#Standard Brewery

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Again, points in time where I love (?) being a system.

I didn't know that there were difference processes into alcohol types, nor do I know shit about cartomancy other than One (1) time reading. And yet, here we are getting a history lesson from Sinner about what would make geological sense and what wouldn't, and the fact of the cartomancy reading being right.

Where the fuck do you get this knowledge?

Here's Root Beer as a treat because I... I can't legally get you beer.

[auraeseer]

Gee, old.

[haggishlyhagging]

Women were also regularly employed in brewing, at least as much as men. Medieval peasants drank rather a lot of small (or low-alcohol) beer and ale. In the tenth-century Alfric's Colloguy, which records theoretical dialogues between a teacher and his students, one young man states, "I drink ale, usually, if I drink at all, and water if I have no ale. . . . I am not rich enough to be able to buy myself wine: Wine is not a drink for boys or fools but for old men and wise men." By the late medieval period, in brewing centers such as České Budejovice, from whence the name Budweiser comes, beer was being made on a large enough scale that it was being exported to Bavaria.

Medieval people desired to drink beer and ale not because water was unsafe, but because farmwork is extremely hard. Small beer and ale added additional calories to their daily uptake in an enjoyable way. Although the wealthy were probably able to procure professionally made and imported beers, most people, especially in the earlier medieval period, made their own ale or bought it from nearby producers. Ale was brewed primarily from barley and did not include the hops of beer, which meant it could not be stored for long before going off. As such, those who wanted ale had to be constantly brewing it to ensure a steady supply, making brewing a very common cottage industry. Women who brewed for their families would often brew excess for sale, allowing them to bring in a bit of money. Because brewing was a craft that could be learned at home, women could be employed as brewers in larger commercial breweries.

We find women in the brewing trade consistently: records show them paying taxes on their gains from brewing, and registering with the authorities who oversaw standards. When someone performed below these standards, they were frequently written up, so we can find the women who were not meeting them. The Durham Court Rolls from 1365 record that Agnes Postell and Alice de Belasis were fined twelve denarii for selling bad ale, about the equivalent of two days' work for a skilled craftsman. Similarly Alice de Belasis was separately fined two shillings, or the equivalent of five days wages, for poor-quality ale, which a court proved had no strength at all. Punishments for brewing bad ale could range from fines to ritualized humiliation. In England, the Domesday Book first recorded the use of the cucking stool (which would become the ducking stool in the early modern period) in Chester to punish those who sold bad ale or ale in incorrect measures. They would be forced to sit in a chair out side their home and be jeered at by locals. Fourteenth-century Scottish laws noted that any alewife who made "evil ale" was either fined "eight shillings" or placed in the cucking stool, a nod to women as the primary brewers in the region who could face the largely gendered humiliation as a result.

We also learn of women in the brewing profession through records of accidents. For example, one coroner's roll indicates that at around noon on October 2, 1270, Amice Belamy was carrying a tub full of gruit, an agent for flavoring ale, with Sibyl Bonchevaler at her work in Lady Juliana de Beauchamp's brewhouse in Staple, Eaton Socon. As they went to dump the gruit into the boiling vat of beer, Amice slipped and fell into it and was trapped by the tub that fell on top of her. "Sibyl immediately jumped towards her, dragged her from the vat and shouted; the household came and found her scalded almost to death. She was given the last rites of the church and died on the day following. This harrowing story reminds us what a physically tasking and dangerous job brewing, especially in large quantities, could be.

This episode is also interesting because the two women were working for another woman, and a lady at that, Juliana de Beauchamp. Brewing was commonly associated with women across class lines, since the brewhouse is listed as belonging to the Lady Juliana. All in all, during these years a woman was just as likely to be brewing ale as a man, if not more likely in some instances.

-Eleanor Janega, The Once and Future Sex: Going Medieval on Women’s Roles in Society

[undiscovered-horizon]

Old dog, new tricks - Kaz Brekker x Reader

SUMMARY: Looking for someone to give you a quote on a stolen painting, you find yourself reaching out to a middle-man called Dirtyhands or the Bastard of the Barrel. Little do you know, you've met him before. A long, long time ago...

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k

It's pouring in Ketterdam. Black clouds cover the sky, hanging so low it looks like the bell towers scrape them. Thunder rolls in the distance. Some say that rain is refreshing, that it cleanses body, mind and soul. Perhaps it does but not in Ketterdam - the rainwater only leaves pedestrians feeling dirtier as though the coal-coloured clouds tainted it. The air begins to smell in an odd way as if the water washes something foul before falling to the cobbled streets; something not quite alive that can’t seem to die. But perhaps those somber words are true and thunderstorms truly do cleanse. In that case, it isn’t some largely unknown flesh rotting away but the sins of the city and its people washing the streets before falling down the drain like many things do in Ketterdam.

Those who can, flee the streets into the warm confines of their homes. Hats, umbrellas, even newspapers - anything just to keep the dirty water out of their faces. Some of them would mutter a swear word between pants and grunts as they made haste to the nearest shelter. Those who can’t, however, do not seem any grumpier than they usually do. For them, it’s just another day of soaking in the black rainwater stained with the unspoken secrets of the citizens. Wrapping worn-out coats tighter around their famished bodies, they cuddle the cold, stone walls a little closer before letting out a tired sigh. 

On days like this, bars and pubs earn their most delicious coin. If someone’s home is too far, a brewery is a great place to be with a good drink, a good game and tolerable food. Among the rather large group of workers, traders and unfortunate pedestrians is the most curious stranger. She stops for a moment to look above the heads, at the crow cast from iron hanging above the entrance. Dressed in a foundry worker's clothes and a patchy coat, she fits the landscape of Ketterdam like a glove. Soon, the stranger followers the other patrons inside.

Thunderstorm or not, the bar looks rather cosy and fashionable, considering its location and clientele. The standard was high enough to make the working class feel good about themselves instead of inadequate.

You squeeze through invigorated, already quite drunk, groups of people who have become friends the moment they accidentally sat at the same table. Some bump into you but they never apologize - hard to say where they can’t or won’t. Others, the sober and brighter ones, notice their pouches gone after some time when they go to make another bet. Furious, they throw their hands at the first miser their accusatory finger points to. Despite that, they do not see you, even if they do look. To all those poor bastards gambling and drinking their life away, you're nothing beyond a mirage dancing in the corner of their eye; a fleeting thought that you saw something but can't quite articulate the nature of the illusion. And just like the bar patrons, you, too, quickly dismiss the mare as a trick of the imagination. Just as soon as the thought of the phantom disappears, its place is taken by severely mundane things: a pint of beer, a frivolous smile of a scam artist, a suspiciously good streak of a cocky man.

By the bar sits a man with a top hat at his side. While all the other workers are busy losing their money, that one simply sits there with his back turned to the rest of the room. A bottom-up, empty glass is placed beside his hand. The man is waiting.

Sitting down on the stool next to him, you don’t let your eyes leave the prize. "You look like you've been around, good sir.”  The stranger turns to look at you. A spark of amusement glistens in his eyes. His brow lifts ever so slightly, beckoning you to continue. “Tell me, where can I find a man called Bastard of the Barrel?"

He turns his whole body towards you, leaning his arm on the bar counter. "Boss is pretty busy these days, you know? Might not have the time or desire to see you."

You give him a flustered smile, trying to appear a little too stupid to be cunning. "I won't take too much of his time,” you reassure him quickly. “If you could please pass the message to him that I have a painting from the Greaves' collection. I'm looking for someone who can give me a quote."

"That Greaves' collection?” he repeats. His face momentarily lights up as he surely sees right through your facade. “I thought it was impenetrable."

"They say that about every prison, don't they? And yet the world is as it is."

The man stares at you for a moment, his fingers frantically tapping the counter. Clearly, you’ve got someone’s interest. But will it be enough? 

"Quote or not, I think he'll be interested in this. Come on."

Without waiting for your response, he takes his top hat and leaves, walking past you towards a small staircase in the corner of the bar. You quickly follow in his footsteps, never getting too far from the man - you’re to appear as nothing more but his shadow.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a streak of darkness move like a plant’s leaf swaying gently when there is no breeze. Curious, you follow the disturbance to what seems to be its source - a young woman dressed in dark robes. Leaning against a wall, in the corner where the yellow light doesn’t quite reach where it should, she’s impossible to notice to anyone who doesn’t know what to look for. In that spare moment, she notices you too.

Having walked up the stairs, your guide knocks thrice on the door but doesn’t wait for an answer before opening them. There, in the small office littered with papers, you notice a face so familiar and yet strange you begin to question your own sanity. Could it be…? 

It’s like staring at a winter landscape during a toasty, summer day - you know the fields in front of you are the same but at the same time, they will never be more different. His face is more serious than you remembered. Strong, sharp features accompany his light eyes to create a truly chilling demeanour of a seasoned man. Despite undoubtedly looking like a handsome, young man, a spectre of a boy he used to be lingers beneath his skin.

Feeling lost and shocked, you frantically tear the hood off your head. "Kaz?” you’re not sure whether you’re asking him or yourself. “Kaz Brekker?!"

His eyes widen momentarily. Before he knows it, Kaz jumps to his feet, having to lean against the desk because of his leg. He doesn’t seem any less surprised, although he does appear to be better at hiding it - at least on his face. "You sly old fox,” he says in a low voice. Something akin to a smirk curved a corner of his lips upwards. “You just won't die, will you?"

You can’t help but scoff. After all those years of wondering whether he’s even alive, you find him in a complete accident. "As much as I'd love to see you crying over me, I like being a nuisance a bit more."

"You know each other?" the man, whose name you still do not know, vaguely points between you and Kaz.

To your mutual, utmost surprise, the two of you answer simultaneously: "We used to." The shock seems to drown out the hint of nostalgia and regret in your voices.

“Right…” he nods slowly. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

And before you know it, the door shuts and it’s just you and him. On one hand, again, but on the other - for the very first time. The words used to dance in a merry-go-round inside your head. Painful, yet truthful. Yes, you used to know Kaz like no one else. It sounds, you realize, as though the last time you had met, it was a different world, a different lifetime. To some degree, it’s true.

“What are you doing in here?” Kaz asks curtly. You can’t help but find his tone angry, almost accusatory. A strand of his hair falls on his face.

Unwilling to face the responsibility of years of silence, you settle for half-hearted jokes. “Your office or Ketterdam in general?”

“Both, preferably.”

Has he always been this incandescent or has longing simply white-washed him in your memories?

“Same as you it seems - work,” you say with a shrug. For a moment, the two of you stare at each other, unsure what to make of this unforeseen reunion. Then, you let out a tired sigh. If you have changed as little as you think so, he can definitely see right through you. “I won’t lie to you, Kaz, this isn’t a social call. I come here in business. I stole a canvas from Jurgen Greaves’ private collection and I’m looking for someone who can give me a quote.”

Kaz clenches his jaw. His blue eyes stare into you, maybe through you, as he clearly ponders something. Before continuing, he sits down. “I know an art dealer who might be interested. But first, you’re going to tell me everything.” Do not be mistaken - it’s an order, not a request. Truthfully, he got out of the habit of asking and pleading.

"It's a long story and a lot less interesting than I'd like to admit."

"We've all night,” he states. Not letting his gaze falter, Kaz gestures to the chair across from him. He still doesn’t take no for an answer.

He’s absolutely furious but only partially at you. It’s mostly his lack of understanding that gets on his nerves - the girl he remembered, a skilled and beautiful woman now, could have anything she wanted if she only asked. So why would you choose this path? With pearls and servants within arms reach, what are you doing in the Barrel, among murderers and liars? The surname of Greaves' resounds in his head, only fuelling his frustration: not only did Ketterdam dare to taint you, but you've also made good friends with that black stain of filth.

His chest clenches and Kaz feels disgusted for a moment. The parasite of corruption has nested under your skin, spewing its venom into your veins.

“Oh, don’t make me blush.” Although your dismissal is nothing beyond a jest, you still sit in the appointed chair. Maybe you want answers too, after all.

Still staring at you with that stern, cold gaze of his, Kaz sits back in his chair, clearly unwilling to end this conversation anytime soon. 

[saltwaterandstars]

We had Sunday lunch with my lovely cousin and his boyfriend at The Prospect of Whitby pub in Wapping, East London. Like quite a few pubs in London, it's an old, interesting building owned by a large brewery that owns many pubs so the food is pretty standard, mass-produced pub fare. It was cosy on a very cold day, the staff were very friendly and helpful, but I'd describe the food as not much better than adequate.

The building is cool though. It stands on the site of a tavern dating to 1520, though only the stone floor of that building exists now. Quite a lot of the current interior is 18th century and the facade is 19th century. There's a narrow alleyway along its side which leads to some steps down to a strip of shingle beach or right into the Thames, depending on whether the tide's in or not. I am absolutely sure that bodies will have been disposed of down those steps and into the Thames, given the reputation of Wapping and the pub specifically in years gone by!

Also, if you saw The Old Guard film you'll recognise the pub from the final scene!

(I took the top photo but the others are from the pub website - I didn't want to take pictures inside because there were lots of people and I don't want to take pictures of strangers and put them on the internet).

[rajendraxsingh]

starter for anyone (capping at 2)

location: firefly brewery

Teaching high school students came with its own charm and adventures. "I see my fair share of creative problem solving in math class," he continued talking, "but yesterday one of my students really took it to another level. I gave them a test, standard stuff to what we are learning and this one kid," he chuckled softly, shaking his head, "like the kind of kid that's smart but always looking for a loophole decided to answer everything in base-3," Raj shook his head, "instead of base-10 like the rest of them were doing. I technically was supposed to mark it wrong, but I didn't. I just wished he would have given me a decoder for breaking the system."

[iwantmyprizepet]

𝒱𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 ℐ𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒴𝑜𝓊 - 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 2/?

Summary: Agatha swarmed your brain like a mantra. Dodging your own thoughts and Chloe’s words started to feel like target practice.

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption.

Word Count: 4.6k

AO3 Chapter Playlist Previous Part

Chloe and I split up after work agreeing to meet up at the brewery for seven. I washed up, changed and moved to the mirror in the corner fixing the look in the reflection.

With age I’d learn to accept myself more. Growing up I’d always hated looking in the mirror. Now nearing thirty, I was actually okay with what looked back. I’d still find myself fixating on imperfections or tugging on my shirt as I sat. It dawned on me gradually that it would always be there to a degree.

I decided to top the look off with a baseball cap I’d picked up in the cape a year ago. 

The longer I looked at my reflection, I found Agatha creeping into my thoughts. Wondering what Agatha saw when she looked at me. 

My head physically shook the thought away. Surely it was just something along the lines of, oh she’s a nice girl. Makes a good coffee. 

Cursing under my breath I turned from the mirror. 

I brought up the address to the brewery for the millionth time. It claimed to be a fifteen minute walk from here. Despite the chill, I decided to do just that instead of waiting around for an uber.

With a spritz of my favorite scent I walked to the door, clipped my keys to my belt loop, slipped my coat on and pushed into the night. 

Agatha yet again found purchase on my mind in the quiet of the dark street. An imaginative part of me found myself thinking, maybe she’d be there tonight. Maybe she was out tonight too trying the new spot in town with friends. Fate creeping us together on a Saturday night.

I laughed lightly to myself. What a ridiculous thought. Fate had no tug ready for us. 

It felt almost suffocating how much she’d consumed my head in such little time.

I made it to the brewery five minutes to seven. Chloe texted me right before I hit the parking lot, alerting me they were just around the corner. After telling her I’d wait outside I slipped my phone back into my pocket. 

A car dropped them off right in front of me. 

“What’s up?” Brooks loudly dragged out both words as he barreled from the car.

I laughed at him hands in my pockets. “Hey, big mouth.”

Brooks was tall and thin, built a bit like a scarecrow and had an effortless coolness about himself. His light brown hair in its typical buzzcut sat underneath a unique hat. He’d never have the same hat on in a month. Today’s choice was a dark green five panel with a local surf shop’s logo. Black vans with gum colored rubber was a standard. His clear skin and green eyes probably were what charmed Chloe first. Chloe rolled her eyes smiling as she climbed out of the backseat. She had her hair pulled into little messy Princess Leia buns tonight. They were an undeniably attractive couple.

Walking inside, we were met with a very welcoming warmth and a blast of loudness. The soft glow of the wide open room was like something out of a movie. Chatter carried throughout the place, the smell of a fireplace filling the air. 

Brooks chatted with the host at the door. With roaming eyes, I followed behind as we made our way deeper. The whole place seemed filled to the brim. Even the bar had but two seats available. As if by some luck there was a small table near the window for us. 

“Someone will be right over.” The front host kindly spoke before turning and leaving.

“This place is wicked nice.” Chloe stated looking around holding the beer menu.

“No kidding.” Brooks responded, gaze focused on his own menu.

I found my eyes drifting around the room again. I lied to myself repeatedly in my head, convinced myself I wasn’t hoping to see her. After a couple scans I dropped my wandering gaze to take in the menu. 

Of course she wouldn’t be here.

Every beer on the menu had a name like someone generated a couple of words and slapped them together. I gave up halfway through the list.

“Fuck it.” I said dropping the menu. “I’m just gonna try the flight.” 

“See?” Brooks said turning to Chloe. “This is why I needed her, always with the bright ideas. Same.”

“Yeah, going with the flight is groundbreaking.” Chloe replied dryly. 

Despite her sarcasm, Chloe ordered the flight as well. 

Conversation flowed casually, clock ticking us deeper into the night. As the beers and food we got to split shrunk in front of us, the laughter grew.

We all decided on one more beer before leaving. 

“I think we should cheers to Agatha for tonight.” Chloe spoke up smirking as I went to take my first sip. My brain felt like one big record scratch at the sound of her name. “After all, the tips we got from her this week cover this easily.” 

My face gradually dropped, unamused at her words. I knew it was too good to be true that I would escape the topic tonight. 

Shaking my head, I took a sip without clinking. Brooks was eyeing us warily with a smile. 

“No fun.” Chloe wined. “Well, I’ll cheers. Here, here Agatha.”  She rose her glass and gulped some drink down. 

My eyes now desperately looked around praying the woman hadn’t somehow appeared. I relaxed slightly when I still saw no sign. 

“Stop teasing her, baby.” Brooks chimed in, not able to fight off a smile with it. 

It was obvious she had filled him in on all the details of the encounters.

“Maybe if she wasn’t so naive, she could have invited her to join us tonight.” Chloe said laughing. 

I know it was all in good fun and we were all loosened up. I just couldn’t help the irritation it stirred in me, the sting of it. It was overwhelming having feelings for the first time in forever to begin with. Never mind the fact it was someone as impeccable, as untouchable as she was. 

Chugging back my nearly full beer, I stood shrugging my coat on. I was regretting the dramatics of it as I did it. I just could not help it. Pulling out my wallet, I dropped more than enough to cover my share on the table. 

“Oh come on, bub.” Chloe started to plead. “I’m just joking you know that.”

I sighed pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know, I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow. Later guys.” They both called out for me as I walked off, but it was an unstoppable force now pushing me out. It would only be embarrassing turning back now.

A gust of wind snapped me in my face as soon as I stepped out. Despite the burn, It was a nice distraction to be honest. 

I know Chloe meant no harm from her comment. I think it was the mixture of the feelings this stranger began to stir in me, a long busy week and my social threshold being met. 

My fingers moved across my phone screen texting Chloe five minutes into my walk home.

Apologizing for leaving and assuring her I really wasn’t cross with her. She responded right away apologizing as well, an emoji heart and kissy face to cap it off.

With a huff I dug my hands into my coat pockets, the chill sinking deeper now. 

As I neared home, the wind picked up by the water. The bite of it had me wishing I’d just gotten a damn uber.

A car turned the corner up the hill blasting the dark road in light. I watched as the sleek black car drove past in the opposite direction I was walking. The car came to a slow stop just as it passed me. With a wary side eye I watched it sit, brake lights illuminating the street. Quickening my pace I fixed my eyes forward. I was only a few minutes from home now. 

Headlights lit up the road ahead, the car that had stopped now three pointing around. My heart rate picked up, muscles tensing.

Though the car accelerated slow, it kept on right by me. I didn’t dare look as it did.

Just as the relief of the car passing me began to hit, the brake lights lit up a few feet in front of me. I froze for a moment eyeing the license plate. The dark tinted windows made it impossible to catch a peek inside.

I tried for a casual speed as I made my way to walk past the shining Maserati. Just as I stepped near it, the passenger window rolled down smoothly.

“Hey.” 

My feet halted in an instant at the voice. Shooting my head to the side, there she was. 

Agatha. 

Sat in the car smiling at me in the glow of the instrument cluster. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” I gasped out clasping my hand to my chest. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Though my heart had recovered from the initial fright, now it was slamming against my chest for a different reason. 

She laughed lighting up her face in an achingly beautiful way. Even her teeth were perfect.

“I’m sorry.” She oozed out at the end of the laugh. “It really wasn’t my intention.” 

I approached the side of the car, instantly wanting to climb into the warmth it held. 

“What brings you around these ‘neck of the woods’ so late?” I asked bending down to hold her eye.

It really wasn’t that late, just past nine.

Her fingers waved out in the air before she rested her chin to them, elbow on the center console. “Oh, just an agonizing meeting running late. Thought a drive by the water would be nice before heading home.” 

I nodded in understanding shivering at the chill coming off said water. She leaned closer chin still against her hand, face upturned in a constant smile. After making me squirm for a blink or two, she spoke again.

“Hop in.” She sat up unlocking the door. “I’ll give you a ride.”

I hesitated as she watched me. The buzz had my eyes roaming her face, thinking thoughts I shouldn’t be. 

Maybe she couldn’t be trusted. I’d just been terrified for my life before I knew it was her. I mean, I hardly knew the woman. I realized then, I think I’d let her hold me hostage if she wanted to.

With a shrug I forced myself to grab the handle. “Sure, okay.”

As I sat in the passenger seat, she rolled up the window and her scent instantly overwhelmed. That signature perfume mixing with the fresh leather of her pristine car. I could almost visualize the wisps of her perfume luring me in. Wrapping around me with a soft pull. I wanted to settle deeply into it, or run right back out of the car door. 

“Now what about you?” Agatha’s voice filled the small space as her long fingers shifted the car back into drive. “What has you walking the streets alone this late?” 

I held my hands to the heat vent as a distraction. With a touch of her finger she kicked up the fan speed a couple of notches. The pitter in my chest picked up with it.

“Tried out that new brewery on Tucker street with Chloe and her boyfriend. Close enough to walk so I figured.” I trailed off hoping my words weren’t showing the slight buzz I had on. Hoping she didn’t notice the slight trace of nerves tingeing my vocal chords.

“Oh, you live close to the cafe?”

I watched her, the control she had on the steering wheel relaxed and focused. 

“I uhm.” I paused, self consciousness eating its way up. “I live above it actually. It’s a studio upstairs.” I instantly felt regret from letting her give me a ride. With a car like this I could only imagine the house it parked at.

My head moved to look out the passenger window, left hand toying with the fabric of my jeans. 

“Well that makes it easy.” She replied kindly. 

My chest felt sinking the longer I thought. I felt a mixture of not wanting the ride to end and desperately wanting to escape. 

The car seemed to slow the closer we got. 

I ignored it. 

I could feel her eyes on me as I looked out the window, the car at a snails crawl now. 

“I’m glad I came this way tonight.” She paused for a moment pulling my eyes back to her. “Save you from the cold.”

My chest tightened under the weight of too many emotions. I nodded with a barely there smile as she glanced to me.

“Yeah, thank you.” I scratched the back of my neck. “You didn’t have to stop.”

“No chance I wouldn’t have stopped for you.” Her hand reached over and lightly tapped the hand still playing with the fabric of my jeans. 

My breath got caught as the sentence left her mouth and her skin touched my own. I stared at her looking relaxed and calm as ever. As if she hadn’t just struck me down. I told myself it was just a friendly statement, if that.

I quickly moved my eyes from her as she pulled to a stop in front of the cafe. 

Unbuckling, I put my fingers to the door handle.

“Thank you again, Agatha.” I said softly as I looked back to her. 

She eyed me with a kindness. “Anytime.” Her pointer finger steadily reached out to flick the brim of my hat before dropping back to the shifter.

I blinked three times too many, grip clenching around the handle. “Have a safe drive home.” I pushed out of the door trying to hide how unsteady I felt. 

She nodded as I looked back, permanent smile. “Goodnight.” “Night” With a wave I closed the door and turned to the stairs. 

As my foot hit the second stair I heard the window roll down. Turning back I found her face peeking up at me through the passenger window. 

“See you tomorrow.” She called out. 

With a wink, the tinted window rolled up and she was off. 

I let out a groan and stomped up the stairs. The word fate returned like a tremble in my brain.

I was in big fucking trouble.

——————————————————————————

Only a faint orange glimmer started to break the horizon. The water lay smooth as glass. Sat on a stool in front of the counter, I took a sip of coffee.

Hot, two sugars and a splash of oat milk.

The clocks hands pointed to forty five minutes until open.

A restless night swallowed me. When four thirty shown, I pulled myself out of bed beating my alarm.

Everything was ready to go for the day, so hear I sat waiting. 

Waiting to see her.

The door clanked open in the back, puzzling me.

I turned to find Chloe walking in. We both waved at the same time. She made her way over and sat next to me after pouring herself a coffee.

I broke the ice first. “I’m sorry again Chlo. I promise it had nothing to do with you.” 

She smiled through a yawn. “It’s totally fine, I pushed a bit too much with that last part.” Pinching her fingers together squinting in emphasis. “I’m sorry too. I don’t think you’re naive. That was mean.”

A comfortable silence fell between us as her thumbs quickly sent a text, most likely to Brooks.

“So,” I trailed off into a sip of coffee. “Something may have happened last night. Uhm, having to do with Agatha.” I took another swig trying to quiet the grin wanting to burst open at the memory of it.

Chloe’s mouth dropped open in shock quickly morphing into a huge grin. “What the hell does that mean?” She sat up straight like an eager puppy.

“Well.” I paused for a chuckle. “She passed by when I was walking home last night and drove me the rest of the way.”

Chloe squealed grabbing my arm. “What are the chances of that?” She slammed one hand on the counter and threw the other one up in the air. “No, seriously what the fuck are the chances of that? Tell me everything.”

I sighed shaking my head with another laugh.

“Nothing, it took less than two minutes for her to drop me off.” I looked down replaying it all in my head. “She actually scared the shit out of me, I thought I was gonna end up in the missing persons pages.” 

“So you’re telling me you got in the car, didn’t speak at all and she drove you home?” Chloe crossed her arms with an irritation, clearly searching for more details.

“No, we shared why we were out and I obviously had to tell her where I lived.” I shrugged casting my eyes out to the windows.

“What’s wrong with that?” Chloe asked clearly confused by my shift.

I shrugged again holding my mug tight. “She’s probably got a mansion and here I am above a cafe.” 

“Oh my god, stop.” Chloe shoved my shoulder nearly making me spill my coffee. “You’re apartment is super cool, dude. There is quite literally nothing to be ashamed of.” 

I shot a look back to her. “She drove a brand new Maserati. I’m talking top of the line.” I declared it like it was a key point.

“Okay?” She asked annoyance dragging out the word.

I huffed turning back to look at the water. 

“Listen, you have to stop with this self deprecating view of yourself. You have a great life. There is nothing wrong with your life. If she has a problem with any of it, she’s an idiot.” She said it like she meant every word.

With a long sigh I looked back to Chloe. The whole argument was pointless. The weight of my status hardly had to be weighing on Agatha. There wasn’t a possibility my life lingered that much on her mind.

“Thank you.” I reached out grabbing her arm for a squeeze. Another quiet fell between us before I spoke again. “She said she’d see me tomorrow before she pulled away.” 

She laughed loudly standing up. “Brooks is not gonna believe this.”

Chloe certainly was not helping with the whole thing. If anything she was just nudging me closer to my hopeful thoughts. Which really wasn’t helpful at all. 

I looked to the window again, but all I could see now was the blue of someones eyes in the water.

——————————————————————————

There was barely a moment to breathe after the open sign switched on. One after the other they flocked in. 

Ten thirty had just passed slowing the traffic down a pinch. I had just started fresh pots of coffee when a shoe squeak and gasp sounded behind me. A sharp breath sucked its way into my lungs as a cold wetness hit my back. 

“Oh shit.” Chloe started laughing as I turned. “I am so sorry. I tripped.”

Milk slowly soaked into my clothes seeping into unwanted places. I couldn’t help but join her in laughing at the sight of it after the shock wore off. The several tables that had customers all had eyes on us.

“You’re a menace.” I spoke through a wheeze.

The feel of the milk had me holding back a dry heave.

“I’m gonna clean up and change, hold the fort down for a few.”

“Take your time.” Chloe laughed out starting to soak up the mess with a towel.

Janice popped out of the kitchen with a mop. “Desajeitada.” Came out of her in a mumbling way, not the first time she’s scolded us with the word. 

Chuckling I awkwardly stepped outside, several eyes trained to me the whole way. I half expected Agatha to appear right in the middle of my dairy induced walk of shame. It was a relief when I reached the top of the stairs.

I slipped my clothes off as soon as I shut my door, not wanting to track milk through the house. I threw them into the washer with the rest of a load I had built up and rushed to put it going. The idea of milk spoiling on my clothes all day was revolting.

With a quick flash of a shower, I was headed back down in just over fifteen minutes.

As soon as my foot dropped on the final stair, right in front of me a sleek black Maserati pulled away. I froze mid step, heart sinking to my gut.

If I was just a minute quicker, if I would have have just let the clothes sit in the washer until later. My chest shouldn’t have ached this bad.

Walking back into the cafe Chloe’s eyes found mine instantly. Her expression solidified that it had definitely been Agatha.

Chloe’s lip jutted into a pout when I rounded the counter.

“I already know.” I started before she could. “I saw her pull off as I was coming down, it’s fine. No biggie.”

I was dragging a rag across the counter for no reason other than to busy my hands.

“I’m sorry you missed her.” Chloe leaned over forcing my eyes to meet hers. “I told her you’d only be a few minutes, but she was in a rush. Something about a meeting she had to get to.” Dropping the rag I leaned back on the counter. “Really, it’s fine.”

A smirk pulled across her lips as her hands clasped together behind her back. 

“I do have some good news.” She sung out bobbing back and forth. 

“Oh yeah?” I feigned disinterest plucking a piece of lint off my clean shirt.

Releasing her hands she reached around me and picked up a folded piece of paper.

Chloe held her hand out to me with a wide smile. “She left you a note. Don’t worry I didn’t read it.”

I took it from her with a reluctance, half thinking it was a joke.

“Go ahead, go hide in storage to read it and blush.” She teased turning to face the counter as the bell chimed. 

It took a few seconds for my brain to absorb the paper in my hand. I pushed off the counter and walked back to the storage room. The bit of paper in my hand felt like it held the weight of an anvil.

Slowly, I opened the note as the sound of the full cafe buzzed in the distance. 

It was written on one of our order slips.

“I’m sorry I missed you today. I was in a rush and couldn’t linger. I’ll see you soon. - Agatha 

P.S. Best of luck with the milk.”

Her penmanship looked flawless. A well practiced elegance with every stroke. I reread every word, following every letter over and over.

Why would she leave me a note? It felt hard to believe that our minute long encounters stood that important to her. Enough to leave a note in explanation. My mind was racing staring at the slip.

“Hey, lover girl.” Chloe called out from the front. “Could use some help out here.” 

I shook myself out of my daze, slipped the note in my pocket and stepped back out.

“Not a word.” I warned grabbing a cup from her. 

She held her hands up in surrender grinning ear to ear.

——————————————————————————

Twenty minutes passed with a constant flow. After catching up on the last drink and handing it to the customer, Chloe poked me.

“I promise I won’t tease, but.” Chloe paused at my eye roll. “When she did leave she definitely maybe might have lingered at your stair case for a minute.”

I sighed rolling my eyes again. “She was probably just sending a text off or something, grabbing her keys.” I argued mind racing.

“Nope, she very much so was looking up the stairs. After a minute she shook her head and got in her car.” Chloe answered back easily.

“It’s the truth.” Janice’s thick Portuguese accent rattled from the window. 

I threw my hands up and snapped the towel I was holding over my shoulder.

“Great now you’ve got Janice in on it.” I crossed my arms with a huff knowing I looked like a child on the verge of a meltdown.

“Actually, I haven’t said a word to her about it.” Chloe laughed out.

“What you think I cannot see back here? I don’t hear?” Janice called out. She made a puffing sound and walked away muttering.

A silence fell between us, a few folks still chatting at several tables. 

“She uhm, she said to tell you she’d see you tomorrow.” She nudged my shoe with hers as we stood side by side, backs to the counter. “I told her we’re closed Mondays and that’s when she asked for a piece of paper.”

I took in the words with a nod not really knowing what to say. 

“I know I’ve been pushy.” Chloe continued. “I just want you to be happy. I wouldn’t be saying anything if I truly didn’t think there was something there.”

I glanced to her and nodded again with a sigh. Chloe let out a groan head slumping down.

“What?”

Chloe nodded her head to the front. Through the window I could see Dennis marching over from across the street. 

I threw my head back with a similar noise of protest.

Dennis was the head of the town hall committee. He owned a little drug store three buildings down on the opposite side. The type where you pick up your prescriptions and buy overpriced necessities you’ve run out of. 

Most days he came in, it would just be for a bite to eat or a drink. A little snide comment here and there about something inside or outside the building he thought needed fixing or sprucing up. 

Then there were some days where he was on a mission to give me a headache. I could tell by his sweater vest power walk, today was one of those days. 

“Dennis, how’s it going?” I greeted him as soon as the door chimed above him. 

“We have something very serious to discuss, young lady.” He spoke loudly finger pointed to the sky, other hand on his hip.

Here we go.

——————————————————————————

A grueling half hour passed with Dennis holding my ear. Even as I scrambled helping with a rush, he still was incessant with his droning. 

A long winded lecture about how the painted lettering at the top of the building needed to be redone. 

Although it was aged, there was hardly a crack on the paint and it was still entirely legible. I personally held the belief that it added a character to the cafe. A bit of vintage nostalgia to it. 

His drug store had a repaint twice every year, so that’s his stance. 

It got to the point where he went on a ten minute monologue about how poorly it reflected the street. Not a word from me as I helped with orders. He just kept going, words to the wind. The guy had to just love the sound of his own voice. I’d bet anything he talks to himself in the mirror at home.

Eventually I had to ask him to stop. Told him I’d discuss it with Anne, until then nothing would happen. He rambled the entire way to the door as I walked him out.

The whole cafe collectively released a sigh of relief when the door shut behind him.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day dragged on as the foot traffic faded. I eventually told Chloe and Janice they could leave an hour before closing. There was no sense in all three of us wasting away until five o’clock.

A little piece of me hoped she’d show up again. Drop in on her way home just to say hello. It felt selfish hoping for it. As if the note wasn’t enough. 

Now that I was alone, I found myself looking at said note over and over. Wondering if I crossed her mind even a little through out her day. 

Not as much as she passed mine, of course. That was unfathomable because she filled my thoughts far too much for someone I just met.

With a few pastries and coffees purchased, five o’clock finally shown.

Five past I carried myself up the stairs and home.

Holding the note, I stared one more time before tucking it neatly into the top drawer of my desk. 

I treated myself with ordering takeout for delivery. The idea of cooking something felt like climbing a mountain. 

Waiting for the food, I sat actively trying to focus on anything but thoughts of Agatha.

If I found myself reaching into my desk to read the note periodically, I also found myself pretending it wasn’t a big deal.

[mariacallous]

Would you like to travel in the advance party to Mars, aboard the space rocket of a man who can’t sort a livestream? Ideally you would have to get in line for this species-level honour behind thousands of Earth’s leading shitposters, who not only trust implicitly in X owner Elon Musk, but truly believe that if they grind away for hours a day telling him that on his platform, one day he will see one of those posts. I hope he does, guys!

In the meantime, my favourite recent headline on this interplanetary settlement programme ran “Elon Musk denies his sperm will seed Mars colony”. Sure. It’s just a hunch, but I feel like they’re going to have way more sperm than they need up there. It’s the other bit necessary for human life that you sense will be in shorter supply.

Anyway, from the future of the red mist planet to the future of political discourse: Monday night’s conversation between Musk and Donald Trump on X (audio only, only almost an hour late, and only for massively fewer live listeners than advance estimates suggested). It was so dysfunctional that even Trump’s dentures were trying to escape. Hours after it had taken place, Musk issued an intriguing APB: “Anyone have a <1 hour edit of the highlights of the @realDonaldTrump conversation?” To which the only reply is: sorry … what? That is like NBC putting out a request reading: “does anyone have any highlights of the Olympics?” YOU OWN THE PLATFORM. How can you not have organised some highlights?!

Still, in the absence of his, here are mine. We’ll kick off with Musk portentously informing Trump that “We’re at a fork in the road of the destiny of civilisation”. And ye shall know this fork for it is signposteth with an error screen. In the UK, we have an expression for benchmark incompetence: we say someone couldn’t organise a piss-up in a brewery. But a tech boss being unable to organise a tech event on a tech platform feels like a new industry standard: the brewery’s head of piss-ups being unable to launch a piss-up in his brewery. On Monday night you could watch live footage from any number of bird nesting boxes around the world, but it was impossible to watch any of the would-be president of the United States. That said, I’m afraid both species soiled their floors.

If only there’d been some warning that you could trust X to cock up these live events. Do recall that Musk was previously backing the former Republican nominee candidate Ron DeSantis, and managed to persuade the Florida governor to launch his campaign on X last year. The tech-fail that followed was “a DISASTER!” Not my take, fanfolk, but that of a certain Donald Trump.

Either way, making it audio-only felt less than futuristic. I saw someone say it could have been an email, but it would have worked best as a fax. It wasn’t so much like the tech revolution hadn’t happened, more like the Industrial Revolution hadn’t happened. Hopefully as time wears on, Musk will upgrade his server to a spinning jenny. In the meantime, he would like you to believe that there was some sort of cyber-attack on his ancient looms. He explained to frustrated users that X Spaces had been subject to a “massive DDOS attack”, which strangely didn’t affect any of the rest of X. This is definitely the most self-sabotaging excuse since Katy Perry claimed her recent plastic feminism single was “satire” and “a reset for my idea of feminine divine”. After Monday night, the haters need to understand: Elon’s aural frotting of Trump was satire, and a reset for his idea of masculine divine.

It was certainly a reset for the spectacle of 21st-century power broking. Behold, the billionaire hedge funder Bill Ackman, who recently came out for Trump, and who, on Monday night, could be found replying plaintively to his preferred candidate’s cobwebbed X handle: “Please let Elon know we can’t join”. Posting impotently at a presidential account that Trump has not personally used in three years to bleat that the meeting host isn’t letting him in … I’m sensing that a big part of the reset of the idea of masculine divine is old guys shouting that they can’t make their computers work. Have you tried simply switching the masculine divine off then on again?

Let’s deal only briefly with the eventual contents of Elon and Donald’s fireside chat, as long as we’re clear the fire they were sitting next to was a dumpster, sparks from which had long since set both their pants on fire. “I want to close the department of education,” Trump slurred at one point. According to Trump, Biden was ousted in a “coup”. Hey, at least the Democrats can organise a successful one.

For a genius, finally, Musk’s interview technique is surprisingly like that of a nitwit breakfast host. (Donna Air once asked the Corrs how they met.) He guffawed his way through most of Trump’s ramblings, reserving special admiration for the authoritarians and dictators he’d encountered. Trump mentioned meeting with Kim Jong-un. “That was cool,” gurgled Musk, whose platform is banned in North Korea. “If something happens with this election,” concluded Trump, “we’ll meet the next time in Venezuela, because it’ll be a far safer place to meet than our country.” Fortunately, as is the case with pretty much anywhere ruled by these freedom-loathing strongmen, X is also currently banned in Venezuela. So at least we’d be spared having to glitch our way through another meeting of minds like this.

[pilebunkers]

The Jupiter colonies are made up of settlements on the galilean moons as well as six orbiting stations called Islands. What's important to know right now is that the jovian economy is almost entirely made up of many small research labs, corporations, and breweries (being the belt and outer planets' main supplier of both food and alcohol) that survive the oppressive megacorps by banding together. Schneider Aeronautics Lab is one such small lab, based on Ganymede.

Kabuki, who built SAL's AC development lab from the ground up and gave it the name Vogelwerke (literally "Bird Works," following both the German language and bird theme of Schneider's AC parts. I think those standards were in place before Kabuki became Chief Engineer, but she enjoyed running with them.) intentionally cultivated a team of AC pilots she could personally rely on when the corporations started buying up independent labs in the jovian system. She chose the theme of theatre because she has both a flare for the dramatic (being one of those high AMS individuals, a gen one herself) and also because she could not help but be on the nose about the fact that, if the corps came for SAL, their allegiance would be performative at best. Vogelwerke and the Ravens break away from SAL when it gets signed over to Arquebus and build up Island Four as a hub for independent mercs eventually culminating in the Jupiter War ending Island Four Disturbance.

[deltamb3r]

11 and 37 🐑

Alright then!

11. Does your lamb have any notable or unique features?

Not really, they look like standard game Lamb through and through. The most noticable thing about them is they're quite shorter than their followers, they would blend too in if it wasn't for the crown.

At least it's good for not being noticed by heretics during crusades.

37. Does your lamb let cult members cook or heal or do they restrict them from certain duties?

Most of the activities are performed by the cult members themselves. They can cook, tailor their clothes, farm what they are provided with, tend the brewery, ecc.

Over a long time the cult has become self sufficient, the lives of the acolytes proceed even without the Lamb being present. That doesn't mean they don't get to participate in activities with their own followers.

Besides crusading for gold/resources and sermons/rituals, Lamb (and Narinder very later on) doesn't even have to do anything.

[iww-gnv]

ST. LOUIS — Anheuser-Busch has one more opportunity to commit to union member job security, Teamsters said on Thursday. If the company's next offer doesn't meet union member standards, around 5,000 will go on strike as soon as March 1. "The halting of beer production at Anheuser-Busch's U.S. breweries appears imminent and unavoidable," Teamsters General President Sean M. O'Brien said. "They have a harsh reality awaiting them when Anheuser-Busch breweries are empty, and Teamsters are on the streets." The negotiations continue after 99% of union members at 12 Anheuser-Busch breweries voted on Dec. 16 to authorize a strike.

[djpain619]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Aleniheim Angel Shares Ready To Rumble

So now my Dwarf Team is finally Fully Finished to my Satisfaction.

Before when I quit painting them they were "good enough" but I wasn't really happy with them. Now after a months long hiatus I was recently hit with the inspiration to finish them. I painted Up the Cheerleaders, Beer Barrels, as well as the Mascot & Fumbble Secret League Positionals. I also went back and touched up all the Linemen and standard Positionals.

So here are the Cheerleaders and the Beer Barrels. The Barrels will be uses as reroll, turn, & Score Counters. The Cheerleaders will be Cheerleaders.

They will also be used as the Crew & Cargo for my Bugman's Carts... which still require Draft Ponies. I also plan to get some crates and write TNT on them, or order some Minecraft Lego TNT blocks or something so I can run them as Mining Carts.

Here are my Linemen, Blitzers, and Slayers. For the Linemen I mainly painted the Cheek Vents and Back of the helmets as well as the Belt Buckle abdominal plate... thing. Then I updated the Backpacks to paint the Gauges, the Vents, and a little Blue Glow on the round part that I like to think is a reactor.

For the Blitzers and Slayers I just painted their Beard Jewelry and their straps red to contrast all the white and the Aleniheim Brewery A on their Back Plate. On the Blitzers I painted red stripes on their Shoulder Pads, and the Slayers Shoulder Pads I painted Half & Half.

I based the Secret League Positionals. This was actually really easy cause I just put them on the old bases for My Totengrad Tyrants Color Guard. The Color Guard has been Drafted as a Full Unit Command & spare Champion for The Old World and are now on Square Bases. So now the Secret League Positionals are on their old hand me down bases.

Speaking of I actually got another sprue of Nobility Team a couple weeks ago. The Linemen & Blitzer have already been assembled and have been added to my Free Company Militia, the Blitzer being the Unit Champion. I even Kitbashed a Sword and Pistol into his hands.

Last Up is the DEATHCOPTER. I really just did the Pilot's eyes and the Beer foam. I also painted the Aleniheim Angel Shares A on the Underside of the DEATHCOPTER's Hull.

[nice-bright-colors]

Accept. Adapt. Pivot. Agility

Or AAPA as I like to call it.

Today is The Wife’s™️ Birthday. All she really wanted was to find a new place with really good beer*, that serves a burger**, since our go-to just recently closed permanently.

Somebody*** didn’t do their thorough due diligence. When we got to the new place to try they are closed on Mondays.

So initiate operation AAPA.

Somebody**** decided on taking our chances with what we could find across the street at a standard grocery store. We will try again on Wednesday for that local***** brewery, with high hopes it will work out.

…and voilà…problem solv•ed

My take on a plant based Korean street taco with daikon, carrots, ginger, Beyond steak tips, sesame, purple cabbage, cilantro, and a Bitchin’ sauce******

I managed to fuck things up and save the day within an hour. The Scotch Ale is just an added bonus.

[recurring-polynya]

Izakaya Kamenoya, part 3

It's been so long, and I kept getting busy with stuff, but rest assured, I have not stopped thinking about every shinigami's favorite watering hole, Izakaya Kamenoya, for even one second of that time, and today I am going to talk about what's really important: what kind of booze can you get there.

The multiplicity of drink options is honestly the thing I really love about Kamenoya. On a meta level, someone has to draw all this stuff, like, with their hands. I have no idea, actually, if the animators consider this sort of thing a break from all the powering up and sword fights and rolling across cave floors, or if they consider a Trip to the Bar to be really tedious. My point is, they very well could have just always drawn people drinking out of the same cups, except they didn't, they drew a series of loving close ups of sake-pouring and a variety of drinkware styles. On a more Watsonian level, I just like the idea that, like Alice's Restaurant, you can get anything you want at Izakaya Kamenoya. So let's get into it!

I think the thing that really made me notice this was this scene from the Amagai Arc, where you see Kira doing mokkiri, or overpouring his sake. (At least I think that's what he's doing. The articles I read sounded more like the server is supposed to do it, which emphasizes the establishment's generosity, so maybe Kira is just being a messy drunk. I'm pretty sure you're also not supposed to pour yourself sake, you're supposed to do it for your tablemates)

Often, mokkiri is done into a masu, which is a small square box that was used as a standard measure for rice. You can see Nanao drinking out of one here!

What kind of cup to drink your sake out of is a huge topic, but basically, it depends on the flavor and characteristics of the sake. The fact that Kira and the Lads are drinking out of clear glasses might imply that they're drinking chilled, summer-style sake (or possibly trying to appreciate the clarity of the vintage, as if this is what you call up Iba and Renji to go to the pub for).

I am not an expert, so I'm not going to attempt to identify exactly what these different cups would be classified as, but you can see a variety of shapes, sizes and materials.

I found less information on different shapes of tokkuri (that's the slightly bigger bottle that you serve from), but those come in a variety, as well. Mostly, they have either the large, oval-shaped jugs you can see in the first picture, or the more slender white ones in the second. I am really fond of these tall boys that Kira and Hisagi have, which seem to have straighter sides than the other kind, kind of like a milk bottle.

While we're looking at that picture, there's an ad on the wall for beer. Beer!

In modern times, beer is actually the most popular alcoholic beverage in Japan, which Wikipedia tells me came about after WWII because of restrictions on the use of rice. They've had beer since the Edo era, though, and many of today's major breweries got started in the late 1800s. I love the idea that beer is a thing you can get in Soul Society, but it's clear that it has not overcome sake in popularity the way it did in the World of the Living--which makes sense, because of they never had those restrictions. (In other words, throw this in the bucket of stuff like tattoos and attitudes toward homosexuality that I think diverged from the Living World because of weird quirks of history).

In fact, Kamenoya apparently imports beer from the World of Living (maybe it also has local brews as well).

Look how lovingly that bottle of Kirin is drawn. 😂 The fact that it's shown in a glass mug in the ad, but served in a Pilsner glass here supports the idea that there are multiple kinds of beer available. Now, I believe that Kirin Zero is non-alcoholic. It's surprisingly hard to do research on beer labels from 20 years ago. I couldn't find a label that looked exactly like that, and Kirin's non-alcoholic offering seems to be called Kirin Free now (Kirin Zero is now zero-carb and I couldn't figure out if it's alcoholic or not). In any case, I am choosing in my heart to believe that this is because of weird TV censorship and in no way implies that Rukia is not one of the champion drinkers of the Gotei-13.

Don't get me wrong! I love a bar that offers non-alcoholic options! You can also get tea at Kamenoya, which you can see Tobiume and Okyō drinking below; Momo has some as well (they also have a discussion about it)

earlier posts in this series: (part 1) (part 2)

[mrtheengie]

Prepping the Engine

Erik oils around the motion, while Adrian consults the Fireman's Handbook to find the route code for the long-way-round to Kapilens from Sitarisoros. Their cargo is grain for one of the several breweries in the former city.

And here is their steed. Built in 1491, 103 was the fourth in a line of 7ft Gauge locomotives built to the pattern of Mr. Estrade's famous Standard Gauge, high speed 0-6-0. It represents a significant leap forward for the design, and contains many improvements, including a larger boiler to help it run for sustained periods at speed.

The engine has had a very long carrier spanning 233 years as of 1724. During that time, it has been an express engine and a commuter engine, and has been allocated to sheds all over the country. Erik started with the railway as a teenager and quickly fell in love with this ancient beast. He became its regular fireman, and then its regular driver.

Erik left the railway some years ago to become a private contractor, and he took 103 with him. Instead of passengers, 103 now carries freight behind her tender. An 0-6-0 with 8 foot high driving wheels may not be best suited for freight traffic, but the engine has plenty of power, and Erik makes sure not to over do it. 103 is in good shape, and has never once suffered at the hands of her operators.

[onboardsorasora]

I’ve been thinking of omega Daniel in the reclamation verse and meeting Jules. That baby is nesting and not letting Jules leave his sight

Daniel is in his apartment sifting through his laundry, trying to find the sheets and blankets and pillows for his nest that smell like Max. Nothing smells like Max and its kinda disconcerting. There is this other scent though, its familiar but Daniel couldnt quite place it.

He's sat on his bed frustrated, when he hears the door open. The sound of keys tinking in the ceramic bowl and shoes being taken off. Then that scent... Daniel furrowed his brow.

"Do you remember to confirm with Sewis about- why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?" Jules patted his cheeks while Daniel continued to stare at him dumbfounded. A pillow thumps to the floor from his loose grip.

"Is that a new shirt?" Jules asked before heading into the kitchen. Clearly Daniel needed a minute, and fair, a lot has been going on recently since Daniel took over the brewery. He was allowed to be a bit frazzled.

"I- no. I designed this last year- am I going crazy right now?" Daniel muttered before taking a big breath. "you smell almost the same, not quite the same...so you're not my Jules." Daniel watching his movements like a hawk, drinking in the unfamiliar but achingly familiar sight of his best friend looking through his fridge, then his cabinet then fridge again. It seems that in every universe at least- Jules was the same.

"You designed it? Is that your new side hustle?" Jules was talking into the fridge like a normal person. Daniel bit his lip so he didn't cry. This wasn't his Jules but it was still Jules.

"Y-yeah. gonna start a clothing brand." Daniel said softly, he smiled when Jules gave up his quest for food and looked over at him.

"You wanna order like a pizza or a fried chicken burger? I'm starving." Jules took his phone out to open the food app.

"Yeah sure, order me whatever." Daniel grabbed up the sheets and blankets and moved to the couch. Things didn't smell like Max for some reason, but they smelled like Jules and this was an opportunity that Daniel was not going to give up. Not on his life.

The nest wasn't the best by his standards; he didn't have his regular things on hand and he wasn't about to make a stink about it. It wasn't perfect, but it would be comfortable. Because it wasn't the nest that mattered, it was Jules.

"Wanna watch something while we wait?" Daniel asked, standing by the transformed couch, shifting from leg to leg almost antsily.

"Yeah sure, that movie you wanted to watch should be on Netlfix now." Jules walked over and plopped onto the couch, in the middle of the nest. He shuffled a little before propping his arm up on one of the pillows Daniel put for that very reason. "Hey this is extra comfy, figured out some new tricks recently? I ordered you a fried chicken burger bee tee dubs."

Daniel grinned and sat beside his best friend, staring at his profile while he used the remote to navigate the tv.

"Why are you staring all of a sudden. Don't tell me you fancy me now? You waited too long Ricciardo, you'll have to duel to the death with Liz" Jules flicked an imaginary lock of hair over his shoulder and Daniel cackled.

"Yeah Nah, Liz can keep you. God bless her for putting up with your ass. I just missed you is all, you asshole." Daniel bumped their shoulders together.

"Bro I was barely gone for a weekend." Jules rolled his eyes, "I missed you too." He flung an arm over Daniel's shoulder and the omega took another deep breath, committing this Jules to memory. The familiar ba bum of netflix signalled the show start.