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ruhachari · 9 months

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Setting up a new business in the village

Step 1. Restoration of an old house.

This is a continuation of a previous post "From Baku to Kish - moving from capital to a village"

It took my mother almost two years to settle in the village before she could finally focus on searching and buying a proper house that would be turned into a mini-hotel. Before that, she had to build an own house first. Maybe I would cover it later in the future..

On the presented above pictures you can see the process of the total restoration of a house in the heart of ancient Kiş village, Azerbaijan. Different parts of the house were built in the different times. As hard as it might seem to believe, the front side of the house was constructed around 1870s (it suffered from bad redesigned later), and the back side (on the right pic) decades earlier.

The relatives of the house owner told that initially the house was owned by two tall brothers who were runnig a small silk buisiness.

"The master makes embroidery on silk fabric. Şəki 1917"

For centuries the nearby town of Şəki used to be one of the tradepoints on a Great Silk road, so the whole region was producing silk and silk-made products. Those two brothers produced silk fabrics, and due to precautions they had secret wayouts in case of local qoçular (gangsters) would try to raid the area. After they both passed away, the house, as well big yard was divided between their respective families, so the house that we bought today, is much smaller from its original size. Nethertheless, it attracted our attention by its perfect location and remaining old deseign features.

During the restoration works, our main objective was preserving and bringing back old details of the exterior, but making the interior modern for a comfortable stay.

We have correctected the roof inclination, updated the metal coverage, and added the original roof tiles, which were previously taken off by the former owner. We have also preserved the original window frames and painted them in light blue.

Might be also hard to believe, but under the house (was a small cellar). As can be seen on the right photo bellow, we have made it bigger, and even served us as a cozy winter kitchen.

The works that started at the end of the last year were going non-stop up until April 2023 when we finally were able to open the place for the visitors. Despite all dificulties, we felt satisfied, as we were providing local workers with work in the jobless period of the year - Winter (as locals don't even paint the walls during that time). Not to mention our further comitment to promote local culture, art and history within our new boutique hotel. My mom is also collecting local hand-made carpets and fabrics to present them in the room units and in our cozy cafe, which is located at the back side of the building.

Additionally I would like to highlight, that wooden sinks, mirrow frames and cafe tables were made by the hands of the local craftsman.

There is a big way to go, as we have plans for futher development, but for now, we are focused on making the place profitable, so we would be able to complete the full project. The rooms are available for reservation on different platforms, such as Booking.com

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sugar-coated-saphic · 6 months

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A look back on my past special interests

this time last year, late october was when i took an interest in the HBO show succession. but to say i was truly interested in the show was a lie, as i was only truly interested in the ship romangerri. luckily after season 4 had ended was when i lost interest. it is now once again late october and my current special interest is tim and eric programmes. check it out! with dr steve brule, tim and eric awesome show, great job! and tom goes to the mayor are shows i watch (haven't finished tom goes to the mayor). looking back and comparing my experience with both, i simply enjoy more and have more fun with tim and eric programmes. aside from romangerri, succession is really a show about people from a rich family fighting to take over the buisiness once their father dies, with some relationship drama and a look at abusive family dynamics and how they effect children once they grow up. if those sorts of shows interest you then you'll likely enjoy succession. i myself do enjoy drama films from the likes of paul thomas anderson and call me by your name, but they are bite sized compared to succession as they are only one movie. watching succession is like watching mini movies over and over again because of the episode length. also with films, i usually enjoy all aspects and have a great time. when you watch a show or film for only one aspect (such as a ship or character) it is not as fun. looking back, i would only watch to hope to see romangerri, otherwise the episodes were rather boring. i can remember a few non romangerri moments from a few episodes and thats it. watching tim and eric is so immensely fun, even when its being gorey, gross or weird its always a delight because its quirky and filling. its good food for your brain 😌. i can often go back and watch many sketches and remember more than one or two. this might be because of the episode length, succession episodes range from 40ish to 60 mins while tim and eric programmes are around 11 mins. its much easier to digest, like a mini cupcake compared to an entire cake.

now, i'm not saying to abandon succesion for tim and eric shows. their brand of humour isn't for everyone and its more fun to watch the things you like than force yourself through something you know you dislike. i also want to make clear i don't hate succession now, and i don't think its common for autistic/aspie's (like myself) to dislike or distance from past special interests, as i look back on most of mine with fondness. with succession, i'll keep up with fanfictions, i started reading, reblog fanart occasionally and even buy season 4 on dvd for completionists sake. will i upload season 4 clips dubbed in french? i'm not sure, but the old ones will stay up. i made some great friends but for now, so long succession fandom :)

youtube

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trendsetterdiva · 8 months

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: LONG SLEEVE SMOCK TIERED MINI DRESS.

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craftygoateeprincess · 5 years

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One Late Night

(Oneshot for now, because @theotherbloodfart is a terrible enabler)

You hated Derry, like everyone else in this shithole. Hated it with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. Yet here you stayed, through all the shit. The apathetic adults, the dissapearances, the murders, the scandals. No matter what you saw you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, and the why of it was no mystery.

“I can never forget you, I love you, and I’ll stay right here in Derry and wait for you to come back if you promise you will,”

A Promise. A pledge. A vow. Come hell or high water you were staying here in Derry, you were waiting for the return of your only friend, and there wasn’t anything that could deter you from that. You would either see him again or you would die, there was no third option, and even if you hated yourself for it, you stayed true to your word.

Anyone else would think you were mad. You had made the promise at eight years old, to someone everyone else just insisted to be your imaginary friend. But imaginary friends didn’t lie in bed with you at night, they didn’t wash your bruises and teach you how to cook your own food. No, your friend was real and you were sure of it, and even if he had forgotten your promise, you never could.

After all, how could you forget the one person who saw your abusive home life for what it really was?

But you were thirty-five now, you weren’t being abused anymore. But unlike the rest of the adults, you had remained free from the apathetic haze that seemed to consume the rest of them. You saw the bodies, the posters, the abandoned playgrounds. All for what it really was and you wondered why no one else was concerned.

Well, alone was unfair, there was one other person. Not quite a friend, but someone whose existence you cared for more than not. Mike Hanlon, the local librarian. He was a nice man, he cared, he saw the bruises and scars and didn’t dismiss them as ‘a father punishing his child’ he saw the pain and suffering in them. In turn, you came to...acknowledge his existence on a genuine level. Years of your home life had led to you being rather apathetic towards people in general, but mike was a good guy and one of the few people in the world you held no ill will towards.

Which is why you were even out this late at night. Mike had a mini fridge at the library where he kept Alchol. So when it was late, and the library was empty, you would get ‘the call’ and the two of you would drown in some cheap corner store wine, god awful stuff but marvelous at making you forget whatever was weighing down your mind, and with your household history and he being so personally invested in the murders about town, you both had a lot to drink away.

And that is how you found yourself here, at two in the god damned morning, stumbling down the sidewalk. You’d feel bad for how dangerous this all was in the morning, when you were nursing a hangover and cursing your bad life choices, for now, you just stumbled about, singing some song you vaguely remember from your childhood but for the life of couldn’t remember the words to when you came to the nervewracking conclusion someone was watching you.

Turning around in a slow, paranoid circle you eyed the darkness suspiciously. But it wasn’t until you had relaxed and turned to start walking again that your eyes finally caught sight of the red balloon, and the clown attached to it, lit dimly by the streetlight in the background. Even in what was admittedly a drunken stupor, you’d done this dance before and were aware enough to be wary, besides, while you liked clowns in general, this clown was creepy.

None of that chubbiness and the friendly grin that you remember him having.

“Out late, are we little one?” he asked, and maybe it was the drink, but you felt like he was patronizing you. So of course, you put on your drunken bravado and shrugged.

“I’m an adult, I live in this shithole town, I reserve the right to prowl around drunk in the wee hours!” He took a step towards you and you took a step back. Your hairs were on end and you instinctively knew this man was trouble, why would a clown be out so long after the carnival had down for the night.

“Let me guess, born into this town, raised by distant parents. Vowed to leave during your teenage years but never managed to, and now you drown your sorrows in wine and warm bodies?” He was circling you now, like a beast playing with its prey before pouncing. Every alarm bell was ringing off in your head, but you were hypnotized still. Those bright, baby blue eyes with the faint glow, his eyes, they were familliar to you and you couldn’t move if you wanted to under that stare.

“You must think you’re clever, or maybe you’ve just talked to a bunch of the kids around town, but no actually,” you said defiantly, sticking your chin up and matching his pace so you two were now circling one another, no less creepy but it made you feel less vulnerable under that familiar stare. “My parents, well, at least my father was shitty. But I had a very dear friend growing up, and we had a lot of fun. He had to go away but we promised we’d meet again, here, so as much as I hate this town I stay….not that it’s any f your business.”

His hand shot out as fast as a snake striking and his large, gloved hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, so hard you felt it would bruise. Adrenaline started coursing hard enough in your veins that the buzz of the alcohol began to wear off enough for you to attempt to yank your hand back, but his grip was strong and for some reason, you couldn’t form any words or sounds to cry out. Before you knew it you were being backed up against a tree, his other arm pressing into your throat, not quite cutting off your oxygen but definitely making you struggle for breath. The bark was rough and scratchy against your back and it brought a bubble of fear up through the haze your mind was in.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was getting off on your fear, he certainly looked happier when he seemed to sense your fear. But you weren’t breaking yet damnit! Fixing him with a gaze you hoped was more withering than it felt, you attempted to take the wind out of his sails and end this before it began if it was begenning at all.

“There’s nothing you can do to me that others haven’t done before,” god talk about a weak power statement, but it was the truth. He could hit you, rape you, and leave you for dead, it would just be a particularly shitty Tuesday night, and you knew these bastards didn’t like it when their victims knew what was coming….at least, you hoped that was a universal truth.

Despite his rather brutish actions, the clown seemed indifferent to your words. The hand on your wrist loosening as he slid up your sleeve, revealing the daisy chain clinging to your wrist as he seemed to freeze before you.

“If you’re looking for jewelry pal, you’ve come to the wrong woman, that’s the closest thing I have to a valuable, and it’s not something you’ll find to be any worth,” you sneered, even in spite of the danger, you couldn't help but find the image of this clown moonlighting as a mugger and then proceeding to mug the one woman in town who didn’t wear jewelry hilarious.

“Let me make another guess, this is somehow tied to that friend you mentioned?” those blue eyes were on you again and you felt yourself softening, even when you knew you shouldn’t. They were too familliar and held memories not belonging to the clown in front of you, but they worked on you all the same, and biting your lip you nodded.

“There’s something about this town, it’s so easy to forget things that only happened last week, let alone years ago. So whenever I have time, I go and make daisy chains by the railroad tracks, it helps me to remember the good times, why I'm waiting for him,” this wasn’t any f his buisiness, and you wish you could just shut your damn mouth, but you couldn’t. The words bubbling up and spilling out your mouth like word vomit, just spilling out your biggest personal baggage to the would-be clown mugger.

If you needed a sign your life had hit rock bottom, here it was.

“And here I was thinking people drank to forget,” he snarked but his hold on you loosened and you fell away from the tree, trying to steady yourself on your too shaky limbs and eventually just crumbling in a heap on the ground, puffing the hair that had fallen across your face irritably.

“It’s a catch twenty-two. Life in Derry sucks, and while there are some things I need to remember, there's a lot more I want to forget,” you responded, hugging your knees to your chest as you settled your chin atop them, taking in the clown curiously. In the end, you were unharmed, save for some scratch marks on your back, and it’s not like you could identify this guy to the police if you had the mind to go to them about this. Also, more importantly, this was the closest thing to an exciting event that had happened all week. Surprisingly enough he plopped down next to you and the simple gesture was enough to both infuriate and infatuate you with the stranger...though the latter may just be due to the alcohol.

Actually, come to think of it, maybe most or all of this was due to the alcohol.

“What will you do when your friend comes back?” It was an innocent question, and for once you felt he was genuinely curious about your answer. Of course, curiosity or not it did little to ease the predatory air this clown seemed to ooze, but your heart had stopped pounding so hard and the drunken fog of your buzz was returning enough for you to just not give a shit anymore, who were you to cramp on his creepy style when he wasn’t hurting you?

“Marry him?” you suggested with a playful snort, the first genuine smile touching your lips since….gods, when was the last time you’d genuinely smiled, or laughed, or opened up before a fucking thug accosted you? Welp, sign numbero Dos your life was a shitshow, not that you needed it, but it was good if a startling reminder. You looked over to your clown companion expecting to find him rolling his eyes or dismissively ignoring your words, but his eyes were fixed rather intensely on you, you’d even hazard a guess you shocked him with your cavalier declaration.

“The guy was the only decent thing in my life. Between my deadbeat father and actually dead mother, I can honestly say he’s the only person who ever cared for me, maybe even loved me, and I know for certain he’s the only person I could ever love. The two of us went through some of the worst years of my life together, back when i was still capable of giving a shit about people...and believed people gave a shit about each other,” you don’t know why you kept talking, he didn’t even ask for an explanation this time around, but perhaps it wasn’t just him you were explaining your reasons to. Because before this very moment, you had never really thought what you would do on the seemingly mythical day he would return.

But despite how joking the answer had been from your lips, it resonated with a part of you. Of course your friend, as the only positive male influence in your life, had starred in quite a few erotic dreams of yours. But you’d never seriously thought about your feelings, not until this moment, laying under the stars with a mysterious stranger. Sighing you pushed yourself up off the ground, idily dusting the grass from your clothes and giving the clown a little salute.

“Well, that’s quite enough introspection under the stars with strange clowns for one night! I am going to get my ass to bed before someone else tries to finish what you started,” you offered with a grin, the clowns' features had lost their curiosity now, just watching you passively as you got up and prepared to leave, but just as you took your first step away you heard a giggle that could belong to the devil himself.

“A pretty balloon for a pretty stranger? To commemorate our memorable encounter?” his words got you to turn around, and sure enough he had a bright red balloon just clutched in his hand. It was such a simple and, in any other circumstance, friendly gesture. But even as you moved to take it from him, you felt like you were signing a deal with the devil.

“What? You gonna use this to follow me to my house and see if I have anything valuable there?” you asked sarcastically as you looked over admiringly at the balloon, bobbing it against the back of your hand playfully.

“Just the first bit, don’t wander too far Ellie,”

You turned your head back so fast you damn near got whiplash, but nothing was there. No clown, no smooshed grass, no retreating clown. Nothing, as if the whole thing was some drunken hallucination. But the scratch marks on your back and the balloon in your hand told you otherwise. Whoever that clown was, he knew your name and he seemed awfully interested in your feelings about the past.

For the first time that night your stomach twisted from nausea not related to the alchol as you stared into the darkness. Maybe you were overthinking it, or maybe you were right on the money, either way, you knew right then and there you’d be seeing that strange clown again, as soon as you could manage.

Because either Pennywise the Dancing Clown had undergone a growth spurt and major weight loss, or someone who knew him was in Derry, and either one was enough to alight a long lost feeling deep inside you, perhaps more dangerous than your perpetual drunken grief.

Hope

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bookworm-blogs · 4 years

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Passing The Torch (Félix Drabble)

Ok I know I don't usually make stuff like this-- or make original things anyway, I mostly repost stuff-- but an idea came to mind and I can't shake it. So, here's a quick drabble on Félix.

Also: I'm a huge fan of "completely deadass brother Félix and dorky sinnamon bun Adrien" so I'll deviate a bit from popular opinion of canon Félix. Idk why, but I have a feeling there's more to Félix than meets the eye.

<_>

"Finally, we did it," Chat Noir panted and shot Ladybug a victorious grin, which she returned with a smirk of her own. Alya, Rose and Juleka-- the trio Punisher-- were now back to their original civilian forms with their purified akumas floating away into the pristine Parisian air. Funny, how even with all the chaos, the beautiful city of love continued to shine brightly and buzz with everyday excitement of normal people.

It was beautiful for such a stressful day.

'I could really go for some lunch right now,' Chat thought with little appetite. Honestly, after the day he had, he wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep; fighting three supervillains was hard enough, but add the drama at home with his surprisingly cruel cousin and a small dose of parental issues, his day was really turning out to be shit.

Chat Noir turned to Ladybug, ready to announce his leave, when his heightened ears caught footsteps approaching them. He turned and found none other than his cousin, Félix, standing there- thankfully dressed in his own clothes this time. His expression was smug and his eyes were knowing as he scanned the two superheroes before him.

"You two make a really good team," Félix observed before directing his gaze to Chat. "Chat Noir, a word please?"

"And why the hell would I do that?" Chat spat. "Haven't you caused enough problems already?"

"I know that, but I have a good reason. I'll tell you if you're willing to listen," Félix told him coolly, and Chat was horrified finding himself listening to him.

"We're not doing this. Come on, Chaton, we're going to de-transform soon," Ladybug said firmly, and as if on cue, both their miraculouses began beeping. Chat Noir swallowed the tension in his throat and looked between the two uncertainly.

Félix was an asshole, that much was obvious, but if Chat Noir knew anything about his cousin, it was that Félix wasn't a man of short-sighted actions. He's meticulous and thoughtful, he always has been. He should be angry at his cousin, furious even, but deep down he only wanted to know what made Félix do the things he did.

"Chat," Ladybug said again.

"Your secret is safe with me, Chat Noir," Félix said unexpectedly, and when Chat Noir caught a good look of his face, he knew immediately what Félix meant.

'He knows I'm Chat Noir.'

"Alright," Chat said, "we'll listen."

Félix shook his head. "No, I want this to be between us," Félix said and shot a meaningful look Ladybug's way.

Ladybug looked like she wanted to argue or even hit something, but she caught Chat Noir's gaze and held it. He shook his head at her and took a step towards his cousin.

"Excuse us, m'lady. We won't be long," Chat Noir told her, and through gritted teeth, Ladybug nodded.

Chat Noir followed Félix down from Chloe's hotel roof and into one of the empty VIP rooms. While Chat Noir closed the blinds and checked for any unwanted viewers, Félix reached for the cheese platter in the mini fridge and took out a small peice of camembert.

Chat Noir's miraculous beeped another warning.

"Nobody's watching. You can change back now," Félix said, and with that, Chat Noir uttered the key words that changed him from a wild looking hero in leather spandex back into the form of a normal teenage boy.

Plagg flew out of the ring and onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. Instead of immediately whining about food, however, Plagg sat up and shot Félix a look filled with disgust, surprise, a little bit of joy, and most obviously, recognition.

"Félix, it's been a while," Plagg said, and the other blond sent the small god an appraising look of his own, though Adrien knew Félix well enough to see relief in his stoic face.

"Hello, Plagg," Félix said. "It's good to see you again."

Plagg scoffed. "You say that now even though you're the one who rejected me," the small feline grumbled, and Félix rolled his eyes.

"For a god as old as the universe you whine an awful lot."

"As if you have any room to talk, you jerkface."

"Okay, okay, hold up," Adrien interfered and sent both parties immensely bewildered glances. "You know each other?"

"Yes, we do," Félix said, and Plagg huffed unhappily from his place on the bed. Félix glared at the kwami before continuing on. "Around two years ago, I was travelling with my family in Thailand on a buisiness trip when the weirdest thing happened: snake people began coming out of the dirt and attacked several villages.

"Master Fu was wandering the area at the time when he met me, and he gave me the Cat Miraculous to combat against the naga invasion. By using the miraculous, I managed to defeat the nagas before they could do any major damage, and for my efforts, I was granted full custody of the miraculous--"

"Which you rejected!" Plagg hissed. "Could you believe this guy? He was given all the power mass destruction could give him and he gave it up!"

Adrien looked at Félix as if he had grown a second head. Félix was his predecessor? He was a Chat Noir, too? Adrien sat down; there was no way he could process his information on both legs.

Félix rolled his eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are jealous, Plagg," Félix remarked coolly, and Plagg bared his tiny fangs in response.

"I'm not jealous! I was mad! I had to be stuffed away in that cramped box again!"

"Anyway," Félix went on, much to Plagg's frustration, "I told Fu living the life of a superhero wasn't meant for me, but rather, for someone I knew would have not only the ambition to be a hero, but someone who had the strength to keep it up. I told Fu to go to France and look for a boy named Adrien Agreste."

"You sent Fu here?" Adrien gasped, and Félix nodded his head. Warmth slipped into his eyes and he managed a true smile completely unlike the serpentine ones he wore earlier.

"When I came back to France, I had to know what was going on. I wanted to check up on you after my aunt... vanished, but I also had to make sure you matched my expectations. So, I pulled every last trick I could think of to get people mad. My ploy worked, and I could never be more proud at how you exceeded all my expectations. You truly are a Chat Noir worthy of Plagg."

Adrien gaped at his cousin, who looked so composed and regal without ever actually trying. Adrien always envied Félix's ability to be the perfect man, and now here he is, trying to imagine Félix in a black cat suit fighting snake men. It was an impossible picture to conjure, and Adrien couldn't help a laugh.

Félix quirked up a thin golden eyebrow. "What's so funny?" He asked.

"I- I just can't believe this. You brought Fu here and you were Chat Noir? Wait, what did you even look like? What was your hero name?" Adrien asked, and Félix's eyebrows shot to his hairline. He looked stunned for a moment, then he almost seemed to lift his chin higher.

"I looked a lot like you do, actually. Though I had a bigger bell and didn't look anything like a stripper," Félix said proudly, and Plagg guffawed in joy.

"You kidding? Of all the Chat Noirs I've had, none of them had a more sinful outfit than you did. I don't know what your deal was with those thigh-high stripper boots but--"

"PLAGG!"

Adrien lost it. He fell on his side, wheezing while Félix's cheeks burned red in shame.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY, STOP LAUGHING!" Félix shrieked, and Plagg floated over to his side and took the camembert out of his hands.

"Good going, Dark Knight, you broke him," Plagg remarked, and Adrien wheezed even louder.

"Wait, YOUR NAME WAS A BATMAN REFERENCE??"

"IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MENACING!"

Plagg took a big bite out of his camembert as he watched the two cousins shriek at each other. He could easily imagine the two growing up together as closely as true brothers, and he was relieved to see that most of the bad blood between them was forgotten, at least for now. If they had come to hate each other after all this, Plagg would be put in an awkward situation.

In Thailand, Félix was a sight to behold; he had the grace of a butterfly with the fury of a panther, and with every village he reclaimed from the nagas, the more potential Plagg saw in him.

Félix was, without a doubt, one of the best Chat Noirs he's had, even if it was for a brief time, but he could never measure up to the hero Adrien was bound to grow into. Times were undoubtably going to get tougher for Adrien, but Plagg knew Adrien was ready for that kind of commitment.

Not all heroes wear capes, but some do wear ridiculous bells.

#miraculous ladybug #mlb #miraculous #chat noir #Félix #Félix drabbles #writing #Adrien Agreste #félix agreste #S3 #Season 3 #Spoilers (kinda)#i know the chances of this happening are low but i love reading fan material about these two together and I wanted to join in on the fun

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modernmagiccampaign · 5 years

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Setting the scene.

The spaceport is a buisy place. Between the torists, buisnessmen, the newcomers there was never a dull moment.

Some recrument officers waited for potenial alien mystics to step off the immagration ships and onto earth for the first time.

Others prefer the slightly overpriced cantenas. Wether that be the loud public one or the vip suites (some rented by important mystic and political people/families)

And a small few absolutely adore the mini earth history museum, spending all day reading the little plaques written in both English and Basic.

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thymes-gnu-rowman · 5 years

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Butlery

Chapter 2: Abe was gone by the time Hae returned to the garden, so he proceeded alone after removing his grey vest and rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He had tons of them so he wasn't particularly worried about the shirt. However his polished jet loafers were another issue. He proceeded anyway.

Hae was reminded of how exhausting manual labor was, feeling the ache in his shoulders and arms after a couple hours of shoveling.

Noting the lift of the sun he decided to take a short break, wiping sweat from his forehead. Clambering out of the pit, he grumpily noted the rapid increase in temperature. The midday sun eagerly singed his neck when he was no longer shielded by the cool ground. Dirt coated his forehead, and nails, and his loafers were going to need a good careful scrubbing when he finished. Hae was only a quarter of the way done filling the plot, and it would only get hotter as the day went on. Revealing the holey white tee underneath his dress shirt, Hae set it aside next to his vest, then cuffed his gray slacks.

He slipped off his dirty loafers, then his soil-crusted socks, before entering the tan building, attempting to carefully close the wayward door. After it swung open with the next gust of wind he ignored it.

Fixing himself a glass of water, his eyes wandered the surroundings, intending to memorize them. The small kitchen had dark cabinets, and the refrigerator was shiny and silvery, but the warping on the freezer door made it obvious it wasn’t stainless steel.

The week prior Hae had noticed the trinkets Abe kept around the house; random esoteric baubles that made Hae think he studied rare animals or hunting or something; bones, feathers, scales, even jars of irredescent goops.

There were almost no family photos anywhere, and when Hae wondered just who could’ve raised someone as strange as Abe anyway, he finally saw the small 5x5 frame for the first time. Someone’s thumb covered part of the photo, but most everything was still visible.

Young Abe tapped at a videogame, half a bag of maltballs rested unwrapped next to him on the fuzzy orange carpet, and an ugly, grey, three-legged cat snoozing in his lap. He placidly sat at a young woman’s feet, comically large circular sunglasses covering most of his face, as she shaved his head with an electric razor, the unshaven half of his head stuck out, a frizzy mass of curly hair. She wore a tye dye t-shirt and a pair of dark-wash overalls that she’d only bothered to button one strap of. Her expression was focused, yet calm and she leaned down near to the boy’s head, her short hair falling forward over her ears, the burgundy recliner bending with her.

Putting down the photo Hae peered out the window adjacent to the endtable. He’d never really liked photography. A moment in time seemed much more fun when you just soaked it all in. Yet, he still wished he’d at least bothered to take one family photo.

The dining room was a familiar place for him, as was the dank laundry room, and the cellar where Abe distilled his own beer. Light and dark brews bubbled softly in their taps, arranged with according to seem system Hae didn’t understand; it wasn’t according to color, age or type.

Walking through the rows of tanks, Hae thought on the contents. It was some okay stuff, Hae’d told him when he tried it first. Abe had replied it was an acquired taste, and it took many tries for one to ‘truly experience the phenomena.”

Illegible scrawls labeled each of the rows of tanks, none of the script resembling another. Hae paused at one that almost seemed familiar. If he really stared at it he could almost...

Hae sighed. Abe’s penmanship was just deplorable.

----

The upstairs of the home, had two petite master bedrooms, and one half-bath, each decorated minimally, and laden with scuffed and dulled magogany floors that creaked and dipped from hard-water damage; he made a mental note to check the ceiling in his room for mold.

Of the two rooms, Hae’s was the simplest. The bathroom entrance was on the right side, a bare twin bed had been tossed in the left corner and a bedside table faced diagonally was sandwiched between the bare mattress and the wall. No window. No fan. No closet. No dresser. And the lightweight green door did not hang on hinges, but lay adjacent to the empty doorway. But Hae wasn’t one to complain. After so long, he finally had a kitchen to cook in for himself again, and it was still leagues ahead of the motel. He could finally sleep without getting an occasional secondhand high. He didn’t have to worry about his clothes smelling like his neighbors dope and having to explain it out to his bougie employers who would fire him anyway. He didn't have to tune out his neighbors shouting about flicking wrists, and crock pots. He didn’t have to worry if he remembered enough tae kwon do to fight off a potential attacker as he walked to his room in the very dimly lit hallways. Smiling to himself he gave a small celebratory fist pump. He was moving up in this world.

He opened the dresser that was about the size of a mini-fridge and set aside some trinkets and notebooks he found inside before he put away what he could. He made another mental note to ask Abe about his policy on furniture delivery. Sitting on the mattress he realized they were sheetless and the mattress coughed a puff of dust with the creak of rusty springs when he sat. Guess he did have a good reason to take those hotel sheets.

Hae delivered his toiletries to the bathroom then returned to work outside after one more drink of water.

----

When Hae finished, hole filled to just a little under the grassline, like how a pretty gardening plot should look, he gathered his shirt, vest, socks and shoes.

He was soaked in sweat and dirt, his hair was caked in mud made from his own fluids and he probably had bugs in his drawers so he prayed he’d have time to get a shower before he had to make dinner. In fact he was too filthy to cook in good conscience. It became mandatory that he shower.

Hae hadn’t bothered to put his loafers back on when resuming, they’d been through enough already, so he hosed off his feet before entering, then tried to get to his room while shedding as little dirt as possible.

Abe was nowhere in sight so he was in the clear. In fact he hadnt seen abe all day, and he wasn’t in his room either. Not like it was his buisiness, Hae mused.

“Could you make more of those rice buns?” Came from who knows where. Hae tripped halfway up the stairs, catching himself on the railing.

“Of course,” came his weak reply, unsure where to direct his voice. Glancing around. His eyes fell on an intercom near the base of The stairs, then the camera in the corner over the doorway of the screen door, he'd somehow missed in his walkthrough.

Hae gulped, frozen. This was it. He’d be fired. Tracking in dirt was always a No no.

“You're a mess, man,” Abe remarked innocently, voice tinny.

“Sorry,” Hae apologized, suddenly interested in the bronze lemmè wallpaper.

Abe laughed, startling Hae out of his caution.

“You must've worked very hard, if you're done this early! Go on! You've earned a break. Just have the buns and dinner ready by 8. Thanks!” The old intercom Crackled then went silent.

8? That was awfully late… but Hae wasn't complaining. He thought he deserved a break. Hae shot a glance at the wall clock.

6:30.

Okay, maybe he should rush some.

<<Prev

#butlery #hae #abe #my writing

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3ammicrosleeps · 7 years

Text

Yet another freaking aywas essay

So I wanted to respond to a stale as hell aywasconfessions post, because i’ve seen the argument around and others claiming that the way the game was “fixed” was a wise buisiness choice and... no. no it isn’t, not really. but here’s the original comment:

“Call Me Curious…

But have any of you actually been on any other website or game with a login streak bonus?

Subeta has one. Lioden too, and Furvilla, and almost every app ever.

Resetting with a day missed is par for the course.

You miss a day? Too bad. You miss one on any of the aforementioned games and you lose your streak too.

I don’t know if y'all are just entitled or what but… God, try something besides Aywas maybe?”

okay. A game with a persistent login bonus that doesn’t reset, and it should probably be decently profitable as well to prove my point...

OOH OOH, I KNOW GUILD-FUCKING-WARS 2

gw2 has a system where whatever day you log in, you get something, increasing in value until day 31, and then it resets. it doesn’t reset if you skip a day, it doesn’t reset if you get sick or can’t log on, it’s just well... fair.

And because it’s fair I don’t feel pressured to come back every day, but when I log in after some time not playing because well... I have a job and all, I go “oh man, I should log in and play more, i forgot about this!” and then if I have time I try to do so for a bit.

But guess what, that means I don’t like pileslam into the thing each day, which means i’m not accruing as much money as I would if I felt like I needed to. This? is actually a good thing. A system like mandatory logins does a few things, nearly all of them actually fucking awful for the game:

1) A lot of players give up on even trying. They walk away from it as yet another broken feature and spend less time on the game. So the feature as a way to reward players and encourage them to come back is effectively useless.

2) It can push people with higher scores to the opposite end, they’re bitter and they’ll be damned if the game will take what they’ve earned from them. Guess what, a lot of whales and higher-wealth players fit in the “killer” or “merchant“ game archetype, and if you tell them you’re taking away their toys because of a part of the game that’s been ‘malfunctioning’ for half of the game’s lifespan? they’ll bear down even harder and make fucking sure they get that login bonus... and in doing so put a lot more earned currency into the economy, which causes inflation to get worse.

3) it causes bitterness between players of both stripes, and via game mechanics encourages a style of play that is essentially? “be cutthroat or go home” because it doesn’t give the players any breaks. One mini-game in isolation won’t have too much effect, but multiple games or overall policies will.

You’ll get the dark souls or stock market effect, where people who might be more laid back and friendly and make the community welcoming will get pushed out. On top of that it’ll encourage more players with that killer/merchant archetype, and those games tend towards toxic or very competitive communities. These games work really well if you’re running a shooter where people want the shiniest gun and are willing to pay for it, but in an artistic game it quickly becomes a matter of the only way to make money? Is to pander to a select few. You can try to keep the game on it’s intended keel and ignore them, but you’d need fresh blood to support that and... well by now nobody is going to join such a newbie-unfriendly environment.

That is also an environment where since the rules and tone of the game seems unforgiving, more and more players feel it’s within the spirit of the game to be as cutthroat and find every excuse or loophole to get around the rules. Man that sure seems like a fun game to run- one where you can’t trust your community in any single way and they actively feel you’re as much of a challenge to overcome as the game mechanics. Yep. I’m sure those unpaid moderators would just be lining up to do the job.

This incident is really just the canary in the proverbial coalmine. It’s an indicator that should be telling staff to pull back right now and take a good look over how they manage the game and the choices they make. Right now this is just one mini-game, and if staff make better choices, it’ll remain just one mini-game. But if they stick to their guns and foster more of an unforgiving environment?

Well, better work on making the game a sparkledog-themed fps then.

#aywas

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