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punkshort · 1 year ago

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somewhere to run | 1. a fresh start

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, PTSD-type symptoms

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.

The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.

Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.

You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.

And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.

As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.

Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.

The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.

You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.

You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.

"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.

"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.

"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.

"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.

Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.

"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.

"You ever work in a restaurant before?"

"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"

Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.

"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.

"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.

"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."

"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.

"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.

Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.

"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. When can you start?"

"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.

"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.

"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.

"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.

On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.

Things were finally starting to come together.

"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."

"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.

"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.

"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"

"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.

Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.

The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.

"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."

You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.

It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.

Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.

"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.

"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.

"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"

You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.

But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.

He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.

"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.

"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.

"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"

"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."

"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.

"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.

"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."

"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"

"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."

"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.

"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.

Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.

"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.

"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.

"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.

"Can I what?"

Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.

"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.

"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.

"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.

"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.

"See?"

She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.

"She's just nervous, is all."

The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.

Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.

You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.

No, it was a very bad idea.

So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.

Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?

That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.

And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.

Yep, that's all it was.

When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?

"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.

"Who?"

Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.

"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.

"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.

"That's it?"

"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"

Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.

"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."

"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.

What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.

"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.

"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."

Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.

"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.

A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.

"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.

"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?

You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.

"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?

Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.

"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."

Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.

"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.

A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.

"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"

He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.

"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.

"You likin' it here so far?"

"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.

"You got a place right on Main?"

"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.

"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.

"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.

"You said it'll be quick?"

He grinned and nodded.

"Less than ten minutes."

You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.

"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."

"I'm sure."

You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.

You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.

"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.

"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.

Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.

"Wrench?"

"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.

You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.

"Can I get you some water?"

He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.

"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.

"You alright?"

"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.

"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.

"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.

"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."

"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.

"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.

"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.

"Does it matter?" you whispered.

"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.

"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.

"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.

"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.

"My... cologne?"

"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.

"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.

"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.

You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.

"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."

You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.

Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.

"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.

You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.

"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."

You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @merz-8 @sarap-77

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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This is one of my favorite homes. I posted it before and apparently, it has never sold. They have been listing it, removing it b/c it didn't sell, changing the price, relisting and removing, since 2020. It's a 1905 Spanish Eclectic, which is very unusual, and it's in Kansas City, Missouri. 3bds, 3ba, $500K. Check out this unique & funky time capsule.

We begin in the spacious living room. The walls are probably in need of at least some color, but that's a lot of wallpaper to remove.

Check out the tile on the fireplace and the mirror art above.

Moving to the dining room, the wood kind of looks like craftsman style and there's a low window seat.

The kitchen is completely frozen in time.

There's even a pantry.

The great thing is that there's a door to the pantry in the main floor primary bedroom- so convenient for a late night snack.

And, at the foot of the stairs is a sink.

On the 2nd fl. is a very large bedroom with double doors to the sun room.

The sun room is gigantic. This home has such big rooms.

This would be the smallest bedroom.

At some point, within the last 50yrs, this bath was redone.

This room I cannot explain. It's on the main floor, off the living room, and it's sort of a foyer that has spiral stairs that go down to the basement. It was also made to look like the bridge of a ship. It's so cool and needs to be decorated as such.

The basement is definitely the star of the show. There's a vast rec room with wainscoting and a fireplace. The colorful tile is original. Note the small tile of a champagne glass.

Check out the bar. There's a vintage fan mounted to the ceiling and a brass foot rest. Oh, and 2 little music notes in the floor.

There's a billiard room. I wonder if the pool table conveys, b/c it perfectly matches the style of the house.

This is a home for entertaining. The laundry room has cabinetry for lots of storage. It's big enough for a second kitchen.

In this area is the half bath and stairs to the back yard.

But, this is the coolest room of all. It's a freshly painted indoor pool and look at the original vintage filter.

Look at this thing- there's only one way in and out. It's basically a basement you could fill with water. It has windows and they've delineated approximately how high the water should go, although it looks too high. There're also 2 rather dim looking lights above. This is so bizarre.

And, this is the dressing room and former shower for the pool.

There's a big driveway and garages for 3 cars.

Nice size yard and patio.

What are those stains on the roof? The lot is .28 acre.

#unusual homes #unique homes #time capsules #houses #house tours #home tour

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raisindave · 7 months ago

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[Chapter 64] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

With a heavy heart and a shotgun blast of apprehension, you swallowed all pride and pushed through the glass doors. Meeting new people is always the worst.

"Hello?" you pressed your lips into a tight line, awkwardly calling into the empty restaurant.

Even when you crane your neck to sweep any corners where your 'new best friends' might be hiding, these exalted experts aren't anywhere to be seen. You took extra care to make your boots echo on polished wood floors, hopefully alerting someone to your presence, but long shadows from drawn curtains cast every corner in hostile darkness. It quickened your heart rate, making you almost frantic to find your peers; otherwise, you'd have to sheepishly report to Price that you'd lost them. A fate worse than death. Only when you came around to the other end of a chic, modern bar did you find another human. Faces you'd seen on Laswell's tablet manifested in the flesh, though not nearly as prim and put-together.

You winged at the clamorous cracking of the glass, but her heavy gaze didn't waver. The Korvettenkapitän's dark formal jacket lay neatly strewn over the back of one of the cloth chairs, where she stood folding muscular arms over her chest. A finely ironed button-up with a tight collar made Laswell's similar clothing style look so much more approachable. Professor Kraus was within arms reach, slumped into a matching chair, nearly strangled by a chunky sweater of beige cable-knit wool. She stood tall and stern, commanding respect with her posture, whereas he seemed entirely aloof to your entrance, more concerned with sipping at another cup of coffee he'd kept as a backup.

"Nice to meet you both," you sighed deeply, breathing away bubbling tension.

This dining space would be so romantic and intimate if it were under the intended circumstances. Low cylindrical crystal chandeliers glitter even when they're illuminated by a stark floodlight, the apparent source of those long shadows. The shimmering crystals create the most stunning effect on the ceiling, almost like a water's surface sparking life into lofty ceilings of dark panels. Tabletops that aren't repurposed to function as makeshift workspaces are adorned with pristine white tablecloths that flow over the edges of the tables, with sultry, slender candlesticks and withered bouquets. Your 'new best friends' have established themselves next to an elegant bar of black wood and smooth steel, making use of the nearby kitchen's stark lighting.

"Commander Karim told me about you," the polished Korvettenkapitän spoke, scuffing polished shoes as she approached. "She and I used to work together. She spoke highly of you, said you were one of the best she's ever seen." She glowered down her strong cheekbones at you skeptically.

Commander Karim? Who the hell is Commander Karim?

Your mind spun as KKpt's words rattled in your mind, failing to stick their landing. So many faces had come and gone in the past few months; it's a wonder you can remember your own name if only it weren't shouted at you every other day. Precious seconds used wracking your mind are ticking down, and the Korvettenkapitän's social timer is quickly slipping.

Who is that… who- oh! Commander Karim! Farah Karim! Oh, she's talking about Farah, and she left a good word about me too. I only worked with her for a few days, so I must've left a deceptively good first impression. Damn. I owe her a drink.

"Farah was a treat to work with," you smile after a rigid pause.

"Yes…" KKpt spoke cautiously, you turned to see that she was visibly unsettled by your usage of Farah's first name. "She called you 'Cricket.'"

"Ah," you chuckle weakly, "a nickname I've picked up. You can call me Lu-."

"Why 'Cricket?'" Professor Kraus cut you off, finally lifting his head to speak with piqued curiosity.

"Are you a fan of the sport?" the Korvettenkapitän circled around you pensively, folding her hands behind her back as she stalked.

Words failed you for a moment. Why are you called cricket? When Soap's logic finally did click into place, it struck you as something you shouldn't explain in conjunction with a first introduction. Being pinned as a shit-talker isn't conducive to a reliable and hard-working teammate. It would be easy to lie; you could easily make something up like 'I'm a really good jumper' or 'I have a brother named Grasshopper,' but lying to allies you'd just met just doesn't feel right. There's nothing to fear from these people. They're peers. The professor, this Korvettenkapitän, just more faces you'll forget in a few weeks. But this time, you won't be the meeger and soft-spoken specialist they expect to meet. You've earned your merit. And you won't roll over and show your underbelly at the first sign of intimidation.

"It's a nickname I got from chirping at my superiors," a wicked smile lit up your face, rolling back your shoulders. "And I pissed them off enough for them to grace me with a callsign."

"Yet you've managed to keep your employment in the military with such a lack of respect?" Korvettenkapitän Wolf lashed.

"I got promoted from Corporal to Sergeant a few months ago," you shrug, meeting KKpt's intense eyes with a matching challenge.

Her eyes were dark, scathing. A different kind of dark from Ghost's. His were scathing and spiteful, the eyes of someone who could kill you without a second's remorse. Hers, too, were warning and lethal, but more skeptical than anything. You'd do anything to know what thoughts are rattling around under those tight curls that cling to her scalp like a helmet.

"I like you, Cricket," she said, putting extra emphasis on your callsign. The sudden change from skepticism to camaraderie caught you entirely off guard.

Somehow those words lowered your guard enough to rest your hip on the side of their table, craning to take in their work. A handful of paper-thin laptops dotted the cris-crossing tables, temporary stations for these manic cryptologists to flit between. Cords and crumpled papers served as excellent trip hazards, and a deep coffee stain on one of the stark tablecloths will have to come out of the German military's budget. But you could feel the Korvettenkapitän's eyes on you. She's not done with you, and the anticipation of her next words sat in your conscience, even when you tried to look like you were reading.

"I-I read your file, Sergeant Grant," Professor Kraus spoke shakily, seemingly oblivious that this topic had already been discussed while he studied his papers. "You're a bit of a superstar in the linguistic community lately."

His words made you freeze, turning your absent gaze to meet him.

"What?"

"Your work in Al Mazrah was incredible. I've heard and read your transcriptions with some of my peers. What a bold choice to go into the town in person, and your use of sociolinguistics to infer and problem-solve is remarkable. It takes a lot of nerve to think of something like that, and do it yourself too," a phantom of a smile pulled at her cheeks.

"Oh, that wasn't my idea to go into town. It was actually Farah's… Commander Farah's," you corrected sheepishly.

"You applied all the right methods, and your understanding of regional Arabic syntax is textbook. Beyond textbook, I was really impressed with how you-" the professor's gushing was cut off.

"And your understanding of the message padding in the oral transmissions in Kazakhstan, that was some quick thinkin'," Korvettenkapitän cut in, stepping closer to you.

Kazakhstan? When the hell was I in- oh… Chita, Russia. The first mission they had me on when I met 141. Laswell probably changed the details of my location and mission to protect the security of the task force, especially with something as highly sensitive as stolen nukes. I wonder what they would've thought of the other highly classified missions I've done. What would they think of that hostage recovery on the yacht in Mexico with all the Russian mobsters, posing as a sex worker, or when I was torturing vital info out of that guy in the dam. Maybe it's a blessing that they don't know about those missions.

"I was just following orders," you manifested your most modest grin, feeling like you could shrivel into a ball at the sudden onslaught of affection.

"Now- I wanted to pick your brain, Miss Grant," the professor bumped the table as he clumsily rose from his chair. "How did you get the idea to take one of the family members into the barricade in Verdansk?"

"What approach did you use to understand the sociolinguistics of Ukrainian Pidgin so fluently in ten days?" KKpt approached further, craning to stay in your field of view as she stood above you.

"I'd do anything to see your notes," Kraus nearly lept over her words, keen eyes searching your face for answers.

Ukrainian Pigin? I definitely wasn't fluent in ten days, they pinned me as a 'Yankee' almost immediately. I can still feel the scar tissue from the beating I suffered because of it, too. Laswell must've buttered up my record because it certainly didn't go that smoothly.

"I was doing what any of you would've done under the same pressure," you croaked, the barrage of attention making your visage of confidence crack.

"Very good!" He blurted, tipping his new ceramic mug to you, almost giddy.

There's nothing as foreign as this feeling. It feels like you're hallucinating. You were expecting to be reluctantly recruited as a forced addition due to the SAS' occupation of this existing encampment, yet you're receiving a hero's welcome? This celebrity status you've inadvertently gathered just by doing your job, it's like how the soldiers at all the barracks' look at Ghost and Price… revered. It feels good. It feels wrong. Like they're only praising you because Laswell puffed up some of the details and made you look more impressive than you actually are. These two are staring through you with keen but increasingly puzzled expressions, like they're watching your sense of self unfold before them.

"So what's the sitrep?" You blurted, eager to redirect the conversation in the creeping silence.

"Right," KKpt Wolf stood straight-backed again, smoothing down her dress shirt and returning to the main table. "Our heartbeat detector shows five extra tangos outside of the known 21 hostages. They've been barricaded for 10 days, and they're all heavily armed, including remote detonation explosives stored in caches around the hostages."

"This is a Sig-Int mission, so we're working on the back foot," Kraus looked up past his heavy glasses to speak, haphazardly shifting the topic.

"Sig-Int… so what Signals do we have Intelligence on?"

The Korvettenkapitän slammed a booklet on the table at your hip, a predictable dazzle technique that failed to make you flinch. You're too used to Graves to be spooked by that, but at the same time, something about this woman makes you think she could give him a run for his money. She's got the physical intimidation down with broad shoulders and a tight mouth, but you'd never see Graves admit admiration for someone below him.

"We had a breakthrough two days ago, it's been the bane of my existence," the professor started, tugging at the high collar of his sweater. "A hostage held up one of the terrorist's internal messages to the window, and we got a glimpse at the code they're using."

KKpt Wolf placed down a still image taken through a sniper's scope of pale fingers pressing a crumpled note to one of the windows at the theatre. You slipped the shiny paper into your palm, examining the photo. Through a rain-spattered window, the hostage offered the linguistics team a Hail Mary: a string of strategically and clearly laid out letters and numbers in a grid along pale paper. A maroon emblem in the bottom right almost looked like a wax seal, though it was too obscured by the window pane to know for sure. They were begging the linguistics team to make sense of the nonsensical characters, but you're all just as confused as them.

"It's a one-time pad," you spoke, studying the text block with a crinkled face.

"You are quick," the Korvettenkapitän's confident tone resumed.

"We haven't been able to crack it," Professor Kraus said, tossing his wiry glasses onto the desk and reclining in his chair again, defeated.

One-time pads have been around since the 1800s, and they've been used in warfare and espionage ever since. Only usable for one message, and is useless immediately after, hence 'one-time.' Secure, virtually unbreakable, and as Professor Kraus put it, the bane of a linguist's existence. Scrambled letters and numbers make a chart-like structure on the page, a perfect block of text only discernible by the keyholder. They're annoying as hell.

Kraus has been running a frequency analysis of the text, his swirling, elegant handwriting noting any repeating characters that might fit the vowel structure of any known language. Time and time again, slashes and dashes eliminate attempts at cracking the cipher, each new piece of dogeared loose-leaf signifying another failure. KKpt Wolf had a much more barbaric approach; a brute force assault on the letters, one by one, going through each potential possibility in an attempt to bend the cipher to her will. Her handwriting is stiff and rigid, with angular letters in all capitals, each failed jab at the code is slashed with a red pen. They both know what they're doing, unquestionably experts in their field. But they each represent polar ends of a linguistic cryptologist's approach.

Piles of papers splayed on repurposed dinner tables proved they've been at this for a while. Borderline insanity bleeds into their word, sprawling dashes along one particular piece swipes over white tablecloths, indistinguishable from white paper for the exhausted linguists. You slid off the side of the table, standing on your feet again and pacing passively to pacify tense muscles.

"These terrorist zealots won't do anything without the word from their 'god,' this 'oracle' figure they keep mentioning," Kraus grumbled after a raspy cough. "They won't operate without 'his' word."

"Fucking fanatics," KKpt cursed under her breath, resuming her lurking and muttering, moving in an opposite momentum to your pacing.

"We suspect this is a seal from the oracle, proof that his coded orders are official," he added, tapping a thick finger on the maroon blotch at the corner of the photographed note.

"It works in our favour, though," KKpt said in a brittle voice. "It means we won't have to worry about copycats. The media's having a goddamned field day." She pressed her clenched fist on the table beside you, and the professor sighed.

"They've been receiving orders from this 'oracle' since they've been held up... Somehow," he clicked and un-clicked a pen, seemingly bored by the conversation as his eyes wandered to the rafters.

"Somehow? That doesn't make any sense, isn't there a blockade?" You pressed, turning on your heels hotly.

"There is a blockade." She spat with that familiar coldness.

"Could they be receiving the transmissions digitally?"

"We've asked the area's satellite and landline providers. No transmissions are coming from inside the building. No cellular, nothing," she chided, refolding her arms over her chest again.

"If they aren't receiving it digitally and they aren't sneaking notes through the back door, how are they communicating?" you continued. "I-is there a signal flare communicating in binary we're missing or-"

"We have eyes on every window from here to the fucking Rhine River," she commanded, halting her stalking eerily.

"The Cuckoo Clock is ticking," Kraus said, oddly aloof. "Supplies are bone dry inside the theatre, and the hostages can't survive on vending machine food for much longer."

"The General says we have three days to figure it out," Korvettenkapitän Wolf barked, running a chill through your body. "Or all our necks are on the chopping block."

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deepergrooves · 3 months ago

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André 3000's 'New Blue Sun' Vancouver Review

Highly anticipated ambient jazz show marks a new dawn but leaves fans ATLienated

Birdsong, crickets and rich ambient soundscapes echoed through the deep purples, rosy reds and starlit ceiling of the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver on Friday October 11. The scene was perfectly set for a first glimpse at André 3000's highly anticipated 'New Blue Sun Live' Concert series, an unexpected leftfield step into instrumental ambient jazz from the seven-time grammy winning hip hop icon.

Warm up act serpentwithfeet created a suitably gentle atmosphere with kind-hearted crowd participation numbers and feel good R&B. Despite a few empty seats in the pit, likely a result of the high ticket pricing, the room was poised and curious to see how this drastic stylist shift would translate to the stage.

Origins, synergy and mystical synchronicity

The cosmic butterfly effect that led to the creation of André 3000's 'New Blue Sun' album has already become a tale of folklore. There have been countless stories of André, seemingly never to be found without some kind of wind instrument in hand, serenading unsuspecting Uber drivers and wandering the strip of his new home of Venice Beach like a nomadic jazz monk. It was one such encounter with legendary Californian music arranger and percussionist Carlos Niño in a Venice Beach grocery store that apparently sparked a creative partnership between the two that birthed the 'New Blue Sun's album project. Niño does admit that he had been keeping an eye out for André when he heard he'd moved to town but don't let the truth get in the way of a good story!

Before this reawakening, again mythically attributed to a Hawaiian ayahuasca trip (referenced in the album track 'That Night In Hawaii When I Turned Into A Panther And Started Making These Low Register Purring Tones That I Couldn't Control...Shit Was Weird'), André admitted that he had been suffering with creative block, social anxiety and a mounting sense of pressure to deliver something great in this next phase of his life. In a candid interview with hip hop mogul Rick Rubin on the 'Broken Record' podcast he sounded lost and fearful of his legacy. There was however a flicker of light in André's voice when he began speaking about his new meditative morning breathing routine, involving experimentation with an eclectic set of wind instruments.

Building anticipation - A deep, earthy and aesthetically engaging opening

The show began with a striking visual of a single white beam of light entering a prism just above what looked like a traffic cone before splitting into reds and greens in front of André, backed by his supporting musicians and six lights in a half-crest formation behind the stage. The lighting overall was dark and moody with André just about visible with his red jazz-elder beanie and glasses.

He was stood before a blanket that housed numerous flutes, whistles and other tools. To his right was keyboardist, and Alice Coltrane disciple, Surya Botofasina. At the back was the aforementioned Carlos Niño who seemed to set the tone with various percussion instruments, gongs, shakers and even plants which were a big source of inspiration for the album. To his left, composer and percussionist Deantoni Parks, responsible for the pulsing beat that surfaced through the evening.

The opening song built slowly with Carlos Niño employing various rattles, bushes and what looked like a slinky being swung above head at various points. André let out a mix of guttural and high pitched yelps and animalistic sounds in what felt like a Sun Ra-esque free jazz introduction. Some in the audience seemed bemused early on but for the most part the crowd was still on board and excited with yelps of approval in response to André.

After the first song, André reassuringly addressed the crowd with his southern charm and silky charisma. He introduced the band, cracked a few light jokes and explained the approach to the night - a purely improvised experiment and journey that we would all be embarking on together. It felt courageous and bold, in keeping with the album itself, but what was to follow unfortunately felt for the most part meandering, lacking cohesion and at times difficult to digest.

A brave pursuit but ATLienating for fans

There were some moments where it felt like the embers of an idea were burning but they were never fully formed or realized. A deep, dark primal drum beat from Deantoni Parks ultimately petered out. A lightsaber like hum and arpeggio riff from Surya Botofasina that felt like it could take things in a cosmic, electronic direction (adjacent to album track 'BuyPoloDisorder's Daughter Wears An André 3000 Shirt Embroidered') again pulsated and dropped out before ever taking hold.

Overall, there was a lack of melody, hooks, breaks or structure. There was no pattern, story or resolution to the jam-session musings. There were also no direct songs or distinct elements from the album that could be latched onto. Pure experimentation is a noble pursuit, but for a new group and an artist who is admittedly new to the instruments and finding his feet, it felt like a lot to take on.

At one point André began riffing in what sounded like an imitation of a primal language, which he jokingly admitted he had been making up on the spot. It was a funny moment, but a bit too close to the bone for someone attempting to communicate using instruments he wasn't necessarily fluent in.

It was hard to tell if the accomplished band were limited by André's range or if they were intentionally playing a supporting role but either way they were consigned to little more than background hushes, atmospheric flashes and ponderous patterns.

The final crescendo, albeit very charged, was particularly challenging and had the feel of a free jazz ayahuasca trip being led by an inexperienced astral traveler, with Andre finally slowing things down by breathing rhythmically into the microphone as the lights turned to blue.

New Blue Sun - A New Dawn for André 3000

I still love André 3000 and support this artistic change; the New Blue Sun album is fantastic and deserving of acclaim. This is undoubtedly the start of a process and an experimental phase for a long term project, but the current iteration felt ill equipped for such an ambitious undertaking. Despite the dark mood lighting, the stage left nowhere to hide. In the end, there was a limp standing ovation but no calls for an encore.

This felt like a harsh reset, a journey of purification teetering on the edge of a bad trip, but cleansing for what will hopefully now be futile ground for one of our generations true shining stars. The New Blue Sun is rising, but the cold light of day can be harsh.

#vancouver #music review #hip hop #outkast #andre 3000 #jazz #ambient #vancouver music #music

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beardedmrbean · 1 year ago

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Nato's largest military exercise since the Cold War is starting in Finland this week, reports Ilta-Sanomat.

The exercise, dubbed "Steadfast Defender", is bringing Nato soldiers to Finland. The drill, which includes a total of 90,000 troops from 31 Nato countries, will span this winter and spring and involves thousands of troops moving massive amounts of material through Sweden.

Troops are practicing defending a European Nato ally that has come under attack. Swedish broadcaster SVT has reported that the exercise features a scenario where Russia attacks Finland and Nato invokes Article 5, its collective defence clause.

Nuclear reality

An editorial in Helsingin Sanomat suggests that Finnish leaders have not come to terms with the fact that nuclear weapons are a core part of Nato's deterrence policy. The paper notes that some presidential candidates don't support siting nuclear weapons in Finland. At the same time, Finland is reworking its nuclear safety laws. According to HS, these reforms must not impede Nato's operational activities in a wartime situation in Finland.

The nuclear deterrent is a central component of Nato's security guarantees, under which Finland sought protection by pursuing membership in the alliance. For that reason, Finland must bear its own responsibility in preserving that deterrent, according to the national daily.

"Russia employs exceptionally hostile nuclear rhetoric as a psychological and political tool. Through intimidation, Russia aims to limit western support for Ukraine, and it has succeeded in doing so," HS writes.

A survey last year found that the majority of people in Finland do not support the transport or storage of Nato nuclear weapons in the country.

Regulating electricity

A majority of Finns — 63 percent — want to cap spot electricity prices, according to a poll by Maaseudun Tulevaisuus, which also found that 18 percent of respondents did not favour price limits.

Low-income households most affected by high electricity costs were most likely to support a price cap.

Pekka Salomaa of the energy industry sector trade association Finnish Energy, however, said he was not a fan of price ceilings, citing decreased flexibility.

"It could lead to a situation where there is so little production that buyers wouldn't always get all the electricity they need," he told the agricultural paper, noting that Finland has the second-lowest electricity prices in Europe.

#nunyas news #updates from up north

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thedeepweb · 1 year ago

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okay i will not clog that person's activity with my thoughts on the matter. ugliest interior design trends. ranked by ethics + liveability

rustic vintage

i hope you cut yourself in your rusty metal sheets one day. i hope you get tetanus and die inmediatly. i hope you know your rich parents will die of disgust too at entering here. and on that train i hope the ghosts of the poor people your family exploited will haunt you. i hope you get a heart attack when told your gated community will be dismantled and become a normal neighbourhood i hope your neighbour paints their house bright purple. i hope your bleaching burns your hair and by god i hope your husband (or you if you're a business woman too #girlboss) has a crack of 1929 moment

2. orientalist pedobait/enjoyer of it - tied with

2 part 2. man cave

these 3 are the same to me. they're family/partners

3. "white minimalism"

this hatred comes in so many angles. minimalism started to secure the working class had good quality products at the cheapest price possible. it was meant to be a temporary solution for war expenses. from a chair to your cooking utensils, to your firm apartment with natural light. now 100 years later we're stuck with a minimalism that no longer focuses on ergonomy, no longer focuses on the people it should serve. minimalism today is but a mere ghost of a haunting past to the one who knows of its socialist begginings, and to the rest its just an eternal white wall. the worker can't even touch the walls, even if they offer to repaint them white and fill curtain holes before leaving, for the landlord gushes over the fantasy of dominating every aspect of the tennant's life. ethics aside, this is absolutely unliveable, how can you move freely in the dirtiest color possible. only solace i get is seeing rich people getting minimalist homes bc 1) i know the architech lied to them and overinflated the price 2) they report feeling lonely in there. it's but a drop in the ocean of misery capitalism has caused but well, i enjoy that drop

4. minihouses / chic vanhouse

perhaps in it's less sublimated hard on for poverty, the rich have found a new way to larp as a poor person, now in the upmost uncomfortable way possible. sole point is that by being smaller its less enviromental harm that the mcmansion and the white minimalism emporium. but it's ranked as high for how utterly nightmarish to human movility this design is. nothing more i can add, hope that ceiling fan kills you.

5. le mcmansion

top polluter in this list but it does win over not being able to move freely on your own house less you cut yourself or stain everything. the mcmansion is but a natural consequence of richness. much like royalty living in cold fortress, the new rich hide themselves from the poor in their low life expectancy house, expected from someone who wants the cheapest house possible.

6. "remodelled" old houses

Hate. Let me tell you how much I've come to hate you-

#there may be more but i cant rmemeber them

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nottobeadickoranything · 1 year ago

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Many pro athletes DO end up in poverty because if they came up as high school star players, then they all get perma-coddled until they are in the minors, then they get a massive 7 figure pile of money to live off of, and while many get those big signing bonuses, theres nothing left for them in the game the second their body fails them and when their career ends because of injury they hit the workforce at 30+ with absolutely no real world skills, but with the cocky attitude of someone who played in front of 70,000 people. Then there's the players who only get like a $50k signing bonus. Odd range of job skills. Whole bunch of players go to the minor leagues at 17 or 18, skipping college. Skipping the best years to do the most and best learning. No wonder so many of them are Republicans.

Many of them end up car salesmen. Then theres the guys who work their way up via independent leagues, some of those guys lead really miserable lives until they make the pros. So the bizarre hatred of player salaries in which players usually will "earn" their salary over the course of all big money deals is always unwarranted and a massive unionbusting move and nothing more. The average sports fan is a moron, so its easy to propagandize them into thinking big number player salaries are "bad" and causing inflation on tickets, which in both cases the answer is "give all the money to the team owner, who is always going to arbitrarily raise prices for no legitimate reason" which logically is right out of the Panama Papers, and you know a whole grip of MLB team owners are right wing billionaires who definitely are trying to do That Shit. In baseball alone the hierarchies and pay scales are absurdly varied from player to player and all pro sports aren't nearly unionized enough, across the board. To vilify players for taking a slightly larger crumb of the massive pie the owners aren't splitting, really has made MLB in particular, really nauseating.

Then the "Oh, he didn't win MVP, therefore he's a huge waste of my team owners $40 million, and thats bad, even though there is no salary floor or ceiling. So yeah, screw this guy for having a underwhelming season!!" becomes the rallying cry of a truly propagandized drone of a human being, and late stage capitalism finds another way to rub our noses in how disgusting and low it can really go. You used to enjoy baseball, now you care about a billionaire spending $40 million on something. That's not what the game is supposed to be about, and once again its the billionaires entirely to blame.

The way some of ya'll talk about the money that pro athletes make betrays a fundamental misunderstanding of how any of this works. Absolutely they're not living in poverty or paycheck to paycheck. But they are still people who exchange labour for capital, the vast majority of them are closer to being just like us than they are to being like the billionaires who pay them.

They spend their entire lives being very good at one thing at the sacrifice of education or a backup plan. They exchange their health and physical well-being for that paycheck. If their careers ended tomorrow, most of them would NOT "be fine". The ones on short term (comparatively to their peers) lower paying contracts do NOT have financial or job security.

This is a labour rights issue!! If you watch sports and are entertained by the labour these people provide it's actually insane to dismiss people who point out the relative lack of security that some of these people have! You're not being smart and you're not being progressive

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lntsufin · 2 years ago

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sffgtrhyjhmnzdt · 8 months ago

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High Volume Low Speed Ceiling Fans: Revolutionizing Commercial Ventilation

High Volume Low Speed (HVLS) ceiling fans in Bangalore are transforming the landscape of commercial and industrial ventilation. These fans are designed to move large volumes of air at low rotational speeds, providing efficient and cost-effective climate control solutions for a variety of spaces. Whether it’s a warehouse, gym, retail space, or any large area, Spyro Fans offer numerous benefits that traditional fans and HVAC systems can't match.

The Gearless Advantage: Gearless HVLS Fans

One of the latest innovations in the HVLS fan industry is the introduction of gearless technology. Gearless HVLS fans manufacturers in Bangalore eliminate the need for a gearbox, which is typically the most maintenance-prone component of traditional HVLS fans. Instead, they use direct-drive motors, which are quieter, more efficient, and have a longer lifespan. This advancement not only reduces maintenance costs but also enhances the overall performance and reliability of the fans. As a result, gearless HVLS fans are becoming the preferred choice for businesses looking to improve their ventilation systems with minimal upkeep.

Applications of Commercial HVLS Fans

Commercial HVLS fans are incredibly versatile and can be used in a wide range of environments. They are particularly effective in large, open spaces where traditional HVAC systems may struggle to provide consistent airflow. Some common applications include:

Warehouses and Distribution Centers: These spaces often suffer from poor air circulation, leading to uneven temperatures and increased energy costs. Commercial HVLS fans can help distribute air evenly, maintaining a consistent temperature and reducing the load on HVAC systems.

Retail Spaces: In large retail environments, maintaining customer comfort is crucial. HVLS fans provide a pleasant shopping experience by ensuring a uniform temperature throughout the store.

Fitness Centers and Gyms: Proper ventilation is essential in gyms to remove stale air and odors while providing a comfortable environment for patrons. HVLS fans achieve this efficiently without the noise and energy consumption associated with smaller, high-speed fans.

Benefits of Working with Ventilation HVLS Fans Suppliers

Partnering with reputable ventilation HVLS fans suppliers in nellore offers numerous advantages. These suppliers provide expert guidance on the best fan solutions for specific applications, ensuring optimal performance and energy efficiency. They also offer installation services and ongoing support to ensure that the fans continue to operate at peak efficiency. By working with experienced suppliers, businesses can maximize the benefits of HVLS technology, including improved air quality, enhanced comfort, and significant energy savings.

High Volume Low Speed ceiling fans represent a significant advancement in commercial and industrial ventilation technology. With innovations like big ceiling HVLS fans in Bangalore, businesses can enjoy the benefits of reduced maintenance costs and enhanced performance. By investing in commercial HVLS fans and partnering with trusted ventilation HVLS fans suppliers, companies can create more comfortable, energy-efficient environments for their employees and customers. As the demand for sustainable and cost-effective ventilation solutions continues to grow, HVLS fans are poised to play a crucial role in the future of commercial climate control.

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kitchenbrandstore · 9 days ago

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Oven - All types, varieties and features explained

Modern microwave ovens have cutting-edge functions like grilling, convection, and steaming to prepare delicious meals quickly. However, buying a microwave is necessary for most people, whether it is for your first home because your previous one is broken or your kitchen requires an upgrade. Once you have made up your mind that you need a microwave oven in your kitchen, you must do a little homework to get the best use for your money. This post will provide a microwave oven buying guide and discuss the styles, configurations available, and things to keep in mind while buying a microwave oven.

Difference Between a Convection Oven and OTG

An OTD is used for testing and grilling. For example, you can quickly grill meat and toast bread. A convection microwave oven can perform all these functions and can also reheat, cook and de-freeze, which an OTG cannot do.

Some of the differences are given below:

Heating method: An OTG oven can cook juicy and crispy food like kebabs, meats, and tikkas. When cooking with an OTG, heat radiated from the coil and is absorbed by the food. A fan is present, but most of the heat is dissipated directly under the coils. Convection uses a microwave with a fan for heating purposes.

Capacity: The capacity of an OTG may go up to 60 litres, whereas a convection microwave's capacity reaches just 32 litres. Therefore, OTG might be the better option for large batches of food.

Preheating: An OTG oven can take up to ten to fifteen minutes to preheat; a convection microwave only takes five minutes. This can reduce the cooking time considerably.

Cost: Although an OTG has a lower initial cost, the energy efficiency of a microwave oven is higher. A microwave oven saves money over time by using 20% less energy than an OTG.

How to Choose a Microwave

Average Cost of a Microwave: Small models of microwave start at around 4000 Rs, and mid-sized models start at a range of around 9000 to 22000 Rs, but most tested ones cost 35000 Rs and up. Models designed to make up about 22000 and up in cabinetry or wall cost only.

Space and Location: Before you buy a microwave, please look over where the microwave works best for you and the space available. For example, medium-sized models are usually over 18 inches deep and 20 inches wide, and large microwaves can be an inch or two larger. You will also want to factor in height, but a countertop model should fit well unless you have very low cabinets.

Type: Countertop microwaves are the most widely sold. OTP models are that: they are set up on the range. The built-in category includes models that are designed to be surrounded by cabinetry or built into a wall. This category comprises microwave drawers, which can be installed beneath a countertop or under a wall oven. Additionally, specific countertop models-but not all-can be transformed into built-ins with a kit.

Microwave Types

There are five different types of microwaves.

Countertop Microwaves: You can place them on any flat surface, making them easy to reach, move around, and take with you. Some can even be installed into a cabinet with additional trim kits for a built-in look. Countertop microwaves come in various sizes, features, and price points. For example, the Panasonic countertop microwave offers a greater capacity of 2.2 cubic feet of cooking space.

Over-the-Range Microwave Ovens: These microwaves are installed between the cabinets above your range to free up counter space. They also act as a vent, filtering smoke and steam from the ceiling. These popular models often come with the latest features, although back-to-basics microwaves are also available.

However, over-the-range microwaves may be suitable if you have limited room on the counter or enjoy a centralized workspace with the microwave and range in the same area. If you want a two-in-one appliance, choose an over-the-range microwave that removes the cooking smell from the kitchen.

Low-Profile Over-the-Range Microwave: An over-the-range microwave is an ideal option for some kitchen layouts. However, some models do not fit well in some range hoods. A low-profile over-the-range microwave designed for a slim space without sacrificing capability. Some models are fully vented and can work in place of a full range hood. They can easily replace an existing over-the-range microwave that is hanging too low.

Built-In Microwaves: Built-in microwaves are installed right into pre-existing cabinetry, bringing clean lines and a modern look to the kitchen. The microwave door usually opens from the top, not the side, like an oven. Several people place the built-in microwave above their wall oven to maximize space and provide easy access to both.

Moreover, built-in microwaves offer premium features and finish at potentially higher price points than a countertop and over-the-range options. If you like the idea of a built-in microwave over a wall oven, consider a wall oven microwave combo.

Microwave Drawers: As the name suggests, microwave drawers slide out for use and are installed on the countertop or under a wall oven. The location of this microwave makes it a more convenient and safer option for all family members.

Features to Focus On

Turntables and Trays: As one of the most convenient and common ways to increase temperature uniformity, a turntable is used in the microwave oven as a tray to carry and rotate the heated material to improve the temperature uniformity microwave could.

Quick Keys: The 1-minute or 30-second key requires just one tap to increase the preset cooking time, whatever power you select. It also allows quick adjustments to your previous setting-pressing the button more than once multiplies the time extension.

Racks: These let you expedite things up and cook multiple dishes at once. They also improve convection cooking by allowing heat to build up beneath the cooking vessel. But you may also have trouble fitting a coffee mug into some models unless you remove the rack, so check when you shop.

Child Lock: If you have kids and want a hassle-free cooking experience, remember to buy a microwave that allows you to set a passcode to unlock the device. That way, you can be sure that your kids won’t be exposed to any unfortunate risks.

Convection Cooking, Grilling, and Browning: These characteristics give your kitchen the appeal of a second oven. But none of the tested models provides the results you will get from a regular oven or grill.

Sizes and Cooking Capacity: Exterior dimensions are essential when installing or replacing a built-in microwave or over-the-range. However, full-size countertop units take up a lot of counter space. Allow extra space on all sides. Check the product description of each microwave oven before buying.

For convenient access, you need at least 66 inches from the floor to the bottom of the cabinet when measuring for over-the-range microwave ovens. Moreover, at least 30 inches gap must be between the cooktop surface and the bottom of the cabinet.

Be sure your new microwave will meet your cooking needs. Cooking capacity refers to the internal area. It ranges from 0.7 cubic feet, excellent for small spaces and basic reheating, to 2 cubic feet or larger for full cooking capability.

Energy Savings: There are currently no energy-saving certified microwaves on the market, but you can still find ways to save time or energy. Look for a microwave with variable power settings for better cooking performance while using less energy.

Popular Microwave Features

Below are listed 13 popular features of microwaves.

Smart Technology: Several new microwaves have smart compatibility so that you can control the device via an app, Bluetooth, or voice assistant. These features help you multitask while you cook or monitor the cooking process.

Convection: Convection cooking uses a fan to circulate hot air around the dish, resulting in more evenly cooked food.

Speed Cook: Speed cooking combines the functionality of convection cooking with microwaving. You will get the results of a conventional oven at the speed of a microwave.

Sensors: To avoid overcooking, microwave oven sensors automatically change time and temperature as needed. Moreover, sensors measure the emitted steam to determine when the food is at the optimum temperature.

Non-stick Interior: Non-stick interior coatings make cleaning easy. Simply wipe down the plastic interiors with a damp cloth. In addition, stainless steel interiors also wipe clean and do not absorb odours.

Turntables, Trays, and Removable Racks: The turntable in a microwave rotates the food while it's cooking to ensure even heating. A tray can be used to catch any drips or spills that may occur during cooking.

Moreover, a removable rack can be used to elevate food and allow for more even heating or to cook multiple items at once. All of these features can be useful in improving the cooking process and making it easier to use a microwave.

High Wattage: Using a high wattage setting on a microwave means that the appliance is operating at a higher power level, which results in food heating up more quickly. Microwaves typically have power settings ranging from 600 to 1200 watts, with some models offering even higher wattage levels.

When using a higher wattage setting, it's essential to be mindful of the cooking time, as the food may cook faster than expected. It's also crucial to ensure that the food is evenly distributed in the microwave to avoid overcooking or undercooking certain areas.

Additionally, high-wattage microwaves can be more expensive and consume more energy, so it's essential to consider your cooking needs and energy usage when selecting a microwave.

Filters: If you use your microwave without a range hood, prefer a charcoal or recirculating filter to reduce cooking odours.

Preset Cooking Times: With this feature, you just press a button to start cooking. Designed to defrost or cook dishes for the optimal amount of time, you can often find options for pizza, popcorn, potatoes, and frozen dinners.

Inverter Technology: Engineered to provide steady heat over a short range, the inverter technology maintains an even percentage of power. Several microwaves alternate between low and high heat when you heat something at less than 100% power.

With the constant temperature of inverter technology, it is possible to make better-quality poached fish and omelets. Panasonic, Farberware, LG, and Samsung offer microwaves with inverter technology.

Grilling: By surrounding the food with intense heat, a grill option sears the outside of the food and prevents the rubbery texture that sometimes results from cooking meat in a microwave. Samsung offers a slim fry feature that combines grilling with hot air circulation to create crispy food inside and out without added oil.

Steam: Streaming is a convenient way to quickly prepare foods such as vegetables and fish; the steaming option keeps food moist without adding fat. This handsome cooking method also allows you to poach eggs in your microwave.

Top Microwave Brands

● Samsung

● Panasonic

● LG

● Bajaj

● IFB

● Morphy

● Lifelong

● Godrej

● Whirlpool

● Pigeon

● Inalsa