burnt ozone filling the air.

“What’s he doing?” Tani yelped, clinging to Evan with both hands, “Is he actually attacking his own people!?”

“I think he is,” Aranella said, pulling the children back behind her. Roland didn’t bother telling her that wasn’t going to matter in a few seconds. He just took up position in front of her, Batu’s bulk hiding them from sight as best he could. “We need to get out of here!”

“Hey!” A voice called. The group turned to find a pink-haired woman hanging halfway out a doorway carved into the wall nearby. She gestured to them with one arm, eyes wide. “In here! His attacks can’t get through metal!”

There was no time for another plan or for asking questions. Without hesitating, the Delegation ran for the door. The kids and the Higgledies slipped in first, then Aranella and Leander, with Batu and Roland bringing up the rear. Once the last of them were through, the woman slammed the door shut.

With a hard clang, they were plunged into darkness.

[fancoloredglasses]

Captain America (The Hulk was the exception to the rule for 70s Marvel TV)

(Thanks to Nostalgic Trailers)

[All images are owned by Marvel Disney and Universal. Please don’t sue me]

With the success of The Incredible Hulk (as well as The Amazing Spider-Man, which wasn’t as successful), Marvel wanted to increase their television audience. After all, DC had prime time live-action series involving Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman (and a Saturday morning live action series involving Captain Marvel) by this time and Marvel needed to catch up.

What followed was three TV movies that were...interesting. The first starred the Sorcerer Supreme himself...no, not Wong!

(Thanks to SyFy)

Dr. Strange, who looks more like a porn star than a super hero.

The other two revolve around that Star-Spangled hero himself...

Captain America! Or rather, his son...but we’ll get into that in a moment.

The film, released in 1979, was intended to pilot a TV series, much like Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD was supposed to over a decade later, with similar reviews and result.

Despite how bad the film was, it had enough of a blessing from Marvel that a second film (which was about as bad) was released later that same year!

I’m sure you notice one major change in Cap’s regular outfit in that he’s wearing a motorcycle helmet, but there’s a second change as well (which saw a cameo in Iron Man II)...

Instead of the Adamantium/Vibranium alloy Cap’s shield is supposed to be, it’s plexiglass!

There’s plenty more to nitpick at, but let’s get to the action. If you would like to watch it, it’s available on YouTube (in theory; it wasn’t loading for me, so I went to Amazon and breached the paywall)

We open with former Marine (yeah yeah, I know. “Once a Marine, always a Marine.” I’m just reporting what the film says) Steve Rogers touring the California coast in a van that is rather appropriate.

The only vehicle I’ve seen more appropriate was Billy Batson’s RV with the lightning bolt emblazoned on the hood.

He stops by an old friend’s place (a friend so old we never catch his name) to get his mail (what, is he living in his van? Oh, I guess he explains that he is) Among the mail is a telegram (a quick Google search says the Post Office stopped sending telegrams in 1977. This movie was released in 1979. Guess the writers were a bit out of date) from someone named Simon Mills and a letter that causes Steve some concern.

Meanwhile a car pulls up across the street from Steve’s buddy. The driver sends a message via CB (this was before cell phones became popular, kids!) and watches the house.

It turns out the letter was from a man named Jeff Hayden, who needs to see Steve right away. Fortunately, Hayden’s in East of Nowhere, California, with Steve being in Middle of Nowhere, just up the road (So why did he send a letter instead of talking to Steve’s buddy directly?) It turns out Hayden will be busy until 9, so Steve decides to visit Mills, who’s on the way (HOW CONVENIENT!) As Steve leaves, the guy across the street follows him (fortunately Steve has a very distinctive van)

Eventually, the man passes Steve (makes sense. If it was just the two cars on the road, Steve might think he was being followed) and gets enough ahead that he could pull over and wait for Steve to pass him again.

Up ahead, the other end of the radio is flagman for a road construction team. He then diverts Steve.

A mountain road…in a van? Seriously?

As soon as Steve is out of sight, the construction team calls it a day and leaves.

Up ahead on the mountain road…

Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone was trying to kill Steve. Maybe they have a thing against Marines?

Steve hits the oil slick and immediately loses control of the van! (Now, I know vans handle like a brick, but you’d think the car would simply go straight instead of turning (which is dangerous enough on a winding mountain road) not spontaneously start swerving and spinning all over the road) Eventually, despite some fancy driving by Steve…

Fortunately, it’s not that far a drop (maybe 20 feet) Unfortunately, the van is trashed and Steve somehow ripped his shirt. Fortunately, his bike (that was strapped to the back of the van) is intact and he continues his trip to see Mills.

It turns out that Dr. Mills is a scientist with a government research facility and was a protégé of Steve’s father. He’s eager to show Steve his work (isn’t Steve a bit old for “Take Your Friend’s Kid to Work Day”?)

Oh, that certainly didn’t age very well, did it?

It turns out that Steve’s father was trying to unlock a person’s potential. Where have I heard that before?

Ah…right. So instead of gamma radiation, Mills is using steroids.

He explains that he’s tested the serum (code-named FLAG) in rats, and they become superhuman (super-rat?), but quickly die because FLAG was keyed to Steve’s father. Mills asks to run some tests on Steve (so he can get super-rats for more than a couple of weeks?)

Mills then introduces his head researcher, Dr. Wendy Day. Then he explains that Steve’s father used himself as FLAG’s human test subject, becoming a champion for those who the law couldn’t help.

Steve realizes that they’re asking him to take up what his father started and decides that’s not what he wants to do and leaves.

That night, Steve arrives at Hayden’s place and lets himself in (the door’s not locked? I know the 70s were a different time, but c’mon!), but Hayden’s nowhere to be found. Steve finds Hayden’s study and discovers it ransacked (or that it’s the maid’s day off)

Then he finds Hayden, who whispers the name “Catherine” to Steve before passing out. He tries calling for help, but the phone in the study is disconnected, so he goes looking for another phone. While Steve is calling for an ambulance…

Someone comes out of the closet (so to speak) and takes a calendar from the desk before leaving (you’d think he’d have to pass Steve to leave)

Later, at the Andreas Oil Company, a limo carrying a man named “Mr. Brackett” goes through the security gate to the offices.

In the conference room, he and his associates (“Harley” and “Sandrini“) talk about killing Hayden, something about missing film, and that they’d tried to kill Steve (this isn’t getting complicated at all!)

Later, Brackett talks with a scientist named Lester, who tells Brackett that without the missing film, he can’t finish building the neutron bomb he’s building.

Back at Hayden’s house, Mills has shown up and starts grilling Steve. When Steve asks what his interest is in all of this…

WHAT A CO-INK-EE-DINK!

During interrogation by Mills and the FBI, Steve notices that the calendar and a mini-camera are missing (I’m guessing that “missing film” was supposed to be in that camera)

Then Hayden’s daughter Tina shows up and Steve tells her the bad news. This apparently makes her so upset they sedate and hospitalize her. Apparently, the answer to severe emotional trauma in the 70s was drugs and placement in an unfamiliar location surrounded by strangers. Yeah, that’ll help.

Mills once again tries to rope Steve into the FLAG project, but first Steve wants to know what Hayden was working on that got him killed.

[For those who don’t know, a neutron bomb is one that destroys all life in the blast radius via low-yield radiation, but would leave all structures intact so it could be quickly repopulated.]

The pair debate whether Hayden was selling nuclear secrets before he was killed. Steve refuses to believe it, but although Mills doesn’t say Hayden was a traitor, he doesn’t say he wasn’t either. With that, Mills takes his leave.

About that time Hayden’s phone rings. Rather than letting go to the answering machine (since, you know, it’s not his phone) Steve answers it. Good thing to, as the person on the other end was looking for him (you mean he didn’t contact Steve’s buddy from the beginning of the movie?) and says he has information about why Hayden was killed.

I would say so, considering that’s Harley (remember him?)! Harley wants to meet Steve alone in about 20 minutes. Either Harley’s lying and will try to kill Steve, or he’s telling the truth and will wind up dead (and the person who killed him will try to kill Steve)

Steve arrives at the location for the meeting (did he at least bring a gun?) to find it’s a setup (told ya!) Steve jumps on his bike and drives off, Harley and Sandrini in pursuit.

After showing the same chase scenes over and over (which were pretty much nothing but headlights and taillights, since this scene happened at night) for two minutes, a truck drives into Steve’s path. He swerves to avoid it and…

Steve drives over a cliff! (why does this seem familiar?) Fortunately, the driver of the truck was just in the wrong place and the wrong time and not actually working with Harley. He gathers up what’s left of Steve and takes him to the ER.

Unfortunately, the damage is bad enough that his chances are slim at best.

So Steve’s only chance for survival is a steroid that kills lab rats in a matter of weeks? Sure, why not? Fortunately for Steve, it works and he recovers.

During recovery, Mills tells Steve about the surgery. Steve is a bit pissed (given the choice was dying on the operating table or maybe dying from the serum at some unspecified time, I’m not sure why he’s complaining) and still doesn’t want to help with the FLAG program.

However, he may not have a choice…

…since Harley wants to have a little chat away from the hospital.

Once Harley and his buddies bring Steve to someplace nice and secluded (namely, a meat packing plant), they want to know what Hayden (remember him?) said to him before he died, but Steve plays dumb (I’m not entirely sure it’s that hard) Harley tries roughing Steve up a bit, but…

…the FLAG serum kicks in and Steve snaps his restraints! He makes quick work of Harley and his goons before running off among the rest of the sides of beef. The Bad Guys quickly recover and go in looking for him.

Steve them makes even quicker work of them, leaving them hanging around for the cops to find.

The next day, Simon (that’s Mills’s first name in case you forgot) and Steve have a heart-to-heart about Steve’s father. Once he was injected with the FLAG serum he started going after those who threatened the ideals of America.

Simon offers Steve a job with his agency, using his new abilities much like Steve’s father did. Steve doesn’t commit, but gives Simon a drawing he came up with.

That evening, we switch back to Brackett and Sandrini (remember them?) discuss something happening in Phoenix (ya think it might have something to do with that neutron bomb?), but they still need the film from Hayden’s camera.

The next day, Simon suggests that Wendy (remember her?) try to see if Tina (remember her?) can help figure out who wanted to kill Hayden. He then tries to convince Steve with some new toys, starting with his newly-repaired van…

…complete with a hidden compartment containing a star-spangled jet-powered motorcycle.

As well as a red, clear, and blue shield that even Simon can do trick throws with. Simon has Steve take the bike out for a test ride. As he does so…

…Sandrini’s goons fly up behind him and start shooting! After a lengthy chase that shows haw badly these goons need to get to a firing range…

…Steve grabs hold of the chopper’s runners and climbs aboard, making short work of the shooter. He then forces the pilot to land where Simon and a squad of MPs are waiting.

Later, Tina gets a visit from…

What, you thought it would be Steve? Turns out Hayden was working with Brackett before he figured out what Brackett was up to. Too bad he didn’t share that knowledge before he died.

Brackett tries to convince Tina to tell him where the film is.

Unfortunately, he’s very convincing.

Then Wendy shows up to introduce herself and take Tina to lunch.

Unfortunately, Brackett has other plans.

Later, Brackett calls Simon and tells him not to interfere or he’ll kill Wendy and Tina. However, Steve’s FLAG-amplified hearing picks up background noise on Brackett’s end.

Later, work on the neutron bomb has finished thanks to the film. Brackett monologues their plans, which involved detonating the bomb in Phoenix of all places.

Meanwhile, Steve relays what he heard to Simon. Simon says a tanker implies an oil or gas company. He then remembers that Hayden has gotten grants from the Andreas Oil Company (remember that from the beginning of the film?), owned by Brackett! The FBI is ready to swarm Andreas, but Steve wants to do this quietly so Beckett doesn’t kill Wendy or Tina, so volunteers to go in alone.

Fortunately, Simon was waiting for Steve to come around.

Meanwhile Brackett has been fitted with a deadman device that will trigger the bomb if his heart stops. Let’s hope he’s been taking care of himself!

The next morning Steve arrives in his van at Andreas Oil and sneaks in (in a van that conspicuous?) and scouts the area (and not one security guard challenges him?) before driving off.

(Thanks to Deadpool)

Then, after pulling to the side of the road (not even into an access road? Just…right there in plain sight?) and…

…Captain America jets into action!

Cap manages to get to the outside of the plant when a guard FINALLY shows up and sounds the alarm.

Fortunately, Cap has an interesting way of evading security by jumping higher than they’re looking.

Then Cap spots a researcher and chases after him. Fortunately for Cap (not so much for the researcher), he’s in on the plot and tells Cap where to find Wendy and Tina. Then Cap forces him to take him to Brackett’s office. After stealing incriminating files, Cap frees Wendy and Tina and they all return to the facility.

After about 2 minutes of research, Team Cap deduce Brackett is going to use the neutron bomb on Phoenix to steak the gold reserve there ($1.4 billion in gold, or about $6.2 billion in today’s money) So they’ll kill over 1.3 million for $1.4 billion (a bit over $1,000 (in 1979 money) per death. Guess life ain’t so cheap after all) Simon gets a hold of a helicopter and he and Steve head out to catch Brackett en route to Phoenix.

Eventually (after wasting over 2 minutes of screen time looking for the damn thing) they spot the truck carrying the bomb inside (with Brackett happily relaxing next to it, not even wearing a radiation suit)

You’d think the driver (and Sandrini) would notice a low-flying helicopter tailing them.

Simon heads off the road to allow Captain America to get out on his bike.

Now I know that driver and Sandrini aren’t paying attention. There’s no way they could miss a star-spangled motorcycle with matching rider following them!

Cap climbs onto the trailer (let’s hope Simon has a tracker on that bike so they can get it later) and makes his way to the cab. Cap finds a vent and looks in to see Brackett with the bomb, so he pulls one of the cab’s exhaust stacks and points it toward the vent.

Bet Brackett wished he had that radiation suit now, doesn’t he? Brackett radios the cab and tells them to pull over. Unfortunately, the exhaust floods the trailer, causing Brackett to pass out (let’s hope it doesn’t kill him, or else a lot of people will die!)

Once the rig stops, Cap makes short work of the driver and Sandrini before entering the trailer. Inside, he finds the deadman device on Brackett so works on trying to keep him alive. Fortunately, Simon flies in and treats him, so he’ll live.

In the wrap-up, Steve says that if he’s going to honor his father as Captain America, he wants to look like he did as well.

Still not sure about the helmet and the red, clear, and blue shield, but that looks a LOT better!

[hardynwa]

Traders laments over fire outbreak in Port Harcourt market

Goods and property worth millions of naira were, on Saturday, destroyed in a fire outbreak at the oil mill market along Aba Road in Port Harcourt. Though the cause of the fire was not immediately ascertained, it was learnt that it started in the morning when traders were still in their houses. The oil mill market is a popular mid-week market situated in the Rumuokwurusi community in the Obio/Akpor Local Government Area of the state. The market attracts traders bringing their merchandise from neighbouring states on Wednesdays. An eyewitness said the fire, which started at about 6.45am, raged for many hours before fire-fighters arrived at the scene. Some of the affected traders lamented the impact the inferno would have on their business, just as they called on the state governor, Nyesom Wike, to come to their aid. A middle-aged woman, who simply gave her name as Ebere, said she was still asleep when she heard about the fire. She stated, “This morning, I was still sleeping when I received a call that the market was on fire. When I got there, all my goods and those of others have been destroyed. “A trailer load of yam, garri and charcoal which we offloaded all burnt. Women are crying because all that they have been using to manage have been lost.” Another victim, a widow, cried uncontrollably, saying she borrowed money to purchase the goods in her two shops, which were burnt. She lamented, “I am a widow, my husband died in 2007. I borrowed the money that I used in buying things and I am still paying interest. “My two shops and all the tubers of yam I bought have burnt to ashes. Who is going to help me? How do I pay back the money I borrowed?” Speaking on the incident, the Chairman, Community Development Committee, Rumuokwrushi, O. C Wosu, said the cause of the fire was still unknown, even as he expressed happiness that no life was lost. He said, “I got distressed calls from many traders calling me that some sections of the oil mill market were on fire. Read the full article

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[holdtburt53]

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[heysarsii]

grazie mille!

Got treated out for dinner by my mentor together with my previous teammate at A Mano in BGC. Yes, Albert is back from AU. AGAIN. For the nth time. But this time, he was here for a vacation. He was here since December last year and will be flying out next week. He went back several times last year for a series of business trip so we were only able to meet twice. So when he messaged that he wanted to meet, how can I say no? And yes, I got the goods (ube and chocolates!). IYKYK.

Have you ever tried freshly made pasta? I haven't. So, this was a first of many. And I was too excited. Do you also know that Italians order pizzas per person? They don't share it. The whole pizza is just for one person. No we didn't order one for each of us but I saw it before when I went to Boracay this year. Fun fact! 😂

Refreshing my basic Italian, I know that Grazie Mille means "a thousand thanks" or in our words, "thank you so much". (Another fun fact but definitely irrelevant, my ex and I were studying French and Italian respectively before the pandemic) A Mano means "by hand" in Italian. Hence, everything on their menu is freshly made by hand especially the pasta, mozzarella, and pizza dough.

I just want to talk about how I loved everything that we ordered. I'll try to not make this sound like a review but who's complaining? Don't get me wrong, they have expensive menu items. Like for a pasta it costs around P600+. I was browsing through the menu and also looking at the tables around us thinking how the serving would be for the cost of each item. But they have huge servings I guess cause we still had leftovers.

We got mozzarella balls, squid ink pasta, 4 cheese pizza, fettuccine alfredo, and for dessert, he ordered us each a serving of their burrata gelato.

Bear with me cause I got the Italian menu items off of their Zomato listing. Don't worry, I was looking at the English translations so it's pretty much accurate. Albert was laughing at me because my Italian was weak and I told him I won't eat something if I don't understand it. Let me try to share and describe how the experience was while it's still fresh in my memory.

Mozarelline Fritte - We had this for appetizers. This wasn't the usual mozzarella balls that we know where there is a cheese pull whenever you slice or bite into it. The inside was hot and a bit gooey because it was also freshly made. It also is not tasteless like the common mozzarella that we can get in grocery stores. It's milky or creamy and a bit sweet and salty. Pair it with their salsa and I swear Albert was laughing at how I reacted at my first bite because it was that good. I think this costed around P350+ for 5 balls?

4 Formaggi Pizza - This was also good. I like how the dough was chewy and there was a certain bite to it. The combination and ratio of the cheeses weren't overpowering. Drizzle in their chili honey and you're good to go. I wish their honey could be a bit more "honey-er" because it was just all chili but it's bearable. This one, around P600, too.

Tagliatelle al Nero con Frutti de Mare - This was the squid ink pasta. The squid ink, of course, was just incorporated into the pasta itself and not the sauce. Albert said that it was oil based but there were chunks of tomato and I thought that adding the breadcrumbs wouldn't make any difference but I'm glad that i tried it because it did!!! So good! And don't get me started with their pasta because it was soft yet chewy and it has this certain way for the sauce to cling but you can still taste the squid ink and not in an annoying kind of way. They also have a generous addition of seafood to it. I picked this one when we ordered. Teehee. Good job, Sarsi!

Fettuccine Alfredo - This one was served in an unusual way because it was served in a platter and they will mix it up for you. So apparently, the sauce for alfredo is just butter and cheese. 14-month old Parmigiano-Reggiano to be exact. The smell of this once they serve this is heavenly! I was arguing with Albert and Mel that it smells like leche flan because it smells too creamy but they got weirded out. 😂

Burrata Gelato - A crowd favorite. This was heavenly too. 🥺 It was so good that even if I said I wouldn't get anything sweet, I still indulged in this and actually finished it. You can add toppings into this like honeycomb or nutella but it's already good on its own. I kid you not when I say that a single plain serving will cost you around P200+. But seriously, get this instead of their tiramisu.

Of course, we didn't just had dinner, we also had a lot of catching up to do because we're all too lazy to type it in chat. I'll try to share that in a separate post because there were discussions on different topics overheard that just made sense and are too funny and is such a waste not to share.

Eating at places like this is still out of my comfort zone. I mean I can l, but I have this mindset that I have to check if this is worth what I earn per hour. And I guess it's also true, that you won't know until you try so you just need to think about it hard and take a risk.

It's experiences like this that I really appreciate and understand that standards exist for a reason. You can have a dupe of something but it's not going to be the same. Not even at par with the quality of the real one. Like it can look and smell the same but you just know that it's not. I know that dupes exist to make it work and accessible for others, and yes, do absolutely that. I now understand how Italians are easily annoyed and offended at people sharing dupe recipes of carbonara and alfredo, or just any Italian dishes. It's just different.

I remember telling Albert that "I'm happy na walang sayang sa kinain ko tonight" (even if I didn't pay anything for it — Thanks Albie!) because everything was good. Makes me want to go to Italy to try it first hand. Recommend this for when there are celebrations with important people in your life and you feel like splurging. Make sure to make reservations early because they get packed easily and are only open for lunch and dinner. Definitely worth every buck.

I feel like I shared a lot today. Oh well. Ciao!x