#Lumber yard woes

[newriverartist]

Please pay attention

Sweet Pea Morning on The Blue Ridge Original oil painting SOLD Wall Art Prints and prints on other items available with the link. https://kendall-kessler.pixels.com/featured/sweet-pea-morning-on-the-blue-ridge-kendall-kessler.html Yesterday I know I told the clerk at the lumber yard that the panels needed to be 43″ x 35″. I said it many times and it was in my diagram that I showed him of what…

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19659001 THE LEAD STORIES TONIGHT: 19659002 *** AFRICAN EXIM BANK APPROVES US$ 500M FOR GUYANA’S INFRASTCUTURE DEVELOPMENT 19459006 *** FORM REGIONAL CONSORTIUMS TO LEVERAGE US$ 3B FUNDING TO ADDRESS TRANSPORT WOES– PRES. ALI 19459006 *** GRASSFIRE SPREADS & DESTROYS NEARBY LUMBER YARD AT ENMORE *** MIDDLE ROAD MURDER: VICTIM SUFFERED BLUNT TRAUMA TO HEAD, FACE,…

[dilatorywriting]

Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’

Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.

“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.

People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.

“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”

You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.

“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.  

You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.  

“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”

You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.

.

.

That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.

Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.

“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.

“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.

You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.

“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”

Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.

“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh come on, he did not.”

“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.

“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”

“I beg your pardon.”

You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—

“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—

‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.

“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”

Ouch.

“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”

‘I’ll just go then.’

But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.

.

.

“My goodness, are you alright?”

You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?

Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.

“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”

Do you know how to get home?

You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.

“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.

You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”

So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.  

“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.

“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.

“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”

You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.

‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.

Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.

You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”

.

.

.

Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.

He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?

And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.

But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.

He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.

This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—

He looked back at the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick—

His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.

“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”

“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”

Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.

‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’

“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”

The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.  

“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.

Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.

“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”

.

.

.

[bluntfish]

Press-Me-Not, Gilded Anemone (Part I - Reflection of Glass)

Is it hard to ask for a date with an elusive man in the snow fields?

A continuation of "Cabin Fever Lockdown".

Wow, this took me a while. I wanted to get this entire fic done before Abigail's event and I squeezed my brain so hard just to write this. Even encouraged by my friends to keep going (even with the smut parts dfjkadfjakdfja god help me). This would've been shorter if I haven't gotten a chance to read Li Guang's Bounty with Aurelius and Zhong Nan's careers section. Still, I hope this suffices. And you, the person who I assume is reading this because you also like him, I hope you enjoy it as much as I had. Or if you didn't like Aurelius, I hope this was a ride to my mental spiral lmao.

And once again, this is written with a cis female reader in mind but it's gender-neutral. Enjoy! [runs off]

This is also posted on AO3. My links are in the pinned post. 🐟

Snowfall greets the ground. Clouds embrace the sky and then split apart. The sun touches the surfaces of ice, stone, and wood. The winds of the snowfields plateau over its surrounding areas. A typical morning in Raine. You were working, as you always do: overlooking any trees with your father, marking the bark, and dragging your newly fixed cart. With another used four-wheeler from the lumber yard, which you dearly occupy. Albeit you should be focusing more on your wood cutting, you were busy with something else worth your attention. 

The memories of the incident never faded. You vividly remembered that night, trapped in a snowstorm within the house of a stranger. Someone close to your age yet suffered similar woes to your own. The man you became acquainted with, rather quickly. His name was Aurelius, a name dignified from the days of old. Just like a former ruler who seeks knowledge from nature, he sought peace in the snowfields. You recall your last dinner with him at your place. He left you a gift before departing to the wilderness. Since then, your thoughts were occupied by this lone hunter. Only emerging from the cold once so often, yet so far where you are. But that's with physical means. You’re blessed with technology. Living in the digital age closes the distance between you two. Yet, you yearn once more.

Your days have been mundane since then. Punctuated by your routine that you occasionally message this man once or twice a day. Today is no different. As if the drive to see his appearance again translates to the shadows of his former self on your daily outings. Deeper in the forest, you recognize a trail where he once walked. Bent trees disconnected from each other. Your father sighed, struggling with a particular log loaded on the wagon. You snuck away to take a quick photo of one particular tree. Something that reminds you of him and it leads you to continue your conversation. Your last messages were about observing the plants you found in your local flower shop, and his ecstatic responses filled your mind. You hope this will lead to something deeper like your first encounter.

“Hey, is this you?”

You sent a message with an image: a tree bark with particular cuts over its husk. A trail of ice crystals traces over its scars. You got a response back a minute later.

“You got me. Miramon was hiding out there last time. Glad you’re doing okay, (Y/N). :-) ”

Quick as always. Aurelius will leave responses to whatever you sent. He mentions his day-to-day is helping travelers in the mountains, sometimes he’s out hunting and catching. Most are spent however in solitude throughout the perpetual cold. He ends his conversations with slight concern. About your health, your safety. That each day you message back, he expresses his gratitude every time. It’s been a week since you saw him in person, and you miss him dearly. You don't know much about him other than the glimpses you had in the past. You think about his presence, his appearance, his scent. The way he sends a small emoji at the end of his sentences sends you childish glee. It's cute.

But another thing taxing your mind is his will to reach out. Consistently he responds, yet he hasn't initiated anything since your last in-person meeting. It’s not unsettling but makes him appear more distant. Maybe he’s not good at starting a conversation and needs a nudge. Your hands shake a little as you’re coming up with an excuse for the two of you to meet sooner. It has been a week after all. You were a lot more sheepish the day after he left your place, texting him that is. Now you’re comfortable. You’re in constant correspondence, but your patience is running thin. You want to visit him. Aurelius might be feeling the same way, you pondered. How long was he willing to torture himself for not making the first move? Alas, your fingers glide over your phone screen with your inquiry.

“Do you have any plans coming up?”

“Not really. What about you?”

“None. I’m free for the weekend. Do you want to try to see each other? I miss talking to you in person.”

“I know. I promised you I will. Let’s try something.”

“How about the pier? Near Sarona Lake?”

“Tomorrow around five?” he asked.

“That works for me.”

“Sounds good. Let’s hope the weather is clear. I’ll see you soon (Y/N). :-)”

You pumped your fist. You scored a meeting with this elusive man at the frozen lake you sometimes frequent alone. Though you were mentally slapping yourself from your hesitation. You should’ve trusted your gut feeling in the first place. Regardless, you scurried back on your workload before your father catches wind of your slacking. You haven’t felt this energized in a long time, and you want to try your hardest. You hope the same for him too.

The next day during the mid-afternoon, you drove the ATV near the edge of Sarona Lake. Before the Starlight Miracle took control of the climate, you frequented with your family near the shoreline. Now it's a frozen husk of those memories. Your cough expels the warm air out of your mouth. Aurelius should be arriving where you are.

“I hope I wasn’t too early,” you thought to yourself.

You hear snow crunching in the distance. Approaching faster than you expect. Your head turns in the direction of the sound. The man you’ve waited for is rolling himself down a hill with a flip landing on his feet. He quickly stood up and sprinted where you were. Nearly out of breath, he brushes the snow off his shoulder and flashes a smile. And you couldn’t help but leave a small laugh on your lips. He sets down his crossbow with his arms outreached. The two of you proceed to make a quick hug. Though, you wish it lasted a bit longer.

“Right on time, Mr. Marksman,” you beamed, grinning ear to ear.

“It’s good to see you again, (Y/N),” Aurelius murmurs, matching your expression. “How’s your arm?”

“Doing better. My pops got me to the doctor’s and he healed me up. I’m very thankful about it.”

“Your day gone well since we last talked?”

“A little bit and then some. It wasn’t the same after you left.”

“I figured. I… I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“Not at all. I like your little flip at the end. Ten out of ten on my book.”

“Well,” he stammered, “you’re always…eleven out of ten.”

“Alright, let’s not one-up each other, big guy,” you laughed.

The two of you found yourselves sitting on top of the pier’s edge, watching the glassy reflection of the lake.  Cold air bites your face. The trees sway in stillness. In the distance, an animal scurried off into the bushes. Nature at its finest. Your feet hang over the boards as Aurelius is admiring the view.

“I used to visit this lake when Raine had its summers. Often with my family. Over that side, my pops fished near those frozen cattails,” you mentioned pointing to its location.

“That’s amazing. Reminds me of when I was little,” he says as he reminisces. “There was a marketplace that I frequented often with Alexa, the girl I talked about a few times.”

“Do you go there often?”

“Not anymore. It’s been closed. Sadly.”

“That’s a shame. If it's still open, would you go back?”

Aurelius grew quiet, lost in his thoughts. His hands rest mindlessly on his lap.

“I don’t know if I have the heart to go back. So many things have changed since then.”

You rest your head against the hunter’s shoulder.

“I hope you have better memories here than in your hometown.”

“Again, you know the right things to say.”

You smiled to yourself with your hands meeting by mere touch. Barely keeping you warm but you’re close to yearning for his.

“How’re your plants?” you said distracting yourself.

“They’ve seen better days. I did have a red tulip bloom, but it's pretty small.”

“That’s good. Glad they’re trying to thrive still.”

“Are you thriving (Y/N)?”

“...as much as you are. The weather has been relentless. I’m glad we got some clear skies for today.”

Your eyes draw to the reflection of the frozen water from the sun's rays. It glistens like a polished diamond against a near sunset. You hear a sweet murmur from Aurelius as he’s taking in the beauty of the lake and its surroundings dotting the beachy banks.

“(Y/N), is it alright if I ask you something?”

You nodded off as you cling onto his arm, squeezing his gloved hand.

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?” he inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“I feel the packaged flowers weren’t enough. After I left, I thought I should return the favor a bit more.”

“Such as?” you whistled with your eyebrow raised.

“...a proper date with you.”

“Oh? So this is not a date then?”

He raises his free hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples. Figuring out what to say next. A cacophony of hums develops into speech.

“I feel there’s something else you want to tell me,” Aurelius mumbles.

“Now you mention it…”

Your body turns towards him as you scoot closer with a whisper. He leans in to take in any of the words flowing out of your lips against the breeze passing by the area.

“Ever since I started texting you, you respond rather…fast. But you haven’t initiated anything. Is there a reason for that?”

His face became flushed. He got somewhat lower, crunched in some latent shame. His hand reaches the back of his neck, scratching the scalp meeting his hairline. Only pained eyes beyond the glasses he’s wearing.  The atmosphere became awkward.

“Did I hit a nerve? Sorry.”

He shyly said, “no, it’s an embarrassing story. Promise you won’t laugh.”

“It never crossed my mind. Like I said before back at your place, I like to talk to you regardless of how good or bad it is. Did you get scammed or something?”

“S-Sort of.”

Aurelius recounts one of his vulnerable moments. A month ago, he was contacted by detective Trevor about a scam he was unaware of upon his doorstep. The person he quickly became acquainted with online, Kathy, was a wry old man who had a history of fooling people and swindling off their funds. It took Aurelius by the shock that someone who treated him kindly ended up being a horrible person. He never disclosed his actual feelings to the detective, but it was a similar, sour mood he experienced before finally living in the snowfields.

“…I was a fool thinking I could go on an online forum and meet someone decent,” he groans. “Since then, I haven't made the effort to reach out on my own. It’s pretty stupid to think so when we exchanged numbers in front of each other. So it’s from my shortcomings. I’m sorry about that.”

“...I guess that happens to the best of us,” you lamented. 

“You think the detective was wrong?”

“…I wouldn’t say so. I think he means you should be more aware of your surroundings. Like if someone butters you up too fast without realizing it. Those kinds of signs.”

He sighs again in resignation. 

You continued, “I’m not gonna scold you about what happened in the past. That’s your business. But I don’t think it should be the only reason. You shouldn’t close yourself off. It’s a lonely way of doing things, don’t you think?”

“…then what should I do? Talk to people more? But I-I…”

“You’re talking to me. That’s a first.”

He looks at you with his flushed cheeks. 

“Okay, let me reiterate. I don’t expect you to become a social butterfly or talk up a storm. You can hold a conversation with someone. I think you got that down. ”

“That’s true. I don’t have much trouble talking to one person at a time,” he pondered.

“So I don’t think it's hopeless if you make more friends elsewhere too. You just need to work on approaching people. I’m willing to help you if you want to. No pressure.”

He constantly smiles as you keep chatting up. His hands move to yours as he raises your arm to his chest.

“I’m glad to have you as a friend, (Y/N). You’re pretty special to me.”

“Oh stop it. You’re gonna make me melt in the cold.”

He chuckles hearing your comment. You sit for another few minutes absorbed by your thoughts. A proper date. Not the kind of date you’re doing now, but a planned date. A bunch of ideas flooded your mind and you’re mentally sorting them into a file. Other than today, you haven’t been on a date before. And probably, this might be the first time you’re not dreading getting yourself out there in town. Makes it even more relieving that Aurelius is also inexperienced too. So you’re both feeling out the waters together. 

Speaking of feeling, with the snow underneath his boot falling on the water’s surface, Aurelius bluntly mumbles, “is there a time or place you want to meet? I’m free…tomorrow. If you want to hang out. Or …at my place again.”

“What about Danny's?”

“...you mean the diner at the edge of town? I go there sometimes.”

“Great! We can have lunch there, then we can stay at my house for the rest of the evening. If you want to. Your choice.”

“Doing what?”

To be honest, you haven’t thought more than just making excuses to spend time with him. With nothing to hide behind your empty hand of cards, you got real with yourself.

“...I dunno. We’ll figure it out I guess. Maybe it will lead to something like before,” you mindlessly wondered out loud.

His eyes grew wide, lips somewhat hanging agape. You quickly orient yourself straight.

“U-Unless you have something else in mind?” you babbled under a hushed breath.

“...I don’t. I’m okay with that.”

“Oh. Well, good. Because I don’t think I’ll be content dating someone else after experiencing what you did, Mr. Marksman.”

He sighs with a laugh sneaking out of his breath, along with parts of his face turning rose pink from the sudden change of topic. Dusk is approaching soon. You offered him a ride on your ATV since the distance from his home will take a good hour on foot. And he accepts, setting his crossbow behind the wagon attached to the back. He clings to your side as you start the vehicle and drive off into the darkening landscape.

“Have you ever ridden an ATV before, Aurelius?”

“No, it's my first time. Is it similar to a motorcycle? Like with its parts or something? I don’t think I ever thought about getting one myself.”

“That so?”

“Though, I don’t think it will help me now.” 

“Yeah don’t want to lose your leg muscles. Or your core muscles. Or your everything muscles.”

“Is that what you think about when talking to me?” he chuckles.

“Not always. I also think of your better qualities too.”

“Like?” he curiously said, leaning closer to your face.

“…you’re very thoughtful and brave. Considerate even. I would say you’re also altruistic too. You’re always putting others before yourself. It’s a good quality.”

You hear his raspy hum over your ear. He sounds somewhat confused but pleased with the compliment.

“You’re not so innocent either,” you added.

Suddenly you hear him chuckling again.

“I am a man after all,” he laughs.

“Don’t be a perv now,” you continued.

You haven’t been this relaxed driving over the tundra in a long while. The drive to his house is smooth. Aurelius gives his thanks with a lingering hug. He doesn’t want to shake the feeling off, the urge to keep you to himself. But he would rather keep that a secret for now.

“Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“I can walk,” Aurelius affirms himself.

“2 PM sounds good to you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” you smiled, “have a good night!”

You pat his back one last time before embarking on your vehicle once more. His crossbow is picked off from the back and lugged with his arms. Resting on the snowy ground. And you return to the plains. You weren’t aware of it, but he watched you go on. Lingering outside his home. A longing look he gave, watching you getting farther and farther. His hand clenched a ghost of what was once there. The warmth of once there. He misses it.

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 729: Lifetime Hello Bastards

Between their debut album and their sophomore album Hello Bastards, New Jersey’s Lifetime transformed from an early ‘90s heart-on-sleeve emo band to a melodic hardcore band. I remember a friend getting a copy of Bastards for review in his zine, and we were a little surprised that the new record was actually fun and catchy, as opposed to merely being mopey and melodramatic. Sure, there were still songs about yearning and heartbreak, but it all came across way less “woe is me” and more “them’s the breaks.”

I didn’t wind up buying Hello Bastards until Lifetime came through Seattle on tour. I picked up this LP at their show at Velvet Elvis sometime in 1996 shortly before the end of the first semester of my sophomore year of college. I was taking the next semester off to go on my first full U.S. tour. My parents weren’t thrilled about the decision, but I was 19-years-old, living on my own, and covering my bills and living expenses with a job at a lumber yard. I wasn't really sure what I was doing with my life. All I knew was that I was excited to go out and play music and see the world.

I’ve mentioned it before, but I listened to a lot of Sticks and Stones and Lifetime during those months leading up to tour. In particular, Lifetime’s cover of Hüsker Dü’s “It’s Not Funny Anymore” was a constant source of encouragement. We live in an increasingly complex world, and we expect people to maintain a base level of happiness in a society that seems determined to box people into depressing, meaningless, and inescapable scenarios. At age 19, the only people that seemed to be talking any sense were punk bands and Beat writers. I had to go out and live my life, even if it meant living in poverty and uncertainty.

I left for that seven-week tour with Hello Bastards still sitting on my turntable. By the time I got home, it was warped from sitting on the platter for so long. The LP is still playable, but it has a substantial warble to it, and I honestly haven’t played it much ever since. But that’s okay... because I love this record and I love the solace and comfort it provided at a crucial time in my life. I got home from that tour with a renewed sense of purpose. I changed my major, immersed myself in courses I actually cared about, got even more serious about music, and began my gradual process of coming out as a gay man. Hello Bastards helped get me to where I am now, and while I’ll always enjoy hearing this album, it feels like one of those people in your life who are only around for a season, but who have as much impact on you as the people you know for years and years.

[victorsandvanquishers]

Mughal-e-Azam for Antimagic Demon and Asta for the Bollywood film edition....

Asta x Liebe Nation, I come bearing the good fruit. Thank you for requesting, Anon, please enjoy. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

~~

It was the irony of all ironies – Asta's friends knew he was in love before he did.

Gordon noticed first, because Gordon was the most observant of the group. Asta was unlike anyone he'd ever met, so the young man didn't possess the sweaty palms, furrowed eyebrows, and fleeting glances that would plague the usual sort. Asta was different. More than that, Asta's deepest thoughts were just underneath the surface, hidden beneath veils of booming laughter and rippling muscles, a subtle hint in a sea of smiles. That alone gave Gordon grounds to investigate.

The stiff spine was the most surprising, and at first, Gordon had assumed poor Asta was just constipated. He'd debated getting his friend some herbal medicine so that he could rest easy. Gordon didn't want him to end up like Captain Yami, perpetually in the restroom, perpetually whining about the woes of tummy trouble.

He changed his mind when he realized Asta only stiffened when their new friend was out of his grimoire. It was their new friend with the glistening black skin and powdery white face. Liebe also had the most magnificent horns, horns which he'd begrudgingly let everyone in the base touch and pat because Nero's were too small and because she didn't quite like the touchy-feely stuff.

Liebe, however, seemed to enjoy it much more than he let on, and so they indulged him accordingly.

Charmy threw him a feast on the night of his official arrival to the base because it was the first happy evening they'd seen in weeks. Their captain had been rescued, Henry had built Nacht a room of his own, and Asta had a new friend.

It was a grand affair. Charmy made her best dishes, Vanessa opened her most treasured wines, and Zora's party tricks brought life back into everyone's eyes, even if Captain Yami ended up sitting on a stinkbug.

Liebe sat quietly for most of the party, but that was to be expected. Gordon was a great listener, so he'd noted every detail of the stories Asta had proudly told him about his demon friend. Asta had regaled him of the stories of his and Liebe's binding ritual on their journey back from Spade. Asta had called it friendship-binding. Gordon liked friendship. He thought it the most important and exhilarating thing to exist in their world.

He didn't forget the twinkle in Asta's eyes when he'd gushed about shaking hands with his new friend, the demon in the grimoire. Gordon didn't think he'd ever seen Asta so happy before.

That same fondness seemed to translate into Liebe's eyes, even if he was mostly silent. He looked to be the brooding type, a little like Gauche, but not an isolationist like Nacht, and though somewhat acerbic like Noelle, not nearly acerbic enough to offend anyone. Their new friend seemed to be in that happy middle amongst the three, quiet but present, as if reflective of every moment passing before his eyes.

If anything, it seemed to Gordon that Liebe just preferred to sit quietly. That was fine with him, as Gordon could see the warmth and affection in his eyes became stronger with their revelry. Liebe could remain in that brooding middle, the one where he blushed furiously when they patted his horns, but still grumbled beneath his breath about clingy humans. Gordon could accept that.

Liebe laughed for the first time when Magna slipped on Luck's chocolate wrapper, went tumbling into Noelle, who screeched and blasted Magna with a wave of water that eventually planted Magna against the wall, soaking wet and dazed. Gordon almost missed the new sound, what with the raucous laughter and Magna slightly concussed, but Liebe's laugh was different. It was a loud, scratchy thing, perhaps even a little shrill, but so full of life and love that Gordon balked in his seat, his hat lying limp in his hands.

Nobody else seemed to notice, but Gordon did.

And so did Asta.

Asta had stiffened when Liebe began to laugh.

Asta only stiffened when Liebe's attention was turned towards something else, eyes focused elsewhere, his back to Asta, black wings and black skin glittering like diamonds in the night while Asta stood motionless, in awe.

Asta had stiffened when Liebe began to laugh.

And that's how Gordon realized that his young friend was in love.

*

Vanessa noticed because she'd spent ten years giving Yami the same look, and got nothing in return.

It took her a little bit longer than Gordon, but she caught on. A month after they'd brought Yami home, Vanessa was in charge of leading some squad members on a clean-up mission on the border of Heart. It was a simple job, and one that would see them all home by nightfall. Vanessa wrote down the plan because she was still learning how to lead on her feet, and until she could call out orders at the drop of her magnificent hat, she would continue to use the little notebook Finral had gotten her when she'd become the team's interim captain.

She was reading over her notes when she realized that Asta was staring. Not at her, of course, but at the demon flying about, helping to direct the other squad members to where the lumber, stone, and tools would need to go as they worked to rebuild the little town that had lost to a mana storm. Vanessa had glanced up by chance, Rouge purring on her shoulder, and yet her eyes landed on Asta, as if it were fate.

She wondered why someone so kind and selfless had to suffer this particular kind of pain. She'd been suppressing her own for a decade now, camouflaging it with her alcoholism, and sometimes her trips to the brothel where the men were all the same, and she could pretend for the night that she was loved and wanted by the one she desired the most.

She wondered why Asta had to suffer the same pain. She tilted her head up and gazed at the astonishing black creature fluttering its great wings against the pale blue sky. Liebe was unlike any monster she'd ever seen before, and Vanessa had seen quite a few in her lifetime.

She wanted to ask, wanted to know – why him? Why not Noelle? Why not Yuno?

She didn't have to ask though. A moment later, Liebe swooped down with a powerful gust of wind that blew her great hat off her head and into the daisies at her feet. She didn't bother with her hat or her rich hair that had ended up in front of her face. She simply kept her attention on the two people some yards away, a human and a demon, bound together for life.

Liebe gave Asta a handful of stargazer lilies.

And Vanessa understood.

*

Love was soft; love was slow. Yami knew that much, even if he'd never personally experienced it.

The shrimp was good at hiding it. He'd been loud and boisterous when he'd lost the feeling in his arms, but he'd never faltered from his goal, not once. Lives had been at stake, and failure simply hadn't been an option. The love of one's self was one thing, but loving another – Yami didn't know if Asta had ever truly experienced that before now.

The runt didn't shy away from much, but when Yami found him considering a handful of stargazer lilies in the light of a single lamp in their empty kitchen in the middle of the night, Yami knew it was serious. He'd only ever seen few meditate on an object this critically before, and he never thought Asta would be a part of that small cohort.

And yet, there was the resident shrimp, placidly plucking at the pink and white petals, thinking things when there shouldn't have been anything but hot air in that head of his.

Any other day, Yami would have teased the boy and threatened him to spill, only because Yami was a nosy bastard deep down, but not tonight. Tonight, he simply tip-toed away, leaving the runt to his thoughts.

Love was a process, after all.

*

Liebe was a person. He wasn't a project Asta could work on, or a goal Asta could work towards. Liebe was a person, even if he was a demon with horns and pointy teeth, so Asta couldn't charge forward without a plan.

Noelle figured it out when one night, Liebe was too tired to take his meal with the rest of them, and had to eat where he slept – in the bed above Asta's.

Henry had fashioned the bunk beds for them when Asta had proudly showed off the bracelet on his hand, that which linked him to the demon for life. Noelle had looked on with barely contained glee in her eyes because Liebe had been cute, almost like a little animal friend who only looked dangerous, but was actually very sweet.

She hadn't been wrong – Liebe was sweet. Liebe was kind. Liebe worked just as hard as Asta, even if he grumbled, grunted, and groused along the way. Liebe was quiet, but he wasn't stupid. He spoke when it was necessary, not when it was convenient, and he kept his thoughts to himself.

Noelle could never hide her feelings, much less her thoughts. She envied the demon. She envied his poise, his reservedness, and the aura of mystery that seemed to surround him at all times.

One could argue that she shouldn't have felt this way, since Nero was the same.

But Nero did not look to Asta with the kind of affection Noelle harbored for him. Nero loved Asta much like a mother loved her child, or perhaps how a bird loved its chick. Noelle loved Asta like how Vanessa loved Yami, but Noelle failed where Vanessa was scathingly efficient. Vanessa could hide anything behind her drunken smile and glassy eyes, whereas Noelle could barely hide her blush, much less her affections.

Liebe walked with his lips sealed and his heart locked away, and all Noelle witnessed was one creature pining after the other. Liebe was better at it, of course. Liebe was quiet; he was strong. He was strong in the way pillars were strong, sturdy and imposing. He barely spoke about his past, much less about his feelings, and yet his gaze seemed to perpetually linger on Asta, and when it wasn't, it'd harden with the kind of aloofness that Noelle both loved and loathed.

Asta was loud, but he was hesitant, an edge of stiffness haunting his every step because perhaps forever was a bit too long. She thought it was doubt at first, but then she'd started noticing the shifts in his smile, the way he'd stiffen when Liebe touched his arm to instruct him to calm down, when his eyes lingered on Liebe's back, his wings, the band around the demon's wrist that promised that they'd be together forever.

Noelle figured it out one rainy night after a long battle, too few brooms to bring them all home without getting wet in the storm, Finral passed out in Zora's arms after exhausting all of his magic, and Henry back at the base. Yami, Magna, and Secre had all walked with the rest in solidarity, because what were friends for, anyway? When they got home, Charmy whipped up a large pot of stew, rice, roast beef, and eggs in under two minutes. Finral snapped awake with the smell of roasting meat.

Liebe was too exhausted from the battle, so Asta had carried him back to the base on his back, and when they'd gotten home, tucked Liebe into the upper bunk that belonged to him.

Later, when Charmy went to make a plate to send up to their comrade via one of the many sheep bustling about, Asta gently shook his head and took the plate from her. Noelle watched him heap piles of rice, eggs, and beef onto separate plates, before pouring stew into porcelain bowls, and grabbing two jugs of water. He made his way up the stairs to his and Liebe's room without spilling or dropping a single thing.

Noelle didn't need to know what happened afterwards, because it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Noelle and the rest of the Black Bulls ate their dinner at the long table, while Asta dined with his beloved upstairs.

*

Love wasn't always loud and all-encompassing, Zora had learned. Sometimes, it was subtle, like the feelings the Wizard King had, had for his father, feelings he'd only come to learn about after snooping around the King's private rooms while he was busy being chased by the mushroom man. Sometimes, it was toxic, like the poison that was slowly killing the witch from the inside out. Oftentimes, it was unrequited, like the birdwoman's.

And sometimes, it was fated.

Zora knew Asta had made the contract out of duty to his kingdom, to his squad. Any other man would have seen a demon-binding ritual as a sacrifice of one's best years, and of their autonomy.

But not Asta.

Duty-bound he may have been, but even duty could create bonds. Asta had created a bond of friendship, and friends they'd been, until that friendship became something more.

Zora saw it much like a book, one that moved slowly but surely, saw each moment like it was a chapter, and every chapter led up to the inevitable conclusion – the one where the human and demon fell in love.

Zora had seen and learned about enough bad endings in his life to know that love was the greatest prank of them all. His love for his father hadn't saved him from being betrayed and murdered by his own squadmates. Love hadn't saved Noelle's mother from dying from Megicula's curse. Love hadn't saved the first Wizard King from turning to dust in front of the sobbing birdwoman.

At first, he'd assumed that love wouldn't do anything for the human and the demon who seemed to fit together like two sides of the same coin. He even suspected that they'd eventually fight again for dominance, because who would want to be forced into a union with another forever?

But this wasn't one of those endings – not when Zora started reading the footnotes, not when he started connecting the dots.

Asta and Liebe weren't like the Wizard King, a fool in gold and velvet, a coward who couldn't tell a peasant that he was in love with him, a coward who couldn't protect his beloved or look after his beloved's orphaned child. Asta and Liebe weren't cowards. If anything, Zora thought they were heroes.

It happened a year after they'd brought Yami Sukehiro home. They'd just finished rescuing a noblewoman from an actual, fire-breathing dragon who also turned out to be her shape-shifting lover, so then the Black Bulls had to rescue the noblewoman and her lady dragon lover from the real enemy, which turned out to be high taxes and anti-dragon sentiment, which then led the Black Bulls to smuggle the pair out of Clover before Damnatio and his lackeys found out.

It was all in a day's work, and they'd just gathered around the bonfire to eat Charmy's roasted pigeons when Zora saw that Asta was gripping Liebe's hand in his own, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like their hands were born to be linked together, forever.

Zora would have thought he was thinking too deeply into matters if he hadn't caught them kissing some hours later. Arm in arm underneath the moonlight, Asta's arms were wrapped protectively around the lanky demon whose claws were tangled in Asta's ash grey hair. It wasn't the kind of kiss you witnessed on the street between shy teenagers learning to love, or grizzled elders who were beyond public displays of affection.

It was the middle of the night, and Zora had simply walked outside to take a stroll in the cool air before turning in for the night. He hadn't expected to find a runt and a demon passionately kissing beneath the moonlight like they'd just survived a war.

Zora smirked. Perhaps the past year was a war in it of itself, a series of battles that culminated with a woman and her dragon, and an escape into Heart where Undine and the Queen accepted creatures of all kinds.

Perhaps the war was finally over, and Asta and Liebe were finally happy.

*

“You did what?” Charmy hissed.

“I maaaaaaaaaade theeeeem oooooooone biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed,” Henry said pleasantly.

“But they're still falling in love! We can't push love!! It has to go slowly, naturally!!!”

“Buuuuuut IIIIIIII saaaaaaaaaaw theeeeeem kiiiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing laaaaaaast niiiiiiiiiiiight!”

“Kissing doesn't automatically mean relations, Henry you bastard,” Yami added, as scandalized as Charmy.

“Kiiiiiiissiiiiiiiiiiing iiiiiiiiis theeeeee fiiiiiiiiiiirst steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep,” Henry retorted with a bright smile.

“At least neither of them can get pregnant,” Vanessa sighed with relief.

“...... Do we know that for sure?” Gauche asked finally.

The Black Bulls sans Asta and Liebe turned to Gauche with narrowed eyes, and said in unison, “huh?”

“Do we know for sure that demons can't get pregnant?” Gauche snapped, averting his eyes and trying to stifle his growing blush.

“... oh my god,” Charmy wheezed.

“HENRY!” They all screeched.

*

“I love you,” Asta whispered softly into Liebe's skin, leaving kisses down his pale neck, his hands locked with Liebe's.

“I love you too,” and Liebe meant it.

*

[magnaflourious-nerdity]

But Through Darkened Glasses

(You Need Chaos in Your Soul)

" And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you."

There was a prompt on some Halloween themed fandom challenge for October. Monday's was 'Black Cat' and for whatever reason. This is what happened. Bc im just going with that kind of thing lately I guess, I decided to spit it out here. I didn't beta this thoroughly enough I guarantee bc im lazy and also the fandom is like 20 people big, and generally full of forgiving, lovely, content starved ppl. The last point I am extrapolating from my own experiences of being in the fandom, haha.

_____

It's weird, he thinks, twining in and out of the fence post he's been following for the past few minutes, trying to get his bearings now that he's been saddled with twice his accustomed amount of limbs. It's weird that I'm not more freaked out about this. He pauses, grooms himself briefly and crosses the street under the lamp light. The bulb blows out halfway across. He doesn't even jump this time. Maybe it's a bonus of having nine lives, you don't worry so much about one or two practice runs. His ears twitch minutely as the wind shifts and brings a low, buzzing, sound sighing through the fronds of the willow at the edge of his yard. They're even more sensitive now that he's a cat- the ears that is -twitching at the slightest whisper of a sound in the night.

He doesn't even bother to slow his pace as he hops the fence and passes through his own back yard, simply fixing jade eyes on the window he knows to be Becky's, turning them away again with the knowledge that there's no way she'd be at home tonight. Not on a night where she's basically been given free reign to go full-tilt feral social-climber on every party in town. There's no gaining entrance into his lair in his current state (nor is he particularly keen to meet Rasputin face to face right now either) and his parents are out of the question. Can't guarantee his dad won't be too drunk this late on a Halloween to tie a bottle rocket to his newly acquired tail. Don't really care to see him if he's sober either. Or just in general

Instead, His attention remains fixed on the sound he'd heard in the distance before, as he cuts across lawns and ducks down the well trod neighborhood backalleys, avoiding any heards of desperate, last-minute, trick-or-treaters or gaggles of drunken party-goers he catches wind of.

He's at the point of shrugging off the weird sounds he's been hearing as the result of some sort of particularly lumbering rodent in the underbrush, turning his attention instead to the little flashes of lamp light glinting off of abandoned candy wrappers. Batting at one every now and then non-committaly. It wasn't as exciting as one might think, being a cat. Kind of a snooze even, as far as curses went.

Well, at least it had the wherewithal and the courtesy as a curse to take aesthetics into account.

He was definitely the kind of cat his father would have chased off the lawn with a bb gun, if it had showed up at their door looking for food. He examines the pitch-colored shroud of his newly acquired fur as best as he can, glad- in a removed sort of way -that at least he was a proper Halloween cat. Scruffy and mysterious, not one of those opulently fluffy, pearl-colored, fancy-feast models.

There was dignity in being a black cat on Halloween. There was style! There was pinache!

A whisper, a low hum beyond his perception.

There were secrets. There was power. All of it his for the taking now that the opportunity had been unwittingly granted.

He'd read a legend once- in one of his massive, dusty, volumes on the lore of shapeshifters, dating back to antiquity -that on Halloween, black cats were at the most transient state of their existances. They could- if they could find the right chinks in reality's armour, where the space between things overlapped and folded in on itself like challah -use the threads surrounding and connecting the worlds to perform any number of impossibilities. Assume other forms, be anywhere at once, sew prosperity or discord at a whim.

It was said that those creatures most in-tune with with the pathways could even travel between them all. All of the worlds bookended against and, at certain times like tonight, overlapping their own. Those most-adept cats could slip in and out of dimensions as easily as a shadow slips under doorway.

I mean, I guess now is as good a time as any to test that hypothesis, Merton mused, slit-pupils zeroing in on the slightest movement down the street from Tommy's house, which was naturally where his slinky, purposeful, wandering had taken him. There were no other thoughts to it really. After all. He and Tommy were each other's lifeboats, lashed together to weather whatever bullshit came their way, side-by-side.

At least where finding ourselves on the wrong side of dark magic is concerned. He amended to himself. There was no one else here so he wasn't sure why he even bothered really.

He hesitated silently under a street lamp. The crackling sound of the light flickering above him sounded grating to his sensitive ears. He could understand Tommy's super-hearing-based woes a lot better now at least. With his gaze shifting uneasily between the safety of Tommy's house- the safety of his company, and of his unconditional presence, and of his unwavering dedication to Merton's protection despite the workload that it was turning out to be- and back to the subtle, but suddenly noticeable undulations of the shadows at the farthest edge of the neighbor's hedgerows. An opportunity had manifested itself.

Almost neigh-imperceptably, something shifts in the air, pervading every cranny of the now darkened street.

A moment of choice for Merton. The unexplored possibilities mount in his head, weighed against the cons of breaching the utterly unknowable. He is bewitched, rooted to the spot. Eve on the precipice of the apple, by virtue of both temptation and fear.

He'd gone to more extreme means, on less intel, for far more ridiculous pursuits. This was just a short walk to the end of the street. But he hesitates nonetheless, his own mind overriding the detatched curiosity that grew into him- into his bones -the longer he was attached to this form. He feels the pull of the interstitial static of the spaces between space, it hums and pulses gently along to the music of the spheres. Soft, inviting, unknowable.

He thinks of slipping between the phases of reality. Could he regain his body on his own that way? Could he pick a better one? He pads gently forward, going only a few, cautious steps, questioning himself all the while and trying to brace his senses against the hypnotic call of whatever the netherspace was wordlessly offering to him. He is waiting to see when the time will be right. If it will be at all. What will come of it.

I can fix this on my own for once, right now. He tells himself . I can learn so much. About everything. I can fix so much if I can just...

The pull of the place between is Urgent. Heady. Disorienting, he finds. It beckons him more insistently with each passing moment, and every sound made in the darkness is a soft, sighing, call to action. To adventure. To satisfy all of his human spawned, feline fueled, curiosities alike.

But another sound, this one from inside Tommy's house- still nearly right next to him -severs the tie. It's Tommy's laugh, loud and sharp and as intimately familiar to him as a siren song of his own.

Tommy. His tail lifts up into the air of its own accord as he starts to correct course towards the tree in Tommy's back yard, one which frequent exposure to the Dawkin's household tells him leads to the- usually wide open -2nd floor window landing of his best friend's bedroom.

The whispering from behind him grows more urgent as he turns away from it. Easier to discern from the normal night-music of Pleasantville. It grows in pitch, insistent, like a vulture pecking at the stripped down bones of its roadside carrion.

Despite his growing unease, Merton still feels the gravity of the thin places of the world eying him up, clawing at him. He realizes, with detached horror, that if the last few minutes are anything to go by, in this form, he isn't even sure if he can resist it at all. Much less how long his moment of self possession can last.

Merton, as a cat, finds himself to be mostly a loose collection of animal instincts and a haphazard jigsaw of the the bits of the world that don't seem to want to fit right with himself; all of this sewed up into a body thats more suggestive of physical form than equitable to one. He doesn't know how to even begin to navigate the puzzle of resisting the undertow of the universe as it digs its fingers solidly into the newest and most vulnerable parts of his shared but singular conciousness. The shadows in the hedgerows, the ripples of what's underneath the idea of them, begin to pulsate. They flail. Or it flails, because he can't tell the collective from the distinct anymore, can only watch with awe as the patch of space and time it is currently occupying shimmers, and cracks, and grows, and reaches. Merton swears he can hear it SCREAMING in the back of his head. At the place where his thoughts dissolve into notions less definable by words, and transform instead into a swirling mass of impulses conducted by the now-shrill trans-dimensional, thrumming of the universe's insistent, staticky back beat.

He sees something solidifying in the ectoplasm of that open sore in the flesh of the world. Something besides the thrashing, churning, cult of tendrils reaching out from the places they can squeeze through in the cracks. The sight makes every single one of his hairs stand on end. Which is something, given he has a significant deal more of them now than he usually would. But there is no mistaking what he is seeing being melded together in the eye of that widening miasma. A hand claws its way past the meshing, roiling tentacles of that dark expanse. Pulling itself forward into the physical, out of the theoretical. A set of shoulders struggles past, dragging the other arm in to being along side it, pale and wan. There is a pause, one last still moment before, with repulsion thrumming through every part of him, he focuses on the well of dark magics still spewing forth parts of the creature. He sees the top of a head breech through the dimensional weak spot. The head turns in Merton's direction at his displeased hisses of fright. Merton locks up in immediate, gut-wrenching, horror when the creature gazes back at him, wearing his own face.

‐-----

I'll probably never continue this or even do anything at all w it,, but it was fun! In case you were wondering about the subtext between tommy and merton, yes. gay. Also whats dialague don't know her

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Lost in the drafts...

I wonder what made me start this list. 

Yes, “start”. Ridiculously long as it is, I’m rather surprised at the things I didn’t include. Guess I was too sleepy to organize my thoughts.

I’ll put a cut in here because it’s just too long to clutter your dash....

You know, sometimes I wonder if my family might have been a wee bit…odd.

- We have a coffin room…with an actual coffin!

- We have a woods and swamp for a backyard to play in.

- My brother and I used to play on the roof of the shop. Somewhere there is a cute picture of him when he was little tossing things off the edge.

- My brother and I would practice jumping out of a moving car when Pop drove in the driveway.

- My brother and I would ride on the roof of the jeep while Pop drove around the farm and woods. We’d bang on the roof, shouting for him to go faster....and he sometimes would.

- My brother and I learned to use machetes as young children, much to the anxiety of some other parents. Useful tools though.

- When in the woods we’d howl to find each other, since we often wandered alone.

- The kitchen had lab equipment next to the cooking equipment. One whole cabinet was just for slides, pipets, beakers and such.

- In the shop there was another lab of equipment just for Pop’s mineralogical passion.

- Actually there was scientific equipment tucked everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE!

- My first nine years we all slept in one bedroom, subdivided with shelves full of scientific and technical books, more scientific nicknacks, and a giant jar (large enough to pickle a baby…if that’s your sort of thing) full of fireworks.

- Funnily enough no one slept in the four upstairs rooms. Not so funny when you consider two of them were haunted house level dilapidated where you could see outside through the slats of the crumbled plaster. 

- There was an ancient spinning wheel up in one room, and very little else. I was not named Aurora and did not prick my finger at 16….pity.

-One of the upstairs rooms was the train room. Both beds had been covered over with structures for Pop’s train layout. (When I was little I could crawl in the space between, to lie on the bed with the trains zipping while reading)

-My father knew how to make explosives….for fun.

- There was a hidden bomb shelter to play in. This is not related to the explosives.

- At the river we had the “big boat”, at the time it was built the world’s largest all fiberglass boat (according to old clippings),  and the drydock as another place to play. 

-We’d row miles along the river alone as little kids.

- Down at the “big boat” we had signs up warning people to NOT shoot the snakes. People seem to have it in for the poor things, and it was real battle.

- My family bought an old tug boat to scrap. I forget now what they wanted from it. 

- We never killed spiders, snakes (with one life endagering incident as an exception), or any other creepy crawly. We would fight you on it.

- That said, we would eat any animal offered to us. Folks that wanted to hunt but not eat the kill would give it to us. The Wolves would eat anything! LOL

- In the warm months I’d swim up river a mile, then back, with Pop rowing along to keep motor boats from hitting me.

- We had a pool we built outselves. It’s a deceptively unique pool, above ground but also below ground. We dug it out ourselves, the whole family shoveling down many feet before fiberglassing it. 

- Oh yeah. Fiberglassing. The family had a fiberglassing business, and since it was just the family, we helped out. This meant a lot of glassing, riviting, sawing, cutting, and moving very large objects.

-My family did all repairs, building and yard work themselves. Plumbing, electricity, roofing, appliance repair, cutting down trees, you name it.

- This self sufficency included a small sawmill from which they had cut all the lumber that went into the barn. That was another place to play, what with the giant saw blade.

- My brother’s childhood game of melting things in acetone was a lot less safe than mine of melting crayons on lamps to make patterns of the drips. Our parents gave up trying to stop us.

– We also played with fire. As kids we’d use branches and scraps of fiberglass to make torches whenever there was a fire. We’d run around swinging them. Our parents trusted us not to burn down the world.

- Our parents also let us make “rivers” the length of the driveway. We’d run the hose for ages,  making dams and canals.

- Animal skulls, snake heads, rocks, interesting sticks, old wasp nests, etc were normal home decorations.

- If an animal died we’d save the skull. I have a cool photo of Pop cutting off the head of a deer a train had killed, but I’m not sure it’s Tumblr suitable. I’ve got skulls from beloved pets.

- We were surrounded by old things. I mean dating back a few centuries. These items were never stored away but in common use. A book from the 1700s would be next to paperbacks, the ratty old chair at the kitchen table was pre-revolutionary, the stove in the kitchen (modified by Pop) dated from the 1930s…

- Still, until we ran into money woes, we were also technologically advanced. Pop was always interested in new tech. For instance we were the first folks around here to have a computer, years before the school ever had one. 

- My atheist father and “wake at dawn to read her bible” Baptist grandmother ate at the same table to…intersting results.

-I could write a LOT about my other grandparents. People still talk about Pop’s parents.

- Poor Mom though. She was so…normal, or at least could pass as it. Loving reading science fiction was only odd by local standards. 

-The practice of trying to sneak around without being seen was another family game. When Pop had customers I’d try to cross the area around the shop without being caught.

- My parents let us run free, trusting our judgement to keep us from getting killed. It must have worked since we even managed to avoid serious injury despite a lifestyle others would consider dangerous.

- I’d climb up in the rafters of the barn where the boat was built  where I’d swing on the metal cables hanging down. Admittedly Pop drew the line when I wanted to string a high wire for walking the length of the place. If I mastered walking a tightrope at two feet he’d do it. What can I say, I got bored. 

- Actually imaginary friend lived in that barn, the ghost of a little boy murdered during the American revolution by his uncle. We used the barn door to travel through time and space, often encountering the ghost of the evil uncle. (Is it any surprise I loved both Doctor Who and Dark Shadows when I later discovered them?)

- My father’s favorite book to read to me at bedtime was “Haunted New England” of supposedly true stories illustrated with atmospheric photos.

- Locals believed our house in town was haunted. Some still do. Sadly, it isn’t. Members of my family have lived in it for over 50 years. If a ghost obsessed little girl not only didn’t see any ghosts, but never even had her ghost of an imaginary friend visit the house, no one would see a ghost there. At least it LOOKS haunted! LOL

- By 6 we had out own pocket knives, by 8 we had hatchets, and by our teens we had our own swords.

- My father was building his own submarine. He had designed it himself and had the basic structure built, but the actual workings were going to take money and time to get that money. Needless to say, it never got finished.

[morganstrout-blog]

Adelaide 36ers reveal new season NBL singlet

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[weemsbotts]

Can’t Have it All: The Strange Request From a Disgruntled Man in Loudoun County

By: Lisa Timmerman, Executive Director

Small historic societies and local libraries often have hard to find books and booklets that feature local and regional history, and The Lee Lansing Research Library is no exception. Sharing the stories of the people from our region is just one of the ways we preserve our local history and make it accessible to the community. Local newspapers often contain gems as people freely express their love or hate for certain developments in society. They can also provide a touch of levity as we peer into the concerns and woes of those living in Loudoun County in the 1970s.

(Photograph by Donald G. Rypka, Jr. Enjoy these happy Loudoun geese in lieu of outhouses!)

The Metro Virginia News commenced in November 1972 and eventually condensed many heart-warming and charming stories in compilated volumes. Robin R. Lind, Karen T. Richardson, and Donald G. Rypka, Jr. identified the importance of these delves into the lives of Loudoun County residents in their eloquent introduction to the book Loudoun Harvest – faces and places, past and present, in Loudon County, Virginia. “The beauty of the landscape and the wealth of historical places is not what impressed us most. Rather, it was the warm-hearted and generous people who so proudly call Loudoun their home. These stories represent, not the history recorded by monuments and deed books, but the history of a place as perceived by the people who made, and are in the process of making, that history.”

Meet “Disgusted” aka Fred Crum, an 80-year-old man at the time of book’s publication. In an interview with Don Follmer, he elaborated on his letter to the editor, “The paper’s main topic for months has been SEWAGE, Sewage here, Sewage there, Sewage everywhere…Intellectual, new ideas? Anything interesting? Or cultural? NO WAY. -- Disgusted”

“Listen, Crum said, letting to with a stream of well-chewed Beech Nut over his porch railing, “this sewer stuff is a bunch of bull. Aside from the fact that I’m sick and tired of hearing about it, all the fuss isn’t even necessary.

“What we ought to do is get rid of all these sewer plants, underground lines that crack open, stop having these confusing meetings that no one understands…

“And pass a law that everyone has to build at least a two-holer in his yard. ‘Course we would have to pass some laws about size, depth and width of the seats…that sort of thing. But, hell, after the complicated mess we are into now, it should be pretty simple.

“You know,” Crum mused, looking at the Blue Ridge Mountains rising in his backyard, “there was something nice about the old outhouse. Kind of homey. I mean everybody knew what it was there for.

“You could catch up on the latest products that Sears and Monkey Wards were selling and the kids had a lot of harmless fun turning them over on Halloween.

“I mean it was nice back then. None of this Water Control Board and Regional Planning things and Sanitation Authorities. I know those guys are doing a job and all that, but with all the screwed-up laws, regulations, and stuff, they don’t hardly know what to do. And if they don’t know, who else knows?

“No fuss and muss with hookups and politics, no digging up the streets.

“All you need is some lumber, a deep hole in the ground, a bag of lime, a nail on the door for the latest catalogue and a path from the back door.

“Man,” he said, adjusting his used striped coveralls, “that was real livin’. People don’t now what they gave up when they started with this indoor plumbing.

“Every now and then you’d hear about somebody bein’ bit by a spider or seein’ a snake, but compared to goin’ in one a them sewer meetings or reading about it all the time. I’d almost druther be but bit a spider.

“Snakes? I never bothered about snakes anyway.”

Colonel John S. Mosby might have agreed with Mr. Crum. According to local folklore, Colonel Mosby hid from Union soldiers in an outhouse. His memories note: “A ludicrous incident occurred when we were leaving Fairfax. A window was raised, and a voice inquired, in an authoritative tone, what that cavalry was doing in the street. He was answered by a loud laugh from my men, which was notice to him that we were not his friends. I ordered several men to dismount and capture him. They burst through the front door, but the man's wife met them in the hall and held her ground like a lioness to give her husband time to escape. He was Colonel Johnstone, who was in command of the cavalry brigade during Wyndham's absence. He got out through the back door in his night clothes and barefooted, and hid in the garden. He spent some time there, as he did not know when we left, and his wife could not find him.” Here, “hid in the garden” could be a nice way of stating that he hid underneath the bench of the outhouse.

We know Dumfries residents, such as the Merchant family, used outhouses and the push for sanitation did not go through flawlessly as sewer rates and fees were an issue and concern to the local population. Besides for snarky chamber pots in The Weems-Botts Museum we have no lore to share regarding our past facilities. However, I feel confident stating that Colonel Mosby was probably not the only person to find it a convenient if not hideous hiding spot.

Note: Have you heard of The Weems-Botts Bibliophiles? This charming virtual monthly program features links to short stories, tea from Leaf & Petal, and a presentation/discussion on the selected theme! For November, we are all about the happy feels and healing energy as we brew a delicious cup of Healing Honeysuckle. It is not too late to register! If you would like to have the stories read to you instead, join us for our Winter is Coming Tea! Tickets for the Bibliophiles here and Winter Tea here.

(Sources: Loudon Harvest – faces and places, past and present, in Loudoun County, Virginia. A collection of stories and photographs from the first volume of the Metro Virginia News. Leesburg: Carr Printing and Publishing Company, November 1973; Mosby, John Singleton. The Memoirs of Colonel John S. Modby. Boston: Little, Brown, and Company, 1917 via Documenting the American South; Outhouses in Virginia via Virginia Places)

[jillhuxley59462-blog]

Why You Needed to have Rattan Yard Furnishings

Both the reduced and also upper 3 Chakras naturally seek to stabilize their open as well as sealed (yin and yang, dark and light-toned) parts and also wish complete equilibrium or even alignment with each other. Mostly all types of organic matter like grass, straw, leaves, straw dirt, turf, bark or paper cuttings, utilized as mulch products serve all the requirements of an efficient garden care. There is actually the all-natural lumber rattan as well as the man-made range referred to as rattan effect garden household furniture. It right now feasible to get organic garden compost off a regional garden centre, but this is actually quick and easy sufficient making your succeeded. Carb Queen, If you are interested in the impatiens in this center, the Proven Champions internet site has noted all the closest backyard centers where you can purchase the impatiens. Celebrate your special occasion in the spectacular climbed landscape before the grade 2 detailed structure. After allowing the answer rest on the chair for TWENTY minutes, rinse it off, if possible with a yard hose to truly blow up out any type of excess filth. However growing and also maintaining a landscape at the White Residence would perform more than gain the hearts and intestines from meals lovers. You may really want to take into consideration including farmer containers if your yard or outside place could make use of an increase.

The cooler different colors from pinks, violets as well as woes generate a calming ambience in a yard. Unlike at low costs produced nozzles that crack under regular shapes, dings, blemishes, and also nicks merely add character to this ruggedly created essential backyard tool.

This is just one of the greatest times to backyard in the South, so make sure in order to get outside, dig in the filth, as well as delight in the days ahead of time. The white hardwood aster is actually not extremely choosy about its own growing ailments, but that has a tough desire for some color, and also for drier disorders. For a DYI turkey or even fowl brush, mix one-quarter cup olive oil, one tablespoon Worcestershire sauce, one tbsp gewurztraminer, one tablespoon balsamic white vinegar, four tsps each from rosemary, thyme, softened red onion and minced garlic. Perhaps the best nationalistic farmer making is actually one with reddish, white colored & blue (or even violet) blossoms in a reddish, white or blue flowerpot that you actually carry palm.

This is actually EXACTLY the vision if I was inquired to visualize a residence and also a yard that exemplified Loi! White wood aster creates a exceptional and attractive groundcover in questionable areas. Intense white blossoms, however, start to put from their stems when the light starts to 17-Healthanddiet.Info dim. Attract predatory and leechlike insects to the yard with pollen and honey plants. Illuminate your dining table with high, fat candles from a garden center or blossomy source. Nonetheless, if you also would like to include aquatic flora in your garden fish pond, this fish is a negative choice as he prefers to bite on a variety from water vegetations, including such marine types as hyacinths and lilies.

[dianewilkes09381-blog]

Effective ways to Maintain Your Yard Alive With Winter months.

If you haven't picked-up a duplicate from Mel Bartholomew's manual allowed All New Square Foot Horticulture you truly should not put off because in it you will discover a riches from details about developing herbs. Freezer is actually the island's earliest set up grocery store driver with over ONE HUNDRED years from experience in Singapore. As an example at the 2014 Chelsea Bloom Show the pink poppy Papaver dubium subsp lecoqii var albiflora used through Cleve West in the M&G garden to spectacular impact as well as amazed the groups. Total version from horticulture software application commonly is a lot more qualified as well as includes intriguing additional attributes like incorporating rocks, rocks, lumber etc for producing your yard even more attractive as well as eye catching while the majority of cost-free landscape design software application are without these features. Additionally, prior to intending your landscape design, try to possess a clear concept what your allocate that is, as well as just how much accessible time 43things.Com you need to work on that. The moment you have all these variables crystal clear, you should go ahead to evaluate the space where you will certainly work and ideally bring in a drawing of this as precisely as possible.

Backyard Water fountains: Fountains add a great deal of ambience to any kind of landscape setup. Individual or dog hair spread out around the garden as well as awaited from plant limbs acts as a really good pest repellent, as perform clubs from detergent awaited off guards hooks or set right in the ground. If you plant all of them in the soil in your yard, they will definitely manage the garden by hurricane. I will be sharing this great lens regarding Tiny Outdoor Landscape Ponds along with my husband. For my assessment I administered a FIFTY% to 75% premium over the existing evaluation (leaving out the Garden). Apply a small amount from water pipes details or even Teflon strip to the strings of the adapter, as well as tighten the male garden house fitting onto the adapter. As a Landscaper, Doctor and Outdoorsmen I actually take pleasure in hanging out outdoors and often tending a garden to generate fantastic prizes of yummy meals.

Once again, you may grow a lot of them in a rush along with the seeder. as well as slender rows will certainly lower weeding and also raise the bushels per acre (or even perhaps in the animal yard we ought to speak in regards to quarts each square lawn). I locate the very best technique to integrate dark plants is to intermingle with diverse plants like vivid pinks, purples, woes, oranges, whites and yellowishes. Opting for the appropriate style from wood is important considering that landscape gazebos are left open to the factors.

Possessing time to ponder your fears and harmonize them with nature and also life is important, and also creating a Zen Yard is a great way to concentrate your feelings as well as thought and feelings as well as de-stress simply a small amount. Yet your cheapest alternative, and the quickest means to place your eco-friendly refuse to excellent usage, is actually to garden without it. Deer have the tendency to be wary as well as tense creatures as well as can be frightened by frustrating wind activated landscape installations, plastic foil strip, frights as well as whirligigs. If you have a Pretztail piñata presently in home in your yard the Cluckles will not be available in. You may buy a pet crate at the general post office and also deliver your Pretztail piñatas to yourself. A standard greenhouse is made to accumulate sunlight within the day, and also along with excellent insulation, warmth may be stashed in heat drains and used to heat your pail backyard throughout the chilly winter months evenings.

[barb31clem]

Louisville’s Billion Dollar Basketball Arena

Photo Credit: Jamesmac96, CC BY 3.0

I was conveniently in Louisville the day this Courier-Journal article I was quoted in about the KFC Yum Center came out. So much of the writing about the boondoggles of publicly financed sports venues focuses on stadiums. But this piece shows that arenas can be plenty expensive too. Including interesting, Louisville spent $1 billion on a new arena – for a college basketball team.

I spoke to the reporter a while back and gave some general context about other arena projects, but much of the specifics around the financing of the KFC Yum Center was new to me. And quite eye-popping.

The arena’s total cost, including debt repayment, is estimated around $1 billion. And unless the debt is paid off early, the taxpayer subsidies will keep coming until Yum Center is 37 years old. “There is more public subsidy of the arena than was intended at the beginning or that anyone believed would happen,” said Pam Thomas, senior fellow at the Kentucky Center for Economic Policy. She called the arena a “cautionary tale” about the need to vet costs and benefits of big economic development projects. … Keeping Yum Center afloat now costs Louisville Metro nearly $11 million per year — more than three times the city’s annual budget for such emergency equipment as fire trucks and ambulances. Over the next 30 years the city is expected to pay more than $300 million toward the arena. The state, with its own budget issues, also has pledged hundreds of millions more in taxpayer dollars over the life of the debt and has lifted a cap originally set at $265 million. … “It’s one of the major local scandals in recent history,” said Wayne, who was a member of the Legislature’s capital projects and bond oversight committee as the arena project moved forward. In 2008 he voted for the bond issue but still expressed reservations about the finances and the volatility of the credit market. “It’s what happens when a power elite tries to impose something in kind of an autocratic way,” Wayne said. … Civic leaders were confident the arena would pay for itself, even after choosing a waterfront site in 2006 that was criticized as $114 million more expensive than a smaller downtown alternative. In 2007 they killed an on-site hotel designed to provide more income, saying it would cut into the plaza space and wasn’t needed. With the exception of $75 million from the state, the arena was largely financed with bonds – a form of debt much like a home mortgage….Goldman Sachs called the arena financing a win for Louisville, even putting out a slick video touting how it would help revitalize downtown in 2011. … To help compensate for the TIF’s poor performance, arena officials began raiding a maintenance fund to make debt payments. Metro Louisville in 2012 also bumped up its $6.5 million annual subsidy to $9.8 million, the maximum then allowed under the agreement with the arena. But debt payments and other expenses still exceeded what the arena was generating. In 2013, U of L agreed to a three-year cap on its share of Yum Center advertising revenue, freeing up an estimated $1.5 million the arena could use for debt payment. And the authority tried a fix that seems counter-intuitive — shrinking the TIF to two square-miles as a way to remove some areas in decline. TIFs capture changes in revenue from the base tax year. That usually means revenue goes up, but change can cut both ways. When Boland Maloney Lumber Co.’s downtown lumber yard closed in 2008, for instance, the TIF lost value.

Adding to the arena’s money woes were escalating annual debt payments. In 2013, annual debt service was nearly $21 million. By 2022, it would exceed $31 million. Cox became the authority’s fourth chairman in a decade in 2016 and said he quickly learned the arena faced a bond default within a few years. “We were so far behind what everyone expected,” Cox said. “To me, that was overwhelming.”

One area that deserves further scrutiny is how the University of Louisville was able to secure an almost NBA-style lease on the new arena.

As the Yum Center’s debt struggles became commonly known, U of L’s lucrative lease became the subject of debate. The lease, which originally ran through 2044, gave U of L 88 percent of private suite revenue; half of net revenue from merchandise sales, whether the school was playing or not; half of net concessions during U of L events; and other revenue. In recent years, the men’s basketball team made about $20 million from ticket sales, concessions, premium suite rentals, advertising and other revenue. In 2016-2017, the program paid the arena a net settlement of $1.36 million.

This exceptionally lucrative lease, which former arena board member Todd Blue says allowed the university to “commandeer” a community asset, was part of what made U of L the biggest money-making basketball program in the NCAA.

Part of how U of L did this was by threatening to build their own arena on campus. City officials wanted a downtown arena. I question whether the university’s threat to build a campus arena was credible. The state likely would not have given them the money. Meaning that if the university wanted to build a super-lucrative money maker with luxury suites and such, it would have had to directly borrow the huge amounts of money needed to do it – meaning most of the revenue would be pledged to debt repayment. I doubt they would have netted anything nearly as much out of their own arena.

As reporter Allison Ross points out, conflicts of interest suggest this negotiation with the university may not have been all that it seemed:

Denis Frankenberger, a Louisville businessman and outspoken critic of arena finances, questioned whether there were conflicts of interest in the original contract negotiation, noting that several of the arena’s board members have ties to the university. They include former U of L basketball star Junior Bridgeman and Jim Patterson, for whom the U of L baseball stadium is named.

Given what we know about Louisville’s basketball program, some kind of shady situation can’t be ruled out. There should at least be some sort of forensic investigation into this to find out exactly what transpired.

In any case, don’t think that stadiums are the only sports projects that can suck up huge cash. Arenas can also be far more expensive than you might think.

Click through to read the entire article in the Courier-Journal.

from Aaron M. Renn http://www.urbanophile.com/2018/07/16/louisvilles-billion-dollar-basketball-arena/

[dominiquehowden-blog]

Blue Wild Vegetation For Your Garden

Coming from arrangements to event designs, from relationships to memorials, retail blooms are actually used on many occasions. Put in the time to select a system that's right for you, and you will certainly be rewarded along with a gorgeous construct that will kindness your landscape for years ahead. When our experts speak about the style from a landscape arbor or even pergola, our team are actually discussing the material as high as everything. That is only the 7th such gala held by Obama and his wife Michelle since they relocated in to the White Residence in 2009. In the summer months they could be transplanted to the yard; and also if your greenhouse could suit these big plants, you can easily dig all of them in the autumn and also replant in to 8- or even 10-inch containers. Don't exclude decaying fruit in your landscape; rats love fruit, and also snakes love rodents. Kathryn Dawson creates write-ups for Bristol Backyard Solutions, a yard horticulture and layout business giving Bristol landscape upkeep to consumers at affordable expenses. She possesses an exclusive interest in sun fountains and solar products for the home and garden. It is necessary to select pallets that are actually helped make off level, unpainted white lumber though, carry out not make use of cured environment-friendly or even blue lumber for your horticulture. The cooler colors of fuchsias, woes as well as violets generate a calming setting in a landscape. Unlike cheaply produced faucets that damage under ordinary states, dings, scrapes, as well as dents just incorporate personality to this ruggedly created vital yard device. You may plant a hedge on the ideal edge from your house to reinforce the white colored leopard, or place a fountain in the frontal backyard if your reddish phoenix needs to have assistance. The salad, offered in a terrarium-like dish, includes cannabis coming from the White House kitchen landscape, and also honey off the White Home beehive. I presume that I'll acquire some white colored roses as well as water-based food items color and also come to this! Listed here are actually some pointers as well as assistance on the best ways to develop white colored strawberries; they are a popular fruit that could increase in a considerable amount of different atmospheres. The ornamental statue was offered to our company through next door neighbours coming from our last house which were actually downsizing to a retirement life flat due to the seaside that possessed no backyard. So, I took an experience to a few of my mom and pop yard centers 17-Healthanddiet.Info and also started talking to inquiries. The comprised of 53 guest rooms and also collections, eleven garden cottages, and also a loft space. After acquiring the shrubs for your white increased yard, clear away any sort of packaging product around the origin, as well as make it possible for the origins to saturate over night in a bucket from water.

[roxannelabonte6-blog]

Winter Veggie Gardening.

Transplanting a sizable rose bush seems to be prima facie to be a challenging task, yet this is actually certainly not thus if the proper treatments are done, and at the right time. As a matter of fact, you need to check your ground moisture to make sure that you typically aren't over-watering your landscape. just click generic_anchor_text.dat before usage coat the inside of the flowerpot with a lumber preservative like Cuprinol or whatever the nearby garden center highly recommends. I prefer to possess blocks from color, as well as this is almost a point of honor with me to possess a backyard along with one thing flowering somewhere monthly of the year, even December as well as January. An extraordinarily moderate December as well as early January cannot provide the chilly must ice up very most fish ponds as well as lakes. If you're ever around Covent Backyard throughout the day, why not stand out right into the Royal Music hall for a mug from coffee! Behind the classical gallery in a drying out area of lawn as well as some trees, Naranjo has been actually creating the labyrinth within a fenced-in region the measurements from the new garden pool. Electric battery or sunlight functioned devices may be maded in the ground to aid put off moles off delving in your landscape. Check the Sunset Western Landscape Make a reservation for to find out the best ways to develop bottle comb in the Western side USA. All these plants are actually offered off a weed specialist, and the calendulas are actually cost landscape centers. D) Always keep the garden tools in a necessary storage region or container so that looking for them will definitely not be actually a difficult factor to do, specifically when you will certainly utilize them right away. I 'd point out, warm and comfortable weather condition items offered in the South and cold weather goods marketed in the North. Avoiding to the lake on a 90F time is actually even more self-indulgent when you are swaying adieu to the individuals that are actually making your yard appeal amazing. Currently, you'll be actually thinking about how you may get rid of that instant-gratification garden you had going while you were standing by. After you develop your very first knot garden be sure to adequately cut back the bushes. Apex-roof landscape sheds have the conventional V-shape directed roofing, while pent-roof landscape sheds possess an inverted U-shape rooftop that angles in the direction of the aspects. Yet another issue you may have while veggie horticulture is actually to make certain the pots do certainly not consume your garden, particularly if you have a land landscape. I put in a Hosta garden in 2015 as well as removaled the vegetations around my garden this year because I could not see them all right merely in the garden region I will built for them. Growing your very own natural herb backyard inside, is actually not only effortless and also enjoyable, this likewise well-balanced, and it is actually a fantastic technique to help fight the winter season woes.

[footyplusau]

AFL 101: Is Matt Taberner the answer to Fremantle’s scoring woes?

Round 7 was a tipster’s nightmare.

For the first time since 1975 the lower placed team on the ladder won every match in an AFL round.

Brad Hill and Matt Taberner were key players in the Dockers win over Essendon. Photo: Paul Kane

Adelaide roared into premiership favouritism last week but this week were undone by lowly North Melbourne.

GWS were clear second favourites but fell to St Kilda while Gold Coast toppled fellow premiership fancies Geelong.

The Swans opened their account against Brisbane. Photo: Matt King

Wounded heavyweights Hawthorn and Sydney scored impressive wins to remind the competition they’re not done yet while the only Top 8 sides to record wins were the Western Bulldogs and West Coast, because they were playing two other Top 8 sides in Richmond and Port Adelaide.

The Eagles held off the Power to continue their exceptional record at Adelaide Oval with five wins from six games there, while Fremantle tallied their highest score of the season in a comprehensive defeat of Essendon at Domain Stadium.

Our crack(pot) panel returns to run the rule over round seven of the AFL season.

The panel: Tim Carrier (office fantasy football addict); Justin Rake (long-suffering Fremantle fan), Michael Stamp (6PR reporter and office oddsmaker), Brendan Foster (resident grumpy old man).

Matt Taberner adds  something different to the Dockers’ forward mix. Photo Getty Images

Tim:

Matt Taberner could be the answer to Fremantle’s scoring woes. Taberner’s inclusion transformed the Dockers forward line against Essendon and his four goals helped them record their highest score of the season. The much maligned big man needs to show his consistency but offers something Cam McCarthy and Shane Kersten don’t – a hulking, contested marking option. It begs the question: why didn’t the Dockers give him a go earlier – especially when he had shown such impressive form for Peel this season?

West Coast are still in the Top 4 conversation but we won’t know where they’re at until finals come around. The Eagle’s win proved they aren’t a flat-track bully and they don’t have an issue winning away from home – but what they do have a problem playing on the MCG. However, given they won’t play there again until the finals, we won’t know if they can overcome that hoodoo until late September.

This is one of the most interesting seasons in recent history. After multiple upsets on the weekend, it feels like the makeup of the Top 4, Top 8 and bottom half of the ladder are all uncertain. The only team I’m willing to rule out of finals contention right now is Brisbane – so naturally they’ll come out firing and win this week to prove me wrong. 

The Kangaroos Waite for a big win was worth it. Photo: Quinn Rooney

Justin:

Fremantle must have put in some serious hard yards over the off-season because their ability to run out games has been outstanding so far. Their four wins can all be attributed to prolific second halves, something Dockers fans haven’t had the pleasure of witnessing for some time. Even when they were a top four side, they were prone to fade out once games were under control. Now the Dockers have dash to last four quarters.

Melbourne continue to jeopardise their chances at breaking their finals drought by losing games they are expected to win. Matches against Fremantle, Richmond and now Hawthorn all could have gone the other way and instead of sitting with a 6-1 record which would have them equal top of the ladder, the Demons are languishing in 10th with a 3-4 record.

Things are never as good or as bad as they seem in the world of AFL, and it takes a quick glance at the North Melbourne v Adelaide to get a stark reminder of that sentiment. The Crows went into the game threatening an 80-plus margin, but it was North that did all the damage. The Kangaroos’ 64-0 opening term showed that the competition is closer than it looked a week ago.

Melbourne found a way to lose against Hawthorn. Photo: Quinn Rooney

Stampy:

Throw any type of form guide or ladder position out the window. Every team that won on the weekend was ranked below their opponent on the ladder. Ridiculous!

Here we go again with the Matt Taberner hype. 18 disposals, 9 marks and four goals will surely get the pundits talking about the new and improved Fremantle forward line. But here’s the thing, Taberner couldn’t break into this team until Round 7. In Round 12 last season against Brisbane at the Gabba, Taberner kicked 5 goals. Brisbane were horrible last season but loads of people believed that was his breakout game. He failed to play out the season due to bad form. String a few solid games together then we’ll make some calls.

The Demons aren’t fulfilling on its expectation to climb the ladder. Melbourne should’ve beaten Hawthorn yesterday but their first half was poor. These are the games the Demons should be winning if they want to play Finals and right now they don’t look like a top 8 team.

Has the Nathan Vardy and Jonathan Giles ruck experiment been a failure? Photo: Robert Cianflone

Brendan:

I fell about laughing when I tuned into the last quarter of the Bulldogs and Tigers game and saw pint-size onballer Lin Jong in the ruck. But given the Doggies got over the line, maybe it was a stroke of coaching genius by Luke Beveridge?

Speaking of rucks: The Eagles’ ruck duo of Nathan Vardy and Jon Giles has been an abject failure. They are getting thrashed in marking contests and the lumbering pair can barely make it to ruck contests. It might be time to adopt Beveridge’s coaching style and throw a smaller mid in the ruck, or perhaps give Jack Darling a run through there as has been mooted previously.

The Dockers new one-man running machine Brad Hill could be the “recruit” of the year. He is loving the expansive spaces of Domain Stadium.

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