#gravel for sale near me

[ugglandscape2]

Landscape Supplies

Explore the evolving world of garden centres, now offering more than just plants. Discover trends like container gardening, wildlife-friendly landscapes, innovative garden walls, robotic gardening, and sustainability in hardscaping for a greener future.

Landscape supplies

[ugglandscape]

UGG Landscape offers top-notch landscaping services for residential and commercial properties. From design and installation to maintenance, trust our experts to transform your outdoor space into a stunning oasis.

[vsservicesllc19]

Finding the Best Gravel Supplier in Kansas City

Are you searching for a reliable gravel supplier in Kansas City? Whether you need gravel for landscaping, construction, or other projects, finding a trusted supplier is crucial. This guide will help you understand the benefits of choosing the right supplier and how to make an informed decision.

Why Choose a Local Gravel Supplier?

Opting for a local gravel supplier in Kansas City offers several advantages. Local suppliers can provide quicker delivery times, ensuring your projects stay on schedule. They are also familiar with the local soil and climate conditions, which can impact the type of gravel you need.

The Benefits of Gravel for Sale in Kansas City

Purchasing gravel for sale in Kansas City comes with various benefits. Gravel is a versatile material used in driveways, garden paths, and drainage solutions. It is durable, low-maintenance, and available in different sizes and colors to suit your project's aesthetic and functional requirements.

Efficient Gravel Delivery in Kansas City

Timely gravel delivery in Kansas City is essential for maintaining the progress of your construction or landscaping projects. Reliable suppliers offer prompt delivery services, ensuring that the gravel arrives at your site when needed. This can prevent delays and help you complete your project on time.

How to Choose the Best Sand and Gravel Supplier Near Me

Finding a reputable sand and gravel supplier near you involves considering several factors. Look for a supplier with positive customer reviews, competitive pricing, and a wide range of products. A good supplier should also provide excellent customer service and be willing to answer any questions you may have.

Key Features of a Good Sand and Gravel Supplier in Kansas City

A reliable sand and gravel supplier in Kansas City should offer high-quality materials and a broad selection. They should have a proven track record of satisfied customers and be transparent about their pricing. Additionally, they should provide helpful advice on the best materials for your specific needs.

Why Quality Matters in Gravel and Sand

Using high-quality gravel and sand can make a significant difference in the longevity and appearance of your projects. Quality materials ensure better performance and durability, reducing the need for frequent replacements or repairs. Investing in quality gravel and sand from a trusted supplier can save you time and money in the long run.

The Environmental Benefits of Gravel

Gravel is an environmentally friendly material that helps reduce water runoff and erosion. It promotes better drainage and can improve the overall health of your landscape. By choosing gravel, you are making a sustainable choice that benefits both your project and the environment.

Conclusion: Making the Right Choice for Your Project

Selecting the right gravel supplier in Kansas City is crucial for the success of your project. Consider the benefits of local suppliers, the importance of timely delivery, and the quality of materials. By doing so, you can ensure that your project is completed efficiently and to a high standard.

Remember, a trusted supplier will offer a range of products, excellent customer service, and competitive prices. Take the time to research and choose a supplier that meets your needs and expectations. By making an informed decision, you can achieve the best results for your project.

Contacting a Gravel Supplier

When you are ready to start your project, reach out to a gravel supplier in Kansas City to discuss your requirements. They can provide expert advice and ensure you get the right materials for your needs. With the right supplier, your project will be on the path to success in no time.

In conclusion, finding the best gravel supplier in Kansas City involves considering various factors, including location, quality, and customer service. By prioritizing these elements, you can ensure that your project is completed efficiently and to a high standard.

[somaamin]

"Exploring Red Granite Chippings: Availability, Pricing, and Retailers"

1. Red Granite Chippings Near Me: Locating Suppliers in Your Area

   - How to find local suppliers of red granite chippings

   - Benefits of purchasing from nearby sources

2. Red Granite Gravel 20mm Near Me: Sourcing Specific Size Variants

   - Locating suppliers that offer 20mm red granite chippings in your vicinity

   - Advantages of choosing a specific size for your landscaping needs

3. Red Granite Chippings Price: Cost Considerations

   - Factors influencing the price of red granite chippings

   - Price ranges for different quantities and grades

4. Red Granite Chippings for Sale: Exploring Available Options

   - Where to find red granite chippings for sale

   - Promotions, discounts, and special offers from suppliers

5. Where to Buy Red Granite Chippings: Retailer Options

   - A guide to different retailers and stores offering red granite chippings

   - Comparing options to make an informed purchasing decision

6. Red Granite Chippings B&Q: Exploring a Popular Retailer

   - Information about the availability of red granite chippings at B&Q

   - Pros and cons of purchasing from this well-known home improvement store

Red granite chippings near me

red granite gravel 20mm near me

Red granite chippings price

Red granite chippings for sale

Where to buy red granite chippings

red granite chippings b&q

[nice-betta-thailand]

NO GRAVEL IN TANK WORKS BEST

[ottawa-firewood]

Soil for sale in Ottawa| Soil suppliers in Ottawa

There are likely many places where you can buy soil in Ottawa. Some options for purchasing soil in Ottawa include garden centers, landscape supply companies, and online retailers. You can also check with local farmers or agricultural supply stores, as they may have bulk quantities of Soil for sale in Ottawa.

When purchasing soil, it's important to consider the type of soil that is best suited for your needs. Different plants have different soil requirements, so it's important to choose soil that meets the specific needs of the plants you want to grow. Some factors to consider when choosing soil include the soil's pH level, nutrient content, and texture. You may also want to consider purchasing soil that has been enriched with compost or other organic matter, as this can help to improve the soil's structure and fertility.

There are many reasons why you might need to purchase Soil suppliers in Ottawa. Some common reasons include:

To create a new garden bed: If you are creating a new garden bed, you will need to purchase soil to fill it with. Soil suppliers in Ottawa can provide you with the soil you need to get your new garden started.

To replace existing soil: If the soil in your existing garden beds is poor quality or has become depleted, you may need to purchase new soil to replace it. Soil suppliers in Ottawa can provide you with high-quality soil to help your plants grow and thrive.

To amend existing soil: If the soil in your garden is not ideal for the plants you want to grow, you may need to purchase soil amendments to improve the soil's structure, pH, or nutrient content. Soil suppliers in Ottawa can help you find the right amendments for your needs.

To backfill around foundations, pipes, or other structures: If you are working on a construction project that requires you to backfill around foundations, pipes, or other structures, you may need to purchase soil to use as a backfill. Soil suppliers in Ottawa can provide you with the soil you need for this purpose.

[sleeplesssmoll]

Schneider Snippets from the Atlas

Vertin’s responses to the narrator are in italics. Let me know if I missed anything. This is a long post and it looked nicer in my Google Docs. If anyone has suggestions on how to format this into a way that's easier to read, I am all ears. Spoilers for Ch 2 & 3. My dumb little notes are in purple and are not part of the main text.

The Opportunist and the Sticky Gum

Source: 2-1 Wretched Brats

Now those little brats are knocked out. You Notice that old gum is sticking to the bottom of their shoes, like crushed leeches.

What happened to the gum?

Tragedy. A sympathetic encounter. It has fulfilled its mission cautiously and conscientiously. But clearly no one cares. 

I dare say it's the most popular mint gum now. When the Chicagoans lost their rights to get drunk, they could only turn to this nasty upstart stuff. The sales champion is the bubble gum near Wrigley Field. The old gum from the kid's soles also comes from there. 

Some gravel mixed into the squeezed gum base. The off-white sand. The synthetic waxed elastic fiber. In the South Bank, there is only one place where such a politically symbolic floor is laid–St. Pavlov Foundation.

It's very lively here in the square, just like every day in the past. Speculators, who advocate mankind supremacy, are trying to get the attention of the Foundation through demonstrations. They are on the same side as the Foundation, but the Foundation has no intention to treat these protestors as allies they want. They even sent a little girl to go through the motions as a perfunctory response. (this “little girl” is Sonetto.)

Little girls? An excellent topic. (Vertin, this is not how we behave.)

Yes. Yes. No one will ignore them. They are honey colored. They are the morning sun in California. They are the dazzling spot on the doe that you'll never catch. For those hypocritical politicians the little girls are the delicacies that they would drool over (ew). Luckily, this little girl is not one of their prey. She is nervous but not panicked. She doesn't seem to be good at dealing with these slick politicians. The mission capsule of the Foundation grew hot in her tightly clutched fist.

And on the other side of the square, another little girl in a black suit is looking gloomily over here. She stood by the Foundation's air outlet, the best place for her. The position is too marginal to be marginalized. That's the best portrayal of the second generation immigrants in the 20th century. (This is Schneider.)

Who is the girl in the black suit?

She's someone you will know in the future. Now she shudders and shivers like a cricket desperate for shelter. She's looking for an eave or piece of rubble in the Storm.

Her figure might be frail, but her eyes are filled with cold anger. Maybe she had been rejected just now or even insulted. She walked up to the square center with a firm step, like a warrior.

This snippet in the beginning foreshadows so much of the story it's insane looking back.

From One Castle to Another

Source: 2-9 Security Carnival

Mrs. Greco puts down the phone. She is now as calm as any Italian mother you've ever met. You know, they're usually making a yummy pie before they pull out their guns.

There are enough people in black outside, enough to prevent any eavesdropping or violent conflict.

Mrs. Greco glanced blandly over the one, two, three, four ... nine, ten, eleven children in front of her. This is a big family, and it has grown bigger and

bigger over the past few years because of Schneider.

Who are they?

They're Schneider's sisters. It's hard for the Grecos to tell them apart. But Schneider is different. She was born in an earthquake, all covered in blood, and didn't let out her first cry until two hours later. It wasn't until she was one year old that her father noticed that she had never been baptized.

The Grecos are not good at dealing with gang affairs. They can't even figure out when their daughter has grown-- grown into the backbone of the whole family.

When Schneider took out 500 dollars from her pocket and put them on the table, they were completely shocked, and that's just the beginning. Schneider... Schneider, the youngest daughter they seldom cared about. It's impossible to keep every child well-fed. Schneider could not even get a piece of bread in the Eucharist.

 But a good daughter would not let anyone worry about her. She sat on the bench outside the church and hummed. She found a way out for herself. She walked to the underground market, fascinated by what she saw ...She announced her "new identity" one day.

What "new identity"?

The identity you know now. In the process, she lost something old but gained something new, no matter if she wished for it or not.

"Now," Mrs. Greco said, "we live, or we die. If Schneider comes back safely tonight... we will leave when the moon rises. The doors are closing in front of us, one after another. But the benevolent Maria will give us the ultimate shelter. My children, remember today forever." Her words speak for her status. But Mrs. Greco's eyes never moved away from that small Madonna on the table. The hem of her clothes were soaked in tears. 4 p.m. A family is determined to start a new journey.

Unnamed Poem

Source: 2-13 Rattenfanger (This is the chapter where the “eave or the rubble” line comes from)

Surrounded by imposing barriers, Epics never sing of those about to die. Look up, keep looking up, A broken tile is the only shelter in the tempest. People always knew how they took the wrong path, So they regret the unregrettable nights, laugh at the laughable fools. At the bottom of the cliff, a river always flows.

An Unpopular Children's Song 😭

Source: 3-3 Green Oranges Who killed the Snowy Dove? I, said the cricket. With my heart and musket I killed the Snowy Dove. Who saw her die? I, said the owner of the suitcase, With my vision and sight, I saw her die. Who dug her grave? I, said the cricket. With my pick and spade, I dug her grave. Who'll make her shroud? I, said the owner of the suitcase, With my little suitcase, I'll make her shroud.

Long Night Trip (I left out the first bit since its the Narrator being…himself. The man loves to hear himself talk.)

Source: 3-8 Popular Literature

Trust me, you won't regret listening to this story.

Fine. Let's start the bullshit. 

I will never be offended by your humor. Okay. The past is waiting for us to look back. It's winter in the early 20th century. The gloomy rain never stops. The square on West Jackson Avenue is alive with people. There is an Italian Renaissance-styled basilica. You rarely see so many people get together without making a sound. This is a black requiem mass. The priest is chanting the requiem, and the people mark a cross on their chests.

He must be respectable.

"He was a father. He dedicated to a sinner of ... Lord shall give him eternal peace." A woman in a black robe turns to you and whispers. She turns back. Explaining this makes her unpleased. More and more people are queuing for the funeral. The square is alive with chants here and there. The Grecos are among them. They're covered by the dark cloud of long- handled umbrellas. Soon, their voices are replaced by whimpers. You can hardly tell whether they are pleased or sorrowful. But you can't find Schneider. (This part in purple was written like that in the Atlas. Its clunky as heck. Idk what they were trying to say.)

Where is she?

Look in the direction of Mr. Greco's broken left palm. Yes. Look from the bandage-wrapped end at his cuff. 3390 feet away from the crowd, in the shadow of the church, stands the girl you want to see. She is pale and thin, as if she has just recovered from a serious, long illness. But her fist clenches, her eyes burn, and her figure is an open defiance of the ubiquitous chants. You don't know why she looks so-so furious. Is she... what, 11 years old? And the mass is about to usher in the ultimate climax. It rains heavier. The priest opens his arms to embrace the sky, "The Lord be with you."

"And also with you." Schneider responds in a voice that could hardly be heard. She puts her hand on her heart. This is the first time she responds to the Lord. And it will be the last.

[apatheticlexicographer]

(this is kind of a long post that somehow turned into lowkey a conspiracy theory but i don’t want to rewrite the start bc it was written pretty much stream of consciousness and that amuses me)

maybe this is an unpopular opinion but i don’t want byler to be spoiled lol

crumbs, sure, little things that keep us invested, but i want to go into s5 completely unawares of how it’s gonna play out. i don’t want the cast or the official socials or some random leaker to tell me what’s gonna happen beforehand.

honestly the fact that so many people involved with the show have acknowledged byler yet none of them have shot it down as a possibility is a big enough crumb for me. or the way official netflix accounts have posted promotional things with byler since s4 dropped. yeah, they don’t have any involvement with the production of the show, but if the ship is being used for marketing then it’s considered a possible sales point.

actually now that i think of it, does anybody remember the june advent calendar??? when, immediately after v1 dropped, the official netflix accounts started posting pro-byler stuff damn near every day, to the point where we made an event out of it???

at the time we all got super hyped over it and then figured it was queerbait when they didn’t get together in v2, but isn’t it mighty fuckin convenient that the netflix accounts just “coincidentally” happened to start posting pro-byler stuff as soon as v1 dropped??? because yeah, byler started picking up traction immediately after it aired, but it took a while to really get the ball rolling. they started cashing in on the byler hyper train when it was only just beginning to grow from its tiny pre-s4 presence. seeing official accounts mentioning byler probably helped to cement it in a lot of people’s radar in the gap between the volumes. and didn’t noah also start saying he shipped byler around then??? 

POSTED ON JUNE THIRD??? only a week after v1 aired??? and ppl were so surprised by this tweet that when he was on a panel somebody asked him if he got hacked 😭😭

back then it really seemed like “oh the official accounts are queerbaiting during pride month” but A: we know noah wasn’t just saying this for nothing,he’s made it very clear that he believes it and B: why the hell would they be queerbaiting the tiny fledgling post-v1 byler audience when it was only just coming together??!?

hindsight says something was afoot here actually. they started releasing the pro-byler agenda from its tightly locked enclosure AFTER the volume where mike tells will hawkins isn’t the same without him and will brings the painting “for somebody he likes” when they go to pick mike up, IN PREPARATION for the volume where will gives said painting to mike along with an extremely emotional nameswapped love confession and mike turns around and gives a stilted and phony confession to his girlfriend. why the hell was attention being drawn to byler outside of the show itself in that interval if not to make people recontextualize what they just saw in v1??? and then when they see v2 have that recontextualization validated when will is confirmed to be both gay and in love with mike??? and to pick up on the fact that mike and el’s relationship is on more rocks than your average pile of gravel???

we know that they’ve had actors straight up lie to the audience before, too, because even if u just take noah as an example he said in a JUNE interview that will’s sexuality was up to interpretation, and then not that long at all after v2 dropped he did the iconic “will is gay and in love with mike” interview!!! and obviously he knew that will was confirmed gay when he did the first interview bc they had filmed that scene like a year earlier. so the fact that he never rlly mentioned byler, except for vaguely negatively when he was a kid, until v1 comes out and “SUDDENLY” he’s byler’s biggest warrior doesn’t mean he randomly changed his mind, it means he hadn’t been allowed to talk about it until after volume 1. after the first half of the season that made the majority of byler shippers see it as a genuine possibility and even the most likely outcome.

sorry i have no idea how much sense this makes and i’ve completely derailed whatever i was talking about at the top of this post. has anybody pointed this out??? have i pointed this out and i just forgot??? help?!!?!??

[seconds-2-midnight]

Posting the first chapter from my rejected PPG/GGG Mafia AU fanfic that I'm thinking of reviving eventually because I actually really liked it! The outline just needs work tbh

Most of it is under read-more just because it's long as shit. Content warning for language, drug use, and brief police violence.

Meet Me At the Green Eye

Ch 1:

June was unusually hot that summer. Those hazy afternoons were well spent by the beach, sitting near clunky old air conditioners, drinking cold beer. It was the kind of summer that was good for business if your business was built on laziness and leisure.

The boardwalk was a good place to score sales, Ace found. The grungy-looking college students on skateboards were always the best customers. He was counting a stack of cash, sitting on a bench near the end of the dock that overlooked a glittering stretch of ocean. One of his pointed leather boots was tapping on the pavement while he whistled cheerfully, one lanky leg crossed over the other. Not far away, Snake stood with his elbows on the rusted rails and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, listening to the seagulls. Now and then, he’d kick his sneaker against a bit of gravel and watch the stones form ripples in the water below.

“Arturo was right,” Ace said with a high-pitched chuckle. He grinned widely, one of his gold teeth catching the sunlight. “This was a good spot. Hey, speakin’ of, how much product we got left in there, compadre?” He waltzed over with his hands in his pockets, nodding his head toward a messenger bag that was draped over Snake’s shoulder. 

“Lemme check,” Snake said hoarsely, gritting his teeth around the end of his cigarette to keep it in place as he rummaged around. He squinted, clicking his tongue in thought. “Ehh…eight ouncesss, give or take…three bags of molly…and five bags of the little blue ones.” 

“Shit, day’s not over yet,” Ace said, giving his friend a nudge to the shoulder. He elbowed him a little too hard, causing Snake to flinch and whine quietly. He hated it when he did that. “Can’t wait to count it out later. We got a big score today, I can feel it already. It’s like a change in the wind. We’ll finally get enough for that down payment, huh?”

Not this again. Snake rolled his eyes, thin shoulders slumped dramatically. Ace was always going on and on about this shitty old building that used to be a nightclub, convinced the old owners would sell it to him for cheap and he’d turn it into a bar. ‘We’ll call it The Green Eye’, Ace would say, ‘We’ll get hot dancers, we’ll sell our product out the back for extra cash, it’ll be huge.’ Snake thought it was a fool’s errand, a waste of money. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to argue with Ace. Still his yes-man, through and through, after all these years.

A decade had passed since the Powerpuff Girls left Townsville. Maybe it was because they were growing up, maybe it was because they wanted to try a normal life…who knows? What mattered was that Townsville was more out of control than ever before. And in that time, the Gangreen Gang had changed. Once a group of rowdy teenage boys, they were now fully-grown assholes, but just as despicable as ever. They had bigger goals now, bigger plans - Ace wanted to carve out his own little slice of heaven in this dirty, neon hellscape. And for the first time, it actually seemed possible…but a run-down building in the worst part of town was a dangerous place to start.

“Y’know, jefe…” Snake began nervously, wincing already. He knew this conversation would end badly for him. “I-I don’t wanna doubt your decisionsss but…Maybe it’s better if we start sssmall? Like, getting a bigger apartment for starters. Or renting a houssse instead, one with more bedrooms and–”

Ace scoffed. “And sink our money into a place that Billy’s gonna wreck in, like, a week? Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, this is foolproof. Once the money’s rollin’ in, we’re moving up to a penthouse suite. Rags to riches, my friend. Oh! That reminds me… Hey, listen, bud. Buddy. Pal. My oldest friend. Amigo, old bean, apple of my eye…” Ace was wearing a big toothy grin, putting an arm around his second-in-command with a sly tone of voice and the smell of cheap cologne and hair gel radiating off of him. Snake grinned for a brief second in time, soaking up that tiny bit of approval. 

“Since we’re on the subject, I’ve got somewhere to be, actually - gonna talk to a guy about fixin’ the plumbing at that old place. Busted pipe in the basement, sewage everywhere! Anywho’s, take over for me, will ya? Thatta' boy...” Ace gave Snake another sharp slap to the arm, making the other man flinch. It was second nature at this point. With a grimace disguised as an awkward, snaggle-toothed smile, Snake rubbed the sore spot and sighed.

“Yeah, sure.” Of course he just wants me to do more work. “Oh, I’m stoppin’ by Hazel’s shop on the way back, by the way. Tell the guys not to wait up for me.”

Ace scoffed, sticking his hands in the pockets of his leather pants. He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, voicing a heavy and exasperated groan. “Man, that dame has still got you on a tight leash, huh? Y’know she only lets you get it in ‘cause you’re her dealer.” 

Snake gave him a grumpy, defensive frown, his ears growing warm. “We don’t…I mean…I’m still working on that part–” 

Ace let out a loud and sudden laugh. “You ain’t even gettin’ any? Oh, man…tough luck.” He pushed up his sunglasses, still wearing a shit-eating grin as he turned around, waving the keys to his motorcycle over his head. “Anyway, see you later tonight, Captain Friendzone. And tell your creepy friend I said ‘hi’.” 

With that, he was gone, the green-skinned hooligan disappearing into a crowd of people and leaving Snake at the end of the docks alone, where he watched the sunset glimmer against the calm ocean waves. It was six-thirty. He was just about to get another rush of sales that would put a nice wad of cash in his pockets. 

He didn’t know it yet, but Snake was going to have a very good day that would end in a very bad night. In a matter of hours, he would make his rent for the month, kiss a witch, and end up in jail before midnight.

He was a surprisingly good salesman, all things considered. By the time the sun went down and the crowds dispersed, Snake had sold everything in the bag except for one remaining quarter of Hazel’s favorite strain. He took the cash and his nearly empty bag and began the long walk through dark urban streets. Townsville wasn’t any quieter at night than it was in the day. He could hear sirens blaring somewhere in the distance, joyful shouts and hollering from a beach bonfire, and loud pulsing music from the clubs down the way. 

Snake liked walking late at night, for the most part. It was a lonely and peaceful trip when you knew the right path to take. He passed flickering neon signs and drunk idiots staggering out of bars, all while making his way through alley shortcuts to get to the big brick building just next to the tracks where the occasional passing train would rattle the windows. 

Yasmin’s shop was closed to walk-ins but open for appointments. This was good enough for him. Snake knocked, hearing the muffled sounds of ethereal ambient music from the other side before voices and footsteps drowned it out. The door cracked open and immediately, Snake caught the scent of burning incense and dried lavender. When the owner of the place opened the door, her good mood immediately deflated.

“Oh, it’s you,” Yasmin Abajian herself was the one who answered the door. She was a tall young woman with dark olive skin and hair that went down to her ass, and she probably would have been a lot friendlier if she didn’t eye Snake with suspicion every time she saw him. She knew his reputation, his gang involvement, his business. And if that wasn't enough, she just didn't like the guy. His weird little friendship with her on-and-off-again girlfriend was reason enough for her to want to slam the door in his face.

“If you’re looking for Haze, she’s busy doing a reading,” Yasmin said, holding the door open just a crack and preparing to shut it. She would have, if Snake didn't stick his hand in the gap. 

“I can wait.” He leaned against the wall as if claiming his spot. Yasmin sneered at him in response, recognizing that stubborn, snarky grin on his face - she wasn’t getting rid of him. She could never get rid of him.

“Fine, whatever, get in.” She pushed the door open and stepped aside. “But remember, we’ve got security cameras now. So don't get any ideas.” 

Snake snorted with laughter. “I’m not gonna steal any of your rocks. You can save your hexes for the next guy.”

Yasmin wore a fake smile, turning back toward the counter. “Yeah, you’re real funny, asshole. Close the door behind you.” 

Yasmin’s shop was an overload to the senses. The main room was cluttered with tables of crystals, ornate hookahs, statues of naked goddesses, and candles. There were bookshelves with texts that Snake wouldn’t even know what to do with and packs of cards that he felt wouldn’t serve him very well in a game of poker. Near the back of the room, he saw a doorway shrouded by a silk sheet decorated with the phases of the moon. That was Hazel’s reading room. He spent plenty of time in there, but right now, she was busy saying goodbye to another customer. 

When Hazel came out of the room, she was followed by a middle-aged woman dressed in a gaudy amount of jewelry. Beside Hazel, it was like a peacock standing next to a blackbird. Haze was a stout little shit: full-figured, plump, and about five feet tall if she wore her platform shoes. Her wavy black hair was cut in a French bob, framing her round, rosy-cheeked face like a goth Cabbage Patch Kid.

“Get home safe, my love,” Hazel said, giving the other woman a kiss on one cheek and then the other, holding both of her hands. “Remember, change is good. Don’t worry so much, and good luck with the job interview! Keep that coin in your pocket, it’ll help. Then come back and tell me how it went, okay?” 

“Maybe next week,” the lady chuckled. “Thanks again, sweetpea.” The woman in her gaudy jewelry finally left after one more kiss on the cheek, and Snake found himself wondering why Hazel seemed to kiss all of her regular customers… except for him. 

When the customer passed by, Yasmin marched over with a scowl and spoke quietly in Hazel’s ear, handing her a white cane. Snake could still hear her. 

“That green freak is here again,” Yasmin whispered, earning a pout from her friend. “Honey, you gotta stop encouraging this guy, he’s gonna get you in tr–”

“Shh, it’s fine! Hold my cane, okay?” Instead of looking offended, Hazel just wore this big, stupid gap-toothed grin. Slipping past Yasmin, Hazel pushed her cane back into her friend’s hands and reached out into the open room, wiggling her fingers in beckoning. Snake instinctively grabbed them, leading her to where he stood.

“Mi querida,” she said in her breathy, husky voice, pulling him in for a hug and standing on her toes. She smelled like patchouli and it made Snake’s nose tickle. “I thought you forgot about me. How’ve you been?”

“Not too terrible,” Snake said. He wore a shit-eating grin as he hugged her tightly, making eye contact with Yasmin over Hazel’s shoulder. He noticed her annoyed, red-faced expression and squeezed her waist even tighter out of spite. “I was, uh, workin’ the boardwalk again today…Thought I’d stop by quick before you left for the night.” 

“You caught me right on time.” Hazel backed up, reaching for the cloth that separated the main room from her reading room. “Come in, that was my last appointment for the night. I’m all yours.”

She pulled him along by the hand and he didn’t hesitate. Bag secured around his shoulder, he rudely flicked his tongue at Yasmin and then hurried through the silk partition and into a small, dark room with a round table in the center. It was lit by purple neon light, casting an eerie supernatural shine from below. The air smelled like incense and something by Sisters of Mercy was playing quietly from a speaker in the corner. 

Seeing the couch against the wall brought back memories of lounging half-awake in a dumb stupor, losing track of time. He could still smell the hookah smoke in his memory and taste it on his tongue. He thought about how Hazel always talked slower when she was high and how much he liked to watch her lips move when she talked.

Her voice snapped him out of his daydream.

“So what’s up?” Hazel asked, sitting down on one side of the table. She started to shuffle a deck of tarot cards, sorting them for storage. “Just in the neighborhood, or were you looking for another reading?” 

“Little bit of both,” Snake said with a grin, putting his bag on the table. “I brought you sssomething’. Thought you might be interested in talking about a discount?” 

“Oh, we’re talkin’ business. I see,” Hazel teased, her voice low and rattly. She pouted dramatically. “And here I thought you just missed me. So what’cha got for me, sweet stuff?”

Sweet stuff. She was always coming up with these friendly, cute little names to call him. He was a green-skinned gang member with a forked tongue, tattoos, and a criminal record a mile long but she called him sweet stuff. Then again, she couldn’t see him. Maybe that was for the best - he wasn’t so sure she’d still be flirting with him if she saw what he looked like. 

Snake put a plastic baggie on the table, opening it slightly for Hazel to smell if she wanted to. “A quarter. Good shit, too. I’d put it at 150 usually for this stuff, but for you, I’ll do…100 and a quick reading. I even saved your favorite strain for you.” 

“Oh, you do love me,” Hazel smirked out of the corner of her mouth, puffy lips making a dimple in one cheek. “That sounds fair. You know what I like, papi~ Oh, here–” 

She reached into one of her pockets, pulling out a wad of cash from her last few clients. “I trust you,” she said as she slapped it down on the table in front of Snake, who began to flick through the bills with black-painted fingernails. He separated one hundred dollars from the stack and passed the rest over, continuously amazed that this woman trusted him with free reign to her wallet on so many occasions. 

“Ssso,” Snake lowered his lisping voice, chuckling quietly under his breath while Hazel shuffled her cards, “Yasmin’s in a rotted mood today, isn’t she? More than usual…You dump her ass again?”

Hazel wore a tiny smirk. “Not me this time. We're back to friendship without benefits and Yasmin wants to find a real girlfriend,” she shook her head with a sigh. No strings attached, that’s what she always said it was. Snake wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a little swell of joy at the news. “Girl from downtown. Works at the club. They danced together a couple of times and Yasmin was surprised she didn’t want anything long-term.”

“Ouch,” Snake grimaced. He didn’t like Yasmin, but he could sympathize with the feeling.

“Aside from that?” Hazel shrugged. “Doesn't help your case that she saw your friend on the news earlier.” 

"Almost forgot about that," Snake gritted his teeth in discomfort. “Yeah, Ace has gotten a bit…bold lately. He has been since the girls disappeared.” 

“I’ll say,” Hazel sighed. “Robbing a gas station is one thing. That’s small time, no one gives a shit…but three stores in one night?”

It was a miracle Ace hadn’t gotten in trouble yet, honestly. He wasn’t stupid about it. He wore a mask and he covered his face, but people who knew him still recognized who it was. Yasmin was one of those people, and unfortunately for Hazel, she hadn’t stopped bitching about it since the robbery ended up on the news. The only reason she hadn’t spoken to the police yet was because Hazel promised that Snake could move in with them if the guys lost their breadwinner.

So, Ace stayed at large, as many criminals did. Townsville had been dependent on heroes for so long that law enforcement had all but forgotten how to do their jobs. 

The cards were laid out on the table, face-down. Hazel pulled her hands away, then tapped a long black nail against an empty spot. 

“Pick three and put them here. No peeking,” she said. Snake knew the rules at this point. He did as she said, sliding the cards into place one at a time.

She turned the first card over, running her fingers along the bottom. The text was written in braille - Snake wasn’t surprised that kind of thing existed, but it was always impressive to watch the way she could figure it out just with a slide of her fingertip. 

“The Hermit,” she said softly. It was a card Snake had gotten before. “You’ve got some soul-searching to do, chulo. You either need time alone or you’re going to get time alone, and you should be using that time to figure out what it is that you want. Not what your friends want, not what you think you need - I’m talking about real introspection. So look inwards, don’t let someone else influence you.” 

“Isn’t that what you’re doing? Influencing me?” Snake asked with a shitty smirk. Hazel couldn’t see the look on his face, but she could hear it in the sly tone of voice as his black-painted lips curled into a smile. She crinkled her nose at him. 

“Okay, smartass. You know what I mean.” With a fond smile, she turned the second card. This one was flipped. “Nine of Wands, reversed.” She clicked her tongue ring against her teeth a few times. “You’re stuck. You’ve got big setbacks coming your way and you’re going to struggle to find resilience, but you must, or you’re not going to make it to your goals. If I know you - and I do, Sanford - you’re feeling a lack of support from those around you…Maybe your friends aren’t listening to you? Maybe you feel like you’re being ignored, undervalued, underutilized?” 

She stared across the table at him, but not in the way someone with sight might stare. Her cloudy, pale eyes were searching his soul, and the way they somehow centered on Snake’s face was eerie. Those dark Argentinian lashes blinked slowly and her empty gaze remained direct. Snake found himself trapped in that ghostly stare for a moment, his heart beating a little faster before he nodded his head. 

“Not too far off,” he chuckled anxiously. “Heh, y-you know, the guyss don’t like to listen to reason most of the time. I put in a lot of work for Ace, especially now that he’s so ssstuck on his new nightclub idea…It feels like he’s not giving me a fair cut for all the effort I put in, y’know? I-I have a good idea or I try to bring a little wisdom to the conversation and they just sshut me up or Ace ssmacks me in the nose or–or–” 

“Can I speak frankly?” Hazel asked, sitting back with one knee up and her fingernails clicking together. 

Snake just snorted. “You’re going to anyway, aren’t you?” 

“Sure am, baby~” Hazel hummed sweetly, before leaning forward and sliding a hand across the table. It took her a moment to find Snake’s, but when she did, she turned his palm over and began tracing lines with one of her fingernails. The sharp tickle made his spine shiver. “You’re a pushover, darlin’. You always have been.” Snake started to laugh, but Hazel continued regardless. “Don’t dismiss it, you know I’m right. I’ve known you for years and you never stand up for yourself. And I’m not talking about witty little quips or venting to me, I’m talking about actually having a backbone. You’re a noodle.”

“I’m a noodle?” Snake giggled hoarsely. “Is that what I am?” 

“Yessir, just a big dumb noodle.” Hazel laughed, sticking her tongue out between her teeth. Her tongue piercing briefly clicked against them. “Don’t get me wrong, everyone loves noodles, but when you have a noodle for a spine, it’s hard to stand up straight. Start setting boundaries. Start saying ‘no’. Trust me, you’ll notice a difference.” 

Hazel didn’t know the full story. Snake didn’t tell her the full story. Saying ‘no’ wasn’t very simple, not when Ace was in one of his bad moods. He wouldn’t say it was bad advice, only that it was…well, a work in progress that wasn’t going to happen overnight. 

She turned the last card over. This one was upright, with an eerie image of a horned demon on the front, leathery bat wings behind it. 

“The Devil,” Hazel said, frowning slightly. “This could go several different ways. On one hand, you might be dealing with an addiction you need to let go of. A habit. And I don’t just mean drugs, cigarettes, weed, porn, whatever - those aren’t even the most damaging attachments a person can have. You’ve got a dark shadow of yourself that’s restricting you, an internal villain who wants to hold you back and control you. A parasite. You might be holding on tightly to something that’s trying to suck the life out of you.” 

“Eesh,” Snake hissed, sticking his forked tongue between his teeth. “Doesn’t ssound promising for me, does it?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” Hazel shrugged. “This could be a good thing. Once you know your villains, you can figure out how to defeat them. Besides, this is also the card of sexuality and desire too. It might be hinting at a passionate attachment waiting to happen, you just have to make sure it doesn’t consume you. Desire can quickly turn into an addiction, a jealous obsession.” 

Snake felt his breath hitch slightly when he noticed that look on her face: teasing, flirtatious, playful but still darkly serious. With Hazel, he could never tell her motives. The way she smiled at him, the way she hugged him, her puckish energy … She was like a fae creature with perplexing methods, wise and chaotic all at once. Snake couldn’t parse it. Is she making fun of me? Does she want to sleep with me? Is she just like this with everyone? He tried not to think about it too much and quickly tore his eyes away when he realized his gaze had been wandering. He felt infinitely worse when he realized her blind eyes would never catch him doing it.

“Heh, s-so either way, I’m getting fucked?” he joked, trying to break the tension. 

Hazel laughed hoarsely, scooping up the cards and putting them away in a box. “I guess you could say that. Just remember, this is always up to interpretation. That’s kind of the thing with glorified spooky therapy, you're the one who has to do the work. Just don’t forget what I told you about your noodle spine, okay?” 

“I’ll try not to,” Snake sighed as he stood up, putting his bag over his shoulder again. “I should get back. If I don’t bring the cash to Ace, he’ll get…well, you know how he iss.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Hazel stood, putting her cards back on the shelf where they belonged. “Get home safe, okay? Be careful on the subway, the weirdos are out. And don’t be a stranger.” She reached out for another hug, holding tighter this time. There was something there, some foreboding anxiety that she felt in the pit of her stomach. The cards, the nervousness in Snake’s voice, hearing about Ace’s crime spree on the news…She felt like something bad was about to happen, but she didn’t know what.

Her own cards had been warning her all day: heartbreak, loss, helplessness. Bad news was on the way and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She felt compelled to hold the hug as long as she could, almost as if letting go meant losing her friend forever.

“I’ll be back next week,” Snake said. It was rare for him to ever speak in such absolutes. “I’ll have another quarter for you by then. Maybe we can…I dunno, hang out and ssmoke a bit? Y-you know, chill at your place?” 

“I’d like that, papito…” Hazel finally slid her arms away from the hug, leaving her hands propped on Snake’s shoulders. Then, without warning or hesitation, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth. Her lips were warm and pillowy. The way her piercing brushed against Snake’s bottom lip made his heart skip a beat. Maybe she had just been aiming for his cheek; he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was too dumbstruck to do or say anything and Hazel didn’t even acknowledge it. 

“See you next week…sweet stuff,” she smiled. Snake was still off in another dimension of thought, too distracted to notice the sorrow and worry in her eyes.

He was still thinking about her lips when he left the store. He was thinking about them while he was on the subway, trying to avoid a drunk and belligerent man who was shouting at him while waving a bible over his head. And when he got back to the shitty little apartment he shared with his four friends, he was absolutely cursing himself for not being brave enough to kiss her back. 

“There you are,” Ace said as soon as Snake entered. It was almost midnight, and everyone was still awake and huddled around the television with a cloud of smoke filling the dirty living room. Pizza boxes were already attracting flies, a dusty old fan was chugging along in the corner, and the whole place reeked of weed and alcohol. Ace looked as comfortable as ever, wearing his sunglasses inside like a tool. “Thought you got lost, shithead. How’s your big titty goth girlfriend? Get any yet?”

“Shut up,” Snake groaned, tossing his bag onto Ace’s lap with annoyance. “No, we’re not like that…I got a kiss though, that’s gotta mean somethin’.” 

Lil' Arturo chuckled. “Whatever, man, she kisses everyone.”

“Yeah, well, she calls me papi.”

Arturo choked on his beer. “Okay, that’s fuckin' weird but I’ll let you have that one.” He let out a sharp giggle and Snake couldn’t help but smirk like a smug little jackass.

Ace sat up straight, rummaging through the bag on his lap and pulling out wads of cash. He was counting them, laying them out on the sofa cushions while Snake sat down in a lumpy armchair and pulled out a lighter. His twisted spine curved until he was melting into the seat. He was just getting comfortable when Ace let out a laugh of triumph. 

“Shit, man. We did good today,” he nodded proudly. “Perfect timing too. I talked to Pete - the landlord, y’know? He says he’ll let us rent to own that place on Monroe for four thousand a month if we give ‘im the security deposit in cash. Huh? Not bad.” 

“Not bad at all!” Arturo cheered first, while a wave of agreement passed through the group. Snake seemed to be the only one who didn’t immediately seem convinced. 

“Wha–no! No, four thousand a month?!” he let out an incredulous laugh. “Just for the sspace alone? We can’t afford that! Not with everything elssse! You still have to worry about the electric bill, repairs, not to mention hiring sstaff–”

Ace interrupted him with an exasperated groan, leaning his head back against the couch. “Oh my gooood, Snake, shuddup!” ” he yelled, picking up an empty beer can and tossing it at his friend’s head. It hit him right in the temple with a loud clang. The rest of the guys started laughing uproariously while Ace continued. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before, we know! Listen, ya gotta lose money to make money. And where are we gonna get another deal like this? Huh?”

“Uh, I know!” Billy spoke up suddenly and raised his hand, just as his video game went to a loading screen. “Uhhh…um...wait...nowheres?”

“That’s right, Billy, nowheres,” Ace said, pointing at his giant friend with a smile. “We can’t get a deal like this nowheres, so I ain’t passin’ it up. Besides, I make the rules around here and I say, we’re buyin’ that joint and we’re turnin’ it into the best goddamn club Townsville’s ever seen. And we’re doin’ it with or without ya.” 

While the other three were cheering Ace on, going along with any half-baked idea he could think up, Snake was pinching the bridge of his large, repeatedly-broken nose and trying to fight back a migraine that was threatening to strike. As his eyes were closed, however, a second beer can went flying at his head and the room erupted into cackling laughter. This one hit him directly in the ear. Some things never changed.

“Hey, seein’ as you’re bein’ a stick in the mud, you can go get us more beer,” Ace said, tossing a wad of cash into Snake’s lap. “Get us somethin’ good too, it’s a celebration.” 

“Sseriously?” Snake hissed. “I just sat down–” 

“All the more reason,” Ace argued. “Everyone else is comfortable. Go on, get outta here. And buy a better mood while you’re at it, will ya?” 

Snake got up from his seat, tossing his hands up in the air in annoyance. As he left, he slammed the apartment door behind him and shoved his fists into his pockets, mumbling to himself angrily as he passed flickering yellow lights and dirty, peeling wallpaper. One of the neighbors was shouting, having an argument with their spouse. Another was playing loud music that made the floor shake. Someone was throwing up in the stairwell. This was their reality - rusty water, mold, and noise. 

I should have never gone home, he thought. I should have kissed her. I should have used some of that cash to get a motel room. Maybe she would have gone with me. Maybe we could have spent the night together. Just once. God, I’m so fucking stupid, why didn’t I do it? Why didn’t I just walk back in there and do it?

But it was too late to go back and try again now. He remembered the reading she gave him. It was time for introspection, it was time for him to finally figure out what he wanted. He made a silent promise to himself that the next time he saw her, he'd finally shoot his shot and let her know that what he wanted was sitting on the other side of that table the whole time. 

The gas station was quiet. The walk there was calm and slow, lit by the glow of fire trucks a few streets down and serenaded by the blare of distant sirens. When Snake pushed open the front door, the bell jingling overhead, he noticed the way the cashier didn’t speak to him. The young man at the register just stared, his demeanor bristling slightly. Not wanting any trouble, Snake just lazily waved a peace sign in his direction, showing his hands were empty. 

People around here knew. There weren’t many folks who didn’t know who he was, who his friends were, what they did. It was the reason why Yasmin hated him spending time at her shop. It was the reason why they could hardly get service anywhere, and why it had taken months to find an apartment landlord who would rent to them. 

It was why Snake didn’t think twice about the cashier’s reaction. He was standing back near the drinks, minding his business while the young man on the other side of the store dialed the phone and whispered quietly into the receiver. 

Moments later, Snake brought a box of beer up to the front, reaching into one of his pockets to dig around for his identification. He stuck a money clip in his teeth while he fumbled with the card, finally digging it out and slapping it on the table. 

“Don’t worry, I’m payin’ honessstly,” he said with a sigh, still watching the cashier tense up with anxiety. Without a word, the boy at the register handed Snake his change as quickly as possible and backed away, not even bothering to give him a receipt. 

As he left the gas station, Snake assumed the reaction was just because of how he looked. He didn’t realize that the gas station he had just entered was one of several that Ace had robbed in the last few days. 

Sirens were blaring across town. The sound didn’t bother Snake - he was used to it. But when they grew closer, he felt that tension in his chest begin to bloom. He started walking a little faster, eyeing the alleys and side-streets a little smarter. When he dipped into a dark, narrow walkway, he glanced behind him just in time to see a pair of police cruisers drive slowly around the corner. 

He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything. He kept reminding himself that over and over, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling a wave of nausea bubble up inside of his gut. His heart was pounding, and that feeling only got worse when he reached the end of the alley and saw another pair of cars waiting for him on the other side. 

They blocked the exit. They blocked the entrance. Snake looked from one side to the other, looking for another way out, just as one of the officers stepped forward with a hand hovering next to the baton on his hip. The gun wasn’t far away. 

“Having a nice walk?” one of the officers asked, his partner standing behind him on alert. “Listen, you’re gonna get down on the ground and you’re gonna put your hands behind your back, got that? We don’t want to let this escalate.” 

Shit. This wasn’t right. Snake backed up, dropping the box of beer in his hand and quickly dashing for a fire escape. As he began to run up the metal steps, one of the officers rushed after him in quick pursuit, shouting for him to stop and put his hands on his head. Snake didn’t listen. He knew he should have, but the alternative wasn’t going to do him any good. Long, skinny legs got him up three flights of stairs before he heard a second pair of steps join the first, following after him in a rush. 

He heard an electric buzz before he felt anything. Then, all at once, a scorching pain hit the back of his leg and sent him falling forward face-first into the metal steps. His nose and forehead hit the surface with a horrible crack and he could taste blood running down his face from both nostrils. 

A pair of rough hands grabbed hold of him and dragged him down the stairs until he was finally brought to his feet. Cuffs were snapped onto his wrists. Blinded by pain and dripping blood, Snake was marched down the fire escape and onto the pavement, staggering and trying unsuccessfully to shake the hands off of him as he was pushed into the back seat of a cop car. 

Robbery, they said. The boy at the gas station recognized Snake’s sickly green-colored skin from a glimpse he saw beneath the mask of the criminal who had robbed him at gunpoint earlier that week. Distribution, they claimed…Well, that time, they had proof. Snake didn’t realize that one of the ‘teenagers’ he had sold a bag of xannies to was actually an undercover policeman wearing a body camera. 

It was just his luck, really. As he sat bleeding in the back seat of the police cruiser, he thought about the events of the day that led him there. Everything was going so well. He made more money than he had seen in weeks. He got a kiss from someone he liked. He was forming a brand new confidence to say what he felt and make his boundaries known. 

It figures that in the end, he still wouldn’t win. The poor fool never did.

[theluckywizard]

WIP Wednesday

A little bit from an upcoming chapter in my long fic In the Shattering of Things. Little meet cute for my Inquisitor and "Serah Bird".

I’m agonized on her behalf as Juniper limps her way back up the hill, the rock lodged firmly into her shoe making a racket on the bridge into the keep. It’s late enough in the day that I try not to bother anyone about it in the stable, tying her off and lifting her hoof up between my knees to have a careful look. No amount of prying with my hands will get this massive rock out, even after digging away the compacted dirt with my bare fingers. This project will need more leverage. I unfasten my jack and strip it off, slinging it over the hook on the wall of the stall beside me. I pray that a hoof pick might be enough, because the thought of trying to hammer it out without Dennett around to assist is a bit daunting. 

I gather a couple tools that might be useful from around the stable, assembling them on a nearby stool. Clutching her firmly between my knees again, I brush away as much of the silt and gravel as possible to assess the sticking points of the rock.

“Maker, Juniper, you sure have good aim,” I mutter, wiggling the hoof pick under the obvious jam. I apply some leverage to no avail on each of the tight spots but the pick merely begins to bend. Juniper shuffles on her three legs and nearly knocks me over. “Hold still, you oaf. I’m trying to help you.” 

A cloaked man leading his horse in glances over at me in some amusement as he ties his mount up near the water trough and starts removing the heavy saddle bags. His eyes linger on me as I reach for a screwdriver on the stool that I did not position close enough and gracefully, I nearly keel over into a mound of manure in the act. I bounce on my left foot until I regain my balance, collect my dignity and try at the rock again. I really don’t need the man’s scrutiny right now, but he seems bent on applying it so I do my best to ignore him. Cranking the screwdriver carefully so I don’t poke the soft tissue of Juniper’s hoof, I use her shoe as a fulcrum. Enough force is needed that I find myself wincing, knowing that the rock might achieve some distance when it finally pops free. 

When the cobble launches forth, accelerated to a dangerous velocity across the stable, I stumble back against Juniper’s hind quarter and watch in slow moving horror as it makes contact with the man, pegging him squarely in the shoulder. The rock hits forcefully, but it only makes a muffled clank, and I’m relieved to discover he’s wearing armor, or pauldrons at the very least under his cloak.

“Sorry,” I manage in high-pitched humiliation. He reaches a long arm to the ground for the projectile and walks toward me with it with a shockingly easy smile on his face for a man who was nearly knocked out by my blundering. He stops a few paces away and I come to grips with his size. I’m a fairly tall woman but the top of my head only meets his shoulder.

“Quite the elaborate murder plot,” he remarks in a refined accent that I can’t place between Ferelden and the Marches.

“You have no idea,” I reply with a smile. “I’ve been planning this for weeks.” He laughs, handing me the rock.

“Better luck next time.” He runs his hand through his shaggy, longish brown hair as he pushes the hood of his cloak off his head. “Bet she’s feeling better,” he says, gesturing at Juniper. I glance at the sizable stone in my hand and then up at the traveler who has a charming face hidden behind a scruffy beard. He regards me frankly with an arresting sky blue gaze.

“Almost certainly.” I set the rock down and pick up her hoof again to inspect it. I glance up at him when he lingers. “So what brings you to Skyhold?” I ask, always interested in the people who drift our way.

“Door to door knife sales. Kitchen knives, utility knives, murder knives. I even have one that can slice clean through a metal pipe!” he says with a fetching grin. I tilt my head up to raise my eyebrow at him, my amusement emerging at the corner of my mouth and then glance down at his distinctive plate armor. “Seriously though, no, I’m here for hire. Mercenary work.”

“Is that so?” I ask, curious. He reaches a giant hand out to me in greeting.

“Barnabus Bird,” he says. I set down Juniper’s hoof, wipe my hand on my breeches and shake his gloved one.

“Quite the name for a mercenary,” I tell him. “Memorable.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he says, pleased with himself. “And your name?”

“Violet,” I improvise, knowing I’m a sitting duck with no one else around.

“And what does Violet do for the Inquisition?” he says as if he knows it’s a made up name.

“Official Inquisition weathervane adjuster,” I reply, matching the ridiculousness of his initial cover.

“A lot of weathervanes in the stables, are there?”

“You’d be surprised!” I untie Juniper and lead her into her stall, aware of my vulnerability around a hulking mercenary in a quiet stable. Barnabus Bird returns to his horse and continues unloading him, glancing back at me appraisingly. I pull my jack on over my filthy shirt. 

“That’s an interesting mark for a weathervane adjuster,” he says keenly, pointing at the faint glow in my hand and the pale streaks that climb up my arm. Shit. I’d forgotten about the Anchor. I prepare to make my escape from the perceptive gaze of this nosy interloper.

“Of course, it helps me with my adjustments. A blessing from the Maker,” I say with a smile. I head out of the stable and turn around to bid my farewell. “See you around, Serah Bird.”

"Nice to meet you, Inquisitor," he calls after me. I shake my head at my foolishness, glancing down at the cursed green glow that gave me away. I hurry quickly back into Skyhold through the kitchen, wondering if he’ll be recruited by Cullen or Leliana or some combination of the two. His sheer size could be useful to our forces. But then again perhaps this knife salesman could be a decent covert operative.

Tagging others who may wish to share their WIPs!

@nirikeehan, @doomhippy83, @monocytogenes, @rakshadow, @warpedlegacy, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @crackinglamb, @ir0n-angel, @kiastirling-fanfic, @rosella-writes, @liza011, @breninarthur

[rantsintechnicolor]

Now arriving…

The wind blew cool and moist up Market Street from the Embarcadero, but by the time it reached my nostrils it had lost all its shoreline odors. Now it smelled like nothing. The financial district was more scrubbed than the neighboring Tenderloin, though the occasional whiff of sewage was evident near the gutters and manholes. Some of these manholes hissed steam that smelled like laundromats, which I thought smelled very similar to gunpowder. I remembered what my parents told me when I was young: dragons in the sewers.

Arriving at the bus connection to the train, the other passengers were gathered and were rather subdued. Perhaps still waking up and waiting for their caffeinated beverages to invigorate them. Perhaps hiding their foul mood at being up so early, hiding that they were not morning people. They didn’t acknowledge anyone but the driver, who began giving instructions. 

“We will board the bus in two groups. First the six-fifty-five group. Then those of you with a ticket that says seven o’clock.” The driver had to repeat this a few times to passengers that hadn’t been close enough to hear. I waited and was the last to board the bus after a tall, skinny, bespectacled Asian man and an athletic looking black man. On the way through, I did notice a young woman, rail thin in an oversized, dark red Grateful Dead hoodie. Her hair hung straight and limp around her face, perhaps still wet after a shower. She had tears on her face and whimpered quietly. I wondered about this woman. What was her story? What happened to her? Did someone die? Is she going through a breakup? Is she detoxing and in withdrawal? Mental health break? More than one of the above? Will she be okay? I walked by toward the back of the bus, hoping her seatmate would be kind and gentle with the sad woman. I felt like I had been this woman once, on a coach full of strangers, unable to keep my emotions from making them uncomfortable, unable to keep them from spilling over and out of my eyes. My chest tightened with grief for this woman and the woman I had been.

Everyone continued to be silent on the bus, like you do with a bus full of strangers, as it slid confidently between the tall buildings. The horizon became rosy as we transited the bridge, the glow making the city sparkle, reminding all of us that she was gorgeous. Ferry building, Coit tower, Alcatraz, and the Golden Gate in one money shot that I missed while trying to be in the moment, and because my phone was deep in my pocket. On the other side of Treasure Island, the bay was dotted with ships and boats. The tiny pilot boat, larger tugs, and crane ships before the port of Oakland, bristling with cranes already working tirelessly in the hands of the longshoreman to unload the container ships. I saw the large hull of an EVERGREEN, a company infamous for one of their ships blocking the Suez during the pandemic, and the hot pink hull of ONE shipping company. I do love that hot pink was the color chosen by that company for their ships. Very hip. Very gay. I wondered how the landscape would change with the new fuel-efficient cargo ships with sales dominated the port.

On the hills a few landmarks stood out bright while still in shadow. The Mormon Temple looked like a spaceship with four tall spires equidistant around a taller fifth one. Then the Claremont Hotel, still a beacon of white as it had been when it was built. My eyes slid further south from these to the old gravel quarry that was now filled with houses. The house I grew up in was somewhere below that on the hill. My parents were probably finally asleep as they kept the hours of college students rather than those of a productive society-- but, well, retirement. Still much further in the distance to the east, Mount Diablo, a now dormant volcano, poked its peaks higher into the sky. It had dawned a very clear day indeed for it to be so easily viewed from the Bay Bridge. 

Traffic was light on the lower deck out of the city. It moved sluggishly on the upper deck, gridlocked at the toll plaza and backed up all the way to the interchange. There were already emergency and CalTrans vehicles en route to solve whatever calamity was already happening on the morning commute. Sun wasn’t even fully up yet. But our bus zoomed by on the freeway, almost smug.

We disembarked the bus at the end of the platform at the train station, passengers still moving silently, like ghosts, and some murmuring thanks to our driver. Some went inside while others preferred to stay out. It wasn’t that cold though some people hunched their shoulders. There were benches for sitting. Several folks trickled across the pedestrian bridge from the public market parking lot opposite the tracks to join those waiting. Some came out of the station with coffee cups. One old woman walked the length of the platform and back, banishing her arthritic stiffness or getting her steps in. The crying woman came out of the station still looking stricken and miserable, and was not seen again the rest of my trip. Large sparrows, California Towhees, foraged in the curbed and landscaped vegetation islands. When I approached they hopped to a higher perch and one of them was missing some toes on its right foot, which didn’t keep it from being aggressive toward the other Towhee. Crunchy leaves moved on the breeze, rattling and scraping on the pavement. A horn blasted in the distance and it sounded like it was coming from the north. Minutes later, the train came in from the south, heralded by the sound of bells where it crossed the road. 

The station agent ushered them onto the train over the loudspeaker. As we boarded, the conductor read the stops and instructed us on how not to be left behind. “Now boarding for Richmond, Martinez, Antioch, Turlock-Denair, Madera, Merced, Fresno, Hanford and Bakersfield. All aboard.” I loved him. His voice was crisp, joyful, and gay. I might have suspected he was using a “white voice” like from that movie Sorry to Bother You, but when I saw the rainbow Amtrak pin on his conductor's hat, I knew it wasn’t that-- well, maybe a little of that. He was a broad, round black fellow with a kind face that moved easily and confidently. He knew what he was about. Classy as fuck in his uniform. When he misspoke the stops and included one we had already passed, he made his mistake funny for the benefit of his audience but also to be clear so as not to confuse us. 

The sun crested the hills as the train left the station. It moved through mostly industrial manufacturing and warehouses before traveling along the edge of the delta. The trash in the silty mud was what you might expect; tires being the most numerous, followed by a few shopping carts, and a whole couch. In the small beaches dotting the shoreline folks were actually fishing and beach combing with metal detectors and a digging basket. Mostly the shoreline was rocky, dotted with small marinas, some better kept than others. The skeletal remains of piers, a few ruined boats, and even the twin engines and cam shaft of an old ship, as if the outer hull had just melted away and left the guts, or perhaps it had been cut down and sold for scrap. The industry along the water was dominated by oil, transport and refining, with refineries looking like a city scape at a distance.

As the landscape changed to marshes, the wildlife became more apparent. Great egrets, blue herons, Canada geese, black stilts, avocets, white pelicans, killdeer and mallards. A female Northern Harrier swooped low on the grasses, sedges, and rushes, hungry and hunting. Not much left in the mothball fleet that used to be in Benicia. All sold or repurposed as scrap. Only two or three (of what must have been thirty) ships remain.

Much of the fence line bordering the train tracks had a sign on it. “If you are thinking of Suicide please call 988,” it said. I guess a lot of folks try to take themselves out using a train. My mind went back to the crying woman and hoped she would be okay.

The landscape changed yet again into farmland. Corn, grain, grapes, but mostly almonds. Some farmers were clearly feeling the strain of the drought. One of the sections had almost dead trees. They had turned off the water. Later they would drag all the trees out of the ground and bulldoze them into large piles to burn when the weather was appropriate. The next orchard over was green. I saw a red-tailed hawk perched on the ground in one of the rows, serious and regal.

Each time the train stopped the conductor would say, "Now arriving..." I would stare out the window at the station stop and feel like the train was moving backwards. A strange sensation, though I knew the train wasn't moving. It's like getting off a ship after days (or even a few hours) at sea, and feeling like the ground is moving when you know it isn't. The conductor would call, "Now departing... All aboard," and instruct us where we should sit if we were able bodied and that there was no smoking on the train as the train pulled out of the station.

“Now arriving Hanford. If Hanford is your stop, please gather your belongings and make your way downstairs. Thank you for riding Amtrak.” I exited the train and paused on the platform to get her bearings. I looked back at the train and saw the conductor. I waved at him before I turned to leave the station. He waved back.

[championlandscapesupplies142]

Elevate Your Garden: Best Mulch for Houston's Flourishing Landscape

Discover the ideal mulch for your Houston garden at our premier landscaping supply. Our expertly curated selection ensures optimal moisture retention, weed prevention, and soil health. Transform your outdoor space with the best mulch in Houston. Explore our range and nurture a garden that thrives year-round.

Call: (281) 675-2098

[vsservicesllc19]

Finding the Best Gravel Supplier in Kansas City

When undertaking construction, landscaping, or road projects, sourcing quality gravel is crucial. Kansas City offers various suppliers who provide different types of gravel for your specific needs. This article explores the benefits of using local gravel suppliers, types of gravel available, and tips for choosing the best gravel supplier in Kansas City.

Benefits of Choosing a Local Gravel Supplier in Kansas City

Quality Assurance: Local suppliers often provide high-quality materials that meet industry standards.

Cost-Effective: Reduced transportation costs result in more competitive pricing.

Convenience: Easy access to local suppliers means quicker delivery times.

Supporting Local Economy: Purchasing from local suppliers helps boost the local economy.

Types of Gravel for Sale in Kansas City

Different projects require different types of gravel. Here are some common options:

Crushed Stone: Ideal for driveways, pathways, and base layers for concrete slabs.

Pea Gravel: Suitable for landscaping, walkways, and playgrounds.

River Rock: Used for decorative purposes in gardens and water features.

AB3 Gravel: A versatile option used for road base and sub-base layers.

Gravel Supplier Kansas City

Finding a reliable gravel supplier in Kansas City is essential for the success of your project. Local suppliers offer a wide range of gravel types to suit various needs.

Gravel for Sale in Kansas City

Kansas City boasts numerous options for purchasing gravel. Whether you need large quantities for commercial projects or smaller amounts for residential use, there is gravel for sale in Kansas City to meet your requirements.

Gravel Delivery Kansas City

Efficient and timely delivery is crucial when ordering gravel. Local suppliers offer gravel delivery in Kansas City, ensuring your materials arrive on time and in excellent condition.

Sand and Gravel Supplier Kansas City

A reputable sand and gravel supplier in Kansas City provides various materials for construction and landscaping. These suppliers offer both sand and gravel, catering to diverse project needs.

Sand and Gravel Supplier Near Me

When searching for a sand and gravel supplier near me, consider local options for convenience and cost-effectiveness. Local suppliers ensure quick delivery and personalized service, making them an ideal choice for your project.

Tips for Choosing the Best Gravel Supplier

Selecting the right supplier can significantly impact your project's success. Here are some tips to help you make the best choice:

Reputation: Look for suppliers with positive reviews and a strong reputation in the industry.

Experience: Choose a supplier with extensive experience in providing gravel for various projects.

Quality: Ensure the supplier offers high-quality materials that meet industry standards.

Variety: A good supplier should offer a wide range of gravel types to suit different needs.

Customer Service: Excellent customer service is essential for a smooth purchasing process.

The Role of Gravel in Construction and Landscaping

Gravel plays a vital role in many construction and landscaping projects. Its versatility and durability make it a preferred material for various applications, including:

Driveways and Pathways: Gravel provides a stable and durable surface for driveways and pathways.

Base Layers: It serves as an excellent base layer for concrete slabs, ensuring stability and strength.

Landscaping: Gravel is used for decorative purposes in gardens and landscapes, enhancing aesthetic appeal.

Drainage: It helps in creating effective drainage systems, preventing waterlogging and erosion.

Advantages of Using Gravel

Gravel offers several benefits that make it an ideal choice for many projects:

Durability: Gravel is highly durable and can withstand heavy loads and harsh weather conditions.

Cost-Effective: It is a cost-effective material, making it a budget-friendly option for various projects.

Easy Installation: Gravel is easy to install, saving time and labor costs.

Versatility: It can be used for a wide range of applications, from construction to landscaping.

Conclusion

Choosing the right gravel supplier is crucial for the success of your project. Kansas City offers a variety of options for sourcing high-quality gravel. By considering factors such as reputation, experience, and customer service, you can find the best gravel supplier in Kansas City. Whether you need gravel for sale in Kansas City or efficient gravel delivery in Kansas City, local suppliers provide the materials and services you need. Additionally, finding a sand and gravel supplier near me ensures convenience and cost-effectiveness. Trust local suppliers to support your construction and landscaping projects with quality materials and reliable service.

[jessebeckerms]

Nahe: Exquisitely Tuned

Hectares under vine: 4,239 (2023) Climate: mild, low frost and low rainfall Soils: Quartzite and slate soils on the lower Nahe; porphyry, melaphyre, and red sandstone on the middle Nahe; weathered soils and clay overlays of sandstone, loess, and loam near Bad Kreuznach Varieties: [white 76.2%, red 23.8%]: Riesling (29%), Müller-Thurgau (12%), Pinot Gris (8.2%), Pinot Blanc (7.4%), Dornfelder (9.7%), Spätburgunder (6.7%) Bereich: Nahetal Einzellagen: 310, including Niederhäuser Hermannshöhle, Schlossböckelheimer Kupfergrube, Königsfels, Felsenberg, Monzinger Frühlingsplätzchen, Dorsheimer Goldloch

“The best [Nahe Rieslings] are exquisitely tuned…” – Ian Jamison, German Wines

When Ian Jamison’s German Wines came out in 1990, Müller-Thurgau was still the dominant variety in the Nahe, with 23.2% of the vineyard area. Riesling was in second place at 12% (his figures were from 1988), and unless you’ve been following Nahe wines long enough to observe this evolution, it’s a shocking statistic given the number of benchmark Riesling producers clustered here today. These include Dönnhoff, Schäfer-Fröhlich, Schlossgut Diel, Emrich-Schönleber, and Gut Hermannsberg, all first-rate VDP estates whose GG Rieslings I’ll often rate among the best in Wiesbaden each August. Riesling is now in the first position in the Nahe, and rightly so. Jamison writes, “It is perfectly possible to persuade yourself that the River Nahe produces the finest Riesling wines in the Rheinland and, therefore, in the world.” For this taster, no further persuasion is necessary.

The Nahe became an independent wine region in 1971. Before that, wines from the river Nahe were labeled simply as Rhein wines, and, as Frank Schoonmaker writes in The Wines of Germany, “All Nahe wines, being more akin to Rhine than to Mosel, are shipped in brown bottles.” It’s essential to clarify that Nahe wines are, stylistically speaking, not some halfway point between Mosel and Rheingau or Rheinhessen. The wine trade (me included) has repeated this almost as frequently as “Gigondas is like a baby Châteauneuf-du-Pape!” Hey, when a sale is on the line, I get it, but there’s no reason to “sell” Nahe wines this way, not when they’re some of the finest in Germany. There is indeed Riesling from steep slate slopes in the Nahe, and like the Mosel, Nahe producers can make stunning Prädikatswein, but Nahe wines do not smell or taste like Mosel, or Rheingau, or Rheinhessen. Nahe is unique, and much of its uniqueness comes from the soil.

The Nahe has the widest variety of soils in Germany due to 400 million years of geological upheaval. Schist, volcanic, loess, clay, and limestone are some of the 180 or so assumed soil types within the Nahe wine region. Britta Korrell of Weingut Korrell in Bosenheim told me the Nahe gained the nickname das Probiertstub’chen (the tasting room of Germany) because they have so many different soils, varieties, and microclimates. Protected from the cold winds by the high Hünsruck mountains, mild temperatures, much sunshine, and very little rain create an excellent climate for the vine. Although administratively, a single Bereich (Nahetal) covers the entire Weinanbaugebiet. Practically speaking, there are three subdivisions of the Nahe region and its 116-kilometer river: lower, middle, and upper. Generally, the Upper Nahe vineyards are cooler, while the Middle and Lower Nahe get progressively warmer, and harvest occurs earlier in Lower Nahe than in the Middle or Upper.

Lower Nahe

Beginning at Bingen, where the Nahe joins the Rhein, to Bad Kreuznach is the Lower Nahe. Directly across the Rhein from Bingen is the Rheingau’s Rüdesheimer Berg. Upriver, several famous wine villages are found, starting with Münster-Sarmsheim (home of the excellent VDP.Weingut Kruger-Rumpf) and Rümmelsheim/Burg Layen (home of Diel). There’s grey Devonian slate at Münster-Sarmsheimer Im Pitterberg, then loam, clay, and gravel at a trio of superb Grosse Lage sites in Burg Layen (technically belonging to Dorsheim): Pittermännchen, Goldloch, and Burgberg. The next grouping of Grosse Lagen in the Lower Nahe is at Bad Kreuznach, Nahe’s commercial center. Kahlenberg and Krötenpfuhl (produced by Dönnhoff) feature loam, loess, and gravel, and off to a side valley in Wallhausen, Felseneck (Prinz Salm) has green schist. By the way, Bad Kreuznach is also home to Weingut Korrell (Bosenheim) and their excellent Paradies vineyard with shell limestone and marl. A final note about the charming spa town of Bad Kreuznach is to mention the Anheuser name; the same Anheuser family (cousins) as St Louis’ Anheuser-Busch are wine producers here.

Middle Nahe

Five kilometers upriver from Bad Kreuznach are Bad Münster and Traisen, where massive porphyry rocks are both a tourist attraction and a gate to the Middle Nahe. The steep and volcanic Traisner Bastei is the first significant site, then Rotenfels, then Mühlberg and Steinberg (both produced by VDP.Weingut Dr. Crusius), before slate sets in at Norheimer Kirscheck and Dellchen. Neighboring VDP estates Dönnhoff and Gut Hermannsberg exploit the vineyards at Niederhausen and Oberhausen. Grey slate and limestone make Hermannshöhle one of the most highly reputed sites in the Nahe, while Schloßböckelheimer Felsenberg and Kupfergrube did not even exist before they were created by the State Domain (with the help of convict labor) in 1901. These volcanic sites and the top-class Oberhausen Brücke are some of Germany’s best.

Upper Nahe

After Schloßböckelheim, I’ll point out Königsfels and In den Felsen, which make their way into Korrell’s Von den Ersten Lagen bottling along with the previously mentioned Rotenfels and Felsenberg. At Bockenau (Schäfer-Fröhlich) and Monzingen (Emrich-Schönleber) are Felseneck with Devonian slate and Monzingener Frühlingsplätzchen with red slate. These are the coolest vineyards in the Nahe and arguably some of the best. The Nahe wine region ends at the wine village of Martinstein.

[centralfloridapaving]

Is It True That A Paved Driveway Raises The Value Of A Home?

When trying to sell their property, many homeowners must consider factors beyond the physical structure itself. A home's curb appeal and other supplementary characteristics are often deciding factors for prospective purchasers.

The driveway is one such element of a house that is frequently disregarded. Nonetheless, how exactly a paved, completed driveway impacts the asking price? And how do you know if and when to put money into one? Let's look at some considerations that you need to make.

You should get a paved driveway if your current one is gravel. The driveway could be perfect for you, but it could put off potential buyers. Gravel maintenance is challenging, particularly in climates with extremes in temperature and precipitation. Maintaining a gravel road is a never-ending battle against mud and ruts.

Tell me about the area where you reside?

Your home's value is based partly on the condition it's kept in relative to the rest of the neighbourhood, so it's crucial to maintain it up to snuff. If your home's driveway is in poor condition while those of similar properties are in good shape, purchasers will view your home as less desirable.

The inverse is also possible. Your property's worth will increase dramatically if it is the only one in the neighbourhood with a paved driveway while all the others are in much poorer shape.

How many benefits will I see from Having My Driveway Paved?

It is typical for the return on investment for paving a driveway to exceed the initial outlay. And typically, the return will be quite a little higher. The driveway's curb appeal determines the cost.

The value of a property can be affected by several factors, including the materials used, its width, and the neighbourhood. If you're planning on repaving your driveway, consider making it wider so you can park two cars side by side.

Although the driveway from Pavers Orlando is nice, it might use some maintenance. The good news is that you can increase your home's worth with a bit of work. When compared to a brand-new asphalt installation, resurfacing is a no-brainer financially.

Even just sealing the cracks in your property before you put it up for sale can make a difference. The grass and weeds that can make a house look rundown won't be able to creep through as quickly.

In what type of paving material should I invest?

Asphalt Repair near Me is the best option in the vast majority of situations. It's 50% cheaper than concrete but just as sturdy, especially in unpredictable climates. When the temperature drops, cracks can rapidly appear in the concrete.

Due to its excellent flexibility, asphalt is less likely to crack over time. An asphalt driveway by Asphalt Paving Clearwater Flcan endure as long as 25 years if laid and maintained correctly. Lastly, let's talk about asphalt driveways. A nicely paved driveway will add to your home's worth and make it easier to sell in a shorter amount of time.

[nice-betta-thailand]

I have come to the conclusion that for my beta tanks I have decided to not use gravel anymore because it seems that bacteria sits and gravel a lot more than not.