#supermarket turnstile

[szrssecurityswingturnstile]

servo motor speed turnstiles barrier also called security swing turnstile gate, which comes from the gain access to control system, is among the crucial elements of modern-day entryway and exit control. The door wings are driven by the control system and open and close automatically. The operating mode can be picked through programs settings: As quickly as it is confirmed that the person entering is licensed, the door wings open automatically. It closes after a hold-up, and the hold-up time is adjustable. Typical dc brushless slim gates barriers are divided into scissor doors (city flap turnstiles gate) and swing doors. (1) Scissor doors are often utilized in rail transit, and typical scissor doors are mainly used in trains and other locations. The door wings extend from the inside of package, which can effectively seal the passage and play the role of access control. In addition, an infrared noticing gadget is installed inside the door body, which can recognize the purpose of "one person, one card" for individuals to travel through. (2) The swing door appeared behind the scissor door and belongs to the 2nd generation servo motor slim turnstile doors. Such dc brushless speedlane turnstile gate is that the door wings run in the front and back direction. The operation process is within the body's line of vision, which is more secure. In addition, because the door wings do not need to be pulled back into the box, The styles of swing doors are more different. Due to the above characteristics, swing doors are generally utilized in banks, corporate structures, high-end office buildings, etc. Anti-trailing function: There is a total infrared light band detection area in the channel. The switch state can be changed by software application according to the customer's accuracy requirements. The application of the light band to adapt to different requirements prevents the drawbacks of point-type infrared detectors that are quickly contaminated and impacts the reliability of judgment, and can efficiently evaluate the future. Tag reader who checks out the card. When the system determines that tailgating has happened, the system will react based upon the area of the valid cardholder returned by the infrared detector. After the door opening signal is sent, there are still some irregular uses that will trigger an alarm.

[tripodturnstile]

three arms gates turnstile from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Ideal for all kinds of public locations that require orderly passage of pedestrians, such as scenic areas, exhibit halls, cinemas, docks, train stations, bus stations and other locations that need ticket confirmation; locations that require authorized entry such as factory presence, canteen usage, golf courses, regular monthly card leisure centers, and so on; anti-static control areas of electronic factories, units that need rigorous security measures such as face acknowledgment and finger print recognition. RS Security Co., Ltd generally produces, establishes and sells gain access to control products, such as three arms turnstile gate, subway flap turnstile gate, servo motor swing turnstile gate, translation turnstile barrier, optical turnstile gate, complete body gates gate, half high turnstile barrier, fastlane gates door and other channel turnstiles barrier products, and barrier gate, recognition electronic camera, hydraulic bollards, road bocker three arms turnstiles door Integrated electronic tickets, gain access to control and participation, club consumption/catering, anti-static, finger print, palm print, face recognition, iris recognition Integrated application of other series of products; full stainless steel frame structure, Taibang motor, individually established and produced movement; one-way/two-way turnstile gate/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can realize RS485 direct interaction with the computer system; three rollers turnstile door prompts and instructions and alarm triggers; automatic fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it gets the switch signal to open gates gate; it can be geared up with a card reading control part, and several units can be linked to the network; it can be equipped with magnetic card and distance card combination methods; it can be ordered according to various functional requirements. Do. A fully rainproof box made from alloy aluminum or stainless steel, compared to the metro flap turnstile gate dc brushless swing turnstile barrier and other pedestrian passage equipment, waist height turnstiles barrier are more economical. It has a tailored installation user interface (such as card reader, sign light installation, and so on) to guarantee that the system integrator's control turnstile door equipment is simple and hassle-free to set up. The movement of the three-stick turnstile barrier machine has actually an automatically changed hydraulic shock absorber. When using the three-stick gates door operation, the noise is really small and silent. Effect, turnstile barrier bar automatically decreases back to center. The surface area of the motion is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be set with gates barrier machine control, a couple of instructions control (set by user). The base is repaired with growth bolts.

[starssaroundmyscarssblog]

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄… 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊?

pairing: 90s!liam gallagher x fem!oc

summary: in which the concept of a one night stand is lost to the fates of juniper willow

word count: 3.52k

warnings: drinking, vomit, allusions to sex, kissing, all the usual you would expect from a bender in the 90s, liam being an arrogant prick (we love him really) <3

one night stands usually worked well and functioned in natural order for juniper willow, and every other twenty-something in the country. get drunk, go home with someone who looked vaguely interesting in the club, wake up in the morning and face the awkward small talk. the system was clockwork and so was the aftermath, so why were the fates staring down at juniper willow trying so hard to knock her off balance?

she stumbled into the office with a hangover so bad she could hardly see straight, and security had to pull her aside when her id card didn't work at the turnstiles in the lobby. peter, the security guard, was laughing at her as he guided her to his small office. granted he did give her two paracetamol tablets, a flat bottle of half-drank coke and a paper cup filled with rich supermarket coffee, but he still laughed at her.

if moving didn't cause her stomach to turn itself inside out, she would have slugged him in the ribs.

the tinted sunglasses juniper shielded her eyes away with from the rest of the office did nothing to help her, and tony from accounts whistled at her as she slumped into the chair tucked into her small cubicle. the entire floor was split up into small boxes sprawling about, sometimes the occasional head would peek out and ask if anyone wanted a coffee, or if there was a stapler going spare.

"fuck off tone," she bit back, trying to cross one knee over the other but couldn't when she felt the recurring dull ache between her legs. "bit snappy, someone got lucky last night."

he nudged simon and ellie, a couple always in their own small world that gave hr a headache, on his way out. before she could stop herself, juniper yelled, "bite me!" and regretted it as soon as the last syllable left her mouth. the fizzing of the coke bottle irked her beyond belief, as did the clacking of fingers on keyboards all around her.

god knows what she was going to be like in the brightly lit room with a camera shutter going off constantly when the next band who were getting featured on the cover came in for photos.

juniper reached into her bag to pull out her planner, peeling the pages away from one another to reveal the date. in the middle of the page she'd written a simple word, 'oasis', in large capital letters with four think lines drawn below for emphasis. just below was the time they were coming in, 12:00, in three hours.

three hours to get over a hangover so bad she couldn't think straight. most of the time juniper hated half of the people in the office with a vengeance, but slowly they were redeeming themselves by falling silent when walking past her desk, or offering her cups of coffee with silent sympathetic smiles. normally she liked tea, but she could get over it.

at eleven o'clock, she started reviewing some of the concept art that had been left on her desk. oasis were coming in for a short shoot without the bells and whistles - it was the only condition under which they'd agreed to actually be on the cover of nme in the first place. the brothers were coming in at twelve, the rest of the band at one, and then they were going off for their interview downstairs at two.

a phone call came through to her from the wardrobe department to clarify that all she would need were some jackets and sun glasses, and they added a runner into the mix to ensure that the information reached the right people by the right time.

by the time half past had rolled around, juniper was beginning to feel better. she could walk in a straight line and didn't vomit each time she went to the loo. tony had also come by the apologise and declared peace by sliding over a warm slice of cake from the bakery by the school over the road. juniper was scraping the thick layer of chocolate icing off with her finger and licking it off as memories of the night before slowly pieced themself together in her mind.

someone from marketing had asked her through a friend of a friend if she wanted to go out, and usually juniper had a rule against going on benders during the week. however, the chance to go to the velvet rooms wasn't one to be passed up. juniper remembered getting out of a cab with a girl she vaguely knew, shivering in the cold from her skimpy skirt and glittery stilettos and warming herself up with a shot given to her "on the house" from the bartender.

ten minutes before the gallagher brothers were meant to be arriving, juniper had started to regret filling up her stomach with icing and felt the bright blue fishbowl full of alcohol she'd drunk the previous night sloshing around in her stomach. ellie had tried to talk to her about the composition plans she'd submitted for final review, but held them tight to her chest as juniper blazed right through the middle of the office and barged through the door to the staff loos with a harsh shove of her elbow.

juniper had made it into a cubicle just in time before she retched and a blue liquid came splattering into the toilet bowl. she slumped down against the cubicle door and held her head in her hands. the door creaked as ellie's soft hands rapped against the cubicle quietly, "june, are you alright?" she asked tentatively.

"peachy," she croaked back, lunging towards the toilet again as she felt another bout of bile rise. "not so peachy." ellie's heart softened. it wasn't very often juniper came back from a night out and was feeling the repercussions of it the next day. slowly, juniper stretched her legs and rose to a stand, sliding the lock and leaving the cubicle after flushing. she caught sight of ellie's watch, she only had five minutes until she had to be down in the lobby.

fucking mancunian cunts.

thankfully, ellie had supplied her with a plastic cup of water and some mints. she fluffed up her hair and slid the sunglasses down her nose again, surveying her pale, forlorn reflection in the harsh yellow light. juniper pinched sharply at her cheeks to inject rosiness and life, re-applied her lipgloss and failed to stare back at herself confidently.

the guy she'd taken home last night had been from manchester, thick proper thick accent and everything. he was cocky, too, and juniper wasn't sure if it was a northerner thing or not.

ellie gently pushed the small folder of composition sketches to her as they left the bathroom, and gave her shoulder a small reassuring squeeze before departing back to her desk. the phone rang as juniper walked past her own, wrapping two slender fingers around it to answer, "hello, this is juniper speaking?"

"hi june," clare, the receptionist, was talking back at her, "the gallaghers are here, shall i send them up or are you coming down?" sending them up would save juniper from having to brave the lift again, but greeting them in the lobby and taking them to the studio herself would give a much better impression.

she sighed heavily, "i'll come down, let them know i'll be five minutes if they wouldn't mind the wait. they can help themselves to tea if they want as well."

with shaky steps, she pushed the button for the lobby on the pannel for the lift, when the middle one slid open juniper felt like she was walking to her death. she resisted the urge to curl up into a ball in the corner and instead stood up straight, fluffing her hair up once more as she walked as confidently as she could into the lobby. with a folder tucked under her arm and her yellow tinted sunglasses pushed right up to her eyes, she locked onto two men stood in the corner by a coffee machine.

both wearing sunglasses, but whether it was by choice or they were covering up a hangover like her, she didn't know. an instinct in her was leaning towards the latter in hopes of making herself feel better.

"noel and liam gallagher, i assume?" juniper spoke as she neared them, holding her hand out. noel looked at her first, smiled tightly, and shook her hand. "yeah, that's us."

"great. i'm juniper, it's lovely to meet you both. are you ready to come upstairs so we can get this over with? i've heard neither or you are fans of this kind of thing." at this, noel's smile increased slightly. he made to follow her and thumped his brother on the back of the head to get him to join.

liam cursed his brother under his breath as he turned away from the coffee machine and dragged himself into the elevator where he nursed his head in the region noel had made sharp contact. it did nothing to help his hangover, and as he held his hand out for the nme photographer to shake he hoped she would let him keep his sunglasses on.

he nearly laughed out loud when he looked at the reflection of the three of them in the mirrored doors of the elevator. what a sight they looked in their sunglasses in crippling sates of hangover recovery. liam was about to make a snark remark that would have surely granted him another whack on the back of his head when he stopped shortly in his tracks.

the photographer looked familiar, so familiar is was scary. he'd recognise the raggedy ends of her blowout falling limp and losing shape over her shoulders from when he'd seen it splayed over a pillow as she moaned beneath him the night before, and her orange painted nails that dragged over his shoulders and neck in a darkened corner of a club toilet.

he couldn't remember her name, something like juno or julia he thought, but liam knew it was her. she had the same aura about her that he couldn't have forgotten even after stumbling back out through her front door some time around four in the morning. leaving before she'd woken up had been a bit of a dick move even he had to admit, but he was about to be part of the best band in the fucking world!

he had to live up to rock and roll standards somehow, didn't he?

part of him felt bad, but another thought it was for the best he hadn't been there that morning. the situation would have been awful, leaving and then arriving in the same place a few hours later. perhaps he should say something? only in necessary, he concluded, safe in the comfort that at least she hadn't recognised him.

juniper's head was pounding dully as she walked the gallaghers into a studio, bright white lights stabbing through the flimsy protection offered by her glasses. ellie was fiddling with a camera in the corner, and made room for juniper to lay out the concept sketches and composition proposals on the table. "ellie, this is noel and liam." she introduced, though the brothers hardly needed it. they were on the verge of being the best band in the country. "she's here to make sure we run to schedule and to get you and the rest of the band - when they arrive - to your interview on time." she spoke as ellie shook their hands and returned to her camera.

"is there anything you'd like to ask before we start? there's a few jackets we've taken from the wardrobe department if you'd like to change."

without looking up, nimble fingers darting over the buttons as she set the camera onto a tripod in the middle of the room, ellie added, "there's shirts and sun glasses if you'd like those, too." shoved against a corner of the room was a clothes rack full of stone island, fred perry and adidas. noel beelined to a blue denim jacket with a fur trim around the neck then a vintage manchester city football shirt, while his brother hung behind.

juniper was going to introduce herself as she realised she hadn't gotten a chance in the lobby, but stopped short when she saw him look up at her from the paper cup of cheap filter coffee. she hadn't just slept with any mancunian the night before, she'd only gone and slept with liam fucking gallagher.

at first she thought her mind was playing a trick on her, but on closer inspection she concluded that she hadn't. along his neck were one or two hickeys, as well as stains from her lipstick that hadn't washed away after vigorous scrubbing under the shower. his jaw was the same as well, the same one she'd ran her finger along and pulled to face her as she sat on his lap after too many shots.

if having a hangover while photographing up-and-coming music legends was bad enough, having to do it all for her one night stand was much worse. and she could hardly talk to him about it either, because ellie was keeping her to a tight schedule. thus with a sigh and a heavy lump starting to form in her throat, juniper pulled her camera towards her and began to position the brothers in various positions.

the shutter flickered for just under an hour with little to no conversation, the silence only punctuated by juniper asking liam to move a few inches to the left or to get noel to move his head back more because it looked better under the lighting that way. she changed the film three times, got them to change jackets and shirts twice and took another dose of pain killers. eventually, ellie called time. "i'll go downstairs and get the rest of the band, they should be arriving any minute now. take five minutes if you need it, be back here by five past."

a bell rang somewhere in the distance, but juniper thought it came from the secondary school over the road. stupid place to put a music magazine office really, next to a school full of kids clued up about music and pop culture when there were bands and rock stars walking in and out of the building like a revolving door. sometimes they would try and get in through the lobby, or the delivery entrance if they were trying to be clever.

excusing herself and walking down the corridor, juniper looked out a window off a short turning and watched a sea of children clad in navy blazers flood out onto the playing fields where they shouted or played football, gossiped in small circles or watched fights unfold with anticipation.

there was a sharp tap on her shoulder and through the reflection, juniper could see who it was. with a heavy sigh and a pray to a god she didn't believe him to not fuck up the interaction, juniper turned around. "listen, juno-"

immediately, she cut him off. "juniper."

"what?" liam questioned, reeling after he was sure he got her name right after debating it over and over in his head. "it's juniper. my name, but june's fine."

"oh. righ'. well, june, then . . . listen. i was goin' to say summat but i don' really remember." there was something in his head yelling at him to stop acting like a cunt, but he couldn't help it. since he'd seen june in the club the previous night, there was something about her he didn't want to let go. kissing seemed like something he wanted to do to her, but was probably a bad course of action especially if she didn't remember their encounter.

a yell in juniper's head clicked her voice into action and she spoke at the same time as him, "listen, about last night-" they both stopped to look at each other. they clearly both remembered at least one small detail from the night before, mainly who it was they'd slept with. juniper could feel the throbbing returning in full force to the front of her head, and decided to let liam speak first.

"no, you go."

"righ'. well i just wanted to say i try not to sleep with people i end up working with but sometimes it just happens and when the bird is fit, and i mean mega fit, it just sorta happens." there was a level of tiredness and, surprisingly, bewilderment about her stare up at him. perhaps it was his outspoken way, it could have been that he'd tracked her down the corridor to speak to her, but most likely it was the fact he'd even chosen to acknowledge it in the first place.

juniper couldn't believe what she was hearing. liam gallagher, blabber mouth of the century who couldn't even begin to fathom the meaning of the word 'modest', was apologising for sleeping with her. it was nice, don't get her wrong, but there was something in his words that sounded like regret and she didn't like it. not one bit.

after three minutes of endless waffle and the sound of ellie walking across the hall further down with the rest of the band trailing behind her, juniper held up her hand. "thanks, really. i appreciate you telling me you try to keep your sex life away from your work and i'm assuming you don't want people to think of you as a wet wipe, but seriously. hardly any of the men i've slept with have had the decency to bring it up if i've seen them again. and believe me, in this building it happens more than you would think-"

the movement of her shoulders being forced back into the wall behind her as liam gained in distance closer to her face startled juniper into realising he was kissing her with as much force behind it as she was throughout the night. frozen into place as liam moved his hands around as much as he wished, juniper slowly twisted around to push him as far as she could down the small part of the alcove that remained behind them. then she brought her hands up to his chest, and begrudgingly pushed herself away.

juniper looked up at him through her lashes and the lenses of her sunglasses as she fiddled coyly with the button of his jacket placed just under his chin, suddenly brimming with confidence she hoped wouldn't fail. she could see the hickeies she'd marked him with and knew it wouldn't.

liam looked down at her over the bridge of his nose smugly, grin increasing as she questioned, "what was that for?"

"couldn' think of another way to shut you up. i mean you're proper fit, don' get me wrong, but you blab enough for half of the country." juniper appeared disheartened but tried to hide it behind her furrowed brows. "is that it?" she wondered aloud.

"nah. been thinking about doin' that for a while now actually."

ellie's voice called from somewhere in the nearby distance, asking if she ("junie") had gone to the loo and if she had had she seen liam wondering about. if she had, could she please bring him back to the studio now because his brother was getting "testy".

"cunt's always gettin' testy, been testy since he came out of the fucking womb." juniper had to bite down on her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing and giving the pair way. "she'll get testy if we don't hurry up." slowly, juniper peeled away from liam's hold and began to saunter away from him.

she could feel him eyes burning holes on her back where her checked skirt met the low hem of her brown leather jacket, and called over her shoulder lowly, "if you'd started by saying you'd wanted to kiss me, i would have invited you out for a drink tonight if you weren't busy."

liam rubbed his eyes and pushed them back into his head. "i'm not busy."

"are you sure? i would've thought rock and roll stars didn't have time for that sort of thing."

"i'll make time," he rushed out, stumbling over his words at the pace they were leaving his mouth. "lots of time, all the time in the world if you want it."

"i'll think about it, would that make you feel better?"

she hadn't acted like this before, only when she'd had too much to drink and had been running the heel of her shoe up his leg throughout the night at the club, and again liam felt himself being dragged in to wanting more. the pull she had on him was too much to bear. "please, junie?" it was something foreign on his tongue, begging, to get a woman to go out with him.

juniper's eyes lit up before she pushed open the door to the studio, and suddenly her hangover wasn't feeling as brutal as it had been. "well if you insist, mr gallagher, i suppose i'll have to give you the offer won't i?"

🪩⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊🎤

[eryiss]

[Jet x Freed] Cubicle Capers - Chapter Four

Summary: Jet was meant to do more. He was meant to do something with his degree. He was meant to have a purpose. He'd taken a job at Grimoire Pharmaceuticals to work his way up into a lab position, but found himself stuck in a cubicle. Every day the same. At least he had a new boss coming. Freed Justine. He’d be like the rest, though. Boring, outdated and.. hot as hell?

Notes: Conflict. Forgiveness. Embarrassing pictures. All here right now. Again, this was requested by @jethro-art.

Links: Ao3, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Epilogue

Chapter Four – The Argument

Jet

There were shit days, and there was the day that Jet was having.

Slowly, over the past few weeks, little things had gone wrong and he'd dealt with it. His coffee machine as home had started giving the beans a weird taste. The supermarkets had decided to change the layout and he had no idea where his usual brand of heavy-duty trash bags had ended up. The new neighbour across the street had decided he'd start making his front lawn look presentable, but had to blast out trance music at top volume to do so. Jet's nerves had already been grated on, even before the shit-show of the morning.

Speedster, his vintage sports car and only transportation, had decided to splutter and smoke and cut out. He tended to the car like a child, taking every precaution to make sure she ran like she was showroom fresh. He'd invested a fair portion of his meagre wages on her, and for no understandable reason, that morning she had died.

That would have been bad enough already. To deal with the fact his pride and joy was dead on the street would be difficult, not to mention the fact all the money he'd spent on her had essentially been flushed down the toilet. But then he had to navigate the streets – littered with trash since the refuge union were rightly, if annoyingly, striking again. Then the bus system, which had been underfunded since before Jet was born. Then the tram system, which as a cost cutting measure had decided to half the carriage amounts and force everyone into overly cramped and revoltingly sweaty quarters not fit for humans. They also were running late, and Jet hadn't known he'd had to contend with any of this crap before his normal leaving time, meaning he was late for work. Very fucking late for work.

He stormed into the building, cursed out the stupid turnstile which took three attempts to identify his ID card, and ran up the flights of stairs because it would be faster than taking the elevator. Sweaty and angry, he threw his bag down under his desk and let his expression harden. He would let himself be angry for a little while before he started; best not let that anger touch his scanning or he'd be pissed off all day.

"Jet," Laki said, head poking into his cubicle. "Freed says he wants to see you when you get in."

Jet ground his teeth together a little. "You think I could have a couple minutes before I go?"

She winced. "I don't think so. He seemed pretty insistent," she screwed up her face. "The phrase 'if he deigns to show his face' was used, so I'd probably go now."

He forced himself to unclench. He had wanted to get a mug of non-burned coffee, and maybe a chance to splash some water on his face, before he did anything professional. He wanted to not be pissed off at the stupid busker and his stupid crowd of watchers who had gotten in his way. He wanted a moment to get his heart rate down. He wanted a better goddamn job that might be worth the stress of a crappy morning.

But duty, and managers called, so he had to do as he was told.

This was Freed, though. In the half a year he'd been working there, Freed had never once been unreasonable. Jet was always punctual, and it was obvious this was a random occurrence. Freed would see reason. With two knocks, Jet walked into Freed's office.

"Hey man, I'm really sorry-"

Freed silenced him from behind his desk, not with a word, but with a raised finger. He motioned for Jet to take the seat opposite him, and Jet did so with a scrunched-up face. Freed seemed different.

The room was different, too. Freed's phone was lit up red on all lines, the pinboard beside his desk which previously had been entirely clear now was filled with spreadsheets and random charts, and a small collection of half drunk and discarded mugs of tea and coffee decorated his desk. Freed had always kept his desk clean and his office minimalist. He was a neat freak, Jet had assumed, and yet his office today looked cluttered and messy.

"I don't know what you think is happening," Freed said, and his voice had an edge to it. "But you cannot do this."

"I wasn't-" Jet tried again, but Freed shot him a look that shut him up.

"I am your boss and as such it is my responsibility to make sure you adhere to the company rules of employment. One of which – the most obvious, I would say – is that an employee must be in the office and working for the hours their contract dictates. Your contract states you should be in the office at eight thirty and leave at five. It's ten o'clock, and you've only just gotten here. That cannot happen. There is a small amount of leeway I can give you. An hour and a half goes far beyond that."

Jet knew that, and it kind of pissed him off that Freed felt the need to explain it in that condescending tone. "Yeah. Obviously, but-"

"I understand that perhaps I blurred the lines of proper conduct between us by our trips to the bar," Freed began, and Jet could see where this was going. Oh fuck no. Freed wasn't actually gonna do this, was he? "But, us having a friendly relationship outside of work does not allow you to disregard the rules of your employ."

"You're kidding me," Jet muttered, leg bouncing.

"If us meeting outside of work is going to give you reason to think you can come and go from work without care for the proper-"

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Jet snapped, and it might have been louder than he expected because Freed sat up a little straighter. Jet didn't care. If Freed was implying this, then fuck Freed. "That's what you thought this was huh? Me, cosying up to the boss so I don't have to come to work on time? That's my evil plan, huh? Make friends with ya then half ass this job."

"One and a half hours late-"

"Happens! Shit like that happens! You don't get to-" Freed didn't get to imply their meetings in the pub, which had been a weekly thing for them both since the first, were anything but two guys having fun. Freed didn't get to imply that Jet was going to the pub with him for malicious reasons. Freed didn't get to paint Jet in that light. But he couldn't say any of that. It all sounded too soppy and emotional. Instead, he stood up and walked to the door. "Fuck this."

"I'm not finished speaking with you Jet," Freed said in a voice that might have intimidated Jet if Jet wasn't sure he was in the right.

"Who cares?"

"We are going to have this-"

"HR's been on our asses about taking all our vacation days since that lawsuit. I'm taking mine. Guess I'm not late after all."

"Jet."

"Whatever you're about to say, I don't give a shit. Don't care about the words of a guy who'd assume the words of me," Jet shrugged. "In fact, take your words and shove them up your tightly wound, hypocritical, shitty at Donkey Kong asshole!"

He left the office, slammed the door, picked up his bag from the cubicle, and got the fuck out of there. If Freed wanted to yell at him tomorrow, so be it. That just gave Jet a full day to think of the ways to make Freed feel as shitty as Jet himself felt.

Fuck Freed Justine. Fuck him.

———

Freed

Exactly twenty-two and a half hours later, Freed had been given more than enough time to realise how terribly he'd handled the situation.

He could give himself excuses. He could say that before Jet had arrived, the CFO had come into Freed's office to discuss a matter, and had decided that because Freed wasn't drowning in paperwork and visibly stressed beyond functioning, he wasn't working hard enough. He could say that this had led to his phone being the go-to for all the questions that no department was specifically meant to answer. He could say that the reality of his office job had started to crush him, and for the first time Freed was considering quitting a job purely because he was struggling to handle it.

None of that mattered, though. Yes, he was a person who had flaws and bad days, but so were his employees. If he hadn't allowed Jet to explain his lateness, then Freed had no right to explain his unfair assumptions. He was wrong, he had deserved Jet's yelling, and the onus was on him to fix things.

As such, Freed had spent the morning waiting at the elevators, looking for Jet. He hoped he'd come in. He would come, wouldn't he? Jet hadn't quit, so he'd come back to work eventually. Right?

His question was eventually answered, when Jet trudged out of the stairwell beside the elevators, and Freed saw him from the corner of his eye. Jet saw him at the same time, and they looked at each other. Jet's posture was rigid and anticipatory, the very personification of someone waiting to close either fight or flight.

"Could I speak with you in my office please, Jet," Freed requested. The shift in Jet's jawline and the slight straightening of his back told Freed that Jet was ready for a fight.

The walk from the elevator to Freed's office was long, and Freed had to wonder how long it must have felt for Jet the day before, swirling with anger and annoyance and, if Freed wasn't deluding himself into thinking Jet saw him as a friend, a sense of betrayal. That made the guilt squirm harder in Freed's stomach. But he was going to make this right; or at least he'd do his best to try.

With the door closed firmly behind them, Freed took his seat behind his desk and gestured for Jet to take his own. Jet's leg was bouncing and his fingers twiddling. Jet was a fidgeter. A ball of energy. It must be hell to work in this office.

"Yesterday," Freed began, and suddenly, looking into Jet's eyes, the professional apology he had planned went out the window. "I behaved like a dick to you. I was unfair and presumptuous and put outward stresses onto you. I was rude, and I'm incredibly sorry."

Jet looked at him. His face portrayed nothing. Freed continued.

"For what it's worth, yesterday won't be removed from your designated vacation days, so you haven't lost any Holliday due to what I did."

"So I've got a full day on record without doing any work." Jet had muttered that. Maybe Freed wasn't meant to hear, but he had.

"No, your figures are entirely as they should be," Freed explained, and a look of panic flashed across Jet's face. Freed belatedly realised what that sounded like – like Freed had fudged the figures in a way that could come back to haunt them – and quickly spoke again. "I got your work done. I realised… fairly soon after you left that I was in the wrong, and that your professional reputation shouldn't be affected," his cheeks flushed a little, and he had no idea why. "I made sure all the scanning was done; you don't need to worry."

Jet looked at him. Stared him down. "What time d'you leave last night?"

"That's not important," Freed dismissed. He hadn't actually left at night. It had been a little after one in the morning. Saying that would be like pointing out a sacrifice he'd made, which wasn't fair. Recompense wasn't something that should end in pity.

"So I ain't in trouble, and I ain't behind on work, and I ain't missing a vacation day. That's all you wanted to tell me?"

"And that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did, and I promise it won't happen again."

Jet kept staring at him. Freed could only stare back. Jet was clearly expecting something, but Freed had no idea what that was. If Jet needed something to forgive Freed, then Freed would get it for him no questions asked, but he really had no clue what that thing might be. Maybe Jet sensed that, because he spoke again. "You not gonna explain what was stressing you out? That you had your boss breathing down your neck or whatever, and that's why you were being an asshat."

"I've found that an apology followed by an excuse tends to not be worth saying," Freed met Jet's gaze. "I'm sorry, I was wrong, no amendments needed."

And, rather heartbreakingly, Jet looked like he'd been struck. Like such a thing was so unfamiliar in his life that it was worthy of a shocked response. Like he didn't think he deserved it. Like it was so out of the realms of possibility for Freed to treat him like a human being. Like an equal.

Freed really had fucked up. And Jet really hadn't been treated right. It wasn't appropriate for Freed to quietly think that he could treat Jet right. He could make the man feel worthy of all the apologies in the world. He could make Jet smile that sharp toothed smile.

"Oh, right. Thanks."

Before dangerous thoughts could persist, Freed pushed on. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, laminated card. "This is also a gesture of good will, I hope. It tends to make people laugh and, given you like making fun of me when we're drinking, I thought you'd appreciate it."

He placed the card on his desk and let Jet pick it up. He saw the moment apprehension gave way to amusement.

"You look like a jackass," Jet grinned. "What the hell made you do that to yourself?"

"A drunken mistake, I'm afraid." Freed glanced down at his old ID card from about five years ago, with his green hair buzzed short and looking entirely ridiculous. He had a face that served long hair, and certainly not an army style buzzcut. It was a point of consistent ridicule among his friends that he'd done that, made worse by the fact he'd done it days before a job translating for the king of Lichtenstein, his most publicised job. "It's ridiculous, I know. Feel free to circulate it around the office should you feel the need."

"Nah, I'll keep it to myself."

"Really?"

"Not a fucking chance. Gotta make sure this gets around. You okay with me doin' a scan of this and sending out a company wide email, make sure everyone knows."

"Do as you wish," Freed laughed. "But, might I ask, are we good?"

Jet paused. "I think we're good. I'm gonna stew on it a little longer, I think, but I think we're good."

"I'm glad," Freed smiled. "I've taken too much of your time already, so feel free to leave."

"Yep, got work to do," Jet agreed, holding onto the ID card. "See you later Bossman."

"See you later."

Jet saluted to him, and Freed leant back in his chair with a small sigh. The dampening of his nerves hit him suddenly, and he placed his hands on the desk to stop them shaking. It had been far too long since he'd cared like this about something.

Jet had called him Bossman. That was enough for now. That was a promise that they'd get back to where they'd been, even if Jet was still a little raw and likely to make some negative assumptions about Freed for a while. He could understand that. He could live with that. So long as it ended up okay, that was fine.

A little trill came from his PC, and Freed glanced over to it. An email, sent to the entire company list. The little fucker had actually done it. Brat. Freed had to grin. He really did love being in Jet's aura; the chaos was wonderful.

[xirae]

I realized that the human inhabitants of this technological landscape no longer provided its sharpest pointers, its keys to the borderzones of identity. The amiable saunter of Frances Waring, bored wife of my partner, through the turnstiles of the local supermarket, the domestic wrangles of our well-to-do neighbors in our apartment house, all the hopes and fancies of this placid suburban enclave, drenched in a thousand infidelities, faltered before the solid reality of the motorway embankments, with their constant and unswerving geometry, and before the finite areas of the car park aprons. - Crash by J.G. Ballard

[thunderboltfire]

Being a centaur sounds like ass (hehehoho), because of the human-centric infrastructure. Try using a human toilet or navigating a supermarket, man.

I actually had to solve similar problems while playing as my centaur DnD character. For instance, she can't use ladders at all, pretty much has to have a whole room for herself while sleeping, and always has snacks with her because she has to eat pretty often to fuel her huge body. That being said, I imagine the question was more of a fantasy world/urban fantasy situation, or maybe a whimsical fantasy than being changed into a creature on the spot!

As I know a bit (hehe) about horses and I had to do a lot of worldbuilding around Xaere and her people, I believe one could find accomodations for most of centaurs' problems. Some difficulty using stairs -> living in a single-story houses. Bumping heads on doorframes -> higher ceilings and wider doors, etc. etc. It's also worth remembering that equines are dangerous in closed spaces because they are naturally claustrophobic, and I imagine not every centaur would be this way.

For the problems You mentioned, I think a bigger chamber pot would solve the first problem (mythical problems require ancient solutions XD), and horse boots would solve the problem of potentially slippery tiles in a supermarket. A centaur would probably need to kneel to get to something on a lowest shelf, but I don't think it's that much of a problem. I can imagine one could persuade the staff to let them go around the turnstiles.

I actually love talking about day-to-day life of fantasy people, this is my favourite part of worldbuilding. I imagine searching for solutions in real life would be tedious, but in an urban fantasy world that already has many of these accomodations? It probably wouldn't be that bad.

Being a unicorn thrown into a modern world would generate even more problems (for instance, they don't have hands and a presence of telepathic/magical powers making precise object manipulation possible heavily depends on an interpretation).

That being said, hey, being a big and strong magical beast living in the forest in peace and quiet and minding one's own business doesn't sound half bad.

[benpaddon]

A few years ago - I want to say 2018 - I moved into a neighborhood with a Ralph's with gates on the inside. Y'know, those metal gates they put at the entrance of supermarkets to try and deter theft, even though the self-checkout is wide open?

Anyway, the turnstiles for the able-bodieds worked fine, but the disability gates were locked. Permanently, perpetually locked. So, as someone with mobility issues who occasionally needs to use a wheelchair, I complained. The store manager, Kevin, told me a bunch of bollocks, like "we've never had any complaints before" (of coruse not, disabled people can't get in to complain!) and "if a disabled person needs to get in, we can unlock the gate for them" (if they have to ask you to let them in, it's not accessible).

I got loud on social media about it, especially after the time around Christmas that I walked in to find they'd set up a bloody table in front of the disability entrance promoting some Christmas nonsense. I called Ralph's head office about it, and spoke to the Ralph's social media team about it. I was told it would be looked into. I've no idea if it ever was.

(The most irritating part was when I filed a formal ADA complaint, only to get a letter back saying they weren't going to do anything about it because they didn't have the resources. Which, y'know, what the fuck.)

This went on for months. Eventually they unlocked the gates... then obstructed them on the other side in such a way that someone in a wheelchair still wouldn't be able to get in. So I complained about that too. Honestly, it was stupid - it was an ice-cream display. A little freezer full of ice-cream. I told them it was in the way. They said, "Well, where do you expect us to put it?" I very angrily told them to put it somewhere that didn't stop disabled customers from using your store.

At some point during the pandemic, the security gates were entirely replaced. There's now a nice, automated gate that opens up. It's disability-friendly. The store still has access issues - last time I was there they'd dumped a bunch of boxes near the entrance that a wheelchair user would never be able to get around. I continue to make noise.

The shitty manager who I'd spoke to hasn't been seen in a while. I think he's gone. I hope he's gone. He should not be allowed to manage a local resource.

Today I had the spoons to hunt down my neighborhood council's email and send them an email that basically said "I would like to be able to leave my house but my neighborhood is not wheelchair accessible. Who do I talk to in order to get this fixed?" And I am planning on hunting down whoever is in charge of sidewalks in my neighborhood and getting real annoying about it.

My plan is to email them every time I want to go somewhere but can't.

Email 1: hello, please fix sidewalks so I can ride the bus places I am very passionate about public transportation and also being able to leave my house.

Email 200: This morning I woke up and wanted some delicious coffee to start my day, but upon getting out of bed I discovered we were out of coffee. I would've liked to take advantage of the city's public transportation system in order to support a local business like [examples of local coffee shops] but alas I cannot because I am a wheelchair user and my neighborhood is not wheelchair accessible. [Insert rest of arguement RE accessibility]. In conclusion I don't work I can keep these emails coming until I die please just fix my sidewalks.

This is going to be my new spite hobby. I was already mad about the abuse and general shit hand the disabled get dealt in our culture but then I started using a wheelchair and places like doctor's offices have been inaccessible to me so now I am filled with rage. So I am going to take that rage and do something with it. Like emailing my city counsel representatives at 2 am like "I crave a moonlight walk fix my sidewalks please."

[la-perfide-albion]

Tinder is like picking a lettuce head at the supermarket, hinge is like choosing a carton of eggs and bumble is like trying to fuck the turnstile

[twatkcox]

[The Keihancarl Diaries: February 10, 2024]

Kung Hei Fat Choi! Gong Xi Fa Cai! It’s me, Keihancarl, and today I’m going on yet another mall-hopping trip. To be honest, I’m both excited and nervous at the same time.

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For my second mall-hopping trip this year, I’m heading to Makati (Ayala Center) and Manila (Binondo), with a last-minute visit to Cubao (Araneta City). I’ve got lots to do, but my main goal is to visit the newly-opened One Ayala Mall (plus Gateway 2), and later, witness the scenes along Ongpin and the dragon dance. Hey, it’s the Year Of The Dragon, right?

I wear mostly black clothing, and I feel like wearing the Naruto shirt I bought at Uniqlo during my previous mall-hopping trip to the North. Actually, most of my outfit consists of the stuff I bought from Uniqlo in the past few months, plus some awesome accessories I bought online.

I left home at exactly 10:00 AM, and managed to get to MRT North Avenue a quarter past 11:00. Traffic is incredibly light along the way. It didn't take me long to get on the train as well.

Arriving at MRT Ayala Station, I noticed a Valentine’s Day set up right in front of the turnstiles. Once I got off the paid area, I loaded up my Beep card first since I'd be taking the LRT-1 going to Carriedo later, as well as the LRT-2 on the way back. After loading my card, I visited One Ayala Mall first.

The mall had a direct connection to the MRT, as well as a passenger terminal on the ground floor. There’s a supermarket and some food stalls at the basement level.

I visited a couple of bookstores, Fully Booked (which I almost missed due to its somewhat hidden location) and Biblio (relocated from Ayala Malls Cloverleaf). The latter had an impressive selection of books, including vintage ones.

Of course, the vintage ones are more pricey, but they’re more aesthetic-looking.

I also checked the MN+LA branch right beside it but couldn't find the drape jacket (the kimono-style jacket) like the one I saw at the SM North EDSA branch.

There's a dragon dance inside the mall, visiting every shop on each floor.

The mall centerpiece, an art installation called “The Course Of The Sun”, looks magnificent. There’s an awesome explanation about it in the railing.

The uppermost level (probably the mall's fifth floor) has not opened yet. Could that be the cinema area?

I then head to my next stop, SM Makati, via the bridgeway from One Ayala. I only checked Uniqlo, Crate And Barrel, and a couple of shops at the Cyberzone.

The entrance to Cyberzone feels kind of similar to the ones at The Block (SM North EDSA) bridgeway going to the City Center, but the LED screen is on the floor instead of the ceiling.

Next stop, Glorietta. I checked a few shops inside the mall, as well as the event at the Activity Center.

I decided to have lunch at MOS Burger. I ordered a Beef Yakiniku Rice Burger and a regular Salted Caramel Sumiyaki (iced). The yakiniku rice burger is great. It’s kind of weird that they also provided utensils considering that the rice burger is meant to be eaten like an actual burger, but I suppose not all people can eat it like that.

There's a standee featuring One Piece characters (the straw hat crew) right by the entrance. They also have some merch inside.

I then checked the Top Of The Glo (rooftop park), with K-Town on the left, and Japan Town on the right. I visited the latter first.

There were Japanese and Korean restaurants in the area. The Japan Town area had some (artificial) sakura (cherry blossom) trees, I think, along with the white lanterns. I wonder how it looked at night, I'll probably need to check it out on my next visit.

I then decided to head to Glorietta 5 and check out Uniqlo's flagship store. There's Uniqlo Cafe on the second level and an area where you can make your customized shirts.

I then proceed to my next stop, Greenbelt. I visited a few shops, including Muji and Fully Booked.

I managed to check Greenbelt 1 before they closed that area down for redevelopment. Unfortunately, Booksale had vacated their space. And so are a handful of shops, including National Book Store (they already closed that branch a long time ago). Most of the shops and restaurants are still open, but they’re expected to move out within a couple of months due to the redevelopment of the area (along with Greenbelt 2). Guess this will be the last time I get to see GB1 in its original form and design.

I stopped by Waltermart Makati on the way to the LRT-1 Libertad station. I only checked the National Book Store branch there.

I took the LRT-1 to Carriedo Station (from Libertad Station) and decided to walk from there to my next stop, Lucky Chinatown Mall.

Getting off the LRT station, I noticed that BPI had already moved out of the Art Deco Don Roman Santos building, hence the lack of signage. Moving on, I took a moment to check some interesting scenes near Ongpin.

Going there, I also noticed some dragon lamp posts along the way, and they looked awesome.

There were a lot of people in the area where a parade was being held. There were some giveaways too, from candies to red envelopes (containing money), bottled water to tikoy (rice cake).

I also get to see Tugue Zombie in one of the floats, and later, Samantha Bernardo in the Mestiza Beauty Soap float.

I was quite exhausted from dehydration and the crowd so I decided to take an alternate route leading to Soler. I reached the mall a few minutes later.

There's a dragon centerpiece at the atrium. And a luxury car (not pictured, unfortunately).

At the annex, I passed by Chapters And Pages. Like the other bookstores I visited earlier, I didn't find anything interesting.

I head to 999 Mall to have an early dinner at Chowking (food court). I was about to order my meal when the sound of the drums and the gong blared from the dragon and lion dance, making it harder for the cashier to understand what I was saying. It took me about 5 minutes before I could finally start choosing my order. I even had to repeat my order to make sure she got it right. I ate my food as soon as I got my order, not wanting to waste any more time.

I also passed by the stall where I used to buy my anime shirts, but it appears that they were closed for the Chinese New Year. I could hardly see any anime shirts on that stall, though, at least the ones that I used to buy.

Come to think of it, 999 Mall isn’t as crowded as before. It was the same situation during my last visit to the mall last year. I’m pretty sure it was the same thing with 168 Mall, but I could be wrong since I didn’t actually visit that mall during this trip. I didn’t bother to check some of the fashion stalls, as I don’t feel like shopping at the moment.

I went back to Lucky Chinatown Mall to take more selfies. The one by the bridgeway to the main mall was crowded with people who were also taking selfies. I tried taking a few selfies using my selfie stick, but it didn't turn out well. I simply gave up and went to the cinema area, but no luck taking selfies there either. The Prosperity Wing could be my last chance, and I somehow came up with a bunch of good selfies plus a 360 view of the area.

I passed by Metro Supermarket to buy a bottle of Pocari Sweat. The supermarket’s space was reduced, with the (former) second level now being occupied by Planet Sports and Abenson.

And it's time to go home. I decided to take the LRT-2 to Araneta Center-Cubao since I hadn't ridden that train for a very long time (still amused at the condom ads, though). Also, I feel like checking the Gateway Mall 2, which is actually a brand new extension to the original Gateway Mall. The extension also had access to the Araneta Coliseum as well.

While there, I passed by the Fully Booked branch and bought the book "No Longer Human" by Osamu Dazai–both the novel and the manga, which were both published by Tuttle. I’ve been eyeing these books since the MIBF 2023, those could’ve been awesome souvenirs from the event. Anyway, the cashier suggested the one with the other cover from a different publisher (the one with the pink cover), but upon checking the price, I just decided on the one I had in hand instead.

I checked some parts of Gateway Mall 2 for a while and later headed to the terminal and took the minibus to SM Fairview. Traffic was light along the way, not to mention that it was Chinese New Year. The trip only took less than an hour, just like earlier. I got home at exactly 10:00 PM.

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This is the first time I didn't encounter such an inconvenience on a mall-hopping trip. I managed to enjoy every single place I visited throughout the day, especially in Binondo. Despite getting only four hours of sleep last night, I somehow managed to make it through the entire day. It was pretty exhausting, but I really enjoyed it. And I get to ride all three rail lines on the same day for the first time since the pandemic. Not to mention that I get to visit two new malls, one of them is actually the extension of the original mall.

So, where to next? As always, I’m living in an uncertain time so there’s no telling when will the next mall-hopping trip happen. Hopefully, by April or May, depending on the situation. Will it be BGC next? Who knows?

Well then, time to conclude this one. Again, love, peace, and prosperity for the Year Of The Dragon! Xià cì jiàn! Until next time!

Most of the pics are from my Instagram account, @kcox_105. The selfie pics are exclusively uploaded to my private Instagram account, @kcox105.

[rssecurityswingturnstile]

1: servo motor speed turntsile barriers

dc motor speedgate turnstiles barriers is a typical door type, which generally consists of door frames, door leaves, door handles and locks. Door frames are usually made of steel plates or wooden boards, and door leaves are made of cardboard, plastic plates or glass plates. The door manage is a device that pulls or presses the door leaf open, and the lock is a gadget that prevents the door leaf from falling out of the door frame. There are normally two methods to open a door, one is to pull the door and the other is to push the door. The sliding door is opened by the door handle pulling the door leaf far from the door frame, while the moving door is opened by the door manage pressing the door leaf away from the door frame.

2: servo motor swing barrier doors

dc brushless swing barriers door and dc brushless speedlane turntsile barriers In comparison, subway flap barriers gates is created to block water flow through its horizontal position. On the other hand, dc motor wing turntsile gates merely controls the circulation of water by changing the vertical position of the gate. city flap turnstiles Eviction of gates is composed of 2 gates that can be moved horizontally to manage the circulation of water. dc motor swing turntsile Eviction of gates is made up of a gate that can control the flow of water by moving vertically.

3: metro flap turnstiles gates

city flap turnstile gate, likewise referred to as movable gate, is a flood discharge facility that prevents the water level from being expensive or too low. When the water level rises to the set value, subway flap turnstile doors will instantly open. When the water level drops to the set value, metro flap barriers doors The door will close instantly. city flap turnstile gates utilizes a water level sensor to keep an eye on water level modifications and controls the opening or closing of the gate to accomplish the purpose of instantly managing the water level.

4: What's the distinction?

servo motor wing turntsile doors usually refers to closing the gate, while dc brushless speedlane turnstiles barrier refers to opening eviction. metro flap turnstiles gate and dc brushless wing turntsile door is different from dc motor speedgate turntsile barriers. It is a gate installed on the water. And servo motor wing turnstiles gates and dc motor speedgate gates barriers are gates mounted on the wall.

[szrssecurityswingturnstile]

servo motor glass turnstiles gate also called gain access to swing barriers door, which comes from the access control system, is one of the crucial parts of modern entrance and exit control. The door wings are driven by the control system and open and close instantly. The operating mode can be chosen through shows settings: As quickly as it is confirmed that the individual going into is authorized, the door wings open instantly. It closes after a hold-up, and the delay time is adjustable. Typical dc brushless glass gates barrier are divided into scissor doors (metro flap turnstile door) and swing doors. (1) Scissor doors are often used in rail transit, and common scissor doors are mainly used in trains and other places. The door wings extend from the within package, which can efficiently seal the passage and play the role of gain access to control. In addition, an infrared sensing gadget is installed inside the door body, which can understand the purpose of "one person, one card" for individuals to go through. (2) The swing door appeared behind the scissor door and belongs to the second generation dc brushless speedlane gates door. Such servo motor speedlane The attribute of turnstiles doors is that the door wings run in the front and back instructions. The operation process is within the body's line of sight, which is safer. In addition, because the door wings do not require to be pulled back into the box, The styles of swing doors are more diverse. Due to the above characteristics, swing doors are typically utilized in banks, business structures, high-end office complex, and so on. Anti-trailing function: There is a total infrared light band detection area in the channel. The switch state can be changed by software according to the consumer's precision requirements. The application of the light band to adjust to various requirements avoids the shortcomings of point-type infrared detectors that are easily infected and impacts the reliability of judgment, and can efficiently evaluate the future. Tag reader who checks out the card. When the system figures out that tailgating has actually taken place, the system will respond based upon the place of the valid cardholder returned by the infrared detector. After the door opening signal is sent, there are still some unusual uses that will activate an alarm.

[tripodturnstile]

three arms turnstile gate from RS Security Co., Ltd(www.szrssecurity.com) Ideal for all kinds of public places that require organized passage of pedestrians, such as picturesque spots, exhibit halls, cinemas, docks, train stations, bus stations and other places that need ticket verification; places that require authorized entry such as factory attendance, canteen usage, golf courses, regular monthly card leisure centers, and so on; anti-static control locations of electronic factories, systems that require rigorous security procedures such as face recognition and fingerprint acknowledgment. RS Security Co., Ltd mainly produces, develops and offers access control items, such as three rollers gates door, city flap gates barirer, servo motor swing gates barirer, translation turnstiles door, drop arm gates gate, full high turnstile door, half high turnstile barirer, fastlane turnstile barirer and other channel turnstile door products, and parking barrier, facialface recognition electronic camera, hydraulic bollard, roadway bocker tripod turnstiles door Integrated electronic tickets, access control and attendance, club consumption/catering, anti-static, fingerprint, palm print, face acknowledgment, iris recognition Integrated application of other series of products; complete stainless steel frame structure, Taibang motor, independently developed and produced motion; one-way/two-way gates gate/ swipe to release the lever button and the upper lever is optional, with Counting function can realize RS485 direct communication with the computer; tripod gates barirer prompts and direction and alarm triggers; automated fall of the pole when power is off and manual fall The pole is optional, and it receives the switch signal to open turnstiles door; it can be geared up with a card reading control part, and multiple systems can be linked to the network; it can be geared up with magnetic card and proximity card mix techniques; it can be purchased according to various practical requirements. Do. A fully rainproof box made of alloy aluminum or stainless steel, compared to the metro flap turnstiles door servo motor swing gates gate and other pedestrian passage devices, three arms gates door are more affordable. It has an individualized installation interface (such as card reader, indication light installation, etc) to ensure that the system integrator's control turnstile barirer equipment is easy and convenient to install. The motion of the three-stick gates door device has an immediately changed hydraulic shock absorber. When utilizing the three-stick turnstiles gate operation, the sound is very little and silent. Impact, turnstile door bar automatically decreases back to center. The surface of the motion is plated with yellow dichromate. Can be set with turnstile gate maker control, a couple of instructions control (set by user). The base is fixed with growth bolts.

[fatehbaz]

Spectacular message. Thank you so much.

So I really want to say that I’m sorry to have left you without a response for a bit; I really appreciated the questions and I’m sorry if you felt ignored. Also, I’m going to answer the questions separately, because each is a Pandora’s box. So I am completely with you, regarding the strange allure of non-places. I’m very attracted to them too. The bittersweet appeal of haunted places.

There’s a lot to say here. Not answering your message directly -- yet. And I’ll also collect some excerpts to share. So let’s call this part 1 of my response. I’m going to be a bit more talkative about my personal opinions than usual. Sorry. So, I’m not good with theory. Though I’ve been oddly fixated on the weird and eerie since existence as a little kid (and interested specifically in ruins, liminal space, and how “strange” geographic space can induce “numinous encounters” or transgressions of borders), I don’t think I’m the best person to articulate the appeal in certain or academic terms, y’know? There is semantic debate about the difference in meaning between “weird” and “eerie” for example. So before sharing sources, I’ll just try to speak from narrow personal experience here.

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The mere existence of “an ecosystem” on Earth, itself, invites me to think ... “What invisible histories are here, shaping this place? What forces, of atmosphere or sea, on the other side of the planet, have an influence on this stand of old-growth cedars?” There is the vast Pacific Ocean; sockeye salmon swim at sea and then return to the coast; salmon bring marine nutrients upriver, into the temperate rainforest; bears eat the salmon; the carcasses of the fish nurture the hemlock and fir. Isn’t this land then connected to what happens out there, at sea? There is contemplation of “local” and “global.” And I might realize: “What’s the difference? Where is the border?” Am I an individual human being? Or are there bacteria in my digestive tract, part of my body? Where is the boundary, then, between me and those other lifeforms?” And so that’s supposedly the appeal of Gothic horror, too, right? That monsters invite contemplation of, and transgression of, those boundaries. Exciting and intimidating, simultaneously. Terror and awe, together. The numinous. And so when encountering a mediated standardized place, like a highway rest stop or something, I imagine: “What’s unseen, here? This place has no meaningful connection to the local ecology. How did it come to be?” And sometimes (always) there are violent histories of dispossession, or a recent past where modernity sacrificed real lives to build this asphalt parking lot. And also: Breaking rules. Non-places, as both de Certeau and Auge might probably say, were deliberately constructed to enforce rules, to “colonize the mind,” to constantly remind us that there are conditions of using space. Citizenship, credit score, legality, criminality, passport. Break the rules, and you can’t access space. Can’t get on the airplane. And so, in a non-place, I might think: “Hmm, I do understand the expected conditions of engaging with this place. But today, I’m not following the signs, I’m jumping the turnstile, I’m taking the long way around.”

Non-places, in their conformity, try to erase difference. That is their point. Intentionally. They’re easier to commodify, replicate, control. Empire, power, whatever you want to call it, wants to make every space into “home.” Your home, their home, settler-colonial home. Whatever. Visit an Apple/bee’s anywhere in the US. Looks the same. How comforting. Every space on the planet becomes accessible, available. But. Only if you meet the preconditions (again, credit cards, passports, etc.). A suspicious “absence” (which isn’t really an absence, is it?) which you might encounter in a non-place like the empty rest stop in the middle of the night. Are you alone? Or does it feel like there is an unseen presence? A corporation which designed the gas station, a government which installed the traffic signs. Y’know? There was an agency, a force, here. Power wants to eliminate “strangeness.” To make things and places comforting. To “banish ambiguity.” But in doing so, ironically power ended up multiplying strangeness. These non-places are weird because they tried to eliminate weirdness. In their pursuit of conformity, of erasing difference, of controlling space (both physical and emotional), they have instead created spaces so disturbing that they’ve become uncanny. The empty-eyed corporate mascot on a bag of potato chips, glaring at you, whether you’re at a supermarket in Sydney or Toronto, on opposite sides of the planet. The same eyes. That’s strange.

It might be that, basically, where uncanniness is so obvious and creepy and overwhelming, as in the artificial non-place with a standardized aesthetic design and with no obvious connection to local land or history, you can no longer avoid or ignore thoughts of artificiality, nonexistence, temporality. Rebecca Giggs put it like this: “Where uncanny dubiety persists, it can no longer be assimilated into the hinterlands of the sacred or the mythic.”

In other words, non-places can feel hyper-real. Too real.

Non-places might, then, become attractive because it’s almost as if they evidence something beyond the obvious “real.” I guess.

Transgressing boundaries. Border-crossing. Thresholds. Gothic monsters, blurring distinctions, right? The numinous also hints at a “beyond-the-human.” Cosmic horror: Where is the boundary (or lack of boundary) between what is human and what is beyond human comprehension? When all of modern existence has been so heavily mediated and centered on uncanny non-places, people wonder:

What else is out there? Is there another possible world?

[kenzieam]

The Blue Plate Diner - Chapter Two

@jewels2876​​​  @moonbeambucky​​​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​​​  @iammarylastar​​​@captstefanbrandt​​​  @badassbaker​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​  @oliviastan17​​​ @mizzzpink​​​​

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst, drama

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FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL!

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Years after leaving, Bucky returns to his hometown a successful lawyer, there only to clean up his recently deceased mother’s affairs, but hoping despite himself to see her again; Levka Riel, the girl he wanted all through high school and could never have. But their parting was anything but sweet and old wounds have festered for years in the shadows. Even if the truths in their past are revealed, has it been too long to repair the damage?

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          ** I feel the need to clarify, in case there’s any confusion as to how Bucky and Lev could honestly have had NO contact in almost a decade... this story takes place before cell phones were the extension of our hands that they are today, before the Book of Faces and social media ruled all, when it truly possible to leave a town and not be kept updated on old school-mates and neighbors and the only way to contact most people was by landline or the postal system.**

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BTW, this upcoming chapter is a doozy. Lots of shit gets exposed, heaps of steaming lies and truths and rattling skeletons in closets. This chapter exhausted me and that’s why I ended it where I do, I couldn’t take any more and needed a break.... Enjoy.

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Seven years later, and she was staring at him in her diner like he was a ghost and going out of her way to avoid him in their small, small town.

And not once had she answered the letters he’d sent her, the ones begging for her forgiveness, begging for another chance.

Bucky needed to get out, the house was suffocating with only his thoughts for comfort and he decided to grab a few groceries, not that he was planning on staying much longer but dining at The Blue Plate was hit or miss; if Lev was there, she either left or traded tables with Hattie, leaving the old woman to serve him, the only thing sharper than her mind being her acid tongue, as Bucky’s presence meant disruption and he was tired of that disappointment; Lev smiling and happy, joking and laughing with regulars only to see her face fall when she saw him, regardless of how nonthreatening he tried to be.

Old time country music wheezed through scratchy speakers as Bucky entered the main grocery store in town. It was sadly out of date to his eyes, the old turnstile checkouts, the floor faded and scuffed with thousands, perhaps millions of footsteps over the years. But it was well-lit and clean, the selection not entirely lacking, and Bucky busied himself trekking slowly up and down the aisles, finding old brands he hadn’t seen since he was a child, somehow still magically in business and apparently only supplying mom and pop locations. There was not an ‘organic’ sticker in sight and Bucky was humbled by the produce section, small and tidy, lacking any of the vast variety he’d come to expect at the supermarkets he frequented back home.

Turning from jams and jellies into the soup aisle, he stumbled to a stop, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Lev?”

Lev lifted her head from the can she was studying, alarm already rising in her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder at something before finally choking out a strangled, “James, hi.”

How he wished she would call him something else, ‘James’ was obviously meant to keep distance between them, distance he ached to close.

Fumbling for more, Bucky said the first thing to come into his head. “Chicken noodle? I remember eating that every night I was home alone after school.”

“Didn’t your mother cook for you?” The implication that Doris Barnes would never serve something so common as canned soup hung in the air and Bucky wondered, for the umpteenth time, why Lev was so bitter about the old, dead woman.

“Not when she was working double-shifts.” Bucky answered. In truth, much of his adolescence was spent caring for himself, his mother working her hands to the bone to keep their household afloat.

“Oh.” she began, a faint flush beginning to color her cheeks. “I-”

“Mom? Can we get mushroom too?” A new voice interrupted, a child’s voice and Lev inhaled sharply, head snapping to the side.

Bucky’s gaze fell on a young girl, maybe six or seven. A battered ball-cap covered her head and both knees were missing in her jeans, a series of band-aids adorning her fingers.

When nobody spoke, the girl offered a tentative smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Bucky breathed, staring down at her, entranced. Although he’d suspected Lev and Steve would have started a family, he’d not known for sure.

“We have to go.” Lev announced abruptly.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked, extending his hand, which only seemed to ratchet up Lev’s anxiety.

“Meadow, what’s yours?” She replied, grasping his hand, and giving it a shake.

“Meadow, that’s beautiful. I’m Bucky.”

Lev reached for Meadow’s other hand, pulling the child away from Bucky’s reach. “C’mon, Med. We have to go.”

“Say hi to Steve for me,” Bucky continued; realizing in this moment that he needed to give up and drop the torch he’d carried for so long, the proof was literally standing right in front of him. “I always figured you two would settle down together, he’s a lucky guy.” The words cut his throat, burned his tongue as they passed.

Lev recoiled like he’d slapped her, eyes wide then narrowing with unexplained fury. “You bastard.” She hissed roughly and, before Bucky could ask what the problem was, he’d just complimented her for Christ’s sake, Lev took a step forwards and hit him, slapping his cheek hard enough to sting.

“Fuck you.” She growled, so low Meadow probably couldn’t hear then whirled away, dragging her daughter behind her.

WHAT THE HELL HAD JUST HAPPENED?

Bucky touched his cheek, quite literally struck dumb and tried to sort out what he’d said that had been so horrible.

He was still puzzling it out when he approached the checkout and laid his chosen goods on the turnstile. The cashier was one he recognized from years ago, now greyer and with thicker glasses. She eyed him, unimpressed.

“That you that upset Levi Riel? What did you say? She lit outta here like the devil was after her.”

Great. Not only had he hurt Lev somehow, but everyone had seen it too.

“Nothing, I just congratulated her on her family, told her Steve’s a lucky man.”

The woman sucked in a breath, shaking her head as she started ringing through his groceries.

“What? They were together all through high school, I just assumed-”

“Steve Rogers is dead.” The woman replied bluntly, eyeing him again. “Ain’t you Doris’ boy, weren’t you best friends with him, didn’t you know he’s gone?”

Bucky staggered, feeling like the woman had just kicked him in the chest. No, he’d not heard that Steve was dead and no one, his mother included, had seemed to care enough to tell him. “No… what happened?”

The woman’s face softened slightly. “Well, you’ve been away.” And you’ve never bothered to come back and visit your mama until after she died, her eyes reproached. “The Rogers boy was killed ‘bout four, maybe five, years ago, hit by some looky-loo out on Route 4. He was helping pull some woman outta the ditch and got crushed against his own tow-truck, peeled him open like cheese on a cheese grater I heard.” She shook her head sadly. “Hit the girl hard, young as she was with that baby to take care of all alone. Damn shame.”

Bucky was silent through the rest of the checkout, his mind jumbled and tangling on itself. Steve had been his best friend and he’d not known the man was dead. Sure, they hadn’t talked since that last time Bucky had come home, nearer to eight years ago now, but he’d loved the man like a brother, even as he’d hated him.  Any amount could have been on the credit card carbon he signed, he barely looked at it as he passed it back to the woman, barely remembered the drive back to his mother’s.

No longer hungry, he put the food away and walked upstairs into his old room, sitting down on the bed and pulled an old picture frame off the bedside table. Faded and crinkled, he nevertheless could see it clearly.

He and Steve, thirteen, perhaps fourteen, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning ear to ear after winning their baseball league’s championship game.

Brothers in everyway but blood.

But no more.

The tears came hot and fast and, for a time, Bucky let them take over.

Later, throat raw and eyes burning, Bucky stood and stormed into his mother’s room, began to tear through the drawers.

There had to be something, somewhere, something that showed his mother hadn’t completely forsaken him; a newspaper clipping, the funeral service leaflet, anything to show that the old woman had in some way acknowledged the boy who’d called her his ‘other mother’, even if she hadn’t bothered to inform her real son of his best friend’s passing.

He turned to the closet and ripped the doors open, pushed the hangers from one side to the other, the metal screeching and groaning before reaching for the shelf above, knocking a few hatboxes askew and blankets to the floor before his hands closed on a shoebox with some weight to it.

Frowning, he pulled it down and flipped off the lid, stared inside at the contents for a moment unable to process what he was seeing.

A stack of letters, all opened. The top one was addressed to him, the name on the return address taking what was left of his breath and sanity away.

Levka Riel

With shaking hands, he pulled the stack out, setting each one back down onto his lap as he read their addresses.

James Barnes

Levka Riel

Levka Riel

James Barnes

There were over a dozen letters in front of him, all opened, all read, all addressed to either him or Lev. He hadn’t been sure of Lev’s address, she’d moved since graduation and he wasn’t home long enough that one time to learn it, so he’d mailed all her envelopes to his mother with a note requesting she pass them along. He assumed the same was true for Lev, that she too, not knowing Bucky’s dorm address, had entrusted his mother to send on her letter to him.

And she’d done neither.

Bucky set the box and letters aside, scrambling to his feet and into the bathroom, spewing the contents of his stomach into the toilet, retching until he saw stars, until long after his stomach was empty, and he was just spitting weakly.

WHY??

WHY HAD HIS MOTHER NOT GIVEN HIM LEV’S LETTERS?? WHY HAD SHE HELD BACK THE ONES FOR HIM??

WHY HAD SHE ALWAYS SAID NO, EVEN WHEN HE’D ASKED IF SHE’D HEARD ANYTHING FROM HER, IF LEV HAD ANSWERED HIM?

Oh god, what had he missed??

Breathing raggedly, a deep, heavy sense of dread clawing in his belly, he returned to the bedroom and gathered the letters, collapsing to sit on the bed. He chose the most dated, the one wrote perhaps a month, maybe six weeks after he’d left that last time.

Bucky,

I’m sorry for all the horrible things I said to you that morning, I’m so sorry for the way we left off.

I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to write this letter, but I want you to know, you deserve to know.

I’m pregnant and I know it’s yours.

Steve and I always used protection; that night at the party, you and I didn’t.

I’m scared, Bucky. I’m not ready to be a mother but I can’t bring myself to even consider getting rid of it.

Please write me back as soon as you get this, I don’t expect you to drop everything and become a father, but I need to know what you want and that you’ll help in some way.

Lev

His heart cracked with an audible noise and, while he thought he’d used up all his tears earlier crying over Steve, a fresh wave came, burning hot trails down his cheeks. Hands trembling, he opened the next one she’d sent.

Bucky,

I haven’t heard from you yet and your mother swears she sent my letter to you.

I’ve told Steve and he knows he’s not the father, but he’s offering to help me with whatever money he can get, but you know as well as I that jobs in this town aren’t great, isn’t that why you left?

I need to know what you want. Do you want to be in your baby’s life?

Are you mad at me? This was an accident, but it makes me sick to think about terminating it.

Please write me, I’ll give you my phone number as soon as I can afford to get a line hooked up.

Lev

It continued, each letter, each word slicing deep.

James,

Why won’t you answer me?

I heard her heartbeat yesterday at my doctor’s appointment.

That’s right, it’s a girl.

I’m keeping her and I still hope you’ll want to be in your daughter’s life.

Lev

P.S. – My phone is finally hooked up; my number is 977-541-0201. Please call me.

Until the last letter, the one that truly broke the remainder of his heart.

James,

She’s here.

I’ve named her Meadow Grace Riel.

Your silence is answer enough. I get it, you want nothing to do with the child you helped create.

I just wanted you to know that she’s here and she’s safe.

I won’t bother you again.

Lev

The letters fell to the bed and he dropped his head into his hands with a sob. He cried so hard he could hardly breathe, until his lungs burned in his chest and what air he managed to get rasped in his throat.

I’ve named her Meadow Grace.

Meadow.

He’d met his daughter today and not known.

It all made sense now, the fearful and angry looks from Lev. The way she’d tensed in the grocery store when their daughter approached him. The way she’d looked so hurt, so betrayed and broken when he’d implied that Steve must be so proud of his family. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge his own child, like their past had never happened.

What could she be thinking now? How cruel and heartless, how much of an asshole did she think he was?

His fingers brushed over his letters, the ones he’d written to Lev. After he’d gotten over his hurt, his wounded heart at their parting, he’d written to her, apologizing, and asking for another chance. He’d tried again and again, varying the words but keeping the message.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

His mother had read these, read his contrition and kept them to herself.

She’d known about Meadow, she’d known about Lev being pregnant, and she’d done nothing!

Except lie to him when he asked if Lev had tried to contact him.

What sort of monster had raised him?? What possible excuse could she have had??

What hell had she put them both through? Had she spoken to Lev, acknowledged her granddaughter in any way? Helped even though she’d kept him in the dark?

He couldn’t think about that now, he’d go crazy if he did.

He needed to see Lev, to try and explain what he was still too stunned to believe but held so concretely in his hands.

Half-falling down the stairs, he stumbled into the kitchen and reached for the local phone book; flipping in open and scanning the pages madly.

He would have done this far sooner if he hadn’t been sure of Lev simply slamming the door in his face, but he needed to see her now, to explain what he’d just found and beg for another chance, even if this hadn’t been his fault, even though he was just as much a victim of his mother’s cruelty as Lev and her…. their daughter.

The thought brought him up short.

He was a father.

He had a child, a daughter, one whom he’d missed out on everything in her young life.

Fresh rage swept over him, a new tidal wave of fury unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, sharpened by betrayal. His mother was supposed to love him, not hurt him and hide things and then, on top of it all, go off and die before he could learn said truth and confront the old bitch.

Dropping the phone book, he turned and barrelled back upstairs.

It didn’t take long; he took no time to be careful or preserve anything of hers.

Anything personal, pictures and notes, were tossed into the firepit in the backyard and lit ablaze. Anything else of hers, clothes, jewelry and knick-knacks, was thrown carelessly into garbage bags and left at the back gate for Percy and Hank to pick up tomorrow on their weekly garbage day.

The furnishings and other impersonal elements he left as is, controlling his voice long enough to call Duke Hanover and start in motion the process of selling the house and its contents.

He couldn’t stomach the thought of keeping anything of that old witch’s and the problem he’d been struggling with since learning of his mother’s death, what to do with his childhood home, was now solved.

He would take the money; it was all that was worth anything to him anymore.

Next, he gathered his few things, what he’d brought with him and what little he still wanted to keep from his old room, and checked into a hotel, collapsing on the bed, and falling into a deep, exhausted stupor.

He woke the next morning with a scratchy throat and aching muscles; apparently tearing through your childhood home and throwing away everything personal was a physical workout as well as an emotional one.

The horror and dread, sorrow and agony appeared not long after and Bucky lay for a long time, on his back and staring at the ceiling, helpless to stop the memories from slinking back in, coiling their claws around his mind again.

Bucky stirred, feeling the beginnings of a headache. He’d drank enough these last two years of college to recognize a hangover when he had one, and this felt like a doozy. The next thing he felt was pleasantly sore muscles, faint twinges of scratches on his bare skin and he chuckled low in his throat, burrowing his face into the pillow.

He’d gotten lucky last night, as well as shit faced.

The rest of the story hit him then and he remembered just who he’d spent the night with.

Finally.

Levka Riel.

The girl he’d wanted his whole life.

Simple good luck had brought them both to Wayne Templeton’s party last night and Providence had taken over from there. A rush of heat went through him as he remembered, the sounds Lev had made, the way she’d clung to him, the breathless promises, and declarations he’d groaned into her throat as he’d moved inside her. It had been magic last night, the culmination of fate and Bucky’s mind began to run with possibilities.

Lev could move back up with him, they could get an apartment off-campus. She could enroll too and start building a career for herself.

He would do anything for her-

Lev stirred at his side, sighing and stretching. She lifted her head, her hair a tangled mess and peered through it towards him.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered, ready to roll over and pull Lev towards him, snuggle down into the sheets and enjoy this pause from their chaotic lives.

“What the hell?” Lev murmured, head snapping to stare down at the pillow, then at the walls and the tangled sheets around them. She all but leapt off the bed, fighting the sheets that entwined around her struggling limbs.

“Lev?” Bucky sat up, not caring to cover his own nakedness.

Lev’s eyes landed on his cock for a beat and the last mysteries of what had happened fell into place. You did not wake up naked and sore and dripping next to a similarly unclothed man without there having been some action beforehand.

“Oh god.” She whispered, backing away. “What did I do?”

“Lev?” He was staying frustratingly monosyllabic, but his mind was a torpid mess, trying to process what he was seeing and hearing. Shouldn’t she be happy like he was? Hadn’t they just spent the most incredible night together?”

“Get out.” She demanded, holding the sheets up in confused bunches to cover herself.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky stumbled for words, recognizing the shadow of the ghoul around the corner and desperate to fight it off. “We just had a-”

“It was a mistake. We were drunk.”

“NO. It wasn’t a mistake. I love you, Lev. I always have!” He had to lay it all out, make her see.

“You hardly know me! You’re just Steve’s creepy friend! Is that why you were always hanging around, you thought there was something between us?! Steve is my boyfriend, not you!!”

Realization crashed over him like ice water.

She didn’t feel the same way, she never had.

Whatever he’d thought he’d seen in her lingering glances, her tentative smiles had not been reciprocation of his own devotion, but the hesitation of fear and discomfort.

She didn’t love him; she didn’t even like him.

He had been so stupid. So misguided, laughable really.

Rage replaced the cold fingers tickling his spine, turning his blood to fire.

“You fucking slut.” He growled. “’Steve is your boyfriend’? Then why are you sleeping around at a party like a GODDAMN WHORE?”

The fury in his voice made her stop, stare at him with the start of fear in her eyes and it only inflamed Bucky more. Never, ever, would he be angry or out of control enough to hurt Lev, his love for her was too strong, flowed too deep and the way she was eyeing him warily said as clear as day that she didn’t know him at all, she thought he was just as ham-fisted and brutal as the rest of the assholes in this town.

“Fuck you.” He snarled, reaching for the nearest item, a half-full can of beer and throwing it at her. He’d been a hell of a pitcher in his junior baseball league and the can would not hit her because he didn’t want it to, but his anger made sure it hit the wall close to her head, as a warning. “Fuck off, you goddamn piece of trash!”

With a choked sob, Lev stumbled from the room and Bucky, the tremors in his body rapidly morphing from of fury to sorrow, followed not long after.

He’d gone home, holed up in his room until his plane ticket came due, then left this piece of shit town behind.

Until now.

Tears burned hot on his skin and he choked a fresh sob, pulling himself into a sitting position on the hotel bed. You’d think he’d have no tears left after the last few days, but his sorrow and hurt seemed bottomless and Bucky cried until he could hardly breathe, his throat swollen and hindering his air.

He needed to make this right, he had to apologize to Lev. He’d been on his way to doing just that when the rage of his mother’s betrayal had side-tracked him yesterday.

A half-hour later he’d found Lev’s address in the phone-book, managed to choke down some black coffee and was standing in front of a small bungalow, in need of some paint and TLC, Pandora’s shoe-box in his shaking hands.