#oh and i drew the first one for polish flag day

[eccentrickleptomaniac]

incredibly low effort polandposting

[aces-nrw]

International Call to Solidarity with the Polish LGBTQIA+ Community!

TW Queermisia Police Violence explicit Homomisia & Transmisia Conversation Therapy Hunger Strike Imprisionment

I would like to comply with the request that came from the gathering of the Ace Organizers International (further information at the end of this text). I hereby want to take on my responsibility and use my reach as an activist for queer rights, speaking from my position within the asexual community (and if even possible, „on behalf of the German acespec …“ after consultation with fellow activist and cross-regional organizer Lea) and, as a person with German-Polish citizenship, to show my solidarity and support for the fight for queer human rights in Poland.

I hope this message will find you well, dearest warriors, and you see this as a sign of hope for you are not alone in this. Your efforts, your actions are not in vain. You shall know that we wont ignore what has been done to you and your people. And what is still happening to this very day. Our thoughts, our hearts and our deepest hopes are with you!

–

The current situation in Poland has been described as quite critical for queer people. Poland is a very conservative country with a strong hold of anti-progressive, ultra Catholic influences, who aren’t just hate-mongering in their rhetoric only, but are also to blame for vile verbal and physical attacks on people „read/perceived as queer“ in public by anti-LGBTQIA+ organizations they have helped to build (f.ex.: so-called Saint Michael’s The Archangel Special Forces), according to reports.

The climate is dictated by right-wing nationalists, anti-LGBTQIA + hate speech and propaganda spread by politicians; queerness is vilified as „ideology“ (hence the hashtag #NieJestemIdeologia – ‚[I] am not an ideology‘ used on social media), seen as a tool for recurring communism, even as a new plague (Euronews) of leftist ethos or portrayed as the influence of foreign powers to be „fought against“. Blatant lies are making their rounds, such as that sex education in schools „would make children queer„, and not few believe and publicly call for queer people to undergo „conversation therapy„ (x). Meanwhile, the streets are patrolled by a truck that hatefully equates queerness, especially homosexuality, with child abuse (Washington Post, 08.08.).

Margot in particular, non-binary activist from the Kolektyw Stop Bzdurom (Stop Bullshit Collective), was at the focus of this very hatred (Mannschaft Magazin 09.08.), especially just after being recently release of the previous imprisonment, through explicit transimic coverage from the Polish Media (e.g. via @.radio_ZET und @.PolsatNewsPL). The collective drew attention to the situation for the Polish queer community particularly by flying rainbow flags on local statues and monuments. In the very first interview (VOGUE) after being taken into custody, which many LGBTQIAP + people see as illegitimate and politically motivated, and one hunger strike, Margot criticizes not only the right-wing, but also liberal media and politicians who are condemning the actions and methods of local Polish queer activists. While some of them are seemingly pro LGBTQIA + rights, those only support equal rights under the conditions of playing by respectability politics („ale tylko póki jesteśmy potulni, grzeczni icichutko czekamy, aż ktoś łaskawie uzna nas za ludzi. Klasyczne „Jesteśmy sojusznikami, ale…„ translation: „But only as long as we docile, politely and calmly wait for someone to graciously recognize us as human beings. Classic ‚We are allies, but … ‚“).

For the Polish mainstream the active, visible, loud and proud uprising of LGBTQIAP+ people is considered a hostile affront to the status quo, a war declaration against the „good and righteous people“ of some sort. This very notion of suppressing and de-legitimizing queer demonstrations stems from an ultra-catholic faithfulness in which humility must be upheld as a virtue and any rebellion to be denounced as abstruse blasphemy.

The media often references the oh-so-democratic Poland and its threatened order by rioting queer people, although we know that extreme right-wing, fascist powers have been gaining strength in Poland for a long time now (Bundeszentrale für politische Bildung, 2013) and it’s undermining any positive progress and ultimately even its own constitutional legality (Deutsche Welle and TAZon the threat to the independence of Polish courts). It were the so-called “LGBT + free zones” mainly (Pinknews and Human Rights Watch about the violation of the constitution through such anti-queer smear campaigns), that have made many of us abroad truly aware of the inhuman and threatening situation for Polish queer people.

President Duda and his right-wing populist ruling party PiS regularly contribute to the fact that queer people in Poland experience an uncanny degree of dehumanization. These „representatives of the people” violate human rights (AP, 08.08. , taz, 17.04.20; BBC 15.04.20; Human Right Watch using the example of restricting and dismantling of abortion rights and bodily autonomy; TW cis – & endonormativity // rape). These systematic repressions, especially against activists for LGBTQIAP+ rights, have been reinforced with the help of police violence for years now (Margot: „Takie sytuacje zdarzają się od lat – jesteśmy spisywani bez powodu, policja nie reaguje na przemoc wobec nas, a chroni homofobiczne ciężarówki.„; Politico, 05.08.; Mannschaft Magazin 09.08).

You saw what had happened to human rights defender and activist Elżbieta Podleśna after her “Our Lady of Equality” artwork – the rainbow iconography of the Black Madonna of Częstochowa. She is now being defamed as an “enemy of the people” and is threatened with imprisonment (taz 30.06.20; Amnesty).

ILGA Europe has created an „Anti LGBTI Timeline“ with brief depiction of the most recent history of anti-queer attacks in English. I found it very helpful for a short overview for those of you interested.

The international community, especially at the political level, can no longer accept the abuse and oppression of queer people in Poland or even dare to counter it with weak, ineffective phrase as a mere wagging finger.

It needs more than that!

I would like to call for you all to stick up for the people in Poland who are affected by state repression, violence and hostility. Please act in the capacities manageable and possible for you; show your queer siblings that they are not left behind! These inexhaustible, brave struggles for emancipation are immensely important and beyond historical importance. Let these courageous people know that we are by their sides and they do not fight this battle alone.

The request for backup and awareness comes from Marta from the Polish asexuals‘ association Asfera (Instagram: @asfera_polish_asexuals, facebook: https://www.facebook.com/edukacja.aseksualna ; https://www.facebook.com/aseksualizm) to collectively highlight local campaigns and Polish organizations (don’t forget to tag them if you write/ tweet / post something) and to support them in their fight for queer human rights!

Kampania Przeciw Homofobii (KPH) (Campain Against Homophobia)

Twitter: @kph_official ; https://twitter.com/kph_official

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lgbt.kph/

Kolektyw Stop Bzdurom (Stop Bullshit Collective)

Twitter & Instagram: @stopbzdurom https://twitter.com/stopbzdurom

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/stopbzdurom/

You can make donations for legal fees (available in German and English): https://www.firefund.net/stopbzdurom

Miłość Nie Wyklucza (Love does not exclude)

Twitter: @milosc_https://twitter.com/milosc_

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Miloscniewyklucza

#LGBTtoLudzie #MuremZaMargot #JestemLGBT #JestemLGBTQIA

Wordpress

[lajulie24]

I’ll know you

A follow-up to Calling her bet; Leia and Han go on the mission to the casino on Akahista. I think this might be turning into an actual fic with more story in it, but for now…here you go.

“Y’know, Sweetheart, if you keep staring at me like that, people are going to get ideas about us.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Well, I should hope so, since Nateva and Vash are supposed to be…together.” She drew herself up taller in the seat beside him, turning her gaze to the view of the spaceport where they were waiting for clearance. “Besides, I wasn’t staring.”

“Uh-huh,” said Han, with a slight smile.

“I was trying to decide,” she said, turning back to him, “how I feel about the beard.” To mask the telltale scar on his chin and give him a new look for their mission, Han had grown a full (albeit well-groomed) beard, and both his hair and beard had been darkened to a deep brown.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Didn’t grow it for you, Your Worship. But I’ll bet Nateva loves it.”

Leia’s gaze turned to a full-on glare. It was still a bit startling to be confronted with her doe eyes in a bright blue instead of brown, and with about twice the amount of makeup she normally wore. He had to admit, the hair was throwing him off a bit, too. Leia’s neat dark brown braids were nowhere to be seen at the moment, covered with a shoulder-length red-haired wig.

Sitting next to her felt like a throwback to his old life, before he’d started doing jobs for the Rebellion. But then she’d give him that exasperated look or speak to him in her familiar alto voice and he’d realize where he was.  Who she was.

It was weird.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as Leia’s expression changed, a smug smile now blossoming on her face. “Now who’s staring?” she asked.

He was about to protest when they were hailed by ground control. “Starship Yuxa, you are cleared for landing. Proceed to docking bay 16.”

“Acknowledged,” Han said into the comm, gladly turning his attention to the landing cycle.

When they were docked, Leia was still smiling at him, her fake blue eyes twinkling. “I just hope your sabacc face is better at the tournament,” she said.

As expected, the Daystar casino on Akahista was something of a madhouse, with gamblers and their sponsors from dozens of worlds on-planet for the tournament. While the Imperial presence wasn’t as obvious as it was on other occupied worlds—an overabundance of stormtroopers would only scare away the wealthy leisure class, after all—Leia noticed at least a dozen Imperial agents from the time they left the spaceport to the time they reached the casino lobby.

Han must have noticed them, too; she felt him tighten his hold on her arm, which was linked with his. “Lot of…old friends in town,” he said quietly.

If they focused on the Imperials, they’d never get what they came for here. “Don’t worry,” Leia said, smiling up at him and batting her lashes in a way she would never have done back at base. “I only have eyes for you.”

He smiled back, and she felt him relax a bit. Another day, another mission, another planet infested with Imperials. We’ve got this. She felt herself relax as well.

Even Leia was a bit surprised by the opulence of the room they were given, though she managed not to react when the manager opened the door. The parquet floors were polished to a shine and covered with plush throw rugs; there was a sitting area furnished with a tiny bar and white velvet loveseats; the spa ‘fresher was approximately the size of Leia’s current quarters back on base; and the floor-to-ceiling windows in the main room had a spectacular view of the city.

“Yes, this should do, thank you,” she said to the manager in the lofty tone she had started thinking of as her Nateva voice. Han had made a similar adjustment to his Corellian drawl, she’d noticed, dropping his contractions and clipping his words. There was something familiar about his tone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. Maybe she’d ask him about it later.

The manager left. Han and Leia exchanged a look, nodded at each other, and immediately began to search for bugs. It’s so nice, Leia observed, not to have to say anything to each other. No code words, no signals, just a look and they both knew immediately what to do. It was a big part of why she had wanted Han on this mission with her in the first place. She didn’t have to babysit him; he didn’t try to babysit her. Despite their frequent—and loud—disagreements on strategy and protocol, in the field she could trust him with her life.

The fact that he was a crack sabacc player, more than capable of holding his own in a high-stakes tournament like this one, was just icing on the cake.

“Nateva!” Han called from the other room, obviously taking care to use their mission names until they were confident any bugs had been found and disabled. “C’mere! You’ve got to see the size of this bed!”

Leia—no, Nateva—was delicately sipping her martini, watching Han’s—Vash’s—game from one of the spectator tables. He was playing his part perfectly, one part dashing scoundrel, one part refined nobleman. At the next break, she’d go to the bank to collect the cash from her father’s secret account for the Alliance, then “Vash” would return to the tournament long enough to keep from raising any red flags. Later, they’d slip out quietly for their trip back to base.

“Your boyfriend is cleaning up,” said a voice beside her. She looked up to see a tall, red-haired woman holding a drink identical to hers.

“Fiancé,” Leia corrected, affecting the aloof languor of an Elder House noblewoman. She stirred her drink gently.

“May I join you?” the woman asked.

Leia gave a small smile. “Of course,” she said, gesturing to the seat beside her. The woman sat down, and the two watched the game in silence for a few more minutes.

“If you don’t mind my saying,” the woman continued, eyes still on the game, “he is an attractive man.”

Leia smiled indulgently over her glass. “I have good taste.”

The woman mirrored her smile. “That you do—Leia.”

Something inside Leia froze, but she maintained her calm, laughing softly as if this woman had made the silliest of mistakes. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else.”

The woman was now looking directly at her, with a piercing stare that seemed oddly familiar. “Oh, no, my dear,” she said, cupping Leia’s chin in her palm. “I’d recognize this charming face anywhere.”

Leia suddenly realized that she was no longer in her Nateva disguise, but in her white senatorial dress, her hair styled in the traditional Alderaanian side-buns she’d worn when—

“You chose the system, and now you’ve chosen the man,” a voice mocked, and Leia blinked to see the sneering visage of Wilhuff Tarkin, clucking as he held her chin. “You may fire when ready,” he directed, and Leia screamed as an Imperial agent aimed directly at Han Solo’s head.

Han and Leia had shared beds before on missions, but normally that decision had involved a fair amount of discussion and negotiation beforehand, and occasionally a line of pillows down the middle that was not to be crossed.

There was no need for a pillow line on this bed. “Wow,” Leia had said when she’d responded to Han’s call to check it out. “We could both sleep here and practically be in different systems.”

They’d gone to bed relatively early, given the long flight earlier in the day and the need for both of them to be on their game the next day. Han had done one last check for bugs or security breaches before heading to bed, only to find Leia already asleep on her side. Good, he’d thought. She sometimes had trouble sleeping on missions.

He’d been in the middle of dreaming Gods knew what himself when he heard Leia crying out, “No!” and woke up. She was thrashing around, obviously in the throes of one hell of a nightmare.

The bed felt even more enormous as Han hurried over to Leia’s side. He shook her gently, wanting to help her wake up but not wanting to scare her even more. “Leia,” he said softly. “Leia, it’s okay. It’s just a dream. Leia.”

She opened her eyes—brown again, now that the contact lenses were out—and touched him as if she couldn’t believe he was real. “Han?” she said.

He grinned at her, relieved. “’M right here. Not goin’ anywhere.”

She threw her arms around him, hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. He hesitated, then put his arms around her as well.

[my-dear-hammy]

The Ship Wars: Pirate Au

MasterPost

Chapter Index

Chapter Twenty-Five

Reeemergence

----

Warnings: Nothing

----

Maybe, in John's language, evidently meant not that interested. It only made Hamilton more frustrated. Some would say sexually frustrated since he'd probably broken a personal record for longest amount of time without a fuck. He'd probably relieve himself later that night when he was alone and left to his work. All John ever did now was stare out at sea, looking for something. Whenever he wasn't working that is.

They'd been spending their days training the new crew. But Hamilton was waiting for the day Jefferson tracked him down again. His name hadn't been on the casualty report John had managed to get his hands on all that time ago. It was only a matter of time before he showed up on the horizon. The thought filled Hamilton's body with hot anticipation. The thrill of the chase thrumming through his veins, an opponent actually worth Hamilton's time.

No one else seemed that thrilled by the idea.

Hamilton leaned against the helm, watching with interest as wood got scrubbed an polished. Ropes and knots and bindings checked and rechecked. Water and food storage accounted for. Daily grind of life between battles. It's been far too long. A heavy sigh and his arms slipped from the helm and his feet swiftly descended the stairs, thudding across the deck all the way to the bow. A spyglass was whipped out from his coat and scanned the horizon. For anything. The crew was getting impatient. Hamilton even more so.

His eye finally caught on the hazy, distant blur of a ship on the horizon. Orders were immediately being shouted to readjust their direction and pick up speed. Slowly, the distant ship cleared. "Run up the flag boys."

Tall red sails drew nearer. Shit. Pirate Hunter. Alright then.

Pirate hunters were tricky. Specifically trained to hunt down pirates and end them. Of course, they'd never been a problem for Hamilton before. But his confidence had recently taken a major blow. He grit his teeth and spun on his heel, a brisk pace back to the helm. Orders were being shouted and the ship was suddenly a flurry of activity.

Distance was closing and it wouldn't be long before they were in range. Hamilton presented their broadside, ready to fire, waiting. Almost there. He lifted his spyglass again. The other ship was flying up signals.

"A request to board?" Hamilton questioned out loud. "They must think I'm insane to allow them to board my ship."

"Alex," Laurens rolled his eyes. "You are insane."

"Good point."

"It's under a flag of truce. Evidently, they want to talk," Laurens said. "Just sink them and be done with it."

Hamilton watched considering. "No. I think I'll see what they want."

"It's going to be the usual, surrender in the name of the king bullshit. Just skip the middle step and fire. They're within range now."

Hamilton watched the ship approach for a moment longer before turning to the crew. "Prepare to be boarded!"

Laurens scowled. "You never listen to me."

"I do, my dear Laurens, but this is one of those moments when I am right and you are wrong. There is a reason I am captain and not you."

"Yeah. Because I didn't bother trying for captain. And just when I thought your ego wasn't over inflated."

The conversation cut off as the other ship pulled right alongside of theirs. "Well I'll be damned," Hamilton grinned, descending stairs and approaching the boarding planks. "Maria! What are you doing out of the water and on a ship?" he called.

"Saving your worthless ass again," she said.

"Oh? From what, pray tell?"

"A slow and fiery death," she answered. "I've been teaching someone how to sail," she hummed, picking her nails."

"Yes, and I see they've been teaching you how to dress, now that you're out of the water." The white silken dress was now the trademark, white billowy shirt and gray breeches disappearing into the knee-high supple, leather boots. She wore a black tailcoat that fit her frame beautifully. The red coral that used to rest upon her head and mark his clearly as a nereid was now a deep red feathered hat, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun. Hamilton decided women dressed as men was a huge turn on. "Who're you training?"

"Me," said a soft voice. That voice would always be soft, but now it was laced with something. Burning passion. A bit of hardness from seeing the cruelness of the world.

Hamilton straightened automatically, his eyes landing on the woman who had stepped up next to Maria. She was dressed in a very similar fashion. Only, white breeches, a soft blue coat, and nothing atop her head except the soft hair that was currently tied back. "Elizabeth," Hamilton said. "What is a nice girl like you doing on such rough seas?"

"Sinking horrible men like you," she answered.

"And doing a wonderful job of it," Maria hummed with pride, pleased with how well her teachings were going.

Hamilton smiled sheepishly. "What started you on this path? Last I met you, the most you wanted was a domestic family life." Which Hamilton had been unable, or unwilling, to provide.

"Some asshole sunk my ship on my way to England. There was almost no reason for it and lots of innocent people died."

"That's horrible," Hamilton said with false sincerity.

"You know who it was?" Eliza asked.

"No, who?"

"You."

Oh. Oh. Hamilton blinked in response and was fairly certain he could faintly hear chortling and muttering something about karma from Laurens.

"I should sink your ass to the bottom of the sea," she went one, picking her nails.

"Ah, you would not be the first to do that," Hamilton replied with a small grin.

"No, but I'd be the last," she said, meeting his gaze. "I vowed to sink your worthless ass and it's been my mission all these long and brutal months. A woman captain is frowned upon."

"I'm aware. What makes you think you could kill me, Eliza? You're a gentle soul. You don't belong on these seas."

"No, I'm just going to throw you in the brig and deliver you home to hang. For a fair trial as well. See, Maria here had been coming to your defense. She does represent everything good about the sea after all, but even she agrees you're not one of them."

Hamilton had no response. Scorned women were not his strong suit. Especially the ones that wanted to kill him. He knew that he had no chance against Eliza. Even though he couldn't provide the life she wanted, a part of him still cared for her and he certainly didn't want to see her harmed. Eliza slowly drew her sword and rested the tip at Hamilton's throat. "You're coming with me. If you do so willingly, I'll spare the rest of your crew and perhaps provide you with better quarters on the trip back."

A grin split Hamilton's face. "I didn't mention something and I feel it's very important." His gaze fully took in Eliza. "You look delectable dressed as a man. It's...arousing."

"You're disgusting," she scoffed. Hamilton shrugged and did something he'd never seen himself doing. Surrendered his sword and with a backward salute to John, who's been standing, sword drawn, ready to leap to his defense, and went with Eliza to return home and hang.

Surely his skill would get him out of this situation like it did all the others.

----

[bottomshelfreviews]

My Top 20 Albums of the 2010s

There was a lot of great music released this decade, so narrowing my list down to twenty was incredibly difficult. The albums listed here are ranked according to my enjoyment of them and the sentimental value I attach to them.

20. Batushka - Litourgiya (2015) | Label: Witching Hour Productions

Many have hailed Batushka as being one of the most interesting black metal acts to emerge in recent memory, and I’m inclined to agree. The Polish group reminds me of everything that drew me to black metal in the first place. Their 2015 debut, Litourgiya, is atmospheric, sinister, and overall sounds larger than life. The inclusion of Eastern Orthodox chants in their sound only further contributes to the sense of doom and gloom this record evokes.

19. Knuckle Puck - Copacetic (2015) | Label: Rise Records

If any of you were into or even vaguely aware of the pop punk scene in the early to mid-2010s, then I am sure you’ll recall what YouTuber Finn McKenty and others have affectionately dubbed the “sad boy era” of pop punk. This new crop of bands, who dominated the Vans Warped Tour lineups of the first half of the decade, had more in common with emo than they did the “goofier” pop punk bands of years past. Copacetic, in my opinion, was the perfect marker for the decisive end of this era. Although the time in my life during which I mainly listened to this genre of music is over, I still find myself revisiting this record over and over again. 

18. Lingua Ignota - All Bitches Die (2017) | Label: Profound Lore Records

Lingua Ignota (the stage moniker of multi-instrumentalist Kristin Hayter) is truly a force to be reckoned with. Hayter’s music is punishing and heavy, and her stage performances are no different. Beyond the brutality, however, there is beauty, and an important message to behold. A survivor of domestic abuse herself, Hayter pens what she calls “survivor anthems,” using her music as a method through which to process her experiences. 2017’s All Bitches Die is a hurricane of rage, delivered through both beautifully-sung vocals and harsh growls from Hayter. Lingua Ignota is an artist to keep an eye on, and although she just released another full-length, 2019’s Caligula, I cannot wait to see what she does next.

17. Vein - Errorzone (2018) | Label: Closed Casket Activities

This spot very nearly went to the 2017 release, Forever, by hardcore heavyweights Code Orange. Although it is difficult to tack a genre onto Massachusetts band Vein, they have been welcomed into the hardcore scene with open arms, taking it by storm following the release of this breakout album. After attending the record release show for Errorzone at the Billerica Masonic Hall during the summer of 2018, I immediately became entirely and utterly obsessed with this album. If you are a fan of hardcore, metalcore, or nu metal, then this album has something for you, and all of these genres are mixed in a way that doesn’t come off as tacky. After seeing Vein for the second time this past summer as one of the opening acts for straight edge hardcore legends Have Heart at one of their Worcester reunion shows, I only became further convinced that Vein are hardcore’s next big thing. 

16. BROCKHAMPTON - SATURATION trilogy (2017) | Label: Empire

Okay, so I’m technically cheating with this one, but it makes sense to me to consider all three SATURATION albums as one cohesive unit. Formed in Texas but now based in Los Angeles, hip-hop collective BROCKHAMPTON took everyone by surprise when they released three albums back-to-back spanning summer to winter 2017. Since then, BROCKHAMPTON have gone on to attain considerable success and popularity, but for me, nothing they do will truly match the “magic” of SATURATION. Doing nearly everything themselves, these young men are among the hardest-working musicians in the industry today. While I may be partial to certain albums in the trilogy over others (cough, cough, SATURATION III), each album is full of bangers and appears to be a hip-hop classic in the making.

15. Chelsea Wolfe - Hiss Spun (2017) | Label: Sargent House

A seasoned musician by the time Hiss Spun dropped, the 2017 record was Chelsea Wolfe’s fifth full-length. While I love a majority of Wolfe’s discography, in my eyes, Hiss Spun is her crown jewel. This album is sludgy, gloomy, and heavy, but as always, Wolfe’s songwriting reflects her childhood roots of being raised listening to folk and country music. Wolfe has explained that the lyrical themes present on this album have to do with various health issues she has faced, and her writing’s focus on the body as a vessel can be downright unsettling at times, but in the best way possible. Hiss Spun is cathartic but uncomfortable, a space that Wolfe is more than content to dwell in.

14. Against Me! - Transgender Dysphoria Blues (2014) | Label: Total Treble Music

Punk band Against Me! were already a seasoned and established group by the time Transgender Dysphoria Blues was released, but, it was their first full-length outing since vocalist and guitarist Laura Jane Grace came out as a trans woman. The album’s lyrical focus on the struggles of gender dysphoria and not feeling like you belong in your own body is not only refreshing, but needed. Not only that, but it’s just a damn good record. Lead single “True Trans Soul Rebel” is anthemic while lyrically dealing with a challenging topic. Other tracks, like “Black Me Out” and “Unconditional Love,” are bonafide punk bangers that are all too tempting to jump around to. Transgender Dysphoria Blues is not only Against Me!’s most important record, but it also just may well be their best record.

13. Lorde - Pure Heroine (2013) | Label: Universal

In my opinion, Lorde is THE pop musician of the 2010s. Still a teenager when her debut album dropped and when lead single “Royals” was dominating the airwaves, Pure Heroine introduced Lorde as one of the most interesting new voices in popular music. Not only that, but its lyrical critiques of wealth and consumerism were a challenge to the pop status quo of the time. While I wasn’t too fond of “Royals” upon my first few listens to it on the radio, I became far more appreciative of Lorde when I listened to Pure Heroine in full for the first time. It has catchy hooks and a lot of the other usual hallmarks of pop music, but the memorability of the album established Lorde as a new kind of star and separated her from the rest of the pack. “Tennis Court” and “Glory and Gore” are still favorites of mine, and although I adore her sophomore release Melodrama, I’m still convinced Pure Heroine is Lorde at her best.

12. FKA Twigs - MAGDALENE (2019) | Label: Young Turks

British singer FKA Twigs had been quiet for a long time leading up to the release of 2019 full-length MAGDALENE. Prior to its release, her last project had been the 2015 EP M3LL155X. And oh boy, was the wait worth it. MAGDALENE is perhaps her most breathtaking work yet, everything sounding lush and ethereal. Taking inspiration for the title from the Biblical Mary Magdalene (there’s even a track on the album named for her), MAGDALENE explores emotion, womanhood, and the ways in which the two are intertwined. The lyrics to single “home with you” reflect the nurturing nature and caregiver status that women are typically expected to uphold: “I didn’t know that you were lonely / If you’d have just told me, I’d be home with you / I didn’t know that you were lonely / If you’d have just told me I’d be running down the hills to you.” Even the lyrics to radio-ready “holy terrain,” which features American rapper Future, reflect a desire to be wanted by a partner once “I’m yours to obtain.” MAGDALENE is a record that demands the listener’s attention from start to finish.

11. We Came Out Like Tigers - Agelessness and Lack (2012) | Label: Dogknights Productions

Out of the same UK town that produced The Beatles came “blackened skramz” outfit We Came Out Like Tigers. I discovered this group via Bandcamp, and they were my entryway into learning that there was an entire subgenre of bands that combined two of my favorite genres: black metal and screamo/skramz. Even with all of the wonderful music I subsequently dove into, We Came Out Like Tigers’ 2012 release Agelessness and Lack still stands out as a favorite of mine. The first track, “An Introduction,” includes folky guitar and spoken word lines before you’re thrust into the sonically complex “Sous Les Pavés La Plage.” The complexity is exactly what continues to make me revisit this album. The band is constantly switching between quiet and loud, and for a young band at the time, they had completely mastered when to make a song big and when to tone things down. Agelessness and Lack is both punishing and delicate. Sadly, We Came Out Like Tigers are no longer together, but this record will long outlive them.

10. Animal Flag - Void Ripper (2018) | Label: Triple Crown Records

I almost gave this spot to Animal Flag’s beloved 2016 record LP, however, Void Ripper was a record that I could not get out of my mind. On this record, the Massachusetts band covers genres varying from pop punk (“Candace”) to post-rock (“Fair”), and this variance pays off. Void Ripper may come off as a thematically dark record to many, but the hope present in it is palpable. The track “Stray” utilizes the metaphor of a stray dog to convey the message of feeling lost in life. Interestingly, religion and the doubting of one’s faith is a constant theme throughout the album. The track “Why” states, “No god above / There’s evil all around,” and “Fair” asks, “Do you feel close to God yet?” Questioning of faith is a common experience for those who were raised religious, only adding to the relatability of Animal Flag’s work. Sonically stunning and lyrically heart-wrenching, Void Ripper, to me, is Animal Flag’s magnum opus. 

9. My Chemical Romance - Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (2010) | Label: Reprise Records

Anyone who knows me personally knows that My Chemical Romance are, and have been, my favorite band. Their 2010 release Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys was their last full-length prior to their infamous breakup in 2013. Danger Days is not my favorite My Chem album by any means, and it was polarizing for many long-time fans when it dropped. It marked a huge musical shift for the group and sounds more like a straight-up rock and roll album than anything else they’ve ever released. The concept for the album was based around a comic book series frontman Gerard Way was working on at the time, a series that would eventually begin to be released during the summer of 2013. Like anything My Chem had ever done, everything about Danger Days was meticulously thought through and on brand. Lead single “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)” is a slick rock and roll anthem, and tracks like “Bulletproof Heart” and “S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W” are personal favorites of mine. On this album, lead guitarist Ray Toro truly shines with some of the best musicianship he’s ever displayed during his time in the band. Danger Days is both glam and futuristic, a party at the end of the world.

8. SZA - Ctrl (2017) | Label: Top Dawg Entertainment

SZA’s Ctrl is one of those records that possesses the power to instantly transport me back to where I was when I first discovered it. It was the fall of my freshman year of college, I had just gone through a breakup, and I was unsure of what I was really doing in life. The R&B singer’s reflections on life, love, and feeling undesirable (the song “Supermodel” is a good example) had struck a chord with me, as they did with countless other listeners. The themes present on SZA’s debut album are melancholic, but it’s through this melancholy that SZA is able to convey relatability and hope to her fans. This relatability, to me, is especially present in the song “Prom,” in which SZA laments, “Am I doin’ enough? / Feel like I’m wastin’ time.” Ctrl is great, soulful stuff, just how all good R&B should be, and above all, it’s filled with earnest honesty. Undoubtedly, Ctrl is a record that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

7. Ghost - Opus Eponymous (2010) | Label: Rise Above

Many have pegged Swedish band Ghost as the breakout metal group of the decade, and I couldn’t agree more. Hard rock and metal publication Loudwire even named frontman Tobias Forge as their metal artist of the decade. Although their debut effort Opus Eponymous is not the record that propelled them into stardom, it effectively set the groundwork for the hallmarks of their sound present on subsequent albums. Part of Ghost’s appeal is, of course, their theatrics. Forge masquerades as a demonic anti-Pope in Papa Emeritus I, and the rest of the band is filled with masked “Nameless Ghouls.” Beyond their creative “devil church” concept, Ghost just makes damn good music. Forge is an astounding vocalist and has a real knack for crafting sticky melodies. I’ll never forget the first time I heard “Ritual,” with its catchy introductory riff (great opening riffs seem to be Ghost’s “thing” now: think “Square Hammer” or “Mummy Dust”). Although themes of Satan and the demonic are common in a lot of heavy music, this was the very first time fourteen year-old Kayla had heard anything remotely of the sort. The same goes for the equally-catchy “Stand By Him,” and their ode to blood countess Elizabeth Bathory, “Elizabeth.” Anyone who is aware of my current love for black metal will likely laugh at this, but upon first listen, I was horrified yet enthralled. Even after years of being a fan of this band, I can still say with confidence that Opus is full of the catchiest metal songs I’ve ever heard. 

6. Lana Del Rey - Born to Die (2012) | Label: Interscope Records

Lana Del Rey, up until her critically acclaimed 2019 record Norman Fucking Rockwell!, has historically been met with mixed reactions. However, it’s her major-label debut Born to Die that made me fall in love with her. Del Rey set herself apart from the upper echelons of the pop world with her deep, sultry vocal register and love of old Hollywood glamour. Her music has a grand, lush, cinematic quality to it—think of the track “Ride,” taken from the extended Paradise edition of this record. It’s hard to say anything about Born to Die that hasn’t already been said, but like countless other records on this list, Del Rey’s debut possesses major sentimental value to me—I’ll never forget hearing “Video Games” for the first time. Some have critiqued Del Rey for her melodrama, but I believe this melancholy attitude is what makes Lana Del Rey, well, Lana Del Rey. Born to Die was a new kind of pop record, one that was dreary and marked by a self-aware sadness.

5. Turnover - Peripheral Vision (2015) | Label: Run for Cover Records

Turnover was, and still is, a band well-loved by kids who listened to pop punk and emo. When Turnover decided to reinvent themselves in favor of a more shoegaze, dream pop-infused sound for their second record, it paid off extremely well. Peripheral Vision effectively made Turnover the torchbearers of this sonic shift within the pop punk/emo scene, but in my opinion, no band or release since has come close to touching them. Not even Turnover themselves with their later releases. Peripheral Vision is dreamy and atmospheric, and at times, feels like a warm hug. Its melodies are infectious and stay with you, like in tracks such as “Humming” and “Take My Head.” This record reminds me of a warm spring day. Peripheral Vision opened a lot of minds, including my own, and was one of the catalysts that pushed my music taste beyond the pop punk I was so comfortable with. From here on out, Peripheral Vision is the record I’ll choose to play on a sunny day.

4. The Wonder Years - The Greatest Generation (2013) | Label: Hopeless Records

The Greatest Generation marked a shift in maturity for The Wonder Years. It is undoubtedly their masterpiece, dealing with issues varying from vocalist Dan “Soupy” Campbell’s mental health struggles to coming of age in the suburbs. In my eyes, The Greatest Generation is the defining record for this era of pop punk, and I believe its appeal and relatability allow for it to expand its reach far beyond the pop punk scene. “The Devil in My Bloodstream” is a heartbreaking take on dealing with depression, and “We Could Die Like This” provides a snapshot of monotonous suburban life, even including the brand of cigarettes Campbell’s grandmother smokes and the lyrics, “If I die, I wanna die in the suburbs.” The album ends triumphantly with the seven minute-long “I Just Want to Sell Out My Funeral.” With The Greatest Generation, The Wonder Years have achieved what I think is the defining coming-of-age record of the decade. 

3. Balance and Composure - The Things We Think We’re Missing (2013) | Label: No Sleep Records

Do you remember that part of the decade when it seemed that every pop punk/emo band had taken some sort of influence from 90s grunge? With their second record, Balance and Composure put out the best album to come from that era of the scene. The Things We Think We’re Missing was a huge leap away from the band’s first effort, Separation. From the immediate nuclear blast of an opening track in “Parachutes” to the slower (but still raucous) closing track “Enemy,” Balance and Composure compiled a collection of tracks that was instantly memorable and iconic. Even more toned-down moments, like the acoustic track “Dirty Head,” are still laced with the same desperation and aggression. The guitar work on this thing is incredible, and frontman Jon Simmons’ vocal performance soars. I listen to this album probably about once a week, and I foresee it continuing to be in my rotation for a long time. Make no doubt about it, this record is filled with angst, but as I get older, I feel like The Things We Think We’re Missing grows alongside me. 

2. Movements - Feel Something (2017) | Label: Fearless Records

I haven’t felt this way about a new band in a very, very long time. California’s Movements are such an incredibly special band and convey emotion in a way very much unlike most of their contemporaries. After an impressive first EP with Outgrown Things, I was hoping for Movements to continue to deliver with their debut full-length project. And, oh boy, did they deliver. Feel Something mixes elements of post-hardcore, emo, and spoken word in a refreshing manner, despite the fact that this type of genre-blending was certainly not invented by Movements. Frontman Patrick Miranda’s lyrics are pensive and thoughtful, and delivered in a manner that grounds the notion that he knows what he’s talking about. The lyrics to opening track “Full Circle” are delivered with an earnestness that only a person who’s experienced the lows of depression themselves could possibly be capable of. Miranda perfectly captures the monotony of going through the cycle of depression: “It comes in waves and I’m pulled below / It’s not subjective, it’s clinical / Drown myself in the undertow of all my imbalanced chemicals / And the cycle comes full circle.” Even the song “Deadly Dull,” which is centered around living with Alzheimer’s and having all of your memories be erased “every time you fall asleep,” gives the impression that Miranda has had first-hand experience with what he’s singing about. For such a young band, Movements have perfected the craft of emotive music in a manner that few others have. 

1. The Hotelier - Home, Like NoPlace is There (2014) | Label: Tiny Engines 

Not only is The Hotelier’s sophomore effort my favorite record of the decade, but it might also be one of my favorite records of all time. Massachusetts’ The Hotelier marked their place in the 2010s “emo revival,” but, to me, Home, Like NoPlace is There is more than just an emo record. It’s intensely personal and conveys grief like no other. It’s personal because of the simple fact that many people likely have a topic covered on this album that they can relate to, from losing a loved one, to struggling with your identity, to being in a toxic relationship. The most popular song on the record, “Your Deep Rest,” features vocalist and bassist Christian Holden lamenting over their friend’s suicide and wondering if they could have done more. Holden sings, “I called in sick from your funeral / The sight of your body made me feel uncomfortable.” “Housebroken” utilizes the metaphor of a dog relying on its owner to convey the message of feeling stuck in a toxic relationship. The album ends on a triumphant note with “Dendron,” and with it, you get a sense of closure, as if the emotional journey the album took you on is wrapped up neatly with a nice little bow. Despite this closure, this album stays with you for a long time, and listening to it requires your full attention. The Hotelier are a special band, and Home, Like NoPlace is There is one of those records that only comes around once in a lifetime.

Honorable Mentions:

- Citizen - Youth (2013)

- Daughters - You Won’t Get What You Want (2018)

- Pianos Become the Teeth - The Lack Long After (2011)

- Behemoth - The Satanist (2014)

- Title Fight - Hyperview (2015)

- Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (2010)

- Grimes - Art Angels (2015)

- Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked at Me (2017)

[citywatcher]

WAYFARER.

     The sea winds were restless this morning.

    Gulls flew errant paths in the mist-strewn air as the winds blew through the harbor. The flags of Piltover’s great houses whipped back and forth as they hung from the ramparts of their merchant houses. Caitlyn kept her hands in her pockets, her arms tight against her coat. The streets were empty at this hour, save for the occasional crewmen heading for the docks, or the drunkards wandering home from late nights at the taverns.

    The ships anchored at the docks rocked lazily in the water, like bears hibernating for the winter. Caitlyn knew, however, that just as the slumbering beasts were preparing for the upcoming spring, the crewmen below decks were equally as busy. The men and the women of the sea were always at work - no daily wage or schedule hours bound them to their service.

    Caitlyn fixed her gaze on one ship’s colors, the red and black pattern of the Syren, flapping in the blustering winds.

    An impressive vessel, she had to admit. There were larger ships: Demacian galleons, Noxian warships, and even other Bilgewater gunboats. But Fortune had a keen eye for design in choosing the flagship of her fleet. The crew kept the hull clean and the masts polished, upholding a sleek appearance without sacrificing size or speed.

    Caitlyn descended the steps to the docks, enduring the breeze nipping at her face.

    “Came to see me off, did you, Sheriff?”

    Sarah Fortune stepped up to stand next to Caitlyn. Her trademark captain’s tricorn sat atop her head, covering part of her face, but Caitlyn could still make out the smirk sitting on her lips. Like Caitlyn, she had tied her hair up to protect it from the breeze, but where Caitlyn had opted for a simple ponytail, Fortune had tied her hair into a braid that fell across one shoulder.

    “I happened to be in the area,” Caitlyn answered, as Fortune whistled and pointed to a crate. Two men rushed over and lifted it up, walking up the gangway and loading the crate onto the ship. Caitlyn inclined her head in the sailors’ direction. “Looks like your purchase went well.”

    Fortune’s smirk faded. “It did. They’ll be a big help.” But then she turned to Caitlyn, and her grin returned. “You don’t usually monitor the docks yourself, Sheriff. Especially this early in the day.”

    “Today will be a busy day.” Sending you off is just one event in the big city. “If I’m to watch over this city, I’ll have to keep being three steps ahead of everyone.”

    “A sound strategy. You’ll have eyes everywhere, won’t you?” Fortune pointed to a blond boy at the riggings, his hair neatly combed and his clothes neat. He stuck out like a sore thumb among the veterans of Fortune’s crew.

    “Thompson?” Caitlyn rolled back her shoulders. “As I’ve said, he’s been wanting to get out of the city for a while. He himself volunteered to join you when you went back to Bilgewater. Why should I refuse his wanderlust?”

    Fortune reached behind a stockpile and procured a mug of coffee, lifting it to her lips and drinking deeply. “I’d hope he knows what he’s getting into.” She passed the mug to Caitlyn. “Coffee?”

    Caitlyn shook her head, turning to watch the waves in the harbor. The fog still sat heavily upon the surface of the ocean. For once, Piltover actually felt like a quiet country town.

    “I’ve had too many cups in the past week. It’s time for me to go back to my tea,” Caitlyn explained. She gave the mug another look. “You got this from Royce’s on Third Avenue?”

    “You recommended him to me yourself!” Fortune answered, her eyes glistening as if she had just won a poker hand, or had just obtained the upper hand at a duel. “I’ve been around the city long enough now. It’s time I made a part of it my own, too.”

    “Enjoying the city life, aren’t you?”

    Fortune reached out and placed her free hand on Caitlyn’s arm. “You live comfortable lives, you city folk. Sometimes it’s nice. The rum is sweet, too.” Then she retracted her hand, placing the mug down. “But sometimes it’s too sweet. Too refined.” Fortune stopped for a moment, her face adrift in contemplation.

    “It’s what I thought of you when we first met,” Fortune admitted. “The epitome of an upper class Piltovian woman. Neat clothes. Fair skin. Impeccable manners...”

     “Far too many compliments, Captain,” Caitlyn interrupted her, a smile of her own forming on her lips. “You already have my attention.”

    “Didn’t think you had any idea of how the world worked. But, working with you on and off these few months… well, it was a pleasant surprise, Sheriff.”

    Caitlyn inclined her head. “You’ll find I can be full of all kinds of surprises.”

     Fortune narrowed her eyes, hands on hips, and smiled back. “Oh, I’ll agree to that.”

     She turned her attention to one last load being carried aboard the Syren and gave a nod to the first mate watching from aboard the ship. Forty crates of hextech ammunition across the four ships in her fleet. Normally such an export would have costed an exorbitant amount of money, but Fortune’s cooperation with the authorities several times in the city had earned her the favor and respect from enough of the scientific community that the great houses were overwhelmed in the parliament.

     Her credentials were recognized, but that had been the easy part. Now the matter fell to her, to see whether the backing that Piltover had placed in her would result in defeating the reaver king of Bilgewater once and for all.

     Caitlyn didn’t doubt her. She had set Bilgewater ablaze a first time; why not a second time? But faith never equated to success, and several years’ worth of scheming and planning, along with the alliance she had brokered with the Piltover scientific elite, could easily go up in smoke to one stray bullet.

     She hadn’t felt such a sinking feeling in her chest since the time she had opened the letter in her mailbox and discovered that her archnemesis had captured her parents.

     “Guess it’s time to go.”

     Caitlyn chastised herself for allowing the dread to claw at her mind that way. People came. People left. And sometimes, the people in whom you placed the most trust could aboutface or change sides at the drop of a hat. It was her awareness of capriciousness that allowed her to make a reputation for herself as one of the wardens of Piltover.

     She took her hands out of her pockets and nodded. Putting her best sincere smile forward, she stepped aside to let Fortune board her ship. “Fair winds and clear skies for you, Captain.”

     “How does it go for your city? May the Gray never rise to your doorstep?”

     “You’ve got the idea-” Caitlyn began to reply, as Fortune grabbed hold of her chin and pulled her face towards hers.

     The Captain reminded Caitlyn of a wildflower. Sharp and dangerous to behold, but sweet once she had gotten into proximity.

     Fortune drew away after a couple of seconds, turning on her heel and heading up the gangway.

     “Keep the city clean for when I return, Sheriff.”

[hiraeth-doux]

This one is so funny ahaha ❤️ It’s bloody Valentine’s Day and there is a discount in the cafe for a couple and I don’t have enough money and oh hey you are single too so let’s pretend we are a couple and get this fucking discount I am bloody starving”

A slightly belated Valentine’s Day prompt because I think I promised to post something. Most of the stuff I shared recently was from a while back, so this is the first piece I wrote this year and I hope it turned out okay. 

AO3

There wasnothing more pathetic than getting dumped on Valentine’s Day, and if there was,Claire couldn’t quite think of what it might possibly be. Not on the spot.Sure, getting kicked to the curb a day after prom when she was 17 wasn’t anymore fun, but at least the guy she was going out with back then had enoughsense to wait until the morning and not ruin the night for her.

Not thatEthan From Marketing – somehow, it was always Ethan From Marketing and neverjust Ethan even in her head, which probably should’ve been a red flag that sheblissfully chose to ignore – actually dumped her. This was supposed to be theirsecond date, which hardly counted as a relationship. However, the worst partwas that once she got through about 50 layers of pity, doubt, and self-loathingafter he sheepishly suggested that it probably wasn’t going to work out andthen scrambled away, leaving her alone to process his words, Claire realizedthat she was more relieved and maybe a little inconvenienced than upset aboutthis particular turn of events. As great she looked in these three-inch heelsand the skirt that hugged her body nicely in all the right places, they hadnothing on her ratty sweatpants and a glass of Merlot she could be enjoying onher couch right now. And that, she decided, was more than just a red flag – itwas a fucking red banner the size of Texas.

She took asip of her Daiquiri – because to hell with the diet, she deserved a treat – andput the glass back on the coaster, her reflection in a perfectly polishedcountertop pensive and a little detached.

Still, didhe have to do it on Valentine’s Day?!Couldn’t he have done it yesterday, or tomorrow? Not that she cared about thisnonsense of a holiday designed to make the ‘unattached’ people feel like crap,but there probably was some kind of etiquette. There had to be.

She took asubtle look around, noticing pink heart-shaped decorations, hanging everywhereand the quiet music that was meant to set a romantic mood for the rest of theclientele, sitting in twos at the tables and tried to ignore the fact that shewas the only person nursing a drink alone at the bar. Thank God she had enoughsense to take this joke of a date to the mainland where the employees of thepark couldn’t—

“Well,well, as I live and breathe!”

Startled, Clairesnapped her head up, recognizing the lazy drawl instantly, but refusing tobelieve that she could get this royally screwed twice in one night. Please, dear God, no! Not today!

No luck.

One eyebrowarched, his mouth curved into a smug, lopsided grin, and the top buttons of hisdark blue shirt undone, revealing just enough skin to make every waitressnotice him instantly, Owen Grady was making his way toward her, unmistakableeven in the dim light of the candles sitting on every table that provided justenough illumination for the patrons not to trip over one another.

Her stomachclenched – mostly with humiliation of being discovered by the one person shepositively didn’t want to deal with, but also because of the whole ‘why doesthis man look like a Greek god carved out of a piece of granite, all perfectangles and right lines?’ thing that kept setting Claire’s teeth on edge ever sincetheir date went straight to hell several months ago, but her mind apparentlydidn’t get the memo.

She glaredat him and turned away. Brought the glass up to her lips again, barelyresisting the urge to finish her drink in one gulp and ask for more. Always alight-weight drinker, she was already starting to feel a pleasant hum in herhead and the warmth spreading over her body, and for once, it didn’t seem likea bad idea to revel in the sensation, let it go.

“Go away,”she said flatly when Owen approached her, not seeing him as much as noticinghis presence next to her, the warmth of his body and the smell of hisaftershave that wrapped around her like a cloud, happy that she avoided fallingoff the damned barstool, which would definitely be a cherry on top of heralready crappy evening.

Owenignored her comment. He leaned against the counter and gave her a pointedonce-over, taking in her low-cut top and a teardrop pendant nestled in hercleavage, and not at all subtle about it.

Sheresisted the urge to throw the rest of her drink in his face. Somehow, Clairefound the idea of him being here alone highly implausible, which made her feellike an even bigger loser. Not that it was a competition, but with him, italways felt that way.

“Why don’tyou go back to your company… that probably gets paid by an hour?” She suggestedsnidely.

He snorted.“You think I need to pay anyone to spend the time with me?”

“It’s hardto imagine anyone doing it for free,” she deadpanned, turning to him.

“You did,”he piped up.

“And I’llnever get those two hours of my life back,” Claire retorted without missing abeat.

Owenhummed. Touché.  

He raisedhis hands. “How about a truce? For one night.”

Claire’seyes narrowed suspiciously and she regarded him skeptically, as if trying tosee behind the ever-present cheerful veneer, all easy smiles and complete lackof subtlety. And yet, despite all that, the man was impossible to read. Withouteven trying, he somehow managed to never take off the mask Claire knew wasn’tthe real him, if only because of those flashes behind his eyes that gave awaysomething she couldn’t quite put her finger on. A vulnerability of sorts thatdrew her to him in the first place. The very one that slipped in every time hetalked about work, or when he didn’t know she was looking at him.

Of course,he then went and ruined everything, but that was another story.

Meanwhile,oblivious to her thoughts, Owen jerked his chin toward the poster behind hisback that advertised two pieces of cake for the price of one, a couple’sdiscount and all that, a cheesy lure that apparently managed to fill most ofthe place tonight.

Shefrowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Notreally.” He pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and made ashow out of going through its contents. “I’m hungry and low on cash.” Shruggedand peered at her expectantly. “What’d you say?”

Clairereached for her clutch purse, resting on the counter next to her glass. “I’dsay I’m out of here.” She slid off her barstool and dropped a few banknotes onthe polished surface.

Owensmirked. Shook his head. She wondered how he managed to look so in his elementin any situation – practically one of the animals in the paddock, a heart ofevery company outside of work, not even remotely as pathetic as she thought shewas in this place full of happy couples, enjoying each other’s company.

“Relax,Claire,” his voice was like honey, barely audible and yet impossible not tohear even over the music. “It’s just a cake. I’m not asking you to marry me.”

She pursedher lips together into a thin line, torn between storming out and giving himthe satisfaction of knowing that he managed to make her uncomfortable and getunder her skin again, and staying here and, well, actually feelinguncomfortable and maybe more than a little irritated. Mostly at herself.

“Verywell.” She gave him a measured look, similar to the one that he graced her withearlier, and allowed her lips to curve into smile that didn’t touch her eyes.“Bring on the cake.”

—

“Oh, god,” Clairemoaned quietly when the first bite landed on her tongue, and even closed hereyes, savoring the sweetness.

A triplechocolate goodness adorned with chocolate-dipped strawberries and served withvanilla ice-cream. It tasted so good she thought she might die. Or maybe shealready did and this was heaven. The only problem with that theory was thepresence on Owen Grady not two feet away from her. Unless she went to hellinstead and he was her punishment. Which would actually explain a lot. Thiswhole night, for instance.

“Should Ileave you two alone?” Owen asked around a mouthful of his own treat from acrossthe table where they relocated from the bar.

“Shut up,”she mumbled mildly.

When wasthe last time she had a cheat day? Right, 275 days ago, but who was counting?She could probably marry this goddamn cake right now and have her own happilyever after. Jesus, no wonder all those people sitting around them looked soblissful – they were so high of sugar they probably didn’t even know where theywere or what was going on. She knew shewas close to feeling that way, although that could also be because of that thirdDaiquiri she ordered when Owen asked for a double scotch.

Wonderful.She was getting drunk with Owen Grady. On Valentine’s Day. Okay, maybe notdrunk, but it was still a whole new low for her regardless. Thankfully, thecake was making up for it.  

“What?” Clairedemanded a little more tersely than she intended when she caught Owen watchingher, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth, which was downright insane for a manwho’d never let anything get between him and the food for as long as she knewhim.

“Nothing,”he shook his head, amused. “You were smiling.”

“I wasnot,” she protested.

“You were,too,” he singsonged, chewing with gusto, and waggled his eyebrows at her.Claire did not dignify that with ananswer. “So, who was it?” Owen asked.

“Who waswhat?”

“Who stoodyou up?”

Her mouthdropped. “What makes you think I was stood up?”

He gave hera Really? Are we doing this? look. “Comeon, Claire, even someone like you wouldn’t be drinking alone on Valentine’s Dayat a hotel bar a ferry ride away from a handful of better bars for no reason.”

Shespluttered for a moment, her hackles standing on end at the implication.“Excuse me? Someone like me? What’sthat supposed to mean?”  

He scoopedthe ice-cream onto his fork, mixing it with a piece of cake and took his sweettime to savour it, her eyes never leaving hers. “I’m talking about the whole ‘Idon’t need no people in my life’ crap you’re so into.”

“Says theman who lacks basic manners,” she rolled her eyes.

“At leastI’m not in denial about it,” Owen beamed at her.

Sheregarded him darkly. “I think the real question is – what are you doing here,Mr. Grady?”

He pointeddown at his plate. The at the poster. Then reminded her, “Owen.”

“Not that,”she scoffed and gestured vaguely around the bar. “Here.”

“Oh,there’s a party,” he waved dismissively toward the back patio. “It got boring.”A shrug. “Seriously, come on, who was it? Eric from Business Strategies or Darrenfrom Accounting? No, wait! Alex from Wu’s team. Gotta be him. Am I right?”

Claireplucked a plump strawberry off the top of her dessert and took a bite, notoblivious to how he nearly choked at the sight of it, feeling significantlybetter about herself by the second. “Why would you think it’s either of them?”

Owenswallowed hard and tore his eyes away from her lips, as red as the strawberry,and took a sip of his drink, more to have something to focus on that wasn’t hermouth than anything else. “They’re obnoxious assholes,” he explained. “Thoughtthey might be your type.”

“You’dknow,” she hummed. “I went out with you, after all.”

His eyebrowquirked curiously. “I thought you were pretending it never happened orsomething. Blocking the whole thing out, maybe.”

“I am.” Sheconfirmed. “You do make a nice cautionary tale, though. To remind me not tomake the same mistake twice.”

And thereit was again – a flicker of something in his gaze. Not quite hurt, she decided,caught off-guard and overcome with guilt all of a sudden. Of regret, perhaps.Alas, it was gone before she was even sure she saw anything at all.

Owen letout a short laugh. “Glad to be of service. And for what it’s worth, he’s amoron.”

“No onestood me up. Do we have to talk about it?”

“Okay, noone stood you up. Then where–” He cut off, his smile slipping. “He didn’t…”

“You knowwhat?” Claire pushed her half-finished cake away and stood up, the legs of herchair scraping on the floor and making a few heads turn their way. “This wasfun, but I have to…” She trailed off and cleared her throat, refusing to lookat him because there was only so much humiliation she could handle in a span ofa few hours. Her throat tightened, a hot lump lodged in it making her eyessting.  Trading mocking comments was onething – like playing ping-pong, back and forth, back and forth, to make surethey still got it. Dealing with his pity, on the other hand, was not somethingshe could bear.

“Shit,” sheheard Owen curse behind her back as she made a beeline for the foyer, past thehotel patrons and the personnel, past the bellboys and the sounds of music andlaughter, drifting in from the pool, and toward the doors leading outside.Shouldn’t have had that third drink, she was thinking now, her head light andweightless, like it was going to detach itself from her neck and float into thenight sky. “Claire, wait!”

He was rightbehind her, but the sound of his voice only propelled Claire forward, her heelsclucking on the cobbled street, echoing in the night, carrying her toward thedock. If she was lucky, she wasn’t late for the last ferry to the island yetbecause there was no way in hell she was staying here. She’d swim, if she hadto.  

“Just… waita sec.” Owen trudged up to her, easily matching her pace stride for stride.“Look, you’re upset–”

“No shit,Sherlock,” she muttered under her breath, and winced, never a fan of harshlanguage. Gripped her purse tight and took an unsteady breath, remindingherself to ignore him. Ignore the whole world, for that matter. She would wakeup tomorrow, and everything would shift back into place, and she would forgetthis night ever happened. Owen Grady and his jokes… “Leave me alone, Owen. Goback to—whatever it was you were doing there.” Tired, she was pointedly keepingher eyes starlight ahead – mostly to avoid tripping on the uneven sidewalk andspraining her ankles, but also because the idea of seeing what she keptglimpsing on his face was almost painful for the reasons she couldn’t quiteplace.

He didn’t.Instead, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants, he followed her silently asif it was the plan all along, steering Claire into one of the side alleys thatdid, in fact, was a shortcut that saved them at least 10 minutes, and boardedthe half-empty ferry with her.

The buzz inClaire’s head intensified, and she climbed onto the top deck, holding tightonto the railing as she walked lest she fall into the black water, churningbelow. The wind was chilly up there, tugging at her hair and whipping it in herface, her skin prickling with goosebumps. She inhaled deeply, breathing in therich scent of jungle and the ocean, allowing it to envelop it like a blanket,very much aware of Owen’s presence and half-temped to remind him he didn’t haveto escort her home, but not having it in her to bother.

“I’msorry,” he broke the silence after a while. Leaning against the railing next toher, he was watching the lights of the park grow closer and brighter, his voicemuffled by the wind. “It was none of my business and I… um, I ruined yournight, and…”

“Yeah,because it was going so great before you showed up,” Claire murmured, tuckingher hair behind her ear. “Ethan. It was Ethan.”

Owen’s earsperked up and he turned to her, studying the outline of her profile, paleagainst the blackness of the sky that was pouring into the sea until hecouldn’t tell where one ended and another began.

“A dudefrom Marketing? That Ethan?” He asked and cleared his throat. “Well, I hate torain on anyone’s parade, but it’s probably for the best. Doubt his wifewould’ve approved of you.” Claire whipped her head around, and he addedquickly, “It’s not about you, I swear. It’s just the marriage thing.”

“Oh, mygod,” she groaned and dropped her face into her hands, squeezing her eyes shut.“What is wrong with me? Why am I such an asshole-magnet?”

“I’ll trynot to take it personally,” he noted. His hands handed on her shoulders and heturned her to him, pulled her hands down and framed her face with his fingersuntil she was looking at him, her breathing shallow and warm on his skin.“You’re not an asshole-magnet, Claire.” He ran his thumb over her cheekbone. “You’resmart, and funny, and brilliant, and this particular asshole is very sorry hescrewed it up.” Her eyes were huge and bottomless, and the corner of his mouthcurled up as he stepped closer to her until there was no air left between them.“And just so you know – everyone from Marketing are jerks.”

Clairebunched a handful of his shirt in her fingers and pulled him down to her, hermouth crashing against his.

Theystarted kissing and didn’t stop, hungry lips and wandering hands and anundercurrent of burning desire right beneath the surface. Claire’s tongueslipped into his mouth and a low groan formed in the back of his throat, hispalm hiking up her skirt, inching toward her hip, rough and calloused againsther silky skin. She tasted of chocolate and warmth and Claire, her hands running through his hair, gripping it tight inher fists, and it was almost too much. She nipped at his bottom lip, pressingherself closer to him, warm and real, and so much more than he ever imaginedshe’d be.

“Take mehome with you,” Claire whispered when they found themselves on the solid groundagain, no longer swaying with the ferry, although neither remembered how ithappened, how the dock emptied and there was no but them in the dim light of alone streetlamp, surrounded by the whisper of the waves.

“You’redrunk,” Owen told her, making no attempt to step back, though, his handsflexing ever so slightly on her sides, each movement matching his raggedbreathing.

“Not thatdrunk,” she promised, pulling up to kiss him again.

—

Claire wokeup to the bright sun beaming in her face, which was wrong on so, so manylevels, if only because her bedroom was west-facing, and a loud pounding on thedoor somewhere close to her. She groaned and buried her face deeper into thepillow, squeezing her eyes shut, and it was only then that it finally occurredto her that the pounding was not coming from the outside but was rather araging headache, booming inside her skull.

Grimacing,she reached for her face and rubbed the corners of her eyes, very aware all ofa sudden of several things – this was not her bed. Aside from the windowmagically moving itself to the wall where it didn’t belong, she could attest tonot owning a Winter Fresh fabric softener that the pillowcases smelled of. Inaddition to aforementioned headache, she could also feel a wire from her bradigging rather uncomfortably in her skin, which meant that somewhere along theway she broke her rule about not sleeping in her underwear. And if that wasn’t confusingenough, she could hear someone humming an off-key tune somewhere… wherever shewas.

Claireopened her eyes, squinting in the glare, streaming through the thin lacecurtains and looked around, taking note of a large wardrobe in the corner and adresser opposite the bed, a few books stacked on the top of it. The door to theright from her was half-open and she could see a two-seater couch and a coffeetable, a patch rug on the floor and a pair of boots. Her own clothes from theprevious night were folded and sitting on the chair next to the bed and—

Her eyesflew open and she tossed aside and blanket, momentarily horrified, and thenimmensely relieved to find out that she was wearing an oversized shirt on topof her underwear, a faded logo on which depicted some music band she couldn’tquite make out from this angle.

And then itfinally clicked – her disastrous date with Ethan from Marketing, three glassesof Daiquiri on a practically empty stomach, Owen Grady.

Owen Grady.

Shit!

Clairescrambled out of the bed and peeked out of the room, her nose twitching at thesmell of coffee wafting in from the kitchen and her stomach clenching uncomfortably.For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she was going to get sick, or if maybe herhead would explode first because her skull was suddenly too small for her brainthat apparently was trying to get out.

Thepolished hardwood floor was warm under the bare soles of her feet when shefinally mustered the courage to step into the living room and a take a cursorylook around what turned out being Owen’s small bungalow that, much to Claire’ssurprise, was cleaner and much more in order than she would have expected.Under other circumstances, she would most likely take her time to appreciate itproperly. Right now, however, she desperately needed to fill in the black gapsin her memory that bothered her to such a degree she was almosthyperventilating.

Dressed in loosesweatpants and a grey sleeveless shirt, Owen was rummaging through one of thecupboards in his tiny kitchen. He turned around and stopped humming the momenthe noticed her out of the corner of his eye, and offered Claire a smile sobright it made the sun seem like a 20W lightbulb by comparison.

“Morning,sunshine!”

Clairewinced, her headache pulsing behind her eyes. There was a reason she didn’tdrink much, doing so out of self-pity was proving to be more and more stupidwith every passing moment. “What happened?” She asked, swallowing, her mouthdry and her tongue seemingly made out of sandpaper.

Owen’seyebrows arched expressively, “Before or afterI rocked your world?”

Her eyeswidened, the floor swaying beneath her feet. And for a moment, Claire wishedshe would drop dead, or better yet – wake up yesterday and not end up in thismoment to begin with. “Did we…” She started in a weak, horrified voice.

He studiedher for a moment, then chucked and shook his head. Filled a mug with coffeefrom the machine on the counter and took a generous sip, watching her over therim, his eyes inquisitive and impossibly blue. “Relax. You threw up and passedout. I slept on the couch.”

“Oh, god.”She collapsed into one of the mismatched chairs at the table and buried herhead in her hands. Somehow, this seemed even worse. Granted, if they actuallyslept together, she’d prefer to have some recollection of it, but throwing upin front of him was perhaps more humiliating. Infinitely more! She felt hercheeks grow hot, the traitorous colour rising up her face – her personal littlecurse. Damn it!

“S’okay.”Owen set her own mug in from of her, her stomach still folding in on itself.“This should help.” She glanced up at him, grateful, and he reached out onimpulse to loop a strand of hair around her ear, his fingertips lingering onher cheek for a few seconds. “Want some Tylenol?”

Claireshook her head, caught off guard by the gentle gesture that felt oddly familiarand more comforting than she was willing to admit. “So, you didn’t–”

“Takeadvantage of a woman who had no idea what was happening?” He scoffed. “Give me some credit, Claire. Besides, when ithappens, I’ll prefer you to remember it.” When, not if. A promise, not anotherquip. And her skin flushed again, but for an entirely different reason.

She claspedher hands around her mug and took a cautious sip, allowing it to burn hertongue and wondering if it was going to stay down. So far, so good. She glanceddown at what she figured was his shirt then. “And… um, this?”

Owenplopped down into the chair opposite from her, grinning. “Oh, you did theundressing.”

“Great,”she muttered, wishing she could drown in her coffee. Staring at the scarredsurface of his table, she could feel his gaze on her, warm and palpable, andher heart was a nervous flurry in her chest, beating against her ribcage. “Youknow, I think I could actually use that Tylenol,” Claire said after a few minutesof silence interrupted only by the ticking of the clock on the way.

“Sure.” Hepushed his chair back and stood up. “Ah, and if you want to take a shower orsomething before I drive you back, go for it.”

Claire methis eyes; tried to keep her face neutral, hoping he wouldn’t notice hertrembling fingers. “There’s no need for that. I mean, you don’t have to. Icould…”

“Walk twomiles?” Owen finished for her.

They bothglanced at her three-inch heels sitting on the floor near the coffee table.

She sighed.

—

“I am notgetting on that thing!” Claire announced, regarding Owen’s bike skeptically,her hands on her hips and her lips pursed stubbornly together. Slightly wobblyon the lawn in front of his bungalow, she tipped her chin up for good measure,well aware of how ludicrous she was looking, still dressed in her last night’sclothes and knowing that this man was holding her hair not 8 hours ago when shewas paying dearly for her poor decisions.

“Didn’tbother you last night,” Owen noted, amused, glancing at her over his shoulder.

“Pleasedon’t tell me–”she started.

“And youliked it, too, baby,” he added with acheeky smile.

Clairepinched the bridge of her nose and let out a slow breath, torn betweensuppressing her exasperation and hiding a smile that kept slipping, betrayingthe fact that last night, despite of how it ended, wasn’t the worst Valentine’sDay of her life.

Owen sighedand leaned against his bike, pulling her toward him – uncertain at first andthen more sure when she didn’t resist - until she was standing between hisparted legs, their eyes on the same level. One hand on Claire’s waist, hesmoothed down her hair curling in the tropical humidity with his fingers,threading them through the soft locks, his eyes fastened on hers. She stilllooked sleepy and maybe a little panicky, and he resisted the urge to run histhumb over the sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks, mesmerized by the softnessof what he used to think of as sharp edges.

“I’m sorryyour date didn’t work out last night.”

“I’m not,”she said, allowing her lips to lift up at the corners, still processing thefact that somehow in a span of one night, and seemingly without her say in it,they went from frenemies to something that was making her weak in the knees,her head swimming. “I mean, it seems to have worked out just fine, all thingsconsidered.”

“Do youremember anything at all?” He asked softly.

Claire’shands landed on his chest. He’d changed into a navy-blue t-shirt that stretchednicely over his broad chest, his skin warm through the fabric. She bit herbottom lip, studying him, taking her time to notice golden specs in his blueeyes, faint smiley lines in the corners of his eyes, her hands itching to touchhis face, run his fingertips over the stubble on his cheeks.

Her gazedropped down to his mouth.

“Yes,” shewhispered, watching his lips curve into a broader grin, barely resisting theurge to roll her eyes, but leaned into him nonetheless because what she did, infact, could recollect was pretty damn nice on every possible level.

“Thankgod,” Owen breathed out, tilting her face up to capture her mouth with his. “SoI was thinking,” he muttered between the kisses when Claire’s arms slid aroundhis neck, her fingers gripping his hair on the back of his head, “maybe I couldpick you up later and we’d make some new memories.”

She restedher forehead against his, her hand running over the collar of his shirt. “It’sSunday,” Claire said after a brief pause. “I don’t have to leave yet.”

[pkansa]

For me, there is no questioning the appeal of the Christopher Ward Trident lineup.  It’s how I became exposed to the brand, and was one of the very first watchesI reviewed from their collection (you can see that here).  At the time I reviewed it, the C60 Trident was a perfect fit for my tastes, as I was a big fan of chunky divers, and the Bond-style strap just clicked for me.  At the end of that review, the C60 Trident was my favorite from the brand, and has remained in that position since then.  Today, I find myself drawn to thinner case profiles and GMT complications, so when the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT was announced, I quickly reached out to the brand.  It was time to see if something would dethrone the C60 as my favorite watch from the brand.

As you might imagine, the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT – given it’s in the Trident line – would have some underwater capabilities.  It may not be a “true” dive watch, but with a 150m WR rating, it’s certainly going to be fine if you go for a swim with it.  The lack of a screw-down crown may concern some, but since I’m not a diver, and generally wouldn’t wear a leather-strapped watch in the pool, I’m ok with it.  Who wouldn’t like the easy fidgeting ability to wind the watch while it’s on your wrist?  And anyways, the water capabilities of the watch aren’t what drew me to it – it’s just a nice bit of extra protection for the watch.

No, with the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT, it came down to two things for me – the GMT complication (courtesy of an ETA 2893-2 movement) and the styling.  Necessarily, those two have to meld together, and they do so quite nicely here.  On the dial, that takes the form of a generously-sized orange arrow to indicate the 24-hour time.  There is certainly no missing where in the 24-hour cycle you are, and that broad-arrow hand indicates right off the bat what it’s for.  This works in conjunction with the unidirectional 24-hour bezel you’ve got circling the boxed sapphire crystal (another indication it’s not a dive watch).  With a rotating bezel, that means you could, ostensibly, be tracking a third time zone, as the mental math for using the main dial to calculate one time zone is not that tricky (note, there no markings for 24-hour time on the dial).  For me, I tend to just keep it locked in a simpler dual-time arrangement, with the hand set to true GMT time (useful at work, when database records are recorded in UTC).

As you may have noticed, I mentioned that the sapphire crystal on the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT is of the “boxed” variety.  What this means is, rather than a simple flat or domed surface, you have the sides coming fairly straight up, and then flat across the top surface.  This calls to mind those vintage acrylic or plastic crystals, and that is what the watch is all about – vintage look and feel.  Of course, with sapphire, you’ve definitely got an upgrade from those of 50+ years ago.  The flat black dial, with the “Old Radium” SuperLuminova filling the stick indices and baton handset further that older feel to the watch.  The flat dial also hides the twin-flag logo of the brand up at 12 o’clock; you of course have the seemingly still-divisive brand name popping up over at the 9 o’clock position.  This color palette of course keeps things crisp and legible, and reading the time, day or night (note that these vintage lumes don’t glow are bright as you might expect, but do get the job done) is a cinch.

With supporting Lume from Rune Refinery and Anilo Carbon

The stainless steel bezel (no colorful aluminum here, and I’m a-ok with that) keeps that old-school look going, and gives you a nice slope up to the flat sides of the crystal.  For a rotating bezel, this is a fairly slim watch, coming in at just over 11mm thick.  AKA, right in my wheelhouse of preferred dimensions, especially with the 41mm diameter and 47mm lug-to-lug.  Interestingly enough, the brand has gone with a 22mm lug width, when I might more commonly expect a 20mm.  That said, the proportions still look good, and the brand has tapered the stock strap on the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT to slim things down a bit under your wrist.

I had hoped to get in the bracelet version of the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT for our review, and was a bit disappointed – at first – when I saw it came on the leather strap.  As I spent time with the watch, however, I really came to enjoy the leather strap.  For one, it is quite soft and supple, meaning it conforms to the wrist quickly.  Second, while it is padded up near the lugs, the padding tapers off so you just have the leather (no extra bulk) at the ends, which means more comfort under the wrist.  Finally, it just really solidified the look of the watch.  While a brown strap on a black dial may seem like an unlikely combo, here, it’s picking up the luminous paint color, and it makes for a nice look.  And frankly, it would be a simple matter to swap in a black strap – or, as I’d recommend, pick this up on the bracelet an then get the strap as an add-on.  Then you’ve got all your bases covered.

I wore the Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT across a variety of situations – to the office, over the weekends, and even with a suit a few times.  It’s got a classic, timeless look, and it’s slim profile (and the slippery crystal) make for a watch that tucks under (and slides out from under) a cuff with ease.  Frankly this is a good travel watch in a variety of ways – not just for the GMT complication, but also due to how it has a “blend into most anything” sort of styling, and the solid WR rating, means this watch is up for anything.  I really enjoyed my time with it, as it clicks with so much of what I look for in a watch these days.  And yes, by the end of my review time with the $1,025 ($1,095 on the bracelet) Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT, it has easily slipped into the #1 position on my list of watches from CW.  The C60 will still hold a special spot, but this C65 is now my favorite from them.  I’ll definitely be watching to see how this early win is capitalized on.  christopherward.com

Review Summary

Brand & Model: Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT

Price: $1.095 (bracelet), $1,025 (strap)

Who’s it for? This is for someone who, regardless of how much they travel, want a “one watch” sort of piece that covers all the bases, while mixing in something more (the GMT complication)

Would I wear it? Without hesitation

What I’d change: I’d be curious about a deep sapphire blue color for the dial.  Oh, and an under-crystal magnification for the date display.

The best thing about it: In a word, style.  Nouveau vintage looks in a compact case make for a winner.

Tech Specs from Christopher Ward

Case: 316L stainless steel

Diameter: 41mm

Height: 12.05mm

Weight: 71g

Weight with 21cm bracelet: 170g

Calibre: ETA 2893-2

Vibrations: 28,800 per hour (4 Hz)

Timing tolerance: +20/-20 seconds per day

Water resistance: 15 ATM (150 metres)

Dial colour: Black

Lume: Old Radium SuperLumiNova®

Bracelet width: 22mm

Lug to lug: 47.1mm

Features from Christopher Ward

Swiss made

21 jewel self-winding elabore-grade mechanical movement

42 hour power reserve

Dual-time GMT function

Date calendar

Central hacking seconds

Anti-shock system

Brushed and polished marine-grade stainless steel case

High Definition “Trident” motif screw-down backplate

Push-in crown stamped with twin flag motif

Unidirectional stainless steel 24hr bezel

“Glass box” sapphire crystal

Matte finish dial

Twin flags debossed at 12 o’clock

Old Radium SuperLumiNova® indexes and hands

Signature Trident counter-balance on seconds hand

Unique engraved serial number

Marine-grade stainless steel bracelet with micro-adjustable ratchet clasp

Luxurious presentation case and owner’s handbook

With supporting Lume from Rune Refinery and Anilo Carbon

The Christoper Ward C65 Trident GMT – a great candidate for the “one watch” in your collection For me, there is no questioning the appeal of the Christopher Ward Trident lineup.  It’s how I became exposed to the brand, and was one of the very first watchesI reviewed from their collection (

[unpunny]

Once upon a time there was a king named King John...

Once upon a time there was a king named King John. He ruled a happy kingdom, because there were no taxes and free beer given out every day. Everyone was content except for one thing. That thing was that there was not much room to spread out. Everyone's gardens were just a little bit too small. King John was upset about this, for it was the only bad thing in his kingdom.

One day, it was a Tuesday, he asked his advisors, "How are we going to solve this problem?". The advisors disappeared off into the pub and came back many hours later and said, "I love you mate, you know that? I do. I really do." Some time later, when they had sobered up a little they told the king what was to be done. This is what they said. "What you should do, your majesty, is invade the neighboring kingdom, ruled by the evil King *&$#. He is so evil, even his name has to be censored. We should gather an army and go and take some of his land." "That's a wicked idea" said King John, and promptly set up a poster campaign asking for volunteers for his army.

Loads of people were big up for this idea, consequently the army was very large. It numbered 1024 people and a goat. After much preparation and training this huge army set off with the King to invade the kingdom of *&$#. I would however take many days to travel all that way, but they did not mind, for the prize was worth it - more land for all (including the goat).

At the end of the first day the pitched camp, had a few beers, and some food, and fell asleep. When he awoke the next morning the king was shocked and upset to see that half of his proud army had been killed in the night. Only 512 remained. He was distraught, and ran around shouting for the others to get up. It was then that he saw, away in the distance, just going over the hilltop, a man. He was dressed all in white on a white horse. He had white boats and carried a white flag at the end of his white lance. King John yelled to the white man, but he ignored him. The king pulled himself together and sat down to breakfast. His advisors said, "Don't worry, your majesty. We have more than enough men to defeat King *&$#. We'll continue after breakfast". So they did.

They journeyed all that day and by dusk were very tired, so they didn't have so much beer. The king wasn't taking any chances, so he posted guards around the camp. Then he went to sleep. Next morning he awoke and ran from his tent. "AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH" he cried. Another half of his men had been killed. Just as they were counting exactly how many had been killed the king noticed the white horseman again. Dressed all in white he was riding away into the sunrise. The king spotted that the white man had totally white hair. The king was a bit annoyed by now, as only 256 remained from his once proud army, but had no choice but to continue on his quest.

They traveled all day and in to the night, so that when the king finally called a halt, the men and him all slept straight away. The king woke first and could hear the sound of hooves outside his tent. He burst outside to see the white horseman galloping past his tent. In the horseman's arms there was a white guitar, which the man was playing as he disappeared off into the sun. Upon looking around he found that half of his men were dead. A mere 128 remained. The king was beside himself with rage, and the remaining men had to restrain him and calm him down.

They sat down and came up with a new plan. "We'll have to take the enemy by stealth, as there aren't enough of us to kill them in a fight". His army, now looking small and a little worried, agreed and set off for a day's travel. They decided to take it easy that day and didn't travel more than about 10 miles. The sun set and they made camp. They ate their rations, which had increased enormously, and settled down to sleep. All night the king was plagued by visions of the white horseman. He woke in a cold sweat just as the sun was rising. He opened his tent door with a sense of trepidation. As he looked around it became clear that half of the remaining men lay dead. The king, almost resigned to defeat, just shrugged. "Come on everyone, we might as well get going. We might be able to defeat King *&$# with 64 men". Just then the white horseman burst out from behind a tent and started galloping away into the east. Once again he was playing his white guitar, and waving his white flag. The king shouted at him to stop, but he didn't even look back.

The army packed up and started their long days march. They stopped just before nightfall and set up camp. As they were all very nervous about going to sleep, because they had seen so many of their friends murdered, they all decided to stay awake. Time passed and one by one they all nodded off. In the morning the king was awoken by the sound of shouting. He ran out of his tent and was met by some of his men. "Half of the men are dead", they said. The king just nodded and gave the order to march. As they were packing up the king saw the white horseman trotting off into the distance. He just waved and started off.

All through that day the king tried in vain to think of a new plan which could be accomplished with 32 men. In the end he decided on a competition against the best of King *&$#'s men. The winner would take half of the other's lands. That night they set up camp in a wood. Because they had had to leave most of their provisions behind (there were not enough people to carry them) they hunted deer to eat. After they had eaten their food they all fell asleep. In the morning the king guessed what was going to happen, and he was right. Half his men lay dead and the white horseman was galloping off into the sunrise. As he galloped he was throwing white rose petals from a white bag and scattering them behind him. The king looked at his 16 men. "Well, we've come too far just to turn around and go back. We might as well try", he said. His men agreed and set off towards the *&$# kingdom.

King John was going a little crazy in the head at this point. More than a thousand of his men had been killed while they slept, and he could do nothing about it. "Not tonight" the king said to himself. That evening they stopped a little earlier and built a tall fence around the camp. They put spikes on top of the fence and went to sleep. In the morning the king woke and burst from his tent. He was eager to see if his plan had succeeded. Alas it had not. Half the men were dead and there was a large hole in the fence. Peering through the hole the king saw the white horseman riding away. He was distraught. The 8 remaining men comforted him. "Maybe we can ask King *&$# for a treaty. Then we can share lands", they told the king. The king would not listen and gave the order to pack up and march.

They rode fast all day and had covered 50 miles by nightfall. The king said nothing as he lay down to sleep. The men decided that half of them would remain awake and stand guard. They drew straws and settled down for a long night. In the morning the king woke up, stretched, and had a coffee before leaving his tent. He opened the tent flap cautiously and peered about. Four men remained alive. The others (the ones who had been on guard) were all dead. The king yelled as the white horseman rode past on his white horse, waving his white flag, playing his white guitar and scattering his white rose petals. The 4 men packed up what few possessions they could carry and set off.

All that day the king sat on his horse and laughed to himself. When they eventually reached a place to camp they were very tired. They had been riding for days, they were hungry, thirsty and had seen many friends killed in their sleep. They sank down onto the ground and slept. "Oh. What a surprise", was the king sarcastic exclamation in the morning. "Half my men are dead. Only 2 remain. And there goes the white horseman off into the sunrise". He and his two men, Alan and Nala, set off. They were nearly at their destination, so they could not stop now.

They rode and chatted about this and that. The king seemed in a very jovial mood. Alan and Nala thought that he was all right until he jumped off his horse and started attacking a tree because it was "looking at him funny". They thought that was a good time to stop for the night. They pitched their tents, one for the king and one for the two men, and slept a peaceful night. In the morning the king went outside and poked his head into the men's tent. One of them, Nala, was dead. He woke Alan and started looking about for the now familiar white horseman. He saw him just mounting his horse and ran after him. The king could not catch up with him, and came back to camp. He and Alan were one days march away from the castle of King *&$#, so they polished their armor and sharpened their swords. Then they rode off towards the castle.

Near evening they saw the castle. It was huge and dark. They felt a little foolish turning up with the smallest army ever to try to take over this mighty army, but they could not travel home without trying so they pitched a tent and waited for morning. When the sun rose the king awoke to find that his last man had been killed. 1024 of his men had been killed while they slept. The king burst out of his tent. He was confronted with the white horseman. His clothes were white, his hair and beard were white, he carried a white guitar, and there were white rose petals scattered on the ground by his feet. The white man looked a little on worried and edged slowly towards his white horse. "Have you been killing all my men while they've been asleep?" asked King John. "No", replied the man.

[buddyrabrahams]

10 most intriguing players at the NFL Combine

The NFL Combine will be held from February 28 through March 6 at Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis, giving NFL teams a close look at many of the league’s most promising prospects.

Players will not only have an opportunity to meet with NFL scouts and executives, but also to improve their potential NFL Draft stock with impressive performances on the field.

Whether it’s a debate about skill level, or players being over-hyped/underrated, there are many athletes who will be at Indianapolis with stories that are slightly more interesting than others.

With that in mind, here’s a look at 10 of the most intriguing players ahead of the NFL Combine.

10. Cooper Kupp (wide receiver, Eastern Washington)

There are 19 FCS players who will take part in the 2017 NFL Combine, and coming from small schools makes them all interesting. But of those who are slated to attend, perhaps none bring about as much intrigue as Eastern Washington wide receiver Cooper Kupp.

Kupp will enter the combine and subsequently the NFL Draft having amassed more college receiving yards than the legendary Jerry Rice. As a freshman, he set FCS records with 93 receptions and 21 touchdowns, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. Kupp eventually closed out his career with 428 receptions for 6,464 yards and 73 touchdown.

Oh, and did we mention he’s a solid return man, can run the football, play gunner and if the situation calls for it, he can also throw the ball on some trick plays?

He has all the tools that make an interesting prospect, and he’s quite intelligent, having scored a 37 on his Wonderlic test while posting a 3.6 GPA. He’s also married and has not shown any off-field issues.

Needless to say, Kupp will be a name worth keeping an eye on. He’s drawn high praise from NFL scouts early on, his college resume speaks for itself, and he expects to put up some pretty impressive numbers to help improve his draft stock.

9. DeMarcus Walker (defensive end, Florida State)

It’s inevitable at the NFL Combine that some prospects will have their draft stock rise, while others will experience a fall. And perhaps more than any other player headed into Indianapolis, there’s a growing belief that Florida State defensive end DeMarcus Walker will be one of the latter.

After struggling during his first two college seasons, Walker blossomed over his final two, recording 26.5 sacks during that span. In fact, he could have declared for the NFL Draft following the 2015 season and likely been drafted relatively early, but he opted to return to Florida State to earn his degree.

In doing so, Walker opened himself up to some additional criticism — namely where the 6-foot-3, 273-pounder will play once he makes the leap to the NFL. He also drew some ire for a slow start in 2016, which he took responsibility for and ultimately turned around.

But in recent days, some experts have gone from questioning his skill to questioning his character. So in addition to facing the flames of questionable athletic ability, Walker will also have to use his time at the NFL Combine to prove he’s a person of high moral character — something he appears to be on the surface despite reports to the contrary.

8. Obi Melifonwu (safety, Connecticut)

If you heard the name Obi Melifonwu prior to the Senior Bowl, you’re more than a casual football fan. Either way, Melifonwu’s reputation has grown since he began opening eyes last month.

A completely under-the-radar player prior to the aforementioned Senior Bowl, Melifonwu now not only has the eyes of NFL scouts on him, but will enter the NFL Combine with a legitimate chance to propel himself up the projected draft charts.

At 6-foot-4 and 217 pounds, Melifonwu is a relatively large, hard-hitting safety who can also play nickle. He made a name by establishing himself as a reliable tackler who works well in small spaces and limits yards after the catch (YAC). However, he’s still considered relatively raw and needs to work on his instincts to allow for more aggressive play.

Currently projected to go in the third round, Melifonwu could again thrust himself into the spotlight and climb the NFL Draft ladder with a strong showing at the combine. And who doesn’t love rooting for the hard-working underdog?

7. Tim Williams (EDGE, Alabama)

Myles Garrett, whom we’ll get to shortly, is arguably the most athletically sound pass rusher headed to the NFL Combine. But coming in at a close second is Alabama outside linebacker Tim Williams, who you won’t see projected anywhere near where Garrett is expected to go.

The are multiple reasons why so many experts and scouts appear somewhat down on Williams. First and foremost, Williams has some questions about his character that will scare some teams off.

In late September, Williams was arrested for carrying a firearm without a permit, leading to a half-game suspension. But in addition to that arrest, Walter Football reports that Williams failed several drug tests in college and that NFL teams have become quite wary of his potential off-field issues.

Beyond the questions about his character, Williams’ draft stock has also taken a hit because of his sporadic snaps at Alabama. He was primarily used in straight pass rushing situations, which prevented his run-stopping skills from taking shape. There are also questions about Williams’ size and upper body strength.

Of course, those are all the things that make Williams interesting to watch at the combine. Not only can he explain his character issues to scouts and hope to clear his name, but he’ll have the opportunity to prove that he’s gained in strength and has the agility to be an every down lineman/linebacker in the NFL.

6. David Njoku (tight end, Miami)

2017 is being referred to as “the year of the tight end” given how deep the group is entering the NFL Draft. And one could argue that every single top-end tight end is interesting in some form of fashion, but the hype surrounding Miami tight end David Njoku is beginning to make him stand out.

At 6-foot-4 and 245 pounds, Njoku is an imposing figure who also features rare athleticism, good hands, and the ability to make the big play. He’s been tutored by other Miami legends such as Greg Olsen and Jeremy Shockey, and has taken their advice ahead of the combine in Indianapolis.

“I’m working on both with my power and speed,” Njoku recently told The Sporting News. “I came into Miami as a receiver, so it’s easier to say my blocking but obviously there’s things that I need to work on with running routes. They both need some serious work, but I’m far from reaching my peak.”

Currently projected as a first-round pick, but secondary to Alabama tight end O.J. Howard, Njoku has a substantial amount to gain if he can display increased power and speed at the combine. And while it may not be enough to overtake Howard for the top spot, he could realistically set himself up to be drafted in the middle of the first round.

5. Mitch Trubisky (quarterback, North Carolina)

If Mitch Trubisky had more years of success under his belt, he’d arguably be the best quarterback entering the NFL Draft. However, that distinction currently, but not unanimously, goes to Clemson quarterback Deshaun Watson, who comes with some red flags of his own.

Most experts believe Trubisky has the highest potential ceiling of any quarterback slated to attend the NFL Combine, but the question that lingers is how long it will take him before he realizes the full scope of his talent.

Trubisky erupted onto the scene a season ago and even thrust himself into the Heisman Trophy discussion. And while he had some hiccups along the way, he established himself as a potential quarterback of the future for an NFL team in need — the New York Giants immediately come to mind as they’ll begin their search for Eli Manning’s successor.

The NFL Combine will neither break nor make Trubisky, but he could still do himself some favors by putting up good numbers and proving to scouts he’s a bit more athletically polished than some are giving him credit for.

4. Mike Williams (wide receiver, Clemson)

Western Michigan wide receiver Corey Davis is one of the most intriguing players in the 2017 NFL Draft, but an injury will prevent him from performing in the NFL Combine, which in turn opens up a unique opportunity for Clemson wide receiver Mike Williams.

At 6-foot-3 and 225 pounds, Williams is a legitimate downfield threat who can battle with the most physical cornerbacks in the league. For that reason, several teams are likely already considering him in the first round. But with Davis sidelined, Williams now has the opportunity to go out and make his case for being the No. 1 receiver in the draft.

The one thing that currently holds Williams back from that distinction is his inability to create more substantial separation, something to which Pro Football Focus recently alluded.

Mike Williams was possibly the deciding factor in Clemson claiming revenge against Alabama in a rematch of the 2015 National Championship. He displayed all the qualities that make him such an exciting prospect against NFL-caliber defensive backs. As well as presenting opponents with a matchup problem, Williams also represents a reliable target underneath. He projects as a receiver capable of using his body to move the chains while adding a downfield component to the passing game due to his ability to win at the catch point with strong ball skills.

[However] he may not create enough separation to fit with every quarterback style. Needs aggressive passer to allow him to win at the catch point in contested situations.

Straight-line speed isn’t the be-all, end-all in the NFL, but there is quite a bit of value placed on it. Accordingly, if Williams wants to boost his draft stock and put Davis in his rear-view mirror, he’s going to need to come out guns blazing at the NFL Combine.

3. Jabrill Peppers (defensive back, Michigan)

Jabrill Peppers is a unique and potentially elite talent — that’s something few will deny. So what makes him such an intriguing player to watch at the NFL Combine? Because, well, no one really has a single clue where on defense he’s going to play once he enters the NFL.

During his time at Michigan, Peppers was often referred to as a Swiss Army Knife, at one point playing 10 different positions in a single game. And while that versatility makes him unique, it’s also what may drop him out of the first round.

“I think he is a better offensive player than defensive prospect. I’m concerned about the lack of interceptions and his lack of physicality. He is more of a run-and-chase defender to me. He might have a chance as a 4-3 (weakside) linebacker but I believe he might be better with the ball in his hands,” an AFC college scouting director told Bucky Brooks of NFL.com.

A strong performance at the combine could change Peppers’ fortunes. If he can dazzle with both speed and strength, it will give NFL teams a better feel for where he can be used and where he can’t. So whether he ends up as a safety, linebacker or on offense, Peppers needs to put on a show or risk falling come draft time in April.

2. Dalvin Cook (running back, Florida State)

Dalvin Cook is projected by some to be the best running back the 2017 NFL Draft has to offer, but LSU’s Leonard Fournette and Stanford’s Christian McCaffrey are hot on his trail. It’s for that reason that Cook is one of the most intriguing players to watch at the NFL Combine.

While the style of Fournette and McCaffrey are clearly defined, there’s a belief that Cook has only just begun to scratch the surface of his potential ceiling. And in order to sell NFL scouts on his ability and future value, he’s going to need to put up impressive numbers at the combine — and not just in the 40.

With the running back position somewhat devalued in today’s NFL, Cook makes things interesting because of his do-it-all ability. However, if he slips up at the combine, he could see himself drop from a top-10 pick to a late first-round pick or potentially even lower. On the contrary, if he puts up impressive all-around numbers and goes on to have a solid Pro Day, he’ll likely be the first running back chosen come April.

1. Myles Garrett (EDGE, Texas A&M)

The Cleveland Browns are very much in need of a franchise quarterback, but with the No. 1 pick in the 2017 NFL Draft, there’s a strong chance they go with edge rusher Myles Garrett out of Texas A&M instead.

Many consider Garrett, who recorded 32 sacks and one interception during his college career, to be a game-changing edge rusher who could play outside linebacker in a 3-4 defense or defensive end in a 4-3 defense. Either way, the mere fact that he’s being considered ahead of some of the highly-touted quarterback prospects is enough to warrant him being listed as the most intriguing player entering the NFL Combine.

Whether or not Garrett is ultimately chosen at No. 1 overall remains to be seen, but if he can put up impressive numbers at the combine that parallel the hype he’s received, an already interesting talent will only become that much more interesting.

Adding to Garrett’s intrigue is the potential for a trade at the top of the NFL Draft should the Browns decide to drop a few spots and target a quarterback.

from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2ltqv1f

[ryanjtrimble]

Natural Light, Single-Paned Glass

I met Willy while riding my bike on a rural road in central Utah. A thorn had flattened my tire and, after making a couple calls with unpromising results, I set out walking. Willy was 200 feet from me, so I encountered him soon enough. He was clipping a tree with an extended pruner that resembled long but awkward scissors.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I yelled.

“Huh?” Willy lowered his pruners, turned his head, and squinted through bulletproof-thick glasses.

“Hey, I got a flat tire on my bike. I’m wondering if you have a pump,” I called out, already walking toward him.

It didn’t matter whether Willy had a pump. I was gonna meet him anyway. I had determined that the moment I saw him. The flat was merely an effective conversation starter, an excuse to interrupt a man pruning a tree in his front yard on a Sunday afternoon. Had I encountered a woman reading a book or a man returning from church or a family barbecuing, however, I wouldn’t have engaged. Willy shone with that alluring hue that emerges only after life has polished away all that polish we apply to ourselves, and that’s what drew me in.

“Oh, yeah? I’ll get you fixed up! Come on back,” Willy cried. Then he turned, taking multiple steps to do so, and began walking at a good speed toward a shed behind his house, his heels scuffing the cement with each step.

The shed was as large as a two-car garage, made of ragged wood and cinderblock, and lighted beautifully due to two large single-paned glass windows. There wasn’t much inside—some tools and pipefittings that lay in hanging bins along one wall, a wooden worktable—and everything was caked in a dust from, I guessed, the 1950s. It was a grimy dust, more like residue, so that when I inspected some oddity my fingers became chalky and gritty. Free from this dust, however, was a bright red push lawnmower. Willy recently purchased it, after thugs broke into his shed and stole his riding mower. He’d kill them, he said, if he ever discovered who they are.

I tried to explain to Willy that my tires require a unique air chuck—due to their having a Presta valve—and that I doubted he had one. But he couldn’t hear me over the already growling compressor. I yelled a couple more times and he caught on, unplugged the machine. He then scrambled through his decades-old plumbing parts—Willy was a pipefitter in his working days—as if faced with an emergency, stammering, “I’m sure I’ve got something that’ll work.”

When I assured Willy he didn’t have the tool and that it was ok, he relaxed. I showed him my phone. “See, someone got my message. They’re gonna pick me up. What’s your address?”

While waiting for my rescue, Willy and I stood in the shed and talked, sometimes facing each other, starry dust particles drifting between us, sometimes facing away from each other. We wandered around a bit, each of us fiddling with a decrepit tool or pipefitting or two, as though hefting iron and dust might draw out the right thought or unravel the mystery behind autumn afternoon sunlight. Our voices ran along the walls and across the cement floor in rusty tones.

“Where’s your family,” I asked.

“Everyone has died,” Willy replied, soberly. 

Willy meant what he said, I could tell. He lamented seeing so much death, muttered something about war, then went on to explain that his 21-year-old daughter, his baby, had been killed just two months previous. Hit by a truck. A couple guys were racing on the freeway, one clipped her bumper and sent her flying. “I’ll kill them,” Willy said, “if I ever find out who they are.” His voice shivered as he spoke, but never broke. His eyes filled, and just as quickly dried again. No tears fell.

Willy knows death, it seems, intimately. He didn’t brag about not being afraid of it, nor did he curse it for the pain it’s inflicted on him. It was more like he bowed his head toward death, both in reverence and in defeat. Had death come for Willy in that moment, in that matchbox garage, I suspect he wouldn’t have shuddered. Nor would he have succumbed without a terrible fight.

Inside Willy’s home, where we eventually wandered, chicken was frying in an old cast-iron pan, the kind with the government-green bottom. Willy had set the burner on low before heading out to prune. He forked a wing from the crackling oil, placed it on a paper towel, wrapped it lightly and handed it to me. We walked into the living room, passing a table strewn with prescription pill bottles—presumably for Willy's heart, which has seven stents in it—and a south-facing window that revealed stalks of blue and burgundy corn clicking in the autumn wind. Willy harvested seeds from a Navajo cave years ago and has since cultivated the grain.

“I live like a hobo,” Willy said, clearing a place for me on a threadbare loveseat. He wasn’t apologizing, though, or trying to assuage embarrassment. It was more a statement of cold fact, like he had observed for the first time his own living arrangement. He then clicked off the TV and sat in a recliner next to a small end table that held scraps of paper, a pencil. A large intricate woodcarving stood beyond the TV. Medals and trinkets and wallet-sized photos dangled from it. Two American flags and a black-and-white photo of Willy’s deceased wife hung on the wall. Somewhere between stories of having been born in a tent and hunting and killing food in the hills of Utah, Willy stood and neared the photo on the wall. His eyes again pooled and drained without shedding tears.

Willy fought in four wars—in Cambodia, in Laos, in other places I don’t recall. He enlisted at 17, fraudulently. He's never missed a day of work in his life, a fact he is proud of. He loves his flags, and hates Utah. Said he wants to sell his home and leave, find a place that’s quiet, without shitty neighbors. Oh, they aren’t so bad, he guesses. But Willy also despises the men who knock his door weekly, asking him to sell. Willy’s home was built in 1921 and developers are now eager to urbanize his street. His home is primed for destruction, in their eyes, and Willy’s not interested. He refuses to escape Utah if doing so might benefit spurious businesspersons.

As the sun was setting and the evening cooled, Willy and I drank Natural Light, compliments of Willy. The living room walls faded to a soft grey. I noticed, through his dime store shirt, that Willy, in spite of his 81 years, is strapping through the chest and shoulders and neck. His eyes, which I glimpsed here and there behind his glasses, are sad and kind and hard and clear, like handcrafted marbles, or the guileless pupils of a doe.

Willy apologized for having talked so much, as I finally descended his front porch. He confessed that solitude makes it nearly impossible not to do so when an ear is present. Still, he felt it was bad manners and assured me he’d converse better next time. I waved my hand, in the manner of suggesting nonsense. Then Willy stood in the doorway a moment, one calloused hand on the doorknob, the other on the molding, hat and glasses teetering on his head, and the day’s last light followed him inside and clung to him before he closed the door.