#Intuition Quartet

[weeesi]

Journey - May Prompts (30)

[Finally: an end to the blanket saga! This ficlet will make sense if you’ve read Blanket, Intuition, and Empty, in that order.]

“You did.” 

These words are the first of many. They sit together in Sherlock’s room as the afternoon sunlight darkens into amaranth, burnt tangerine, then deep-sea blue, as the quiet hush of evening slips over them like a blanket.

How could you not have known?

How could I have guessed?

Back and forth like this for hours, they use words as blades and balms.

Not gay. 

Just transport. 

Not a couple. 

Married to work. 

Couldn’t bear it. 

Kept it secret. 

Didn’t know. 

Couldn’t lose you. 

Broke my trust. 

Broke my heart. 

Had a relapse. 

So did I. 

Why’d you lie. 

Wanted more. 

From the beginning. 

Me too. 

Always you. 

As they talk, the tiny square travels between their hands, is thumbed at absentmindedly on its final journey. They tell each other about unravellings, about grief, about pieces cut out and hidden, about waiting.

At last it falls apart.

They hold the little threads and then they hold each other.

When the time comes, it’s mutually agreed. An unusual request, the jeweler remarks, but doable. Two strands of Irish wool, dyed grey and white and red, disappear forever into two gold rings.

“There’s a metaphor in there, somewhere,” John says.

Sherlock laughs and kisses him.

The blanket stays on the chair, the chair stays in the flat, and the love never leaves.

+

Thanks to @jolieblack for the inspiration to finish this little quartet!

Thank you to @calaisreno for the fun prompt series! Tags in replies. Thanks for reading! <3

[shiningliive]

Live Emotion Idol Introduction - Kurosaki Ranmaru ♬

Voice Actor: Suzuki Tatsuhisa Height: 182cm Weight: 67kg Blood Type: Type A Birthday: September 29th Zodiac Sign: Libra Place of Birth: Miyagi Hobby: Napping

From the official Twitter: Ranmaru belongs to Shining Agency and is a member of QUARTET NIGHT. He concentrates an extraordinary passion into his music endeavors and is well known not only for his singing, but also his bass playing. You can catch glimpses of his unparalleled sharp intuition in critical moments on quiz shows.

[macaroonff]

Taste- Lee Minho

Genre: Undercover detective x gang leader; the roaring 20s Paring: Minho x fem reader Content Warnings: Spice (no smut),mentions of alcohol, inaccurate historical representation, not intended to be factually correct, please forgive any inaccuracies. Word Count: 5.6k Suggested Songs: Taste- Stray Kids Whatever Lola Wants- Ella Fitzgerald Fall in Love With Swing- Trio Manouche Smooth Operator- Sade

Refer to this for context regarding specific terms in bold

No one would ever fathom how utterly guilty Lee Minho felt with his tongue driven down your throat in one of the many dressing rooms the jazz club contained. He hated how his sweaty palms digging into your lower back barely managed to keep both of you steady against the rough wall.

He despised how desperately you held onto the lapels of his tweed suit, as the cold pearls around your neck jingle against his watch with every turn of your head. Every jingle was followed by a gasp, and together they seemed to override the perky jazz coming from the stage. 

He hated how he was stuck here, unable to release himself from his hedonistic urges, to the point where he neglected his work, the reason he entered this shabby club. 

Priv. Detective Lee wasn't supposed to be here today, not in your embrace, not under your enchantment, not under the influence of something he was prohibited from. 

Alcohol.

Despite his deceptive actions and seemingly careless attitude towards alcohol at parties, Lee Minho had a restrained regimen for himself. Especially when he’s working, which is almost everyday.

He only lets himself go when necessary in social gatherings, in  those crowded salons where everyone had their eye on him, forced to follow skewed norms to strengthen his reputation as an owner of a winery acreage in France. A false identity pasted on him to get any sort of tip-off in this industry.

The industry where smuggling had become as common as a family buying a car.

Last Sunday, when he happened to be at another one of these parties, he was invited by his neighbour Mr Brown to a different wine tasting session at a strange, albeit new jazz club, rumoured to sell cheap booze. Of course he’d go.

Not just because of the "good" alcohol, but because of the fact that any place selling cheaper goods meant that it was smuggled. Not necessarily, and not always; but in this day and age he was sure it could be nothing else.

So he enters this somewhat run down club behind the busy streets of downtown Chicago, surprisingly packed with locals, a pungent smell of alcohol immediately welcoming him. A smell he thought he was used to, but clearly not enough to refrain from wincing, his eyebrows furrowed at the chaos and the crowd; at the suffocation he felt walking in.

At the centre of this chaos stood, in all her glory, the lead singer, her sweet voice accentuated by the saxophone, the quartet following it. She stood below the dim yellow chandelier hung above her as a spotlight, in her white satin, semi beaded dress which fell just below her knees, rather provocative.

He doesn't look away until Brown reminds him of the wine testing and ushers him towards a VIP parlour.

He makes his way through the crowd, pushing against bodies dancing the Charleston, a recently popular dance that Minho found amusing. All of this while he probes the ins and outs of the club, looking for all entry ways through which big cartons could arrive, as well as places for them to be stored.

All he found was a door that appeared to lead into the dressing rooms. That didn't deter his ambitions though, because he knew that behind this lively exterior, there had to be secrets involved . He would do whatever he had to in order to uncover the operation.

If he had any flaws, it would be this, that he was too stubborn to give up on what his intuition said. He was hard headed, but in no way was he stupid. He'd be devious if it was necessary, he'd lie if he had to. He'd also seduce if it was extreme.

It wasn't his first time trying seduction. He'd done it before, at least six attempts, and maybe five successful ones. The last one was into girls, and he hoped, fairly desperate that this one wasn't.

After a while, he uses needing a trip to the toilet as a somewhat acceptable reason for leaving the now boring session. The drunk men weren't their most reasonable, and paid no heed to the poor excuse. Apparently being a connoisseur meant taking proper breaks. He shrugs it off with a smile, promising to come back in some time.

Lies.

He was long gone to meet his mysterious flapper who he surveyed every corner for.

Under the new frosted light bulbs bought for the bar, you find yourself in the company of many men and women alike, all desperately trying to sink their teeth into your precious minutes. All of whom you appreciated but wanted nothing to do with. Most of them were here to sign record deals from new radio channels wanting to capitalise on the upcoming modern woman movement. All of which you supported but didn't see yourself working as.

Not because you liked working as the main singer for a rundown jazz club. But because your actual work meant that you were never supposed to find fame. Fame meant prying eyes, and nosey neighbours; something you'd have none of in this lifetime.

Why risk it for fame, when you had important business to take care of here?

You had to make sure that not a single thing was out of line and that not a single person would ever find out about the second business run here.

So far, you've done a good job at pretending to be the club's owner's sister. And although it was true, the story behind renovating your grandma's old house into a jazz club wasn't. There was no grandma's old house, there was no renovation, no grandma either. This was always a place for trade.

Your kind of trade. Where you’d find the good dupes and sell it at a higher price, and the actual bottles would be shipped out for a lump sum.

The excess or the bad bottles would be sold in this club, at a discount. It was pretty simple actually, and it made you money.

Sure it was illegal. But sometimes you needed the money, no questions asked. This was how your family knew to fend. This is how you'd continue to fend for yourself.

The risks you took were calculated, and you weren't afraid.

While your brother looked after the actual shipments, you'd deliver intel, in control of all the information passing through here. Nothing happening in town would ever slip away from your grasp.

So what if it was a jazz club?

Most people from different backgrounds always ended up at "The Charmer". Most people let themselves go. They always end up telling the bartender about their business, the dirty dealings that they've also been up to. The fact that most were more grey than the white that they appeared to be.

It was no different for you.

And if there was any difference, it was that you'd never let yourself slip-up. You weren't stupid. You weren't a naïve little Tomato like most believe. Even if you did find yourself faltering, you'd know how to convince others into changing their mind about you.

The same way you knew you could convince Mr Brown that you were interested in the specificities of wine when he almost caught you switching bottles from the basement. You barely convinced him, saying that true wine from France would have plum and black cherry aromas, which it did have. Lucky for you, Mr Brown had no idea that dupes could have chemical fragrances added to them too, because he'd never had to collect wine right from the port. Defeated, he said he'd ask his "very dear friend" to figure out the truth.

At first, you were shocked that there was another wine connoisseur you didn't know of, but after asking your people to investigate, you realised why Mr Brown was so confident. Why he was after your tail.

You knew he was new to this part of town; an insanely handsome, Big Cheese foreigner who wasn't yet used to life in America.

That his speciality was French Wine, and that if he was rich here, he was even richer back home. That he might even be a scofflaw, since he hung around in as many alcohol parties as he could, including the ones for the middle class. This piques your interest, and in a long while, you haven't been as excited to unearth someone's mask.

Now, all you had to do was wait. Because you hoped, no, you knew he would come to find you tonight, regardless of never having spoken before. Because most people do the first time they visit this club.

Most people come looking for you when you're done singing. Because they're enthralled, curious, or physically attracted to you. Because you're almost too beautiful for them to admire from a distance.

These weren't just based on what you heard, but accounts from your members, beyond tired of regulars ravishing about you. But that wasn't enough . You needed beyond sensuality to tempt and guarantee clients. Sure your circle of customers had grown over the last five years since you took over, but that didn't mean the risk had dissipated.

So while your confidence was with justification, your anxiety insisted on you keeping things tight-lipped. You had to know everything that occurred in this paltry but pertinent place.

Maybe that was why you were grateful when your target approaches you of his own accord. His deep brown eyes intent on yours, his long hands embellished by his expensive Rolex oyster- an wrist watch only few would dream of affording-, an orange tie loosened as though he had drunk the daylights out of himself.

He was perfect. Both handsome and tipsy, there was nothing more you'd want out of a potential threat?

"Stunning performance," you hear a deep voice say, in a slurred accent, you can't tell if it was because he was French, or just drunk.

"Thanks, first time here?" you ask.

He nods, leaning ahead. "Mr Brown told me, you have some really good wine down here, something I might be familiar with."

"Ahh you must be the foreigner Mr Brown keeps raving about... Mr?"

"Just call me Claude," he replies sweetly.

You raise your eyebrow. Was he so private as to not let his last name slip? You call the bartender over.

"A bottle of our finest Cheval Blanc." you look back and smile at him.

Claude smirks. "I'm familiar with this wine you know. It's made from the labour of my vineyards."

You examine his face, looking for any sign of deceit. You'd come across many con artists, most of whom didn't have adequate expertise in alcohol. Nobody knew the real in a world where fake was deliberately greater. But here's someone who claimed to know, here's someone who you were sure was lying, despite no hint of deceit.

Why would a rich French billionaire come down personally to your shabby store, instead of asking someone else to collect it?

Unless he had something to prove.

Soon the glasses are laid out, and half a bottle poured. You wait as he swirls the glass in his hand. Despite the loud jazz, you hear nothing but the sound of ice clinking in his glass, and the aroma of plum piercing through, making it difficult for you to breathe. You realise, that after a long time, you're nervous. You see him smell the alcohol briefly.

The cup reaches his lips, and he closes his pretty eyes. You watch him gulp a miniscule sip down. It is silent as his eyelashes flutter slowly as his mouth twitches in slight distaste. Just as anyone else would frown, but for some reason his seemed deliberate, somewhat dangerous.

Dangerous was what Lee Minho thought you were, with the real thing in the glass in front of him. Somehow, he knew it wasn't a dupe. It had the same percentage of alcohol as he knew it should, and not one flavour felt out of place. But then again, he couldn't be sure; he wasn't actually the person he claimed to be. He wasn't an actual connoisseur. If this was the real thing, then it made no sense for you to sell it at a discount.

"Why is one bottle so cheap?" he asks carefully, leaning against the counter. This time, he looks at you in search of deceit. Instead all he reads is a hint of surprise on your face, along with a little bit of glee, he couldn't be sure.

"You should know after tasting them shouldn't you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, a small smile on your lips, as though you had it all figured out.

Lee Minho falters, suddenly unarmed. What did that mean? Did you admit that it was fake? Or were you trying to gauge his identity?

A wrong answer now, and he'd give himself away.

"Of course I know why, but I'd rather hear from you." he avoids, to which you don't reply.

He needs to draw everything from you. "The discounts are unreasonably low, especially for a Cheval Blanc. It almost hurts my pride," he playfully pouts.

He sees you shaking your head in slight disappointment, an amused smile along with it. "You shouldn't worry about that, you're not losing any money here," you whisper close to his ear.

He tries so hard to ignore the smell of may rose and jasmine that accompanied your Chanel no. 5 parfum, and he tried to ignore how some of the others gaped at him, envious of how close he'd gotten to you.

"How can I be sure?" he questions his breath slightly arrhythmic.

How would you know rather, whether a rich business man would have lost his money? Really nobody would know unless they went through the ledgers. Something you were sure didn't exist in his company, or else he'd know just how much he'd lost.

Everything he said pointed to him being a careless business owner, something you thought would never be possible for a man so rich. You scan through his appearance again, his suit looked genuine, the tweed proper. You even gently caress the back of his broad lapels to confirm. He was rich, but was he anything close to the person he says he is?

Out of all the people you met in this small place, there was one thing you knew too well. If something or someone is too good to be true, it probably was. He was no vineyard owner from France, foreigner maybe, but not someone who knows business.

Something about the way he tried so desperately to gauge your business instead of you meant that he wasn't here to play, nor was he here to strike a deal. Most businesses that advertise try to get their way into you, instead of the business. They usually came knowing you were a snake charmer, someone who could sell all the bad ones for better prices. Selling rejected alcohol ended up being a way for them to reduce their losses.

The man in front of you, "Claude", could be one of two things. An embalmer like you, jealous of the profit you're making; or someone here to investigate your business. A situation you were familiar with.

Multiple cops had come to investigate before, all of whom were easy to shut up. However the person in front of you didn't feel like a cop, he didn't try to exert power, nor did he try to undermine yours. A man so hard to read, you weren't sure how to make head or tail of who he really was.

"Hmm, only if you tell me why you don't think it should be sold for less" you offer, laying out your cards in front of him. His response would determine if he was a tremendous master of deception.

"It is indeed the real thing; however the aroma feels diluted, although the drink's concentration seems correct. It is from a batch of wine of secondary quality made from bad grapes. However the year it was made in, suffered from excessive rain, and the waterlogged condition meant that production had reduced that year. It would make sense for you to sell it for a higher price due to excess demand."

You smirk, as he answers correctly. Somehow, he knew his stuff. The details however did feel as if he had thoroughly prepared for an interrogation.

"Unfortunately the people who buy here don't care about a particular year, they care just for the alcohol. It matters to only a few, such as Mr Brown and your friends who care enough to investigate, Claude."

"We're just curious, since we're linked to the same industry. I hope you don't take it the wrong way miss...?" he enquires, his eyes never leaving your lips.

"My name is a secret for those the first three times, if you return after our third meeting, I'll tell you. For now, goodbye; I have other patrons to meet."

With that you leave hastily, already unnerved at the fact that he somehow picked at your disguise. Annoyed yet excited.

After a long time, you find something vaguely resembling a challenge, and the following meetings would ensure that you get every second worth of thrill from him. You'd make sure that Claude, or whatever his handsome name was would only tread carefully from now.

Lee Minho should've known better, that a woman so beautiful was so secretive. That a woman so desired in this mysterious club would obviously play hard to get. Did it help that she was also the owner of this place? No it did not.

But what did help was that a set of the smoothest pearls had fallen into his lap, and either on purpose or by accident, you had left him your necklace. Lee Minho couldn't decipher your intent, but at the very least, he found himself an excuse. It was as though petty fate that stopped him before was helping him proceed in this mission.

He searches for you in the crowd with continuous effort, but you seem to have disappeared a long time ago, as though your conversation with him was just another of his delusions. Lee Minho also realises that he's a little tipsy. He's starting to sweat under the warm suit in the crowded room, and he feels his heart rate pick up rapidly. Unlike how he had become tolerant of the alcohol here in Chicago, he wasn't used to this club as an entity, he especially wasn't used to you. For a trained detective like Minho, two minutes was all it took for him to decipher what a person desires, what their intentions are, but you were so hard to read. He had never felt so incompetent, so out of it before. He looks back at the bartender, who had offered him another free drink.

"What do they call her, that flapper?"

"She isn't just any flapper," the man replies with a smirk, "she's the most famous in the city, her stage name is Estelle Vin."

"Is she always that... mysterious? I can't help be drawn to her," Minho confesses foolishly, wanting to gauge the bartender further.

"Well, you're not the only one." the bartender jokes.

"Well then I'll need these," he reveals. the pearls dangling from his hand, "if you know what I mean," he flashes a wink, pretending to be a lovesick fool, unsure if it was pretention on his part.

Lee Minho leaves with a small stumble, feeling the blood rush to his ears, his entire body getting warm. His vision is somewhat blurry, as he pushes his way towards the door he was eyeing before, his hands clutching the pearls close to his chest in his breast-pocket, holding on as though his entire life depended on it, and maybe it did.

He had to duck through the entrance to the dressing rooms, where he found himself standing in a complex maze. There were doors to the right and left of him, and a long corridor leading down. The shabby exterior was deceptive of the space within the club, and he could barely believe that it was just a small, rundown club that lured people in. He walks further down the corridor, when a singer comes out of a door on the left. She looks at him, startled by his intrusion. "Who...?How did you enter? It's authorised personals only."

He quickly apologises, and in convoluted sentences that his brain pushed out, explained that he had something to return. "The door was unlocked, and I need to see Ms Vin."

The lights dimmed nearby, signalling that a new performance was about to start. The stranger looks rushed and tries to shoo him away.

"Get out, and stop acting like a stalker. This would ruin your reputation Mr Claude Landry."

Lee Minho's eyebrows furrow in confusion. Why did a singer working here know his surname? He had only disclosed it to Mr Brown and a few other aristocrats. He was sure that most of them were tight-lipped about it, but now he was somewhat alarmed. Of course, as a man of public curiosity, along with him being a foreigner, it may not be as alarming. Maybe a clerk saw him sign as Landry, and he overruled his previous suspicions. Absorbed in his thoughts, he slowly back away from this new area shrouded in mystery, until he feels the floor under his feet vibrating, as though something heavy was moving below.

"There's no way what I'm feeling is an earthquake now ma'am?" he questions, his suspicions aroused for perhaps the hundredth time in the night.

"I think you've had too much of hooch Mr Landry," the stranger replies.

Sure, he was somewhat intoxicated but there's no way he'd be this gone. He also made sure that the bartender didn't have any chance to spike his drink, which makes him feel fluky. The feeling increases, and he swears he can hear glass shatter below him, although faint. The Whangdoodle from the stage increases their volume as this happens, and Minho finds his ears ringing.

It was at that moment you spring out of your dressing room, almost alarmed. "Why are they so lou-" you exclaim but stop when you notice Minho.

His eyes look into yours, and for a second he feels relieved to see someone he knows, though barely. At least the situation didn't seem as unfamiliar as it did before.

"It's loud isn't it Ms Vin?" he asks, back to his stoic self, as though examining your anxious demeanour.

You hold back a breath, unsure how to answer the question. A new shipment was supposed to arrive today, and they're usually stored in the basement, which unfortunately happened to be right below where you were standing. You'd ensure that the entrance to this area was secure, but most of the men had gone to help carry the shipment in, which happened to be in excess today, and you must have left it open when you came back with your head muddled with thoughts of Minho. It was scary. The fate that usually favoured you, happened to be sabotaging you today.

"Yeah, the band is louder than usual, I should probably check on them."

You locked your door to stop him from entering, and nod at your colleague. She tries to usher Minho back to the main area, and you also try to leave past him. He grabs your hands instead, and you feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"This must be yours," you see your pearls drop from his hands, clinking against his watch.

You only now notice that your neck was bare, putting your hand against it. Another sound erupts from the basement, and you get frantic. You watch as your colleague runs down to the basement to make them aware of how conspicuously loud they were being. Minho is quick to follow her with his eyes, suspicion written all over his face.

In spontaneity, you pull him into the dressing room you had previously locked. It was a last resort to distract him, stupid as it was.

"I... I can wear the necklace here," you say, pulling him closer to you. "Or maybe you'd like to put it on me?" you try flirtatiously hoping to keep his attention on just you. You sit down on the red chair, and remove the makeup from the counter. Luckily for you, Minho seems to appreciate this opportunity just as much as you, walking closer until his hand rests on your naked shoulders. He carefully held your long bob in a fist, placing the cold pearls as delicately as he could around your neck, taking his sweet time. As he moves in closer, you feel his warm breath fanning your ear, where you're taken aback by his rapid breathing. You could feel his sigh travel down your spine as he bends to snap the necklace in place. It felt like he was holding himself back, deliberate. Careful. Once he's done clasping the necklace, you look at him through the mirror, his eyes focused on you. You see him take your appearance in, and a small gasp leaves his mouth.

"You look beautiful y/n," he says in a deeper voice, taking you by surprise. You weren't taken aback by the compliment itself but by the fact that you had never once given him your real name, and the only thing he could find out was your stage name. Even some of your closest workers were hidden from your real identity.

But you didn't want to confirm this with this stranger, deciding it would be best to feign innocence. You furrow your brows as though it was annoyance. "Who's y/n? Your wife? A lover? A tomato you fell in love with?"

He smirks, "Future wife, maybe. Lover, if we're looking to start from today" he counters, snarky, yet in a weird way seductive. At this point you were beyond alarmed and tried extremely hard to keep yourself grounded to this new predicament.

"What do you mean by we? Besides if you want to address me, then you can call me Estelle."

"Well, are you jealous Estelle? Cause to be honest I'd rather call out your name later instead of y/n. I really hope you aren't y/n."

Who was he and Why did he care so much? Maybe he was mistaken, your name might be popular in France, or wherever he's from. Because there's no way he was referring to you.

You wanted to change the conversation desperately, you absolutely had to. In so many years of hiding behind a façade, it was scary having it disintegrated, crumble in seconds by a mere stranger.

"I'm not jealous, Claude. I don't think you should be here, unless you have more to speculate?"

He says nothing, instead he reaches for his breast-pocket for the umpteenth time, removing his linen handkerchief engraved with C.L and a classic fountain pen with gold borders.

"Time and date, for our next meeting," he asks sweetly, a charming smile painted on his lips.

You take his pen and examine it carefully. "Looks expensive, must be a family heirloom," you ask carelessly.

Minho smiles, as though he had already won this game of deception. Did he actually know your name? No. But he made a somewhat educated guess. Like most of the women of the time, you had tattooed on your back your social security number. As a celebration of autonomy, it had become a popular trend, which you also seemed to have followed. Luckily, for him, he had access to the case of a few bootleggers who were hidden so well that the only thing that could be traced was the social security number on someone's back. The number belonged to y/n l/n. Did it help that the social security number had no pictures? No. But did it help that the numbers on your back were visible to him as he placed the necklace on you? Of course it did. He decided to take a dangerous bet, and observe your reaction.

Beyond your unperturbed expression, he could see a shift in your body language, your fingers clasped onto your necklace tighter for some time, before you recovered, your confident face wavering and your beautiful eyes shifting away from him . All he had to do was catch you in the act.

"You're such a liar Claude." you say out of nowhere. "What are you? A cop? you say also catching him off-guard.

"A cop, those incompetent people with a meagre salary? Of course I'm not, don't be ridiculous darling." he replies slowly.

He watches you smile, a menacing one that pretended to be comforting. "It was a joke, of course you're not a cop, you're big cheese around here," he takes the handkerchief from you, where he sees all you've written on it is "today" with a red lipstick stain on it.

"Today?" he raises an eyebrows in surprise. "Yeah, unless your bank's closed?" you entice.

He smiles and pulls you in swiftly. His unexpectedly rough hand that you would not expect someone rich to have, is on your back, drawing circles as his lips are pushed against yours. You taste the same cheap wine you had offered him towards the back of his tongue, except that it tasted so much better this way. You could taste remnants of the fake plum flavouring, mixed with the scent of your Chanel no 5 parfum taking over all your senses. You feel as his cold fingers trace definitely around your back. "Three" he whispers, "Eight," he continues, moving leftwards, causing goosebumps where he'd left his impression. "One" he continues. You pause for a moment, confused at the numbers he was repeating, until it eventually dawns on you. You push him away worried, your pearls clinking as you move back. "Anything wrong?" he asks innocently. You knew you couldn't directly admit to being a criminal. He wouldn't know just by your social security number, unless he was working with someone important. But he also somehow knew your name.

At this point you knew he wasn't a French Casanova, observing how his supposed "heirloom" had different initials engraved on the pen, L.M., which you were sure didn't belong to a Claude Landry, or that of a real family. It must have been a stolen good bought illegally, or that L.M were his real initials. The only way you could find out was if you played along.

"Nothing, I just needed a breather, your kisses are quite intense," you make a stupid excuse. Despite realising that you weren't yourself around him, you go back to making out with this handsome stranger, his hands going back to where they were until he managed to trace your entire number. He removes his tweed suit, and lifts up your dress until it was hiked far above your thighs, and with every movement the tassels of your dress get tangled up near his zip. You unbutton his cotton shirt, holding the fabric close, revealing his chest which was so much warmer than your hands. A chill blows through the window, and you shiver in between his warm touches. He stops there for a minute, and eyes the bottle of rum on your counter. He lifts you with ease, and places you on the counter, where your social number was reflected in the mirror, as though everything about you had finally been revealed.

"We should make our last toast," he speaks up breathless, sipping out of the bottle, then holding it to your lips. You accept, and gulp down more than you usually do. Something tells you it would be the last time you'd be this delirious, yet so satisfied. It was like with every kiss, he meant to take you down, in more ways than one. His kisses travelled down your body, scattered, frenzied. He kissed as though this was the first and only time he'd be this close to you. Soon you also gave in to the delicate pressure with all your being, overruling your innate intuition, lost in his seduction.

You were so guilty of doing this. Of finding comfort in the way he moaned your name, your real name, in low whispers, something you'd never trust anyone to do. And it didn't matter what secrets he hid when he made you feel this good. Though you were always guilty of lying to others, so was he. In a weird way, for tonight both of you would be equals- equally guilty parties for betraying yourselves.

Similarly, no one would ever fathom how utterly guilty Lee Minho felt with his tongue driven down your throat, enjoying it despite knowing you were a criminal. It was as though he couldn't let go, and for a minute he felt like none of it mattered, and that you were as innocent as your kisses fluttering over his collarbones. For tonight, he'd become the sinner, not you.

The same Lee Minho who hated being drunk during work hours, was beyond pleased, convincing himself that it was just for tonight. For just this night, he'd given into this hedonistic urge, of wanting nothing but a taste of your body, of your attention and your entire world which he would eventually have to destroy tomorrow. But tomorrow was so many kisses, so many secrets and so many bottles of alcohol later. So he continued deluding himself with your moans and soft lips, until he could no longer despise himself for his new intoxication: you.

Hi there, a small repost. I thought this read better as a single post instead of a two part, hence why some transitions may be bad.

I hope you enjoyed

<3 macaroon

[dustedmagazine]

Body Meπa — Prayer in Dub (Hausu Mountain)

Photo by Daniel Efram

Across the surface, guitarists Sasha Frere-Jones and Grey McMurray weave febrile webs. Their interplay catches the ear immediately but it’s the kinetic rhythms laid down by bassist Melvin Gibbs and particularly drummer Greg Fox that really stick. The title of Body Meπa’s Prayer in Dub is something of a misdirection. Although elements of both are present in the often-meditative atmosphere, ample space, and grooves of the quartet’s second album. The four musicians here have deep histories in improvisation, art rock, jazz and contemporary classical music and fuse elements of those styles into instrumentals that recall bands like Mogwai and Slint more than say, the myriad dub fusions of Bill Laswell. The music emanates from an almost telepathic understanding between a group of peers with shared intuition and a generosity of spirit that allows structures to develop in cooperative and organic patterns. Even when they seem to be spiraling away on individual orbits there is a centrifugal logic that holds everything together.

“Etel” opens on Fox’s double time snares as the guitars circle searching for a common thread. Beneath that Gibbs plays rich and smooth, a steady anchor for the explorations. The guitars fill the space between building slowly. The contrast with the drums’ tempo, a rein on a runaway horse. When the track approaches the halfway point, the rhythm section loosens, freeing the guitars to ascend into swathes of ecstatic atmospherics. Not precisely chaotic, more a determined feeling out, a testing the possibilities. What follows is a series of nuanced explorations of texture, mood, and tone. Body Meπa are experts at both concision and expansion. At 85 seconds the interlude “Welcome” passes in a swirl of cymbals and pensive electricity before segueing into the slow burn psyche influenced “Deborah” with its distorted guitar blistering over a bluesy rhythm which stutters along beneath. It’s the most overtly “rock” piece here but as it seems to collapse into itself, it feels like the despair of loss. The 16 minute plus “Scout” showcases the quartet’s ability to locate and embody essential truths. With the musicality of Fox’s drumming and the heft of Gibbs’ bass to the fore, McMurray and Frere-Jones patiently intensify their interplay. You feel the storm approach and it breaks upon you as emotional maelstrom and cathartic release, splendid in its power and cauterizing in its effect. An antidote for the times.

Andrew Forell

[witchthewriter]

𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑓𝑜𝑟 @crazylurkercatlady.

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑦, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑀𝑎𝑥𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑓𝑓! I think you two would be THE perfect couple! Like two witchy mums who everyone goes to when they feel sad or unsafe or in need of comfort. She would love you with every part of her being. No matter what you've done, she would accept you wholeheartedly.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

She always wakes up before you and LOVES making you breakfast in bed. It's always a range of toast and tea to pancakes and juice, to sausages and scrambled eggs with coffee. She likes trying new things with her cooking

She shows her love by doing the chores that you dislikes doing. And once you realise what she was doing, you do the same for her.

She writes you love letters all the time and leaves them around the house, in drawers, tucked beneath clothes.

Always gives you her undivided attention when you need to vent, or when you need advice or need to tell someone about how shitty everything is going.

You love gathering herbs, plants, and ingredients for witchy things. Like potions, balms and ointments. It's a bonding experience that you'll never forget. Two cauldrons, bubbling with glowing light, candles floating around you, the night sky watching through the windows. It was amazing.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

More Than A Woman by the Midnite String Quartet

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Home Is Wherever You Are

More Alike Than Different

The Moon and Her Star

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Redemption

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Your creativity, that you love painting, exploring, your love for books and your loyalty. There's too much about you that she loves - she can't just pick one. You have an innate otherworldliness that Wanda picked up on when you first met, like you weren't meant for earth - but here you are.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Thor! He really brings out your outgoing side. With him, you don't care whose in the room, because Thor can handle anything and being around him makes you feel like you could take on the world.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mixture of Yelena, Nat, and Thor! You have to remember that you are a Leo Sun, Cancer Rising - the two most magnificent and alluring placements. People cannot help but be drawn to you. There's so much light and intuition that you possess, it's astounding.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

You have two birds that visit everyday that Wanda feeds from hand.

And you have your favourite pets; two cats named Artemis & Athena.

𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐼𝑠𝑎𝑎𝑐 𝐿𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑦! He is such a puppy, to me he definitely has Pisces in his chart - he's loving as well as loveable, intuitive, emotional. He seems to have the ISFJ personality type; the defender/protector. He's soft-spoken, gentle and well-mannered. I think you would feel very soft in this relationship.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Whenever Isaac is feeling down, you continuously remind him that he's loved, valued and appreciated on days when he's feeling down.

Since you two would be around the same age - meaning you both know technology and how phones work. You both send each other lots of memes, Tik Toks, etc.

You constantly have to remind him of appointments, or to drink something (he's so bad at drinking water)

Daydreams about you, even though he knows he's going to see you soon. He just loves you so much.

He's always excited to plan date night, this side of him is only for you - it's special. So special to see him like this, caring so much, giving so much of himself to you.

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Goodnight Sweet Possums by John Powell

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Pair of walking disasters who cannot function without the other

Would Die For Each Other

“I care about you!” (You) x “You shouldn’t!” (Isaac)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Everyone Knows But You Two

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

How you don't judge him, how much thought you put into things; how much you care about those you love. You're brilliant at gift giving, able to get the absolute perfect gift (it didn't have to be expensive but what the person needs). And Isaac would start to see how others interact, what issues other people had - rather than be wrapped up in his own. You, without knowing it, make him a better person.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Allison and Lydia! I think you three in a sort of ... girl group, would be very interesting. You would be the one to cross the bridge between the pair, be the glue. But you would also have ties to Beacon Hills - possibly you come from a long line of family witches?

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mix of Allison, Scott and Stiles. Open-minded, quick-witted, caring, a bit of a motherly side. You care about people, you want to help others, but also like being on your own, you like your solitude.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

A huge, mostly black cat with white hair. He's your familiar, and follows you almost everywhere (except into dangerous situations or when you go to the mall).

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑠 𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑑! The most knowledgable, wise and witty of the Sons. I think he would be a great match for you because even though he isn't as chaotic, he's still silly and loves cracking jokes. He's humorous, and when you're together - that humour is off the charts.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Chibs always has a knack for making you feel safe. Even when he isn't there, you know that you're safe. You don't mind having a Prospect over when they're doing particularly dangerous things, so long as he keeps to himself.

When Chibs is home, he gives you the best affection possible. Hugs, kisses, stroking your hair, letting you fall asleep on him, caring you to bed, forehead kisses. You'd be touch-starved no longer.

He loves having you on his bike. You're the only other person who is allowed to sit on the bike by yourself.

He's kept every promise you have ever told him and vice versa

Type of person to purchase little gifts that made Chibs think of you

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Hurricane by Possessed Paul James

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Cautious (You) x Reckless (Chibs) he always says, "life's short sweet heart - let's make the most of it, eh?"

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (You said to him) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (His response)

Gives Necklace x Wears It Everyday No Matter What

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Enemies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

He loves how feral you can become. Chaotic, frenzied and hyper. He loves that energy because it makes him feel young, it makes him feel energised. You are unlike any other person he'd known. Yes you can have similarities to others, but the core of you is so interesting, the way your brain works - it blows his mind.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Tara! You both have a maturity that not many in this club/family do. You also cannot believe HOW she's a full-on doctor, and a full-time mother. You constantly commend her, and remind her of that. And if she ever needs help, you'll be there (somehow you do end up helping with the boys a lot.)

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

I think you're a mix of Tara; maturity, intelligence, kindness, Gemma; sense of self-preservation, hypervigilance, wit and self-awareness and Opie; introspective, loyal, committed and a great companion.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

You have two cats

Your first is the beautiful fluffy white one and most recently, you got a black and white kitten. Funnily enough, they actually get on very well. Chibs isn't much of a dog person, and actually likes cats a lot.

Btw I also have ADHD & Autism! I would love to hear your experiences and what has helped you. I only got my diagnosis a few months ago, but everything seemed to make so much more sense. Everything I used to get painfully in trouble for, was actually a response from my brain that I could not control. Knowing that has brought up so much emotion from me and it's hard.

[satoshi-mochida]

Dragon’s Dogma II launches March 22, 2024

Gematsu Source

Dragon’s Dogma II will launch for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series, and PC via Steam on March 22, 2024 for $69.99, Capcom announced. Pre-orders are available now.

A $79.99 Deluxe Edition will also be available, which includes the base game and downloadable content “A Boon for Adventurers – New Journey Pack.” The pack includes the following:

Explorer’s Camping Kit – Camping Gear

Dragon’s Dogma Music & Sound Collection – Custom Sounds

Harpysnare Smoke Beacons – Harpy Lure Item

Heartfelt Pendant – A Thoughtful Gift

Ambivalent Rift Incense – Change Pawn Inclinations

Makeshift Gaol Key – Escape from gaol!

Art of Metamorphosis – Character Editor

Wakestone – Restore the dead to life!

1,500 Rift Crystals – Points to Spend Beyond the Rift

Pre-orders for all editions of Dragon’s Dogma II will include the “Superior Weapons Quartet” to support players in early battles. Pre-orders for the Deluxe Edition will also include the “Ring of Assurance.”

“Dragon’s Dogma is a game that I dreamed of playing as a boy who loved TRPG-based games and action games, and I have a special attachment to it,” director Hideaki Itsuno said on PlayStation Blog. “Dragon’s Dogma II incorporates ideas that were not technically feasible at the time we created the first game. I believe this game will let you experience the fantasy world you’ve always dreamed of, a fantasy world action simulator game, and ultimately be the ultimate Dragon’s Dogma. The entire team is working hard on the final touches of the game. Whether you’ve played the first game or not, we hope you’ll enjoy your adventure in this open fantasy world.”

Get the latest details below.

Adventure in Two Nations

In Dragon’s Dogma II, players experience the tale of the Arisen, a champion whose heart is stolen by the Dragon. While the sequel’s setting mirrors the lush rolling hills of the cult classic Dragon’s Dogma and its Dark Arisen expansion, this original adventure takes place in a parallel world containing two nations with distinct approaches to the Dragon threat. Queen Regent Disa has installed a false Arisen to maintain control of the kingdom of Vermund for her son. Meanwhile, the beastren nation of Battahl considers the otherworldly Pawns to be a source of misfortune and have turned to worship of the Lambent Flame and their empress Nadinia to ward off calamity. The showcase provided a look at some of the destinations that quests can lead players to, such as the reclusive elven enclave of Sacred Arbor. The elves there communicate in their own language, and Pawns capable of understanding their speech will translate for the Arisen while in your party. Pawns can also specialize in other skills, making each of their personalities more distinct.

A Journey Defined by Choice

Upon starting their journey in Dragon’s Dogma II, players will be able to craft both their Arisen and Main Pawn using an intuitive and deep character creator that makes use of photogrammetry to enhance the realism of each characters’ appearance. Additionally, players can choose the personality of their main Pawn, which will determine their behavior and conversation choices throughout the game. As players progress, they will unlock additional vocations such as the newly revealed Trickster. This Arisen-exclusive vocation can conjure illusions through the smoke created by its unique weapon, the Censer. Tricksters can use illusions to deceive enemies into fighting against their own, and can temporarily increase the power of Pawns beyond their limits. The new Trickster vocation showcases the ways players can manipulate and take advantage of the enhanced enemy AI to open entirely new combat opportunities. The digital event also provided a first look at the returning Warrior and Sorcerer Vocations that will be available to both the Arisen and Pawns. The Warrior boasts a robust physique specializing in direct combat, with the strength to endure enemy attacks. Warriors are masters of two-handed weapons such as the greatsword and the hammer. The Sorcerer is a vocation completely specialized in various magick attacks. Their magick is conjured with both hands through a large staff and can change the tide of battle at any given opportunity.

Confront Fearsome Foes

Director Itsuno and Producer Hirabayashi provided a first look at several monsters during the digital event, including the new Talos enemy, a towering bronze golem capable of wreaking untold destruction with a single step. After Talos rises from the waters, players will need to make use of the various tools afforded them by their Vocation, Pawns, and terrain to subdue this mighty construct. The digital event also revealed gameplay for the Dullahan and Drake enemies. Dullahan is a headless specter capable of immobilizing its target before striking with its powerful curved blade. Drakes are fearsome draconic foes capable of breathing a potent flame when confronted and taking flight to shift the scales of combat.

Product Information

In addition to the standard version of Dragon’s Dogma II available for MSRP $69.99, a Deluxe Edition containing the “New Journey Pack” includes in-game items to help your Arisen on their journey such as a custom Camping Kit, a Wakestone, Rift Crystals, a Dragon’s Dogma Music and Sound collection, and more will be available for MSRP $79.99. Pre-orders of the Standard Edition will feature a bonus weapon for each of the four starting vocations, and Deluxe Edition pre-orders will also include the Ring of Assurance in-game accessory.

Watch a new trailer and Dragon’s Dogma II Showcase 2023 below. View a new set of screenshots at the gallery.

Main Trailer

English

Japanese

Dragon's Dogma II Showcase 2023

English

Japanese

[bookish-whore]

❤️✨V-Day Headcanons✨❤️

A/N: To close out the night we have our most handsome high lord, our night triumphant, death incarnate himself and I am unwell bc all I want is them but alas here I lay illyrian-less. anyways happy valentines day everyone you are all deserving of all the love and I hope this managed to brighten your day. ❤️

Rhysand

I am of the belief that words of affirmation and acts of service are his love languages (words especially after UTM because of his trauma)

He has been planning this day for weeks (probably months tbh) because everything needs to be perfect.

He would absolutely do something completely over the top and outrageous like fill your entire home with flowers from all over the city (like Schmidt from new girl style but on steroids) like I'm talking thousands of flowers, buys out all the vendors in Velaris

He would wake you up with oral sex, it's his favorite he absolutely loves pleasing you and hearing all the little moans and sounds you make

He is all about the pampering, he's running you a bath and washing your hair, and sending you out to do menial errands like getting your hair and nails done while he works on setting up for the night.

He just doesn't want you around to tell him that all the fuss isn't necessary because for you it absolutely is. he would tear down this world and the next just to see you smile and he wants you to feel like the goddess he thinks you are.

He has acquired a private chef, and a private string quartet because he wants tonight to be all about just you two, no one else

You come home and he immediately blindfolds you leading you to a room where he has prepared everything (the twins are already waiting to help you dress)

"Darling you didn't have to do all of this" you say tears lining your eyes because you know he has done something elaborate and you can't fathom anyone loving you that much.

"For you? of course I did" he says "I'll see you soon"

you grab a hold of his hand before he can leave.

"I love you" you say kissing him, its a deep kiss full of longing and passion

you make your way down the staircase in the elegant ballgown you had for the evening to find the room full of flowers and only illuminated by the hundreds of candles

you are completely taken aback by the display, your heart swelling at the thought of how long it took to plan this.

He leads you to your intimate dinner setting and you enjoy the best meal you've ever eaten.

You make your way to dance, his steady footsteps and sure footing gliding you across the ballroom.

"Rhys- you didn't have to do all this you know. I love that you did and I feel so loved and understood but darling we have a lifetime of celebrations like this" you say softly into his chest

"I know we have a lifetime to spend together, but all that means is I have a lifetime to prove to you every day that my love for you has no limits" he says twirling you around before capturing you back in his arms

You walk the grounds of your home, talking about your future and just enjoying your time together

you make your way upstairs to your shared room and he helps you undress (he does so ever so slowly)

His hands are simply roaming your body, no destination in mind just intuitively building the tension between you.

He is usually down for some steamy kinky sex but tonight he really wants to take it slow and worship your body

He takes his time, building up your need until your practically crying for him. "Please Rhys- I-I need you" you beg

He obliges (probably giving you the best orgasm of your life)

After, you tuck yourself into his side, holding him close as you drift off to sleep "thank you for today my love. it was better than I could have even imagined"

he smiles holding you close as he presses a kiss to your forehead "anything for you darling."

(screaming, crying, and throwing up bc I want this so badly.)

[slackville-records]

“At the age of seventeen, I listened to the John Coltrane Quartet, focusing on McCoy Tyner’s work, feeding Coltrane harmonic and rhythmic ideas to springboard off of - and I developed an approach to guitar playing based off of it. This happened because Phil turned me on to the Coltrane Quartet.

Early on, he also introduced me (and us) to the wonders of modern classical music, with its textures and developments, which we soon tried our hands at incorporating into what we had to offer. This was all new to peoples’ ears. Igor Stravinsky’s work wasn’t news to me at that point, but what he did and how he did it were ongoing topics of discussion for Phil and I - and boy, did I ever grow.

Concurrent with all this was the ongoing conversation about the things (ideas) we present outside of music, and the effect it would have in shaping the world around us - let’s just say Phil wasn’t particularly averse to ruffling a few feathers. We had our differences, of course, but it’s not platitudinous to say that that only made our work together more meaningful.

Our conversation and interaction will last, at very least, ‘til the end of my days.

The Muse gives us the people and tools to work with. Where we go with that work emerges from somewhere between our intuition and her inspiration. It’s a process always cloaked deep in Mystery, and at its best, the Mystery is forever lasting after its rendering. *Look out of any window…* has that ring to it.

Meanwhile, given that death is the last and best reward for a life *well and fully lived*, I rejoice in his liberation...”

Bob Weir

[keravnos-kori]

return to sender - chapter three: best and brightest

ofc x tech (eventual)

word count: 5.1k

rts masterlist // ao3 link

summary: halla has been alone for the past three years. as it turns out, relocating to coruscant and attending a prestigious university hasn’t been as glamorous as she originally expected - but when a new opportunity comes along for her to prove the republic’s injustices committed against clone troopers, she might get more than she bargained for when the power structure suddenly collapses and is replaced by something far more sinister…

a/n:...let's pretend it hasn't been almost three years since i've updated

~~~~~~

“Are we there yet?”

A collective sigh reverberated throughout the cabin. Tech bit his tongue, but couldn’t help his eyes from rolling. “For the eighth time, Wrecker, you’ll know we have reached our destination when we drop out of hyperspace.”

The largest member of the Batch released an irritable groan from his position on the floor, resting his head on the cool durasteel siding that made up the Marauder’s interior.

“Does it always take this long? I never have to pay attention since Crosshair-…” Wrecker trailed off, the circumstances that led them to Saleucami in the first place overtaking his thoughts.

There was a tense silence that spread between the cockpit and main hold, cut through after a moment by the newest member of the crew. “I’m sure it can’t be that much longer!” Omega reassured. The young girl swiveled around in the co-pilot’s seat to face the rest of her companions, feet barely brushing the ground.

Tech glanced up from his datapad to assess the chronometer on the console closest to him. “Your intuition is correct. We are expected to make the drop in approximately one-half standard hour.”

Turning to follow Omega’s gaze, Tech noticed Echo nodding somewhat absently at the communications panel. Hunter continued to pace the length of the ship’s main compartment, fingers twitching near the holster of his vibroblade: a habit only initiated when his patience was wearing thin.

Staying glued to his datapad was the most effective way to keep Tech’s mind occupied in the moment. There was a lot to process from the past few days, and while he was mentally capable of doing so, he was not sure he was prepared to open up emotionally in front of his brothers about his concerns.

This seemed just fine with the others, as they had yet to discuss the implications of Crosshair’s departure either.

Having to leave their brother behind was a difficult decision, to say the least. Though Crosshair began to act strangely on Kaller, the Batch chalked it up to his severe disposition and assumed he was in a sour mood from all the contradictory orders. It wasn’t until their mission in the Onderon sector that things got out of hand.

Disobeying Hunter to his face. Threatening civilians. A total lack of disregard for how they always operated.

All in all, Tech felt as if he’d failed Crosshair, and not just from departing without him.

For not being able to see the warning signs sooner.

They’d always been close. As close as anyone could be to Tech, and vice versa with Crosshair.

Flashes of their days as cadets flashed in Tech’s mind. Everything that they’d gone through together, first as a quartet for the majority of their enhanced lifespans, then with the welcome addition of Echo to their squad. What was it all for if they left each other behind?

Wasn’t that what made them who they were from the very beginning?

Tech inhaled deeply, clearing his thoughts.

Crosshair’s absence wasn’t the only thing troubling him. Nearly 12,400 parsecs away was a civilian he had, for weeks now, kept contact with.

Against Republic regulation.

Tech had his own creative methods of bending the rules, but this went against his training completely.

He accepted her request for academic assistance on a whim. Resisting pursuits of knowledge was not where his strengths lie.

But that wasn’t all…

This civvie, this woman, was in the very heart of Imperial territory from what Tech was able to glean from scattered radio waves. In his last transmission, he was able to relay recent events to her and provide a warning to escape before anything worse happened in her vicinity.

Her.

Halla.

Contact attempts would have to be few and far between them now. He was effectively on the run from his creators and she was subject to increased surveillance in the capital.

The thought was not a pleasant one.

He was confident in his ability to take care of himself despite the circumstances, but she was just a student - albeit a rather intelligent one. Tech knew, though, that intellect and survival skills were nowhere close to being in the same category. The best he could hope for would be that she keeps her head down and book passage to a system not known for its ties with the centralized government; much like his own plan.

Redirecting his attention back towards his screen, Tech’s heel began to bounce beneath the control yoke as he began to brainstorm potential solutions. How could he provide assistance from such a distance away? What good would he be to her if they had no method of communication?

Straightening his back, Tech decided to compose a new message before he had to switch back to piloting manually.

If he was capable of modifying his signal to become untraceable (which he was and did), and he provided instructions to Halla to do the same, would it not be logical to assume their transmissions could resume without external interference?

There was a flurry of typing as Tech did all he could to explain, down to the minutiae, the process of concealing one’s transmission identifier, holonet mask, and localized device positioning mechanism.

Child’s play for him, in the grand scheme of things, but not for an individual with no engineering experience whatsoever and who had once admitted to him that she’d once fallen for a basic malware ploy that resulted in unsavory Neimoidian images to be downloaded on to a University-owned device.

On that note, Tech made an effort to be as thorough with his directions as possible.

Once the list was drawn up and revised for clarity, Tech took a moment to check the chrono once more: T-minus four minutes until the drop. Satisfied with the results of his work, Tech wrote a quick note near the top of the message and addressed it before sending it off.

Clipping the datapad back onto his utility belt, Tech began his routine of sublight prechecks.

If Crosshair couldn’t be helped right now, maybe Halla could.

~~~

Halla was not a morning person.

She did not enjoy drinking caf or planning how she was supposed to be productive that day. Most of all, she hated waking up before noon on a good day. If it weren’t for the bitterness she felt at the news she received yesterday, Halla would still gladly be nestled in bed.

But no. Here she was, bright and early at 08:00 hours, waiting for an audience with her new graduate advisor.

The administrative complex was just as big and expensive as the rest of the buildings across campus, filled with similar indoor-friendly greenery and back-breaking duraplast seating. The newest addition, besides the drab gray and white uniforms milling about, was the massive tapestries emblazoned with the newly minted Imperial cog draped liberally both in and outside all University structures.

Halla imagined they were meant to display “indomitable allegiance to the cause” or something of the like, but the only impression she was left with was how badly the shades of black clashed with the pristine white and emerald interior.

From her position in the foyer, Halla could still hear the protestors on the steps outside only meters away. It was a diverse bunch, much like the former populace of the college, all holding signs and chanting something along the lines of “hey hey, ho ho, racism’s got to go!”

It had been embarrassing to walk past them, entering the building with her loose hair as a partition between herself and the crowd. She would have joined in, and might’ve said as much to them if she weren’t trying to avoid the scrutiny of the security guards holding a barrier in place.

She was a traitor.

Halla’s meeting with the Dean was not exactly on his daily agenda. She had figured his last message counted as an open invitation, leading her to plaster on a cheerful smile at the check-in center and con her way onto the visitor list.

A list. For who exactly?

Besides a few spare personnel milling about, there was a distinct lack of student activity taking place inside. Halla never saw anyone go into the Admin Complex ahead of her, and there was no one else in the lobby to follow her up either.

They’re just wasting your time to establish authority. Be patient.

Patience was never Halla’s strong suit.

Eons (or maybe just another handful of minutes) passed before the receptionist flagged her down and led her to the lift. Riding up to the story hosting the Dean’s Offices, Halla was cast off to the next administrator who directed her to stand outside a room labeled Aurek Suite.

The pneumatic door opened, though no one was standing at the control panel. Instead, a man was sitting behind a barren desk, the high back of his chair rising over his head.

Arlin Sreetus looked to be the poster boy of the imposing aesthetic his employer was implementing across the planet. Perfectly parted hair, piercing blue eyes, and not a speck on his uniform. Neat, clean, manicured down to a level that was almost unsettling to gaze upon.

Halla felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

She wasn’t prepared for when he opened his mouth.

“Miss Ismaren, so nice to finally match a face to its name. Please, come in and sit.” He greeted her from across the room.

Halla had to bite the inside of her mouth to prevent herself from doing something she’d regret. The Dean’s voice was not suited for the body that produced it, much too nasally and broken to fit the façade that went along with his flawless white jacket.

Once she trusted herself to speak again, Halla released the inside of her cheek from between her molars, quickly striding across the office and finding her seat across from the Dean.

How am I supposed to stay angry with this slime when I’m too busy trying to keep myself from laughing?

“Good morning,” Halla greeted, tone as stiff as she could manage.

Sreetus glanced at the terminal in front of him before addressing Halla again.

“I see you’ve received my message,” he said.

“I have,” she responded.

He raised his eyebrows, and Halla had to wonder if he even knew she wasn’t here to be on friendly terms.

"I've reviewed your academic profile," he started. “Impressive credentials you have here… near-perfect grade point, published research commendations, federal volunteer work.” His eyes continued to flit back and forth between her and his screen as he spoke. “Very impressive, indeed.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Halla deadpanned.

The Dean’s nose twitched, barely noticeable but present nonetheless.

“I also noticed while reviewing your file that you have yet to register for your chain code. Every Imperial citizen is required to have one. Is there a reason you don’t?” He asked patronizingly.

Register? Chain codes?

Halla froze for only a half second before she attempted to brush the question off.

“I was planning on getting around to it soon. I’ve been rather busy with my research, as you could imagine.” She said pointedly.

Sreetus leaned back in his chair, blue-and-red rank plaque upon his chest shining under the bright fluorescent lighting. “Ah, yes. Your clone studies. I’m glad you decided to visit today so we can redirect you towards more…productive outlets.”

Halla bristled, “With all due respect,” which is none, “I believe my current track is the most productive use of my time. You can see from my portfolio, I’ve worked in this area for the past few yea-”.

Sreetus spoke up, effectively steamrolling over her protests before she could even elaborate on her position.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of your past endeavors Miss Ismaren,” he groused. “No need to recount every detail.”

“But, I-”.

“There are better opportunities for you now, Miss Ismaren. I understand you hold special interests, but it is time to leave them in the past. The present is where you need to be, with the rest of us - helping to drive society forward.”

More like helping to send it into an authoritarian backslide.

Her silence prompted him to keep speaking, not that there was much time to pipe up anyway.

“You’re lucky, you know. To have such connections in your life capable of putting your name forward for such an exclusive position.”

If anything in the past twenty-four hours took Halla off guard, that comment was it.

“I’m…not sure what you mean.”

“An in. An assignment within the Imperial Service Corps. - the Security Bureau.” Despite the smug look on his face, Halla got the sense that behind his words lay a twinge of envy. “A personal recommendation from your father.”

No.

That couldn't be right.

“Sorry, you must be mistaken. My father, my biological father - we don’t speak. I haven’t seen him since I was eleven, haven’t heard anything from him directly since the start of the war. And besides, he has nothing to do with Security or whatever Service Corps. you’re talking about. He’s been in the Navy his entire career.”

Sreetus pushed on, “Forgive me then, for assuming you held contact. His surname was never redacted from your official record,” He cleared his throat and began reading off his screen. “Age: twenty-two, birthplace: Coruscant, full legal name: Hal’lazorinda Naimina Sileas Ismaren-Y-”.

Before he had the chance to finish his recitation, Halla found herself cutting him off, “I don’t go by that name. Ever.”

“And yet you use the rest…” He huffed under his breath. “Despite your…strained familial relationship, I am not mistaken. Your father’s honorable service during these past years has earned him his new position within the ISB. The request has been logged and attached to your file.” Reaching into a side drawer, Sreetus pulled out a datapad and set it squarely in front of her, already loaded with a page full of text displayed.

Taking a deep breath, Halla kept her gaze steady on the man in front of her as she reached for the device, only lowering her gaze once it was in her possession. She took a moment to skim through the first paragraph, then scrolled down to the bottom to see her father’s digital signature signing off.

Halla was dumbfounded. Why would he do something like this for her? Why now?

Feeling that she’d seen enough, Halla returned the datapad to the desk in front of her. During her review of the document, her brows had furrowed so deeply that she knew she would have a headache coming on later. All she could think about was her father’s blurry face imposed on the body of the grumpy UC archive officer.

“Now that you understand the full extent of the situation, I must counsel you to follow through with this offer. Not many your age have the chance to pass directly into the Corps. with the minimal training you have. Your only requirement would be to fulfill the Royal Imperial Academy’s junior officer preparation, maybe a basic close combat course once you are stationed. From there, you can climb to any other position you deem worthy.

Given your father’s status and the Emperor’s need for the brightest minds to fulfill his vision, the position has been tailored for you, specifically. Despite the nature of your outdated research,” Halla had to bite back a scathing remark at that comment, “you will be a perfect fit for what has been reserved.”

Halla found her head shaking ever so slightly as he finished his tirade. She had to play this safe to avoid skepticism of her loyalty, but was finding that harder and harder to do the longer this meeting went on.

“While that sounds…promising, I really have no intention of relocating anywhere without knowing where it is. Is this position intended to keep me on Coruscant?”

Sreetus pressed his thin lips together before speaking, “I am not at liberty to say. Given the confidential nature of this assignment, even I am not privy to its location. The ISB would be the organization briefing you, not the University.”

And yet you know so much about everything else…

The air around them was tense as a stare-off commenced across the desk, Halla schooling her features to match his.

He broke first. Halla’s one victory of the day.

“I sense we may be at an impasse right now. Take the day to think of what I’ve said, I will confer with the Bureau Chief and let him know I’ve spoken with you.”

Halla tilted her head and grinned, though she was sure it came off a little more sarcastically than she intended. “No issue.”

Rising from her seat, Halla turned her back on the whiny sycophant and made her way back toward the exit.

“Miss Ismaren.” Halla halted inches from the door, but did not turn around. His voice was the most severe it had been all morning.

“You would do well to learn just how far His Majesty’s power reaches. You will either join and thrive, or you may only get far enough to learn what it means to be against him. Do choose wisely, young lady. Oh, and don’t forget to register for your chain code.”

Halla didn’t remember how she found herself back downstairs, head overtaken by the dense fog of the Dean’s hidden threats.

The streets were mysteriously empty of protestors when Halla left the lobby.

~~~

Date of Transmission: 1,013:04:18

Recipient: Tech

Subject: Re: Comms Assistance

I followed your instructions to the letter, I hope I did everything right. Thought it was funny you bothered to assign me a code name - remind me to ask you about it some other time. Wanted to send a quick message to tell you my line is secure now, though I don’t know for how long now after this morning.

I met with a Uni rep who tried to recruit me into a service corps. Asked about a chain code? Didn’t know if you had any info. Either way, I’m on my way to the port to book passage off-world like you said. Will update you when done.

Stay safe out there,

Zenith

*Transceiver Identification: 02-91-31.cv.modified*

~~~

“What do you mean my credits aren’t valid? They’re galactic standard!”

A tinny response came from behind the transparisteel partition, the attendant droid repeating its earlier message: “Please be advised: your payment method has been declined. We ask that you exchange your outdated currency at the Commerce Bureau and return with the correct tender, along with a valid chain code to access the flight directory. Have a pleasant day!”

“I don’t know what you mean by outdated. Credits are credits!”

The droid’s optical sensors seemed to bore into her. Halla crossed her arms.

“Please be advised: your payment method has been declined. We ask that you exchange your outdated currency at the Commerce Bureau and return with the correct tender, along with a valid chain code to access the flight directory. Have a pleasant day!”

Halla glared up at the booth, scooping her credit chit back with more force than necessary. Pushing away from the service shelf, she couldn’t help but throw a venomous “Go to Hell!” over her shoulder. The droid only called the next person in line to come forward.

Turning on her heel, Halla stalked back to the self-checkout kiosk and punched in her information again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, a blinking red alert popped up with a message similar to that from the service desk.

Invalid Identification. Please see an attendant for assistance. Have a pleasant day!

“Blast it!” No matter the destination, no matter the departure date, all itineraries were locked behind a paywall, accessible only by, you guessed it, the correct tender and a valid chain code.

Before she could make a scene by tearing her hair out in the middle of the Spaceport, Halla stowed her chits and stalked out of the Boarding Registry.

~~~

Looking back on that awful day, Halla didn’t know why she expected it to get any better once she left the port.

Arriving back at her apartment went about the same as it normally would, except for when she stepped off the 19th-floor lift and rounded the corner to find her front door missing.

Or rather, her front door was wide open for the whole building to see inside.

Surging forward, Halla gripped her doorjamb and surveyed the interior.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Her voice shook against her will.

No reply.

With great caution, Halla entered her sitting room.

Silence.

She began to check out every inch of the space, from the floor to the ceiling and everything in between to find anything amiss.

Bewildered, Halla took a step back.

If someone had entered her home, they’d done a lousy job of burglarizing her.

Everything was as it should’ve been. Her plants, her holovids, the art on the walls, all still in their rightful place. Even Boonta was still floating around his tank without a care in the world.

Did the door just…malfunction?

For all the grief it’d given Halla over the years, the entrance’s one redeeming quality was that it was secure. It had never just opened up on its own accord before.

Padding into her bedroom, she continued to look around and take her valuables into account.

That was until she came upon her workspace.

On the ground beneath her desk was a large gap.

A large, empty gap where her holoterminal used to be.

Halla felt the blood drain from her face as her eyes went wide behind her specs.

Kriff.

Fuck!

There’s no way this is happening…

Wheeling around, she began searching every nook and cranny of her apartment for the missing console, even the spots she knew would be too small to fit it.

Halla had everything on that machine. Everything.

Her contacts, her financial information, the full draft of her dissertation.

Her entire life’s research.

Gone. All gone.

Halla stopped looking. She considered her options before going back out into the main hallway. She was sure her neighbors didn’t appreciate the way she was repeatedly punching their buzzers, but she didn’t know what else to do. Half of them didn’t open up and those that did claimed nothing out of the ordinary happened that day when asked if they had any clue what happened.

Dejected, Halla returned to her apartment making sure to enforce another lock if only to create a false sense of safety.

Safety, my ass.

She paced around for about a minute or two, running her hands over her forearms. Two minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

Then thirty.

She could only reach one conclusion, as paranoid as it made her come across; the same person - or group - that did this was the same as who she should’ve been reporting the crime to.

This was no petty theft. This had to be intentional.

Recollections began to invade her mind; Sreetus’ ominous warning, the apparent leeriness around her not being a registered citizen, and the Imperial officer she’d seen occupy her terminal in the UC archive.

She’d given no thought about the latter since it happened, but now she couldn’t help but think he was following her digital trail, digging into whatever he could scavenge from her session.

Halla had wiped her search history, but…

Leave it to the security agency to be able to pull it back up.

Letting out a defeated moan, she slapped her palm across her forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

~

Halla ended up hunkered down in the sitting room for the rest of the night. She felt like a stranger in her own home, vigilant of intruders that might return at any time.

Lying on her sofa, she kept a hand on the go-bag she packed earlier in the evening. The pack included any and all essentials she would need in case a quick getaway was needed: her personal datapad (that still had all the supplemental research she downloaded, thank the Maker), its powerpack, her data and credit chits, and a hygiene bag containing her toothbrush, dental gel, deodorant, hair brush, a travel razor, and other similar items.

Her extra set of glasses, contact pods, and a small medkit she kept stowed under her kitchen sink were also shoved down too. An extra set of boots were folded up at the bottom of the main compartment with as many leggings, tunics, sweaters, camisoles, and underwear as she could roll up laying on top of them. The side pockets were bulging with her filtered water bottle on one side and non-perishable snack foods on the other.

It was hard to prioritize what to leave behind, even in a hypothetical scenario. Halla treasured her possessions: her makeup, her jewelry, her art, and her music collection, not to mention her collection of flimsi-bound books she’d accumulated over the years, uncommon as they were.

In the end, she decided to place only the earrings she’d inherited from her grandmonna in a small pouch and wear the matching pendant around her neck for safekeeping. The music was already downloaded onto her datapad, and most of the art was obviously too large to fit in the pack, sans her sketch diary and a pouch of drawing implements which she included on impulse. After careful deliberation, Halla decided to choose one particular flimsi novel from her shelf to keep with her, due to its objective value as an antique as well as the number of times it’d been read since the initial purchase.

Halla had practiced walking around her apartment with the go-bag strapped to her back, adjusting the order of its contents as needed. Once she was satisfied, she decided to make camp out where she could be the most aware of her surroundings.

Every sudden noise made her flinch as she tossed and turned her head, never shifting from the position on her back as uncomfortable as it was. No amount of breathing exercises or words of affirmation made her feel any more secure.

How do I know I’m not being watched right now?

Time passed slowly in the dark as Halla thought of her odds of escape.

In her mind, she created a chart of pros and cons when it came to registering herself, if only to have the opportunity to get off-planet.

Pro: I’ll have access to credits that work again.

Con: Who knows what they’ll do with the information I give them?

Pro: I’ll be able to book passage out of here.

Con: What if they’re able to track where I go?

Pro: It’ll get everyone who thinks I’m against them off my back.

Con: I am against them.

Pro: It would draw attention away from-

Halla gasped, eyes flying open to stare at the ceiling.

From Tech. It would draw attention away from Tech.

He was on the run right now with the rest of his squad with a little girl in the mix now. If Halla submitted to the registry, the suspicion of her (and them by proxy) would ease up. For the Maker’s sake, she had regular correspondence with him stored on her now-confiscated holoterminal! The last few messages were never uploaded to the main drive, as they only existed on her portable device, but she couldn’t risk their safety for her own selfishness. She was risking potential charges of treason or conspiracy at this point.

If I just go and do it, maybe they won’t feel the need to snoop around more than they already have…

The decision began solidifying in her mind, despite the apprehension of what might come after.

Halla fell into a fitful sleep, fingers still clutched around the strap of the bag that rested below her.

~~~

The local Coruscanti star’s natural light didn’t reach the level Halla’s apartment resided on, so she had to rely on the day cycle atmospheric controls to tell when daybreak was.

Back aching and eyes half open, Halla bathed and dressed while her morning tea was heating up. Travel mug and protein bar in hand, she made her way to the Commerce Bureau before the line could get too long.

Spending more time there than she had anticipated, she emerged hours later with a pit in her stomach, a pouch full of polished silver credits, and a new chaincode embedded in a rather unambiguous ID card.

Soon after she returned home, Halla composed a message from her school address:

Date of Transmission: 1,013:04:19

Recipient: Arlin Sreetus, Dean

Subject: Chain Code Acquisition

Dean Sreetus,

This morning I was able to obtain my chain code, I thought you would have liked to know. I’ve considered the offer you conveyed to me and have chosen to accept. Please inform the appropriate figures in this matter that I am able to begin as soon as is convenient.

Good day,

Halla Ismaren

University of Coruscant

College of Interplanetary Law & Relations

Capital Campus

Halla wanted to feel confident in her decision, but all she felt was numb all over.

Like she had just signed her own death warrant.

She didn’t look at her datapad for the rest of the day.

This is for them.

This is the right thing to do.

~~~

Inbox: (1) Unread

Date of Transmission: 1,013:04:19

Recipient: Zenith

Subject: Chain Codes

Zenith,

I am pleased you found my instructions comprehensible, however, this is not the main issue I wish to address.

I assume you encountered difficulties while at your local spaceport due to not having a chain code in your possession. We also have run into trouble because of this new database. We were able to rectify this issue for ourselves, but I must warn you about the dangers surrounding these identifiers. If you provide me additional time, I will come up with a solution for you to get around these requirements as well.

I do not presume to direct your actions; I can only provide my opinion based on what I have seen during my latest travels.

Under no circumstances should you obtain one of these codes voluntarily. I will be able to elaborate at a later date, all I ask is that in the meantime you take my judgment into account.

-Tech

~~~~~~

taglist (comment/dm to join): @wenalena @envyspinebender @shannon-lynn-21 @kimageddon

[theloniousbach]

ALMOST LIVESTREAM: RENEE ROSNES with Steven Nelson, Peter Washington, and Lewis Nash, SMOKE JAZZ CLUB, 22 NOVEMBER 2024, 9 pm set

I have written before that when this show was also happening, I was on the Smalls Live stream for Billy Drummond with David Virelles and the always remarkable Dezron Douglas. I am no longer relying on YouTube for recent Smalls/Mezzrow’s shows as the ads became too annoying. So I try to catch things in real time or wait for them to be archived. I could finesse things with Smoke, so I did.

RENEE ROSNES is not to be missed. As fine a pianist as she is, she is quite the bandleader—of Artemis, but also as music director of a Joe Henderson tribute here at Smoke. Her albums too are thematically strong and full of top drawer players. She had Steven Nelson and Peter Washington from her Written In The Rocks, a favorite for a paleontology suite, of which Galapagos, my unbiased nomination for the best tune, was the best tune of this set. It revolves around an insistent left hand/bass figure that drives the tune and the solos from all four. Nelson is an interesting effective soloist, but it took me to listen to the notes as if they were a horn to hear that as the vibraphone has limitations of range and decay (because the heavy vibrato leads to muddiness). Milt Jackson and Bobby Hutcherson and, to be fair, Nelson figured out how to do it, but I would prefer a horn to get out of the piano range. Still Rosnes danced around him for, by turns, accompaniment and parallel complementary lines.

The opener was John Lewis’ Rouge from Birth of the Cool, not the Modern Jazz Quartet with Milt Jackson. But she also called Hutcherson’s Little B’s Poem which showed them in nicely parallel orbits. She called the Walt Weiskopf tune Intuition, but, on the basis of her recordings, I think it was NonFiction which featured on of this nice piano/vibes interactions. Peter Washington was a stalwart all night as he generally is. He found lots of places to drive things with a steady walk and to reinforce Rosnes’ left hand figures as in Galapagos. But it was for Duke Pearson’s You Know I Care where he found lots of space and turned it into a particularly rich solo. Lewis Nash was no slouch and contributed to Galapagos among others.

But it was Rosnes’ gig and she plays with drive and taste, listening hard to her band. She synced up with all of them at various points organizing them into enhancing what she was up to as a soloist not just a bandleader. She’s a better pianist for the way she leads the band and she leads the band through her piano playing. It’s a nifty subtle thing to watch.

[hwenvs3000f24]

Unit 07 blog post

Where is music in nature?

Music is everywhere in nature, from the birds calling, to the rhythmic clicks of insects, to the calls of frogs. Grey et al discuss the elements of whale vocalizations that make them similar to what we understand as music, from the length and structure, to the intervals used, and use of percussive and melodic tones (2001). Music seems to permeate throughout nature, forming an 'animal orchestra', where each animal occupies its own sonic niche (Grey et al., 2001). This serves the functional purposes of ensuring that animals of the same species can hear one another, but it also makes for a textured and often harmonious soundscape.

Where is nature in music?

Many aspects of nature are heard in music. Water, like music, flows rhythmically and has the power to dampen a mood, give life, provide comfort and solace, and wash away things such as shame and grief. I’m not surprised that music so often seems to be inspired by water. Raindrop by Chopin and You and Me Underwater by Animal Boy are examples of sounds that resemble water being used to evoke melancholic solitude. 

In addition to water, I often hear crash symbols and distorted guitars that sound like strong winds causing tree leaves to rustle. Birds have been the subject or inspiration of quite a few songs (e.g. Birdland by Weather Report, Strange Meadow Lark by the Dave Brubeck Quartet). Musicians often sample recordings of nature; DJ ecotones goes a step further by creating beats out of them.

However, my favourite example of nature in music is when music evokes the landscape itself. Musical styles are often rooted in place, calling us back to the "sense of place" we discussed in Unit 01. Music in human and animal societies develops and persists as horizontal, vertical and oblique traditions (Grey et al., 2001). In many cases, songs carry stories and knowledge of the land and how societies related to the land, both intangibly and in practice (Sahi, 2011). Such songs combine beautiful imagery with experiences widely relatable to the societies that sang them (e.g. Chinese songs about young girls picking mushrooms or tea leaves, or a lonely fisherman at dusk).

As a follow-up (focus on the above two before you tackle this one), what song takes you immediately back to a natural landscape? What is the context? Share it with us – I would imagine many of these ideas may have similar underpinnings of a campfire, roadtrip, backpacking journey, etc.!

Terra by Shebad carries the atmosphere of nature, and with it the sacredness described in Sahi (2011). Being alone in nature can bring you to a more intuitive headspace where you can dialogue with yourself honestly and without judgment. This is what the song conveys to me. The bass line reminds me of tree roots, mushrooms, and soil. My favourite lyrics is "sow your seeds, row by row". It is as if they are telling us to learn lessons from nature and trust in beginnings  filled with mystery that may eventually turn into all you ever wanted.

Shebad’s music reminds me of when I was taking a field course at the Algonquin Wildlife Research station. My classmate was playing Shebad in her car as we were, quite fittingly, on our way to monitor frogs by listening to their calls. "Shebad is bog music", she said. I don't know how to explain why this band is frogs in bogs, it just is.   

[supremetechnologies]

Introduction to the MERN Stack Framework.

The MERN stack is an innovative tool out of the modern world of web development that has revolutionized the way fast and scalable applications are built. The acronym stands for four technologies: MongoDB, Express.js, React, and Node.js. When these are combined together, it opens up both the front and the back ends to developers with ease like never before. But what makes this MERN stack framework so special?

Breaking down the MERN Stack: A harmonious quartet in tech 

MongoDB: The NoSQL power player

Being the heart of the MERN stack, MongoDB is a NoSQL database highly famous for flexibility and scalability. It allows massive volumetric sets of unorganized data in the form of JSON-like documents as against traditional databases. Perfect for fluid and adaptive modern applications, it's the unsung workhorse that quietly keeps data management efficient and reliable.

Express.js: Simplifying Backend Development

Whereas MongoDB will be the bedrock, Express.js acts as the glue that'll hold this system together. In its purest sense, this little minimalist web framework for Node.js creates an elegance of simplicity to build really robust APIs. The architecture hence is so light that it takes much of the complexity out of server-side development and lets developers get down to the actual logic, rather than getting bogged down in boilerplate code.

React: Frontend Brilliance Unleashed

Frontend-wise, React offers developers a mighty tool in building responsive and interactive user interfaces. Its component-based architecture makes full use of reusable code and updates to ensure that the UI remains lightning-fast and intuitive. Facebook has developed this tech, and React has become the gold standard for dynamic frontend development. The integration within the MERN stack only amplifies its effectiveness.

Node.js: The Dynamo of the Backend

Node.js composes the rest of the MERN stack as the runtime environment that will run the server-side code written in JavaScript. Applications built with Node.js are fast and scalable because of its non-blocking, event-driven nature. It is very ideal for real-time applications where many connections need to be handled without delay, such as in a chat application or a collaborative tool.

Advantage of MERN Stack: Why It's the Game Changer

Probably one of the strongest aspects of the MERN stack is that its JavaScript-based foundation allows you to build both front and back ends of a web application using one language. This does not only simplify the development process but also decreases the amount of money or budget that would have been devoted to hiring specialists for front-end and back-end development. In a way, it's an all-in-one solution, which makes it more efficient and increases productivity, hence becoming a favorite among businesses and their startups. In addition, a scalable stack is ensured in order to grow the projects effortlessly as the user base increases.

Key Features of MERN Stack Development Services

MERN stack development services provide some special benefits that answer the requirements of modern web development. These are:

Speed and Efficiency: With the MERN stack, which follows a JavaScript-centric approach, the development cycles get reduced, and applications hit the market soon with respect to time.

Scalability: MongoDB and Node.js will promise to scale without a hassle; applications can automatically scale with rising data and user demands without any performance degradation.

Cost-Effectiveness: The development process will be more streamlined and adopt the mantra of "do less to achieve more," hence reducing the overall cost because fewer resources and time will be used to build and maintain web applications.

High-Performance UIs: The frontend capabilities of React will assure users of seamless, responsive interfaces, which will ultimately improve the satisfaction factors.

Real-World Applications of the MERN Stack Framework

The MERN stack has seen use in various real-life applications. Whether it is an e-commerce platform or a social media network, down to business-level enterprise solutions, what can be observed is that the framework is really versatile. Companies dealing with real-time processing of data, such as online marketplaces or collaborative work tools, tend to always reach for MERN because it can deliver effective and responsive user experiences.

Why MERN Stack is the Future of Full-Stack Development

The future of web development is headed towards solutions that entail efficiency, scalability, and speed. The MERN stack encapsulates all the above traits making it the chosen framework of developers to create modern dynamic web applications. Dominating in the minds of startups as well as established enterprises, it showcases growing dominance in the tech world.

How Supreme Technologies Excels in MERN Stack Development

Supreme Technologies provides you with quality services in MERN stack development. Our experts develop scalable, high-performance applications for betterment in your business, whether it is the development of small, sleek single-page applications or some complex, enterprise-level system. Our commitment to innovation and efficiency ensures that every project we undertake will meet the highest standards of the industry.

Conclusion and Call to Action

The MERN stack, to me at least, is the future of web development. Its all-in-one JavaScript solution, together with its flexibility and scalability, makes it the unbeatable choice for any business looking to be at the forefront of the digital world.

Are you ready to boost your web development into the MERN stack? Partner with Supreme Technologies to unlock your web application's maximum potential. Go to Supreme Technologies and discover how to make your vision into reality.

[noteachernomasternoguru]

Livestream Gig with Arnold Pontoh Quartet 👁😎

I was called for a livestream gig at Tonehouse Studios with pianist and band leader Arnold Pontoh from Indonesia. In his quartet, there was bassists Nobu, saxophonist Bryan Rosario and myself on drums. This gig was one with little preparation, with only 1 short rehearsal an hour before the livestream. The songs included were some originals and some standards. Before the gig, I was sent the set list and charts a few days before, allowing me to prepare. However, being prepared was only half the battle done, as I had to adapt and improvise to the current moment. For instance, in one of his tunes during the rehearsal we were told to change the ending of it- something that I was used to when preparing for it, forcing me to flexible about it. Apart from the anxiousness of feeling unprepared, playing with a bassist that I am unfamiliar with also caused some worry in me. Not being comfortable and being around the unknown, causes me to feel insecure, and I had to trust myself and my intuition with all the practice I have had already done, and be in the moment.

To my surprise, the show turned out to be incredibly enjoyable. The spontaneity of the performance injected a sense of excitement and freshness that often gets lost in over-rehearsed routines. I found that the experience was not only fun but also deeply rewarding. The audience responded positively, and the feedback I received was encouraging, which made the whole experience feel even more affirming.

Reflecting on the show afterward, I realized that there was nothing to worry about. The lack of preparation didn’t hinder my performance as much as I had feared; rather, it highlighted the importance of trusting in my own abilities and being adaptable. The experience was a powerful reminder that sometimes, stepping into the unknown can lead to unexpectedly positive outcomes.

One of the originals from Arnold! A nice blues tune.

[ayearwithoutwater]

Ten.

Rhonda, one of my best friends, has taken up needle felting. She was at the home of a friend who'd recently begun it as a hobby and then, as if through osmosis, she found herself playing around with the technique, too.

She began with gray and brown fabric. "Sometimes," she explains to me, "you just start felting and don't know what it's gonna be, or you'll be felting something specific and have an idea for another project in the middle of your current one." It's the mode of creation that she's describing to me, and it's a procedural logic that mirrors my own when I write or when I'm on the pottery wheel. Sometimes, you just have to turn your brain off and let instinct guide you towards whatever feels right. It's the parallelism of our logos that flushes my spirit with joy; she understands me, more intuitively than most. Her first project, upon completion, took the form of a Sasuwatari that now keeps her company on her desk at work.

I was a lonely child, but I didn't know it until much later. My parents struggled to make ends meet and were never home. I would take myself on a grand adventure biking around my neighborhood to discover hidden parks or I would be left at the local public library, often waiting around until several hours after it closed because my parents forgot that I existed.

In one instance, I waited for so long that a passerby saw me from her car and doubled back to park nearby so that she could wait with me. As the sun set, she grew worried—she lent me her cellular phone so that I could call home, but nobody picked up. Finally, as evening set in, she couldn't wait much longer, and so she called 911. My idiot father arrived only as I was about to be taken into police custody.

I thought that that was normal. If I were being generous, I thought that that was just the average experience of a child born to working class immigrants. I thought it was common for one's parents to not have any friends, to never socialize, to not have anyone in their lives with whom I could socialize, and to actively chase away the few friends I made on my own.

I wanted a best friend so badly. Books and television shows depicted all sorts of characters, those with many friends and those with few. Even the loneliest ones had a singular best friend, someone who looked out for them and cared for them and served, as Ken Liu often describes within his Dandelion Dynasty quartet, as the mirror of their soul. I wanted to be understood. I wanted at least one person in the world with whom I could do things and share experiences, all before I even possessed the vocabulary to capably express this desire. I never had that.

Nyota tells me, nowadays, that the apologies we're owed as we go through life never materialize. An inconvenient truth, universal, that I've come to learn is that I have to make my peace with it myself, in my own way.

As I began seventh grade and learned to introspect, I fell into a deep depression. I attended a school regionally renowned for its academics, but I couldn't relate to any of my peers, who seemed to be smarter than I was, who seemed to live exciting lives and have interests outside of the classroom. In comparison, I felt worthless. If one knew where to look, all the signs were there: my LimeWire history was full of records by the likes of Senses Fail and Taking Back Sunday, and my Xanga posts were vague paragraphs philosophizing the non-impact of my theoretical vanishment. I kept a LiveJournal account under lock and key, where my innermost and darkest thoughts resided; I'd learned early on not to leave a physical paper trail, because my mother was controlling and a snoop.

Throughout those years, until I turned eighteen, I cried not more than twice. The despair I felt in the core of my being was a dark hole, a void, utterly incapable of the emotional amelioration that crying can bring. I didn't feel sad—I felt empty. I went through my days mechanically, as if I were on autopilot, as if I were programmed, as if I had no choice. I didn't hate myself because I wasn't worthy of even that.

With what little agency I exercised, I tried to hurt myself. I took a knife to my forearm and carved the word 'loser.' I told anyone who would listen (and, clearly, there weren't many listeners) that I had a grand plan: if my life felt like it was still going nowhere by the time I turned twenty, I would end it. Thankfully, when nineteen ended, I had managed to change my life for the better.

It was during high school that I discovered MapleStory, one of the many massively multiplayer online role-playing computer games that gained popularity in the late 2000s. I loved its combination of cute graphics and worldbuilding lore, all that could be experienced with other people virtually. I had nowhere to go after school and nothing to do (I abjectly refused to study for hours without end), so I sank my time into MapleStory.

I admit, I felt a little bit ashamed that I was spending so much of my life online. Yet, I was enthralled, not so much by the game itself but rather by the ease of access it gave me to the other people within. I found myself logging in, day after day, to talk to strangers from around the world.

bell hooks once posited, "Love does not lead to an end to difficulties, it provides us with the means to cope with our difficulties in ways that enhance our growth." My idle friendships gained depth through repeated iterations, and suddenly I was using the game how I imagine today's teens use the comments section within TikTok. (Chat, am I cooked?) Rhonda is one of those friends; another is Cornelius, the older sister I never had, who would mail me care packages of Andy Capp's and iPod touch devices (yes, more than one, that she'd dubiously claimed to have won in local giveaways and sent me, because I didn't own a smartphone and because I'd lost the first one). For once, I had friends who cared that I existed, to whom I was worth something, friends who would miss me if I was gone.

When it came time for me to apply to college, I asked my internet friends for help. I knew nothing beyond the school rankings compiled by U.S. News & World Report, and prestige seemed to be all that my high school administrators cared to instill within us students. With my limited resources, I wanted to find a (competent) school where I could exist, freely and without parental interference. Cornelius, a native of New York City, suggested that I apply to some of the colleges there; the summer before my senior year of high school, she housed me for a month in her tiny Financial District studio, in the same building I would come to live a decade later, so that I could visit the city to make an informed decision. By doing so, she changed my life, irrevocably.

Lindsay C. Gibson, in Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, writes: "Lacking adequate parental support or connection, many emotionally deprived children are eager to leave childhood behind. They perceive that the best solution is to grow up quickly and become self-sufficient. These children become competent beyond their years but lonely at their core. […] They look forward to adulthood, believing it offers freedom and a chance to belong." When my parents were upset with me, usually over trivial matters like why I was on the computer so much (why, indeed?), they would confiscate the household internet modem. By doing so, they cut me off from the only method of communication I had with the only people in the world that I felt cared about me. I would be completely isolated, forced to exist in the physical reality of an unhappy household where all I was allowed to do was study—my mother wasn't a tiger mom, but she was a 遥控 parent. Without hyperbole, I wanted to kill myself.

New York City represented freedom to me. As much as I'd like to extend my parents grace, to be forgiving of the conditions we were under, my forgiveness does nothing to change the fact that I was severely neglected, at best, by the people I should've been able to trust the most. In fact, they gave me only repression and reprimands when what I wanted, needed, most was support. When I was accepted into my college of choice, I booked a one-way flight to the other side of the country, and I've never looked back since.

Today, on my bedroom windowsill sits an Orange Mushroom, an iconic MapleStory creature, felted by Rhonda. It's a gift she created for me after nearly two decades of friendship, representing our beginnings. She's become quite handy with the technique; eventually, I'd like to commission a felted Dragon Quest Slime from her, a friend to keep the Orange Mushroom company and to symbolize, in addition to the other video game we both love, the continuing, everlasting bond between us.

"Let's face it," writes Judith Butler, "We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're missing something. If this seems so clearly the case with grief, it is only because it was already the case with desire. One does not always stay intact. It may be that one wants to, or does, but it may also be that despite one's best efforts, one is undone, in the face of the other, by the touch, by the scent, by the feel, by the prospect of the touch, by the memory of the feel. And so when we speak about my sexuality or my gender, as we do (and as we must), we mean something complicated by it. Neither of these is precisely a possession, but both are to be understood as modes of being dispossessed, ways of being for another, or, indeed, by virtue of another." Butler, whose seminal works taught me to conceptualize identity as a performance, dealt primarily with identity vis-a-vis transgender and intersex experiences in Undoing Gender, but I know without a doubt that she wouldn't admonish my extrapolation of this concept to better reconfigure the self. I am not me without my closest friends, my chosen family. We're undone by each other. I grieve because I desire. I desire because I grieve. Without them, there is neither; with them, there is both.

When my breakup with Henry happened and I was consumed by the same void of despair of my teenage years (by now a familiar friend), one of my therapists at the time asked if I had anyone else in my life to talk to about it. I remember laughing through tears as I counted off seventeen distinct individuals, none of them familial by blood, whom I felt would—and did—offer me comfort. Gina, who knew that I'd been sending my ex-boyfriend roses each month because I wanted so badly to save our relationship, would press into my hands a flower bouquet of my own, lovingly handpicked by her, each time we rendezvoused. I mourned the love I'd lost, but love never comes when one wants in the way one wants it to. Accepting the love that offers itself, the love that exists, the love that I have and nothing more, is all that I can do; the alternative is a lifetime of misery, self-imposed. Ursula K. Le Guin says "the essential quality of [the entire human condition] is Change"—so be it. I am ever-mutable, done and undone by the people who have chosen to be in my life, and I am all the better off for it.

[sakayika]

Get Ready for the Ultimate Card Game: Game of Hands

For those who love card games, an exciting new option is about to hit the scene. Game of Hands (GoH) is poised to revolutionize your card-playing experience with its unique blend of strategy, competition, and fun. Whether you're on the hunt for card games for beginners, card games for friends, or the best card game for your phone, GoH has everything you need.

Beginner-Friendly Fun

Game of Hands is one of the best card games for beginners, designed with intuitive rules and an easy-to-navigate interface. New players can quickly pick up the game, thanks to helpful tutorials and guides. This means you can start having fun right away, without any steep learning curves.

Perfect for Social Gatherings

If you're looking for card games for friends, GoH is ideal for game nights and social gatherings. With multiple modes to suit different group sizes, whether you're planning a small get-together or a larger event, GoH has you covered. Its multiplayer modes (2-player, 3-player, and 4-player) make it a versatile choice for any occasion.

Convenient Mobile Gaming

In our busy lives, having a card game for your phone is a must. Game of Hands is available on both iOS and Android, allowing you to enjoy a quick game during your commute, on a break, or whenever you have a few minutes to spare. The mobile version offers the same features and seamless gameplay as the desktop version, ensuring a top-notch gaming experience on the go.

Classic Card Game Vibes

For those who appreciate traditional card games for playing cards, Game of Hands brings that classic feel to the digital world. With beautifully designed cards and a smooth, interactive interface, GoH combines the nostalgia of classic card games with the convenience of modern technology.

Great for Groups

GoH stands out as one of the best card games for several players. Supporting 2, 3, and 4 players, it's perfect for different group sizes and ensures that everyone can join in the fun. The game's strategic depth and engaging gameplay keep it interesting for all players, whether you're playing as a duo or a quartet.

A Modern Twist on Classics Like Spades

If you're a fan of card games like spades, you'll love the strategic challenges of Game of Hands. It incorporates familiar elements that seasoned players will appreciate while introducing new mechanics that keep the game fresh and exciting. GoH offers a captivating and rewarding experience for all fans of classic card games.

Conclusion

Game of Hands is set to become a must-have for card game enthusiasts, offering something for everyone. Whether you're new to card games, looking to bond with friends, or seeking a convenient mobile game, GoH delivers. Keep an eye out for its release and prepare to shuffle, strategize, and win in this ultimate card game experience!

[ars-webtech]

Embarking on the Journey of Crafting Premier Media and Entertainment Application Development in the Current Year

The realm of media and entertainment stands at the forefront, heralding the digital metamorphoses of the morrow. The burgeoning trend of individuals sequestering themselves at abodes, whilst indulging in streaming services for amusement in Dubai, has merely reinforced the anticipations held of the industry in the pre-pandemic era.

A notable shift observed is the secession of entities from amalgamated video content platforms, choosing instead to directly furnish their offerings to the consumer populace. This deliberate maneuver, eschewing the traditional cable and satellite levies, signals a strategy aimed at the optimization of operational expenditures. The impending digital technological evolutions are poised to markedly influence this sphere, encompassing these phenomena and beyond.

A mere 40% of patrons expressed willingness to exchange personal data for the boon of interest-aligned advertising, as per insights from Deloitte. Amongst the more digitally adept millennials, the figure rises to 60%, potentially indicative of either a distrust or naiveté regarding the eventual application of their information.

Elevating the Digital Media Platform Through Exquisite Website Design in UAE

In the digital domain, the significance of a meticulously designed website runs parallel to that of a superior media and entertainment application. The overall experience of the website user is profoundly enhanced by its functionality and visual appeal. Collaborating with the leading web design agency in Dubai ensures a visually engaging and intuitive digital presence for the application.

Forging a Visually Arresting Website

Websites that captivate upon entry owe their allure to striking visuals, streamlined navigation, and a cohesive aesthetic that resonates with your digital media's ethos within the entertainer Dubai market before transitioning to a media and entertainment application. The reinforcement of a robust and lasting brand identity is achieved through consistency in branding elements across both the website and the application.

Surging Popularity of Sports Streaming Applications, With a Focus on Soccer

The challenge of accessing global soccer matches from within the United Arab Emirates has diminished over recent years. A decade prior, diligent searching could unearth streams online, but the 'official' avenue for viewing one's favoured matches outside of the World Cup entailed subscribing to a costly cable service.

Though visual appeal is paramount, functionality reigns supreme. The website experience should be seamless and straightforward to navigate. Rapid loading times, responsive design across devices, and conspicuous calls to action are among the attributes that bolster user engagement and contribute to the app's overarching success.

"Thriving in the dynamic milieu of digital media and entertainment applications hinges not merely on meeting but exceeding user expectations. The keystone to prevailing is innovation coupled with a design ethos centered around the user."

To Substantially Enhance the User Experience of Media and Entertainment Applications, Consider These Quartet of Elements

Having witnessed numerous applications in operation, including those birthed from our own endeavors and others within the marketplace by mobile app development Abu Dhabi, we have gleaned which functionalities invariably exert the most profound impact on the user experience (UX).

Presently, these represent some of the most ingenious concepts and functionalities.

• Customization and bespoke recommendations

• Personalization inherently fosters deeper connections with consumers

• An astute recommendation engine enables users to linger longer on your product's interface, allowing for a tailored media experience

• The applicability of this principle to media has been demonstrably efficacious

Data Analysis is Imperative

Garnering deeper insights is facilitated by vigilant observation of competitors and the analysis of data from sources external to your own firm. Nonetheless, an analytics framework remains indispensable for the collection and analysis of data pertinent to your product. Analytics services not only provide a clearer comprehension of challenges and expedite resolution but also offer comprehensive insights into the user experience at large.

The Imperative of Frequent and Early Testing of Unique Content

The market's receptivity to novel entertainer Dubai market trends is polarized. While a majority will eagerly consume new content when enticed, a faction remains virtually impervious to persuasion. It is incumbent upon you to subject your content to the scrutiny of your target demographic. The elicitation of a tangible expression of mirth from the audience should be a given if humor is the intended effect.

"The modalities of content consumption are undergoing transformation, propelled by the confluence of technology and entertainment. Developers are tasked with transcending conventional boundaries to forge experiences that captivate and leave an indelible mark on the digital journey of users."

Employing A/B Testing to Swiftly Uncover Enhancements for Your Media and Entertainment App Designs

Leveraging your data to refine A/B testing practices is advisable where relevant. User reviews may occasionally reveal a recurring theme in suggestions. Alternatively, a design team member might propose an 'innovative concept' for trial. Experimentation with various iterations and observing their performance relative toyour baseline offers a prime method to discern design strategies that elevate the user experience.

Revolutionizing Entertainment Application Development in Dubai with ARS Webtech

Dubai, celebrated for its vibrant lifestyle and entertainment offerings, finds a technological cohort in ARS Webtech. Mastering the craft of delivering stellar media and entertainment experiences, ARS Webtech has emerged as the go-to entity for adept app developers in the UAE, earning the allegiance of a global clientele.

A hallmark of ARS Webtech lies in its comprehensive suite of web and application development services, ensuring that users perennially receive unparalleled quality in entertainment application development tailored for the Dubai market. The prowess of ARS Webtech in discerning and catering to user predilections underscores its status as a leading mobile app development entity in Dubai.

Conclusion

The year 2024 heralds the era of crafting high-end media and entertainment applications through a blend of imaginative flair, a design ethos that prioritizes the user, and adaptable strategies. The UAE boasts a plethora of potential app development firms, among which ARS Webtech stands out, offering premier mobile app development services in Abu Dhabi.