#purchase scaffolding

[scaffoldexpress]

A Comprehensive Guide to Purchasing Scaffolding for Construction Projects

In the world of construction, scaffolding plays a crucial role in providing a safe and efficient work environment for workers at elevated heights. Whether you're involved in small-scale renovations or large-scale construction projects, choosing the right scaffolding is essential for ensuring the success of the job. This comprehensive guide aims to educate you about the various types of scaffolding, important factors to consider before making a purchase scaffolding, and key safety guidelines to adhere to.

Understanding Scaffolding and Its Types

Scaffolding is a temporary structure erected to support workers and materials during construction, maintenance, or repair activities. There are several types of scaffolding available, each with unique features suited for different applications.

a. Supported Scaffolding: This type of scaffolding relies on rigid support elements, such as poles, frames, or outriggers. It is commonly used for low to medium-rise projects and is versatile enough to accommodate different load capacities.

b. Suspended Scaffolding: Suspended scaffolding is suspended from the top of a structure using ropes or chains. It is ideal for high-rise projects or scenarios where ground-based scaffolding is impractical.

c. Rolling Scaffolding: Also known as mobile scaffolding, this type comes with wheels or casters, allowing for easy movement and adjustment. It is excellent for projects that require frequent repositioning.

d. Aerial Lifts: While not strictly scaffolding, aerial lifts, such as cherry pickers or scissor lifts, offer an alternative solution for elevated work platforms.

Factors to Consider When Purchasing Scaffolding

Before making a scaffolding purchase, several key factors should be carefully evaluated to ensure the safety and efficiency of the equipment for your specific project requirements.

a. Project Scope: Determine the height and size of the structure to be worked on, as well as the number of workers who will be on the scaffolding simultaneously. These considerations will help you select the appropriate scaffolding type and load capacity.

b. Material Quality: Look for scaffolding made from high-quality materials, such as aluminum or steel, as they offer better durability and longevity. Stainless steel is particularly suitable for outdoor projects due to its corrosion resistance.

c. Safety Standards and Compliance: Ensure that the scaffolding you choose adheres to industry safety standards and regulations. Look for certification labels to confirm compliance with safety requirements.

d. Ease of Assembly: Choose scaffolding systems that are easy to assemble and disassemble. Simplifying the setup process will save time and minimize the risk of errors during construction.

e. Height Adjustability: If your project involves varying heights, opt for scaffolding systems with adjustable height features. This flexibility ensures better adaptability to different project stages.

f. Mobility: For projects requiring frequent relocation of the scaffolding, consider mobile or rolling scaffolding options for easy transportation.

g. Accessories and Add-ons: Check for additional accessories like guardrails, toe boards, and outriggers to enhance safety and productivity during work.

h. Budget: While it's important to invest in quality scaffolding, balance your needs with your budget constraints to make a cost-effective decision.

Safety Guidelines and Best Practices

Safety should always be a top priority when working with scaffolding. To ensure the well-being of workers and prevent accidents, follow these essential safety guidelines:

a. Training: Ensure that all workers are properly trained in scaffolding assembly, usage, and dismantling. Regular refresher courses should be conducted to reinforce safety practices.

b. Inspection: Perform daily inspections of the scaffolding before each workday to check for any damage or potential hazards. Immediately address any issues found during the inspection.

c. Load Capacity: Never exceed the maximum load capacity of the scaffolding. Factor in the combined weight of workers, tools, and materials to avoid overloading.

d. Stability: Ensure that the scaffolding is erected on stable and level ground. Use base plates, leveling jacks, or screw jacks to stabilize uneven surfaces.

e. Guardrails and Toe Boards: Install guardrails on all open sides of the scaffolding platform and toe boards to prevent tools and materials from falling.

f. Fall Protection: Workers should wear personal fall protection equipment, such as harnesses and lanyards, while working on scaffolding at heights.

g. Weather Conditions: Avoid working on scaffolding during adverse weather conditions, such as strong winds, heavy rain, or thunderstorms, as they can compromise safety.

h. Regular Maintenance: Schedule regular maintenance to inspect, repair, and replace any damaged components of the scaffolding.

Conclusion

Purchasing scaffolding for construction projects requires careful consideration of various factors, such as the project scope, safety standards, material quality, and budget. By choosing the right type of scaffolding and following strict safety guidelines, you can ensure a secure and efficient work environment for your workers.

Always prioritize safety, invest in quality equipment, and adhere to best practices to maximize productivity and minimize the risk of accidents on the job site. With a well-chosen and properly maintained scaffolding system, your construction projects will proceed smoothly, delivering successful outcomes.

[horncastleroofing]

Navigating the Selection Process: Tips for Choosing the Perfect Roof Tiles for Your Home ?

When it comes to roofing, selecting the right roof tiles is a decision that can significantly impact the aesthetics, durability, and functionality of your home. With a plethora of options available in the United Kingdom, from classic rosebery roof tiles to modern concrete roof tiles, navigating the selection process can be daunting. However, by considering key factors and consulting with experts like Horncastle Roofing in London, you can make an informed decision that suits your needs and preferences.

Material: Roof tiles come in various materials, each with its own set of advantages and considerations. Clay tiles, such as rosebery roof tiles, offer timeless charm, excellent durability, and natural insulation properties. Concrete roof tiles, on the other hand, are cost-effective, low-maintenance, and available in a wide range of colors and styles. Consider the climate, architectural style, and budget of your home when choosing the material for your roof tiles.

Style and Design: The style and design of roof tiles can significantly impact the overall look and curb appeal of your home. Whether you prefer the rustic charm of castle roof tiles or the sleek finish of flat castle roof tiles, take time to explore different options and envision how they will complement the aesthetic of your property.

Durability and Longevity: Investing in high-quality roof tiles is essential for ensuring the long-term integrity of your roof. Look for tiles that are resistant to weathering, UV damage, and moisture intrusion. Concrete roof tiles in London are known for their durability and longevity, making them a popular choice for homeowners seeking reliability and peace of mind.

Installation and Maintenance: Consider the installation requirements and maintenance needs of different types of roof tiles. Some tiles may require special considerations, such as additional support structures or periodic sealing treatments. Consult with professionals like Horncastle Roofing, who offer services like pre-purchase roof inspection and scaffolding in Barnsbury, to ensure a seamless installation process and ongoing maintenance plan.

Budget: Finally, consider your budget when selecting roof tiles for your home. While certain materials may have higher upfront costs, they may offer long-term savings in terms of durability and energy efficiency. Discuss your budget constraints and priorities with your roofing contractor to find the best solution for your needs.

In conclusion, choosing the right roof tiles for your home requires careful consideration of various factors, including material, style, durability, installation, and budget. By consulting with experienced professionals like Horncastle Roofing in London, you can make informed decisions that enhance the beauty, value, and functionality of your property.

Explore Horncastle Roofing for Quality Roof Tiling Services in London

[lonestarbattleship]

January 7, 2023 update from the Battleship Texas Foundation

Battleship Texas in dry dock 1/7/24.

"DRY DOCK TOURS

Tours are now full through the entire month of January. We look forward to welcoming five hundred of you into the shipyard to see the amazing progress made to Battleship Texas!

A Dry Dock Tour wanders underneath 27,000 tons of Battleship Texas.

Dry Dock Tour participants sign one of the COME ON TEXAS banners that have hung on the gangway for many months.

STEEL REPAIR - Steel repairs have been completed on the hull of Battleship Texas. Some troublesome areas were found once the ship was sandblasted, so additional repairs have been made. These areas will be blasted and coated before the ship submerges in the water once again.

New steel being placed near one of the ship's docking keels. This area will be lightly blasted and coated.

HULL - The ship's hull has been coated in PPG

SIGMASHIELD 880 GF to protect the steel from potential corrosion. While the hull is supposed to be red below the black band at the waterline, the Battleship Texas Foundation has chosen to not spend the extra funds on a cosmetic choice that will not be seen once the ship is back in the water. The coatings that have been applied are plentiful and should protect the ship for many years to come.

NAVY BLUE 5-N - Above the boot top (above the black band) the ship has been painted Navy Blue 5-N. This color was matched from existing examples found aboard (both internally and externally) the vessel. The ship was painted in this camouflage scheme (Measure 21) prior to deploying to the Pacific Theater in World War II. At this time Battleship Texas is the ONLY museum ship painted in this scheme and only one of two Battleships in their wartime measure.

The ship's draft numbers have been installed and painted on the bow and stern

HULL NUMBERS - The new hull numbers have been extensively researched so each number is not only the correct font, but applied in the appropriate position it was in 1945. The numbers have been applied to both bow and stern.

The ship's name and hull number have been applied to the stern.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

KEEL BLOCKS - Yes, the keel blocks supporting Battleship Texas can be moved. Each block is moved so the area atop of them can be blasted, repaired (if need be), and coated.

SPLASH! - The ship will be put back into the water in February 2024, but is dependent on the weather.

WHAT'S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard for the time being. WHAT'S NEXT? - Battleship Texas will remain at Gulf Copper Shipyard for the time being. Additional steel work, removal and replacement of the ship's deck, and superstructure/aft fire control restoration will continue.

Scaffolding surrounds the ship's superstructure as repairs in these areas come to an end.

The ship's aft fire control continues to be restored to its 1945 configuration. The installation of the windows and more has already begun.

The areas that the ship's six 5"/51 cal. guns sat have been blasted and coated. A wood decking will go down next.

Part of a Dry Dock Tour ends their tour with a picture in front of the ship's bow!

Live, Laugh, And Flood your Torpedo Blisters. To donate to the preservation and operation of Battleship Texas, please visit: https://battleshiptexas.org/

Support Battleship Texas by making a purchase through the ship's store: https://store.battleshiptexas.org"

Posted on the Battleship Texas Foundation Group Facebook page: link

[vexic929]

Only With the Falling of the Dusk

Chapter 1

Warnings: graphic description of a corpse

info on Ricki and Brie here and here

"Units needed above the Chelsea tunnel near Coventry and North Madison; Caucasian woman, mid-30s, unresponsive." The familiar voice of the dispatcher rattled over the radio just as Ricki cracked open the ginseng water she'd purchased at the convenience store. Lin, her partner for the evening, groaned.

"God, I'd like five seconds to take at least one bite of my sandwich." Lin grumbled, shifting in her seat and putting her seatbelt back on as she started the ambulance up.

"That's Gotham's side of the tunnel." Ricki commented, brow furrowing as she took a sip before placing the bottle in the cup holder.

Lin shrugged, putting the vehicle in gear. "Closed off too, we'll have to go around. I'd bet anything they're swamped over there if they're calling us. My money's on Freeze or Scarecrow."

Ricki hummed noncommittally. The ambulance weaved through the evening traffic, sirens blaring as Lin navigated the familiar streets. Ricki stared out the window, her mind already racing through possible scenarios. Trouble in Gotham often came with complications and a tunnel closed for months for construction and legal red tape meant possible gang activity. She didn't bother responding to Lin's guess; it didn't matter who was responsible, the scene was going to be a mess either way.

They were the first on the scene, Ricki assumed because Lin was right and the GCPD had their hands full, but they didn't need the police presence to lay out the crime scene.

"Holy shit..." Lin gasped, leaning over the steering wheel and craning her neck to see the grisly scene clearly.

Hundreds of feet above them hung the body, suspended like a grotesque marionette from the side of the scaffolding. The victim's arms were stretched wide, pinned in place by long, thick knives embedded deep into the steel beams. Ricki climbed out of the cab on autopilot as she processed her initial look at the scene.

"How the hell are we gonna get her down?" Lin asked, voice shaky, as she came around to join Ricki at the back of the ambulance.

Ricki didn't answer Lin immediately. The knives, each one gleaming in the dim light, were driven into the victim's hands with a precision that sent a shiver down her spine. Whoever did this knew what they were doing and hadn't encountered much resistance.

"Don't worry about that yet," Ricki said finally, her voice cool and measured. She grabbed her medical bag and started toward the scaffolding, her steps purposeful and steady.

Lin hesitated, glancing up at the body, "'unresponsive'. Yeah, no shit." Lin muttered as she grabbed her own medical bag and followed.

When they reached the base of the scaffolding, Ricki knelt down, examining the ground around it. Deep claw marks marred the concrete, as if some wild animal had torn through the area in a frenzy. Ricki frowned, tracing one of the marks with her gloved fingers. The width and depth suggested something large - too small to be Killer Croc but definitely too big to be a dog - maybe an animal from Gotham Zoo?

"What the fuck?" Lin whispered. "What the fuck left those?"

Ricki pushed herself up to her feet again, turning her attention back to the body. "Dunno, bobcat maybe?"

"What if it's still here? It could be in the tunnel!" Lin hissed and Ricki fought not to roll her eyes.

Ricki's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. The claw marks didn't fit with the precision of the knives. It was as if two different entities had come together to create this macabre display. She scanned the surrounding area, taking note of the darkened corners and shadows that could easily hide a lurking predator. She needed a closer look, ideally before GCPD arrived.

"I'm going up."

"Ricki-" Lin started to protest but Ricki had already hauled herself up several feet of scaffolding and concrete with her bare hands. "Be careful!"

Ricki took a moment to perch herself less precariously on the beams once she'd reached the victim, inhaling the familiar cold, damp air of the Gotham night. She examined the wounds with a practiced gaze, taking note of the discoloration around the entry points. It wasn't just blood; the flesh had an unnatural grayish hue, as though it had begun necrotizing before death. There were more claw marks through the concrete and steel beams in a way that suggested the creature had had no trouble scaling the sheer wall - though, it didn't look like the creature had actually injured the victim at all, at least not from what was currently visible.

Ricki leaned in closer, examining the smallest knife, lodged in the victim's décolletage through the collar of her coat. Its blade was short and wide but honed to a razor's edge that gleamed under the flickering work lights above. The handle, dark and smooth, was curved to fit comfortably in the palm of the hand, angled for stabbing; near the base, a ring was carved into the steel, allowing for a solid grip.

Etched into the blade was an owl's face, stylized and eerie, its hollow eyes seeming to follow Ricki as the dim light caught them. These knives were clearly custom, meticulous and detailed. Part of a wealthy connoisseur's collection or maybe someone's expensive hobby. Regardless, the culprit was probably part of Gotham's Elite...not that that narrowed it down considerably.

The toxin didn’t kill outright, meaning it was either meant to prolong suffering or weaken the victim to the point where resistance was futile - Ricki assumed the latter if not both judging by the location of her body. Whoever did this wanted their victim alive long enough to experience the agony of being pinned like a macabre butterfly. It seemed like a punishment or warning, a message of some kind...but to whom? And why?

The hem of the victim's designer dress and coat flapped into the corner of Ricki's vision with the wind, pulling her out of her thoughts and into action. She pressed two fingers to the side of the woman's neck to confirm what was already obvious.

"No pulse." Ricki called down to Lin. "Looks like she's been dead for a while."

"I'll call it in, can we go?" Lin asked and Ricki shifted slightly.

"Not yet."

Lin, who had been pacing nervously at the base of the scaffolding, finally snapped. "Ricki, come on! This is way above our pay grade, this isn't even our city, let the GCPD handle it!"

Ricki ignored Lin, adjusting her footing to get a closer look at the other blades. They were embedded deep but she could tell the shape resembled that of a kukri; the blade sleek with a sharp curve.

The wind picked up, biting through her uniform and carrying the stench of death to her nose along with an additional peculiar, sweet smell. Some sort of candy? No, anise. The poison probably but she couldn't place it.

"Damn it, Ricki, this isn't our job! We're supposed to stabilize and transport, not play detective! If there's no one to stabilize, we're done here! Get down, please!" Lin's voice was a mix of fear and frustration, but Ricki didn't waver, clicking on her pen light and pulling out a scalpel and sample bag.

She carefully scraped a small amount of residue from the blade into the sample bag, then sealed it and tucked it securely into her medical bag. She took one last look at the scene, her eyes sweeping over the woman's lifeless form, the intricate knives, and the claw marks below.

Ricki descended the scaffolding swiftly, her movements fluid and controlled. She landed lightly beside Lin, who was visibly relieved to see her back on solid ground.

"You should've gone into law enforcement if you wanna be that up close and personal. Come on, I already radio'd it in."

Ricki didn't respond to Lin's comment, but the hint of annoyance in her eyes was clear as she made her way back to the ambulance. Lin followed closely behind, muttering under her breath, as the first GCPD cruiser pulled up.

"Holy shit." Detective Montoya muttered as he stepped out, echoing Lin's earlier sentiment. Ricki ignored him as well, climbing into the passenger side of the ambulance and closing the door with an audible thud.

Inside the ambulance, Ricki pulled out her notebook and began to jot down observations. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, piecing together the evidence she had gathered. She knew one of Gotham's own vigilantes would probably be looking into it themselves, but her curiosity wouldn't let her rest until she had some answers.

Lin slammed her door shut, shaking her head. "Grayson, I swear, you're gonna get yourself killed one of these days with all this extracurricular BS."

"She pissed the wrong people off." Ricki commented, glancing back up at the body as Lin was directed by another officer to take a detour back to Blüdhaven, away from the road they were in the process of closing off. "Whoever they are, they used her as a warning. She won't be the last victim like this."

"I know you're from Gotham but do you have to be so damn cryptic? It's creepy."

Ricki remained focused on her notes. She was used to Lin's complaints and she knew her own single-minded approach often put her at odds with her colleagues. She didn't care much about being liked though, she cared about getting the job done.

The drive back to Blüdhaven was quiet, the air heavy with the weight of what they'd seen. Ricki's mind continued to churn, replaying the details of the scene over and over. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Bat-signal appear over Gotham in the side-view mirror.

"They should've just called Batwoman from the start, would've saved us a trip. Think we can get GCPD to compensate the gas mileage?"

Lin's attempt at lightening the mood with a joke fell flat. Ricki didn't even glance at her, too engrossed in the scene playing out in her mind. Lin sighed, shaking her head slightly, and focused on the road ahead, leaving Ricki to her thoughts.

The rest of the drive was silent, the tension between them like a physical barrier, and Ricki wasted no time lingering at the hospital longer than it took to fill out the paperwork for the evening. She entered her apartment in Blüdhaven at half past one, the quiet darkness welcoming her like an old friend. Haly, her three-legged pitbull puppy, greeted her with a happy wag of his tail and a nuzzle against her leg.

Ricki dropped her bag by the door, crouching down to scratch behind Haly's ears. "Hey, buddy," she murmured, a warm smile spreading across her face as the puppy's tail thumped against the floor. "Sorry I'm late. We'll get you fed and then go for a walk, okay?"

Haly's paws, still too big for his body, made a soft, clumsy sound as he trotted to his food bowl. Ricki moved to the kitchen, grabbing the dog food and pouring it in. Haly didn't waste any time, Ricki watched him fondly for a moment before straightening up.

She moved around the small apartment with ease, the television playing an old sitcom - left on to keep Haly company. The low murmur of voices filled the space, a soft hum in the background as she pulled off her uniform and tugged her dark hair free of the ponytail she'd worn all shift, crossing the room to her bedroom and ensuite bath.

Ricki splashed cold water on her face, the coolness a welcome wake-up. Her reflection in the mirror was careworn, her thoughts still on the scene she’d just left. The ornate knives, the poison, the claw marks - it all pointed to something far more sinister than a random act of violence. She needed to talk to Batwoman, but that was easier said than done. Their last conversation had ended with Ricki storming off, and they hadn’t spoken since. A low growl of frustration escaped her lips as she dried her face with a towel.

"Damn it, Brie…" she muttered under her breath, knowing full well that their estrangement was only making things more complicated. Haly barked from the sitting room, pulling Ricki out of her thoughts. She sighed and tossed the towel onto the counter, moving quickly to the spartan living area. Haly's bark was insistent, an impatient reminder that he was ready for their walk.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," she called out, grabbing his leash from the hook by the door. She clipped it onto Haly's collar and gave him a gentle ruffle on the head. "Let's get some fresh air, huh?"

[nesiacha]

The last hours of the First Printer of National Liberty ( fiction first part)

Warning: this is a mini fiction featuring Momoro, his thoughts before and during his time on the scaffold. There is therefore a mix of fiction (in the absence of certain information it leaves room for at least a little imagination) and truth. So no need to (too much) point out my historiographical errors. I take all criticism, just know that I have problems with the English translation on long texts so be indulgent (or try to be) :D In any case it's not bad to start at worst we fail and we listen to the criticisms :)

The revolutionary, who would soon have turned forty, knew he had little time left before his execution. He was hurrying to write to his wife, his companion, his friend, his lifelong support, Sophie. At first glance, their marriage seemed unlikely. Antoine François Momoro was only the son of a poor shoemaker and a housemaid, while Sophie was the granddaughter of Pierre-Simon Fournier, one of the most important printers in the country. On her mother's side, she was connected to the Gando family, specialists in typesetting for musical scores.

Her family was so well-connected that Benjamin Franklin himself had purchased printing types from the Fournier family. Nonetheless, the fact that Momoro was a printer and passionately devoted to his craft made the marriage possible. Of course, gossipers claimed the marriage was only due to Sophie’s dowry, but in reality, it was a marriage of love, celebrated in the Luxembourg district. Despite her strong character, Sophie remained, in his eyes, the ideal woman of the Revolution: virtuous, worthy of the women waiting for patriotic men to free them from servitude, fulfilling their role with dignity. Sophie had always supported him behind the scenes, and without her, he would not have been able to serve the Revolution and the country as well as he did.

A son was born shortly after their marriage, named Jean Antoine in honor of Sophie’s father. He brought them joy, pride, and love. By mutual agreement, they decided not to have any more children.

When Momoro was arrested by the conspirators of the Constituent Assembly in 1791, after the infamous Lafayette ordered the Champ de Mars massacre, he was taken in the dead of night. Looking back, the absurdity of that arrest made him smile. So many members of the National Guard to arrest one man! He was imprisoned for 22 days for an imaginary conspiracy—his only crime, and that of his companions, was to have called for the removal of the tyrant Capet after his blatant act of treason. Sophie had held up well, understanding why her husband was fighting and always supporting him. Upon his return, she awaited him, and despite their modesty, they rekindled their connection. They shared a great love and mutual respect, though it was not openly expressed, at least not by Momoro.

Since the beginning of the Revolution, he had explained to his wife that after the Republic and the Revolution, she and their son were the ones he loved the most. He had been hesitant at first, in 1789, especially when Camille Desmoulins came to him with his pamphlet. Momoro had advised him to hold off. Yet, he became more and more involved in the Revolution. He who once told Desmoulins that, for France’s sake, there should be no Republic, now realized how wrong he had been. He was now determined to give everything to the Revolution, to make up for his initial weakness.

Sophie understood him well. She didn’t mind living modestly, as long as there was a roof over their heads and food for her husband, herself, and their son. One day, she shared a decision that proved she had also adopted the revolutionary ideals for which he fought: “I have something to tell you,” she announced one evening over dinner, “I’ve decided to renounce superstition.”

- You’re no longer Catholic? asked the printer, incredulous.

-No, I am no longer Catholic, confirmed the young woman, her tone both lighthearted and resolute. That superstition has only served to infantilize the French people and keep them under the yoke of oppressors. Let’s not forget that, not long ago, the Church punished people with death for imaginary blasphemies, while the clergy, far from living an ascetic life, accumulated the people’s wealth. The fight you lead with our patriots is just: de-Christianization is necessary. The Revolution must make reason triumph.

That evening, they had a joyful discussion about how she wanted to help him more. Of course, her priority had to remain the education of their son, so that he could become a good and virtuous republican, but she could help in other reasonable ways, within the limits imposed on a true republican woman.

Momoro did not share the views of his former friend, the current prosecutor of the Paris Commune, Chaumette, whom he found too misogynistic. He believed that women should primarily assist the men who led the battles. They could discuss politics in private, attend National Convention sessions, help their husbands or sons, and play a role in the grand events necessary to safeguard the Revolution, but they should not be given more active political rights, unlike what some deputies like Charles Gilbert Romme thought.

When Momoro realized, during a mission as a national commissioner, that his book Traité had to be printed urgently, he sent a letter to his wife to handle it. He had warned her that he would entrust her with printing manuals or pamphlets he couldn’t oversee due to distance and administrative duties. She carried out the task carefully, as she did in so many areas.

When Momoro’s mission in Vendée dragged on, his wife and son came to join him. She shared her husband’s view that too many mistakes had been made and that some generals, still loyal to the monarchy, were deliberately losing crucial battles for the Republic's survival. She wasn’t surprised to see parts of Vendée in a deplorable state due to the defeats of republican troops, while in Paris, some ignorantly claimed that certain places were secure. He did not hesitate to express his opinion in a letter. Of course, efforts were made by valiant republicans at war, but it was time for the truth to come out clearly and without ambiguity. To conclude his letter, he added that his son's opinion, though he was still a child, already aligned with those of his parents.

When he returned to Paris, his wife played the role of the Goddess of Reason several times, proud to contribute to the Revolution. On the 15th of Frimaire, Year II, she fulfilled her duties at the Temple of Reason. Many praised her grace and beauty, but during the ceremony, she broke her arm after falling from the stretcher. Once the initial shock passed, she did not wait for her arm to heal completely before resuming the atheist ceremonies. Even he was surprised by her determination.

-I don’t see why my attitude would surprise you, she said with a small smile. You constantly say that our Montagnard deputies should be more revolutionary, instead of putting people to sleep, and you’re not happy that a citizen follows your words.

-They’re not my words alone; many of us think that most of them are becoming new Girondins, Sophie, he said softly, thoughtful.

-How could I forget? Hébert even says they’ve become lullers, she responded with a grimace, invoking the name of the journalist.

— Hébert is my ally, replied Momoro. It’s easy to attack him, but have people forgotten his fights against slavery, profiteers, the maximum, and for de-Christianization? He fought for the poor.

— That’s not what I hold against him, she explained. I know alliances are necessary, just as you do. It’s not the language he uses in his paper; after all, Le Père Duchesne is quite successful, though I would have preferred a paper in the style of Marat, who was far better than all the others. The problem is, he’s not honest on certain points. Regarding de-Christianization, he keeps backtracking at times, unlike you, who are the more resolute of the two. He even earns more than you, you who constantly refuse to enrich yourself. And to think he’s become the substitute prosecutor of the Paris Commune... Fortunately, citizen Chaumette is still the prosecutor; otherwise, it would be harder to defend our revolutionary ideas

At that moment, Jean-Antoine decided to join the conversation, wanting to better understand the political issues his parents were defending. They told him it was complex and that he should study first.

« Can I at least attend one of the revolutionary sessions? » he asked, pouting.

-As long as you behave, his mother agreed.

As the conversation wound down, he knew deep down that his wife was right about Hébert. It wasn’t because he had married a former nun. Citizen Marie-Françoise Goupil had a good character and was a dedicated patriot, from what he had seen of her. He had even seen them privately as a couple with their daughter, showing a sincere and touching love between them.

The problem was that Hébert often wavered in his actions. He would sometimes backtrack, particularly on de-Christianization. One day, he endorsed it and recommended it; another day, depending on his interests, he praised “citizen Jesus,” as he called him. Momoro also disliked that in the summer of 1793, while the people of Paris were suffering, Hébert had moved into a more luxurious residence, not to be closer to political clubs or more efficient as a revolutionary, but for personal reasons. Sure, the printing press would have been on the ground floor, but Momoro didn’t see the point, as Hébert already had one near his previous home. He confronted him about it, saying that a man of his importance should live more soberly, out of respect for the Parisian people who were suffering, especially if he aimed for a higher political position. But Hébert laughed in his face, claiming that Momoro needed to be less rigid.

Since those events, Momoro still considered Hébert an important ally, but not as reliable as before. As for Sophie, she had judged him unworthy of fighting alongside them for much longer.

Today, he would have liked to publicly show his disdain for Hébert, for once again trying to retreat during the insurrection that had led them here, when he saw it would fail. To him, it was a great act of cowardice, especially for a man like Hébert, who had such high responsibilities toward the Revolution. But now Hébert was there, in front of him, either constantly shouting or simply pale. So, he couldn’t tell him everything that weighed on his heart. Vincent and Ronsin had already reproached him enough for his behavior in the cell. Momoro didn’t want to add more. He also understood that Hébert was not only crying for himself but also for Marie-Françoise Goupil. Momoro was just as afraid for Sophie, but he knew that pleading for clemency, as tempting as it might be, was not an option. Clemency was reserved for criminals, not for them. They had to carry themselves as dignified patriots until the end, and this obligation applied even more to Hébert, who had sworn to be ready to the next victim after the martyr for liberty, Marat.

Ronsin, who had vowed to die with dignity, remained stoic when he learned that his wife had been arrested two days earlier. It was another blow to the political prisoners, as they had thought Marie-Angélique would be spared, given that she had evaded arrest longer than Hébert’s and Momoro’s wives. She was an enthusiastic supporter of the Revolution, often frequenting circles that many members of the Convention labeled ultra-revolutionary, yet she remained very kind and simple, though sometimes too frank and playful. She did not deserve this.

However, the revolutionary printer knew the commander-in-chief of the Cordeliers well. He saw that Ronsin, too, was downplaying the pain he felt. They had gone to Vendée together, and whenever Ronsin endured terrible ordeals, he hid them well, due to his bravery and fiery temper. But for those who knew him, one could detect some sadness in his eyes.

“No, no, this isn’t possible!” Hébert continued to sob.

“Perhaps we should joke to lighten the mood a little,” Cloots quipped, a highly controversial figure who advocated for the universality of the Revolution while defending colonialism, slavery, and private property. The only thing he shared with them was de-Christianization. Nevertheless, he sought to calm their spirits, knowing he was sentenced to death.

“Instead of watching Hébert in his depression , finish your letter. They’ll come for us soon,” Vincent remarked, approaching him.

“I’ll apologize to Ronsin once I’m done with my letter,” the printer sighed. “We should have listened to him when he said we needed to prepare for the insurrection faster. I listened to Hébert the first time, even though the Convention had already attacked us several times, and he said we needed to delay things. Even Billaud-Varennes and Collot abandoned us, though that was predictable. In the end, we didn’t succeed in easing the people's suffering, especially this winter. I really failed in my task.”

“Ronsin doesn’t hold it against you,” replied Vincent, still calm, though very pale. “You know his temperament. He spoke harshly because he simply wants you to face the guillotine courageously. He knows you did your best, citizen. But he warned me he’d use a stern tone to ensure you meet your end with dignity. If it were to be done over, I’d send you on another mission, with warnings about certain mistakes. As for him,” Vincent added, nodding toward Hébert, who was shaking with sobs, “all his courage has long abandoned him. His inconsistent behavior caused us many problems.”

“I think he did his best,” Momoro replied, simply not to burden the journalist in his final moments, although he was comforted to know that Vincent and Ronsin didn’t blame him. “Let’s not forget his wife has been arrested. There’s a good chance she’ll follow him to the scaffold.”

“Just like many wives of former deputies,” retorted the former secretary of the War Ministry in an annoyed tone. “Do I need to remind you that the wives of the traitors Brissot and Pétion were imprisoned, along with so many others? That our enemy Manon Roland was sent to the guillotine after her Girondist friends tried, unsuccessfully, to send us there first? Hébert knew there was a great risk this would happen, so he shouldn’t complain. Of course, I hope that Marie-Françoise will be spared, as I do for Sophie and Marie-Angélique. But I’ll remind you: you all knew the risks you were taking, and that included your wives.”

“The only thing we can do for them,” concluded Momoro, “is to die with dignity.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Vincent agreed. “Now, you’d better finish your letter to Sophie.”

Sophie… That virtuous citizen, whom he had been lucky enough to call his wife. He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the day she fulfilled the role she was most proud of: presiding over the reconciliation between former Catholic priests and Protestant ministers. These former religious leaders had agreed that their respective faiths had only been sustained by clerical charlatanism. It was one of the greatest days of his life, seeing both a revolutionary duty accomplished and his wife radiant, a woman he was immensely proud of.

He finished his letter and reread its contents:

Republican woman, preserve your character, your courage. You know the purity of my patriotism. I shall preserve the same character until death. Raise my son in Republican principles. You cannot manage the printing press alone, so dismiss the workers. Hail to the Marat citizenesses! Hail to the Republicans! I leave you my memory and my virtues. Marat has taught me to suffer.

Author's Note:

I originally planned to write a single chapter about Momoro's journey to the scaffold, but I've decided to split it into two parts. The second part will cover the moments from when he joins the condemned on the way to the hairdresser, to the cart, and finally to his execution. In this first part, the focus will be on his reflections on the revolutionary journey he shared with his wife. In the second part, we will delve into his thoughts on his revolutionary actions, including his role during the fall of Louis XVI, his various missions, his early advocacy for a more equitable distribution of property, his friendships with figures like Rossignol, and his struggle against the Convention, the Dantonists, and Robespierre, whom he no longer viewed as truly revolutionary due to a lack of social engagement for him, among other reasons.

(The Hébertists have long been demonized, to the point where popular culture assumes that if they were alienated by the Convention, it was because they were more bloodthirsty than Robespierre, who is already portrayed as a bloodthirsty figure in some caricatured films. This is a myth we need to dispel.)

His downfall was caused by the attempted insurrection he led with his colleagues, his rift with Chaumette, Hanriot, and Pache, and what he thought of the farcical trial and his final journey to the scaffold. We will see both his good and bad actions, his successes and his mistakes. If I have time, I will also touch on the "truce" between the different factions during the abolition of slavery, a moment when people from various political backgrounds celebrated together. This was a beautiful moment and highlights an important, often forgotten, aspect of the revolution that had global repercussions. A true truce (I think those familiar with current French politics know what I mean).

I also want to clarify that Momoro's opinions do not necessarily reflect my own ( as his paternalistic aspect of women for example it would seem that from his writings he has this defect among many others) . I am simply immersing myself in his thoughts.

Regarding Marie-Angélique Lequesne's arrest, it is possible that she was imprisoned two days before the death of her first husband, Ronsin, according to Mémoires, 1760-1820 by Jean-Balthazar de Bonardi du Ménil. It’s also likely that she moved in ultra-revolutionary circles. According to a biography of Dolley Madison , she was very kind, frank, intelligent, and down-to-earth, qualities I have drawn on for inspiration. Washington's political class appreciated her and the future first lady Madison Dolley would be her friend, which shows that she had developed diplomatic skills.

As for Sophie, I imagined that she shared her husband's political convictions, not only because of her strong character, which is evident given the trials she endured, but also because of her loyalty to him, even in the worst moments. It seems she did share his political views, as seen in Momoro’s letter on the Vendée where he refers to her opinions, the fact that he entrusted her with printing a treaty in his absence, her role as the Goddess of Reason, her accompanying him on his mission to the Vendée, and her adoption of his writing style in the assembly.

After Momoro’s death, I considered writing a chapter about Sophie’s life and hardships following her husband’s execution. (This would include another mention of Marie-Angélique, who later had an unhappy marriage with Turreau, though she was appreciated by Washington's political class). I imagined Jean-Antoine, now an adult, questioning his mother about his father's qualities, as well as the criticisms and mistakes that could be leveled against him. (For historical context it would seem that Jean-Antoine he married a woman from Nantes, so in this fiction, I imagine he learned of the criticisms the people of Nantes had of Carrier, who had allied himself with the Cordeliers in Paris, including Momoro, in the attempted insurrection that led to their downfall).

His mother defends his father but acknowledges some of his mistakes. Jean-Antoine is not fully satisfied, even though he remains proud of his parents and the fight they led. He is loyal to them, despite their never being rehabilitated. He simply wants his parents' good deeds to be recognized, while also admitting that, despite the hellish situation they were in, certain actions—such as refusing to disavow Carrier or some of his father's decisions after months of struggling in the Vendée—were missteps. The long-term consequences of de-Christianization also had negative effects.

Of course, this would be pure fiction, but it would be interesting. As a child who did not participate in the French Revolution (just as we didn’t), we can identify with him as someone looking back with the benefit of hindsight, in contrast to Sophie Fournier Momoro, who was right in the middle of the revolution's action.

[urbanrelics]

HASARD CHERATTE REVISITED

I visited this abandoned coal mine seven years ago. It was one of my very first explores of an industrial site. The steep descent to enter the site immediately brought back a lot of memories... You can watch the result of that first visit here: Hasard Cheratte OG. The site itself has since changed considerably...

The contraption you see on the photos above, is in fact the turbine that hoisted the elevator out of the mine shaft. For some reason I didn't make it to the top level on my first visit, so I made sure to climb all the way up this time. And boy, was it worth it...

Shortly after the mine closed in 1977, the site was purchased for next to nothing by the Flemish industrialist Armand Lowie. He almost immediately started dismantling the old coal mine. Some of the old mining machines irrevocably disappeared into the scrap metal... Fortunately, the Walloon government intervened quickly and protected a number of the buildings and their contents. This unleashed a polemic between the new owner and the Walloon government that had lasted almost thirty years. From that moment on, nothing moved on the site at all. No more demolition works, but also no attempt at reconversion or restoration of the remaining buildings. Only deterioration and decay...

At the beginning of 2012, Armand Lowie died unexpectedly and Hasard Cheratte once again returned to the Walloon government after expropriation. Barely a year later, a remediation plan was proposed, in which the now protected buildings would be retained and the rest demolished. From 2017 - about a year after my first visit - the remediation works started, starting with the removal of asbestos and the demolition of the extraction tower of shaft no. 3. A scaffolding was built around the listed buildings of shaft no. 1, suggesting that the restoration work were taken seriously.

As suddenly as they started, the restoration work came to an end. The scaffolding disappeared, as did every activity on the site. At the time of my second visit, there is precious little sign of new life for the beautiful mine site...

[lemonberry-conda]

Oceanic Romance involves a lot of surprise gift-giving.

I like to think that Lizzie was flirting with Joel when she knocked down his scaffolding and said "I'm going to bring you some prismarine"

Joel, not understanding, and already having purchased his prismarine, just says "Oh... I don't want any prismarine".

Lizzie, feeling jilted and upset that he's refused her flirtation, remarks, in a much more reserved and quiet voice, "Okay, I'll take it back".

Joel, confused, simply shrugs and replies "Oh...okay then" Lizzie, still looking behind her occasionally as she gathers up her prismarine, secretly hoping that Joel will realize his mistake and accept her gift, eventually gives up hope and utters out a sad and dejected "Goodbye" before running away.

I like to imagine that Joel reads up on Oceanic culture and realizes his blunder, and the next time Lizzie shows up in Mezalea with prismarine, he accepts it and pays her an intimate compliment in return.

[vintage-london-images]

Temple Bar, a short story of an amazing survivor. Designed by Christopher Wren Temple Bar, one of the gates of London, stood in Fleet Street for just over 200 years until a variety of factors dictated its removal. Firstly, the roadway needed widening to relieve the heavy traffic, and the building of the new Royal Courts of Justice resulted in the decision to remove the somewhat costly and outdated Temple Bar. The Corporation of London however had a strong attachment to the building, and rather than see it cleared away, it was to be taken down brick by brick. So on 2nd January 1878, the first stone was removed and just 11 days later the scaffolding was cleared and the dismantling was complete. Each component part, stone, brick and beams where numbered individually, and stored in a yard for possible re-erecting elsewhere in London at a later date.

Step up Lady Meux, wife of Sir Henry Meux a successful brewer, who in 1887 had heard of the languishing jigsaw puzzle and put in an offer. She was successful in buying the Bar, and had the 400 tons of stones transported on wagons pulled by teams of horses too Hertfordshire. There it was re-erected as the facade of a new gatehouse in the grounds of their mansion house Theobalds Park.

In March 1938 Theobalds Park was sold by Sir Hedworth Meux, to the local County Council, but the Temple Bar Gatehouse was excluded from the sale, and retained by the Meux trustees. But in 1984 it was purchased by the Temple Bar Trust, an organisation created for the preservation of the building from the Meux Trust for the sum of £1.

Coming up to date. In the early 2000's, over a hundred and twenty years since its original removal, the Corporation of London agreed to fund the return of Temple Bar to the City of London. At a cost of just over £3.0m, and also funded with donations from the Temple Bar Trust, it was dismantled and rebuilt at Paternoster Square opposite St. Paul’s Cathedral in the heart of London.

[we-staybhaalin]

I finally finished the game for the first time!!!

First of all, of course Halsin wore Niralei's ass out for like four or five nights in a row. I choose to believe he had her knocked the fuck out every night. The most comfortable sleep she's had in months by that point. Head on the pillow, head empty, (pussy very much not), and she's snoring like a hog!

But anyway!

So the endgame that Niralei is going to follow is that, for a time, her and Halsin will pursue their own interests, but they are very much still romantically and emotionally involved with each other. The Bells and the BG3 crew will disperse to do their own things at various points but Niralei is going to stay in Baldur's Gate for a bit to help rebuild parts of the city.

She's going to start with providing assistance to displaced folks, those that suffered injuries, and she's going to be spending a lot of time trying to find the people who stayed along the journey with her to make sure they're getting taken care of (namely thinking of the tiefling refugees from Elturel).

After a few days, her father, Ohmez, will emerge and start doling out resources to people and thanks to her leading the efforts to save Duke Ravengard's ass, his people are allowed to operate alongside the Guild to make sure folks are getting the help they need. Nettlebane, Colette, Irma, Haluen, Shadowheart, Jaheira, and Minsc remain to provide support as well, although the tieflings are pulled to different parts of the city but ultimately working on Niralei's instructions. After two weeks pass, Matari (Niralei's mother) and Yahiri (Niralei's baby sister) will make it back to Baldur's Gate and start helping to the best of their ability.

After two months of rebuilding, Niralei will have received a letter from Halsin asking her to come to Reithwin. At first, she'll be nervous to leave her family alone but also by this point, Nettie, Irma, Haluen, Colette, and Pasha will have moved on. Nettie went to stay with Gale in Waterdeep (since they ended up together) and Colette decided to go with her since Pasha is in the Hells with their girlfriend and Wyll. (Colette stays in her own tower in Waterdeep -- she's not sharing space with Gale or anyone else.) Shadowheart has gone off with her parents, Irma and Haluen returned to the fold among his people and the clan has started moving in anticipation for summer.

Niralei's mother will convince her to go see Halsin and Niralei will make the journey. Reithwin will be barely two months out from the lifting of the curse but she will see scaffolds, half put up buildings, people shuffling about the streets and laughing children running circles around everyone. Halsin will meet her at the Last Light Inn with a gift in hand--an old book containing a collection of music, all from a time well before hers but also bearing a few of the ones she kept pestering him to teach her during their journey. He'll greet her with a sweeping hug, kisses her when he sets her on her feet, and forgets that four of the children he brought back with him refused to let him take this journey on his own until he hears their rapid-fire questions after their reunion kiss ends.

Niralei will walk with him, hand in hand and book tucked under her arm, just taking in the city's progress. She'll want to help and he lets her for a little while, mostly at her insistence because he intended for her to get some much needed rest while she's out here. She's got connections and even better connections now though so she's going to step up in a pretty big way helping to get resources and deals struck up to help with rebuilding efforts.

Prior to leaving Baldur's Gate, she's been looking into starting a business as well. On the outskirts of the city are estates that have sat abandoned for a while. She's going to purchase one of them and spend time fixing it up. The soil around the land was used to grow acres worth of vineyards on and that's what she's been working on building up prior to visiting Halsin.

She'll spend much of her time bouncing between Baldur's Gate and Reithwin, especially after Yahiri takes off for Waterdeep. Several different ventures will pop up that will have Niralei's hand in it--a bard school started by Alfira and Lakrissa with a generous benefactor donating resources to it, two festhalls by the name of the "Spitfire" and the "Dancing Cups," and an old estate that once sat abandoned now steadily flourishing with gardens and acres upon acres of vines weaving through it with the promise of a luxurious bounty just on the horizon--just among a few.

Reithwin will have a home built specifically chosen for her at a point and she'll see the opportunity to nurture something she had forgotten was a sticking point to so much of her personal journey--hope. She'll argue and haggle with contractors for the best resources for good prices to help with building up the city. Halsin will support her while he wrangles together as much of the artisans and folk that are looking to make this place home. They'll work together to form up a circle of leaders to represent the growing landscape and both of them will take seats on that council to make sure development is processing smoothly.

Every day, when another council meeting concludes, they'll walk home hand in hand chatting about things they never got to talk about during the crisis that brought them together--mundane things, important things about their next steps, and their friends--

And this is only the beginning between the two of them.

[scaffoldexpress]

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[horncastleroofing]

Preventative Maintenance: Key Steps to Avoid Costly Roof Repairs ?

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By prioritizing preventative maintenance across various London areas and roofing materials like siga slates or castle roof tiles, homeowners can preserve the condition of their roofs, minimize repair costs, and prolong the lifespan of their properties’ roofing systems.

[puckpocketed]

The Summer I Fell For Hockey - Some journals I wrote while learning to love the Brave Cave.

1.

Phillip Swimming & Ice Skating Centre — at least, the rink portion of it — is affectionately referred to as the Brave Cave, nicknamed after our local ice hockey team, the CBR Brave.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been, just the first time since I began my summer fling with ice hockey.

‘Cave’ is appropriate. Enter into the maw after purchasing a ticket from the snippy white-haired booth attendant; to stained brown brick insides, a foiled insulation ceiling, and a Hits of the Decades tape blasting from speakers mounted precariously on thin shelves.

It smells of damp, artificial cool, and something vaguely dirty and sour; there are webs gummed up with dust and moisture that drape themselves from dark corners. Shoved to the far end of the rink are two red goal nets, awaiting game time. 

Two girls skate the afternoon session with me. We exchange smiles, politely avoidant. In the half-dozen times I’ve skated, I’ve yet to relinquish the safety of the boards. This time is no different.

Not that it helps — the Cave leaves its marks on me in the burn of my calves, the ache in my thighs, a new patch of purple-blue on my hip where I ate shit on my fifth lap. Overall: not the romance I envisioned when I set out to make this place special.

And yet, every few stumbling steps, I manage to glide. If I strain my ears, I hear the sibilance of my rental skates carving through the ice. Fleetingly, I think; is this what it’s like, even just a little, to play ice hockey?

2.

Aimee and I are late for evening lessons.

We are too late. White-haired Booth Attendant tells us, with little remorse as he counts notes to close the till, that we needed to be here at 6:30 for pre-registration.

He looks like he’s a part of this place. Decaying, with the skin around his eyes collapsing; his mouth a deformed, wrinkled moue; his unfriendly red face a warning sign that says KEEP OUT. His booth is all chipped paint and scratched plexiglass, scattered papers and a thin layer of grime. He is the Cave made flesh.

Words leap into my mouth: ‘White-haired Booth Attendant, last time I was here, when you implied I should come to these lessons because they were “diverse” and for “people like you” I wanted to shake you. White-haired Booth Attendant, I wanted to ask you what the hell that’s supposed to mean, because this city is more home to me than wherever you think I came from.’ Instead, I say nothing. I pull away.

Behind me, Aimee follows.

We sit in the car, parked while we figure out what to do. Around us the eyes of highrises stare on, boxing us in, and their half-built companions yawn a dark greeting through scaffolding. Phillip Swimming & Ice Skating Centre, old and strange and ugly as it is, is the only place that deigns to squat at our level, a white and blue dwarf.

3.

I hang around after my skating lesson, furtive, waiting to be kicked out before the closed sessions of ice hockey start.

The zamboni is an angel to me, coming through the rusted garage door and onto the ice to chase off lingering skaters. She rains her holy, healing fire down on that carved up plane of ice; she dresses its wounds with water and scrapes away its scars and makes it new again.

No one ever said that fresh ice smells different — something clean and petrol-laced and almost-not-quite sweet.

Later, I chat up a woman on one of the amateur hockey teams. She sneaks me into the stands, explains that we don’t have enough players in our city to have completely separated tiered leagues — the beginners play with the intermediate players and the semi-pros.

This place is falling apart and not built to host ice hockey matches, no team benches, no penalty boxes, and it barely seats 500. The interest is so low they can’t even fill out their leagues. Their referees are volunteers and do double duty as linesmen. Their gear, I learn, is often scraped together, many of them sporting hand-me-downs. What’s the thing below a beer league? This would be it.

But all of that seems immaterial once they come onto the ice for warmups. I forget about it once I hear it: my very first in-person clapper — a slapshot, a one-timer. It punctuates the end of my coherent thoughts, ringing loud and cutting through the warmup ambience.

Later, on the bus, giddy and sore and warm, I label today as the best day of my life.

4.

This part of town is an ugly, artless gash in the heart of the valley. The temporary bus station made to look like the cracked open shells of shipping containers; the construction vehicles and tradies scuttling about — all signs of perpetually unfinished gentrification — and the Cave amongst it all, just another rotted artery.

At first, I assume that people come here not because they like it, but because they have nowhere else to go. Characterless. Void.

I am wrong.

White-haired Booth Attendant cracks a weathered smile as he highlights my skating lesson punch card, notes that I’m on time for this one, and allows me entry after I’ve paid his toll. The tuckshop, which I took to be permanently shut, is as much of an anachronism as the rest of the Cave; right out of someone's 40-year-old memory with its nostalgic candy selection and hot pies. It isn’t closed. It is in fact manned by a gangly rink rat during public skate sessions. Gangly Rink Rat helps me size my rentals properly and wishes me luck.

More character: fellow skaters hang their blade guards on the netting, glittery transparent pink and neon green and a fire engine red. Even more: if you look to the left on your way in, there’s an easily missed cabinet full of dusty trophies and faded photos.

I’ll ask all their names next time. They are as much a part of the Cave as the mortar and steel that make up its foundations.

My instructor sets me to hobbling around on the ice with the correct form. I take it all in and think, on my second lap, yeah. There's something lovely in this decay. There is character here — I just had to look.

[omegaremix]

Academy (Manhattan), 2022.

I’ve never patronized a business so much in six month’s time. That business was Academy Records / LP’s. I had the urge to buy one single record that was on my mind (Boulders’ Rock And Roll Will Never Die) and pulled the trigger on that plus much more. I found more city-centric records and tapes on its’ other Discogs handle and in the turn of the year made two online purchases with them. For the final day of this past Winter, I took an impromptu visit to Academy’s Brooklyn (Greenpoint) location and bought more of that magic in person. Why? City stores have that specific charm that none of the other local stores on the island have. By that, I mean types of artists and sounds easily found there and nowhere else. Last year’s visit to Williamsburg’s Rough Trade made the best example of it and explains why I spent almost $420.00 there.

I read that they had another location on the lower East side of Manhattan (L.E.S.) which I’ve been meaning to go. After my check-up on Lexington Av., I could not miss the opportunity. I’ve already visited six island stores with four to go, so consider Manhattan’s Academy a ‘bonus round’ - one of two to be exact.

It wasn’t far from Lexington Av. taking the crowded ‘6’ line downtown to East 12th Street. It was a leisurely trek under the canopies, scaffolds and tree, walking past the everyday city life and numerous groups of people standing around waiting for the ride to take them to their next event. Across the street from Academy was the playground hopping with urban youth of all colors shooting hoops and getting loud with one another. Another few feet across the street and here I finally am. What I noticed on the front door before entering was a sign that said “masks required”. Luckily, I saved mine from the clinic.

I walk in and Academy’s Manhattan space isn’t as ratty and dingy as its Brooklyn spot. No crusty carpeting but a concrete floor partially painted blue and walls only in slight decay. There’s shelves and white boxes of stock all along the right side up until the cassette racks. More shelves opposite the entrance and over the small island of wooden crates. Walk past the counter on the left and opposite that was a listening station of two of three working turntables. More shelves and white boxes on each side in the back section of the store before reaching their office. Good news: $1.00 and $3.00 hip-hop / rap, rock, soul, synthpop and new-wave records were all for the taking.

I pick a spot, any spot to start digging. That was their small used-industrial section. Right off the bat I find Test Dept.’s “Machine Run (Compulsion)” e.p., a true metal-on-metal attack and one of my all-time favorite industrial works. I was happy to pay $12.00 for that one. Ω+ followers know that I always make my way to the used-jazz section and they didn’t disappoint there. That copy of Hank Crawford’s Tico Rico, the one with his ‘I-could-care-less’ face on it, was a win. Hubert Laws’ Then There Was Light Pt. 1 on CTI featuring Bob James, Ron Carter, Steve Gadd, Richard Tee, and brother Ronnie Laws was another must-have because of them. And I got my first Richard ‘Groove’ Holmes record Dancing In The Sun. No Onsaya Joy, but that song which still stayed in my head all these years was enough for me to pull the handle on him.

Though Academy wasn’t Riverhead’s Sunday Records, they had a small but great used-synth-pop / new wave section with many shelves of soul sitting next to them. That lead me to their hip-hop / rap bins and $1.00 records, where was never a shortage of obtainable low-cost 12” singles. I found plenty of golden-era scores from Kool Moe Dee, 3rd Bass’ Prime Minister Pete Nice & Daddy Rich, and Spoonie Gee’s Godfather Of Rap ($5.00). A few flips later and I find Original Concept’s Straight From The Basement Of Cooley High for only $1.00. Featuring Yo! MTV Raps’ T-Money and Dr. Dre, it was an essential piece of Long Island history I had to take. I was floored in finding Antexx’ “Understand Me Vanessa (Vanessa Yo)”, a single I remember hearing once on WBLS during my Brentwood era and which absolutely no one talks about. But for $5.00 for four different versions of the same song, did I really need it? Nah. Give Academy more points for having some real old-school artifacts such as some Z-3 MC’s and T.A.P. records.

I still had a thirst for used 7” records so I had to sift through their four-by-four formation right next to the counter; where marked boxes of punk, rock, soul, reggae, oldies, and even French lyricists were fair game. I took some singles from my Atari childhood (read, Eighties hits) and bought some gambles in punk and d-beat. Get this: the Vagra 2016 demo LP that I bought blindly from Academy’s Discogs mail-order? They had their Refuse 7” e.p. in-store. How funny life fucks with you like that. And without even looking for it: Shizuo’s “Sweat” b/w “Stop It”. It’s one of the very few DHR releases I don’t have since I already had those songs. Well, for old time’s sake…

Then I strayed off the beaten path to find another marked box of punk rock and d-beat 45’s under the bins where I scored some self-titled platters in Soaker (because Wharf Cat), the super-CMYK saturated Strutter, and Glam. That one was my first-ever find from the La Vida Es Un Mus label and I am all the happy for it.

I sifted through more LPs both new and used in all categories. That’s where I scored even more major wins. The Men’s Devil Music, one of the few not released on the Sacred Bones label, was mine. Speaking of fantastic New York City labels, there was Institute’s Readjusting The Locks on clear / bourbon swirl vinyl. Why not? And I had to take the biggest hit for one of my favorite artists: an unwrapped copy of Boy Harsher’s Country Girl (Uncut) for $18.00. I won’t complain.

Academy had plenty of used LPs in other categories. They had a section devoted exclusively to the Numero Group. A little to the right was more classic rock LP’s and even further were their Detroit techno, electronic and jungle / drum-and-bass sections. I had a laugh when I found a copy of Give Up’s self-titled e.p. on the Ambush label; the second Shizuo-based release I came across. I do have it in my library since I bought it from The Port Jefferson Music Den during DHR’s heyday.

CD’s? They barely carried any. They had only two columns of it tucked away deep in a corner before their tape section, and that they didn’t disappoint. Though they carried the usual universal duds, they did have some exciting finds in punk and golden-era hip-hop. It was the first time in ages that I bought a cassingle. That was Lord Tariq & Peter Gunz’ “Deja Vu”. In fact, they did have a few dusty cases of them where they were five for a dollar. For $7.00, Who’s The Man (motion picture soundtrack) was a must-grab.

But the real good stuff was kept behind the counter in a glass case. The girl dressed in black denims noticed I was eye-ing them. Of course I was. There were a few that caught my eye. One which was Ata Kak’s Obaa Sima; a personal Summer jam and the very album that kicked off the Awesome Tapes From Africa label. I asked her to get me the price on that, Subhumans UK’s 29:29 Vision,and Health’s Disco4::Part I.

“That’s fifteen, fifteen, and that’s thirty.”

I really wanted Ata Kak so I took it, but passed up on the Subhumans UK tape. And as much as I like Heath, I sure as fuck on a rainbow-winged pegasus on a golden horn won’t pay $30.00 for a blue cassette. To be fair, Academy had a case: Discogs’ sellers priced it at $35.00. Put that back.

She added up my purchase. It was a great $177.00 and two-and-a-half memorable hours spent in the city. I walked out the door and looked across the street to see an empty playground. All the yelling and camaraderie was over for the day. I turned the corner to catch the next ‘L’ and ‘C/E’ line to Penn Station. No rush, no fuss, no danger. I had just enough time to catch the Central Islip train for what would be another hour-and-five-minute ride east home. Do remind me never to board a peak train ever again. For four dollars more, you can play musical chairs competing for cramped seats and be packed like a twist-can of Iberia sardines with almost no leg room.

Kool Moe Dee: “Death Blow” 12”

Prime Minister Pete Nice & Daddy Rich: “Kick The Bobo” 12”

Professor Griff & The Last Asiatic Disciples: “Pawns In The Game” 12”

Kool Moe Dee: “They Want Money” 12”

Queen Latifah: “Ladies First” 12”

Public Enemy: “Give It Up” 12”

Kool Moe Dee: “Wild Wild West” 12”

Heavy D. & The Boys ft. various artists: “Don’t Curse” 12”

Spoonie Gee: Godfather Of Rap LP

Original Concept: Straight From The Basement Of Cooley High LP

The Men: Devil Music LP

Stepdad SS: Mad About It LP

Vaaska: Ruido Hasta La Muerte LP

Institute: Re-Adjusting The Locks LP

Test Dept.: Compulsion (Machine Run) LP

Boy Harsher: Country Girl (Uncut) LP

Hubert Laws: Then There Was Light LP

Hank Crawford: Tico Rico LP

Richard ‘Groove’ Holmes: Dancing In The Sun LP

Glam: self-titled 7”

Perdition: self-titled 7”

Soaker: self-titled 7”

Strutter: self-titled 7”

Hombrinus Dudes: self-titled 7”

Deformed Conscience: self-titled 7”

25 Rifles: History Of Flags 7”

Funeral Shock: Paint Thinner 7”

Vagra: Refuse 7”

River City Tanlines: “The Devil Made Me Do It” b/w “Nothing Means Nothing Anymore” 7”

Shizuo: “Sweat” b/w “Stop It” 7”

Code-13 b/w DS-13 split 7”

Billy Ocean: “Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car” 7”

Stacey Q: “Two Of Hearts” 7”

Miami Sound Machine: “Bad Boy” 7”

Cameo: “Word Up” 7”

Lord Tariq & Peter Gunz: “Deja Vu” CS

Who’s The Man: motion picture soundtrack CS

Ata Kak: Obaa Sima CS

[udhhyog2]

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[armoredisopod]

Arknights LNY 2023 Event PVs

New Operators

Jieyun, 5* Welfare Artilleryman Sniper

When the wind and sand buries all this, will anyone remember them?

Firewhistle, 5* Fortress Defender

That's a good tactic, it would be even more perfect if we light a fire in that area.

Lin, 6* Phalanx Caster

Give me a good reason to let you off the hook. None? What a shame.

Chongyue, 6* Limited Fighter Guard

A calm move and a winning strategy... Doctor, i didn't expect you to be a rare chess player as well.

Operator Skins Update

Total of 4 new skins, 3 new additions for the Made by 0011 brand and 1 new addition for the Epoque brand

Made by 0011

Mulberry's Reflection That Of The Moons

Cantabile's Illumination That Of Daylights

Ling's It Does Wash The Strings - L2D skin

Epoque

Pallas' A Drip Of Orea And Potamous - Free Reward skin

Pallas' new skin will be a reward from the new gamemode Reclamation Algorithm/Fire Within The Sand

Announced skin reruns

Series 6 of the Made by 0011 brand skins

~62 other skins as part of the Goodbye to Old, Welcome the New edition of Rhodes Fashion Review

Operator Modules Update

Jieyun being part of the Artilleryman Sniper branch immediately gets a module, her module gives her attacks 100 DEF ignore

Core Caster branch gets 2 module types

Module 1 given to Eyjafjalla, Ceobe, Absinthe, Haze

Module 2 given to Amiya, Qanipalaat, Tomimi, Nightmare

Lumen and Saria gets their second modules

Lumen's second module base effect: Healing is no longer reduced on distant targets

Saria's second module base effect: Reduces damage taken by 15%

Events and Stories

Where Vernal Winds Will Never Blow, the next installment of the Yan-Sui storyline taking place in the fortress city of Yumen

Operator Archives update Aak, Lee, Chongyue, Dusk and Mulberry

Record Restore update for Who is Real

Misc Stuff

CN voices for Chongyue, Lin, Firewhistle, Jieyun and 7 other operators

CN dialect voices for Lin, Chongyue, Mulberry and Snowsant

Reclamation Algorithm, a new gamemode with its first theme/season, Fire Within The Sand

Rosa, Leonhardt and Podenco added to recruitment

Livestream Stuff

Showcased Chongyue being a 6* Fighter Guard specializing on fast charging hard-hitting skills, his skill 2 has a 3x3 area range and is able to combo with Levitate, his skill 3 deals burst area damage focused on an enemy and increases the power and range of his normal attacks after several skill activations

Showcased Lin being a 6* Phalanx Caster utilizing a special shield that nullifies any damage below a certain threshold but breaks when hit by an attack above that threshold, the shield explodes dealing arts damage and stunning all nearby enemies when broken and will regenerate after a certain amount of time, her skill 2 and skill 3 play around with this shield defensively and offensively

Showcased the event mechanics, scaffolding that act as ranged tiles but enemies can also take a path there via ramps

Announced that CN players can get the anime blu-ray redeemable Exusiai skin Midnight Postgirl via a purchasable pack in the in-game shop

Later the official ak twitter accounts announced that their respective servers will also get the purchasable pack, additionally the official JP ak twitter issued an apology for the backlash and allowed refunds for the blu-ray dvd preorders

Showcased the new gamemode Reclamation Algorithm

Gamemode revolves around resource management and gathering across several "days" of exploration, each day you have a limited amount of moves to spend and able to skip to the next day, unspent moves don't carry over

Operators have stamina in this gamemode and bringing them to zones will reduce it, they cannot be used when they run out of stamina

Resources can be used for building construction and to cook food for your operators, food is mainly used to restore stamina but they can also give buffs to certain operators that do not stack and only lasts for one battle, extra food can be recycled

Gameplay showcase shows that the gamemode has a large movable map with a fog of war that will hide enemies and special stage elements but does not restrict operator placement, operators and summons will reveal all tiles in their attack range immediately unlike NL's darkness mechanic

In the resource collection zones, there are no objective points to protect but instead you can find and collect resources available in the stage within a time limit while enemies patrol the area and attack your operators

Operators can only carry an amount of resources equal to their block count and summons cannot carry resources, skills that change an operator's block count affects their carry limit, retreating the operator stashes the resources in your pack, if you couldn't collect everything in the area you can return there later and find the resources you left behind

Every exploration is random and there are different weather effects affecting the zones which buffs/debuffs units on the field, there are also npcs you can meet in the zones which can give you quests that carry over progress between explorations

The end goal is to defeat enemies slowly approaching your base and you can either intercept them or defend against them on your base, if the boss isn't defeated at the final day the exploration will still continue until the boss is defeated

If the base is intact at the end of an exploration, your base's stats will carry over to your next exploration

Brief MH collab teaser showing a background CG and some characters sprites that will appear in the collab event

Announced a story collection event scheduled after the LNY 2023 event

Announced Main Story Ep12 scheduled to arrive April 2023 for CN

Announced Spring Festival Gala 2023 'Bunny Season's Greetings' fan works livestream event

[tmkutawrites]

A COMMON BOND - FREE SAMPLE!

This is a free sample of my debut lesbian romance novella, A Common Bond, which comes out November 7, 2023. Please enjoy :)

Note: There may/will be some typos in this sample. We like that, it confuses the Overlords of Zon so they don't strike me for contract infringement. I promise in the final, purchased version the typos have been fixed :)

Now, on with the sample!

RFI 1

To: Josie Basurto (May 3, 5:34PM)

From: Carneline Triana

Subject: Site Visit for Mobilization

Josie,

I will be on site with my management team most of Monday morning. I’m sure we will run into each other at some point.

Carneline

***

From: Josie Basurto (May 3, 5:39PM)

To: Carneline Triana

Subject: RE: Site Visit for Mobilization

Looking forward to it!

J

***

Carneline had known Clover Hill’s old town hall was in bad shape from the bid documents. On her walkthrough with Rio a few weeks ago, even more suspicions had been raised. But now, the disintegrating chunk of limestone that had fallen off the cornice and into her hand confirmed it: she was going to be spending a lot more time in Clover Hill than she had initially planned. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve never seen limestone this bad,” Bruno murmured. Oceanic’s chief masonry superintendent carefully set the piece of stone down on the scaffold. “This whole cornice is going to have to be checked.”

Checking the structural integrity of a city block’s worth of limestone was definitely not covered in their contract. Carneline chewed on the inside corner of her mouth as she ran a hand across the sugaring stone and watched millennia-old sand crumble into her palm. “Is this the only bad news?”

“Oh no,” Bruno said in a voice far too cheery for her liking as he pushed to his feet. “This mortar is definitely hot.”

Asbestos remediation was also definitely not in their contract.

She cast a desperate glance along the joints. “Are you sure?”

“Yup.” He pointed to an area where the mortar was exposed. “Look close. You can see the fibers.”

Carneline looked and, sure enough, there were the telltale threads amongst the cement, lime, and sand. Fuck. “Does Rio know?”

Bruno shook his head.

She snapped a couple of photos on her phone and turned for the scaffold stair. “Are xe still documenting in the lobby?”

“I think so.”

“Good. I’ll send xem up.”

The metal stairs squeaked as Carneline made her way down them, eyeing the brick and stone of the Romanesque Revival building with far more suspicion than before. The facade clearly hadn’t been washed in two decades. The window sills were covered in black atmospheric discoloration, and the blue-green haze of cupric staining streaked down major crevices. On the brick and stone walls, there were long stretches of jointing completely devoid of mortar and one of the brackets was missing entirely.

She stopped two decks down and took a moment to admire the town. This was Oceanic’s first project this far south. They mostly stuck to projects in Baymill, but her dad had wanted to expand into other markets, so here she was forty feet in the air above a town she could see the other side of from the scaffold. The five-story town hall towered over most of the rest of the buildings, but fit in perfectly amongst the clusters of various historic structures downtown. Its renovation was long overdue, but Carneline hoped Clover Hill would find it worth it in the end.

From her perch, she could see the expanse of the park, with its quaint little gazebo and beautifully kept grounds. A bit farther she spied the currently unlit marquee of an old movie theater and a neon sign belonging to local diner. It was a beautiful town, and as much as she could lean on the scaffold railing and look out over the little town covered in the fresh leaves of spring for hours, she had a job to do.

She tore herself away from the view and continued down the scaffold to the lobby. The first time she’d seen it, Carneline had been struck almost speechless by the beauty of its wrought iron doors, scagliola-clad pilasters, and massive crystal chandelier. Now it barely registered. She hurried through the plywood-covered lobby until she found her assistant project manager sprawled indelicately across the floor.

Rio was an acquired taste Carneline wasn’t quite sure she had acquired yet; mildly competent, incredibly anxious, and graced with the aggravating tendency to lose the plot at the slightest provocation. Still, xe tried, which was more than Carneline could say of half of Oceanic’s field staff.

“Good morning, Rio.”

Rio startled, and practically levitated off the floor in a cloud of dust almost definitely from the plaster demo. Xe was absolutely covered in the stuff, and Rio hurriedly stuffed xemself back into xyr gloves and sheepishly brushed down xyr front. “Good—good morning, Carneline. I—I didn’t know you were on site.”

“I was walking the cornice with Bruno.”

“Oh.”

“How is it going down here?”

Xe grimaced and gestured at the ground. “It’s—uh. The stone’s really cracked.”

Bits of torn painter’s tape crawled across the marble below them like blown blue cherry blossom petals. Carneline crouched, and Rio angled the beam of xyr flashlight so she could see the spidery lines coursing through. Great. “These are going to shatter the second Bruno tries to take them out.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

Another expensive change order for the growing pile, I suppose. She stood, dreading the prospect of the unending raft of paperwork in her future. “I’ll speak with the NCK team. Have you been up to the cornice yet?”

Rio shook xyr head.

“When you are done down here, I need you to go up and document everything before we touch it. Do you have your profile gauges with you?”

“They’re in my car.”

“Good. Bruno will be up there for a little bit. Find…” She hedged, thinking of the worn-down status of the cornice. “Find the least broken stone and take a profile.”

 Xe nodded. “Okay.”

“And wear an N95. The mortar is hot and everything up there is crumbling.”

Rio’s dark eyes got comically wide behind xyr safety glasses. “Oh shit.”

Her sentiments exactly. “Do you have any questions?” Xe shook xyr head again. “Alright. Call me if something comes up.”

“Will do!”

Carneline left Rio to xyr marble documentation and slipped out the west entrance to find the jobsite trailer. When she pulled the door open, she found Josie bent over the conference table—which was really just four folding tables pushed together in the center of the room—studying the reference drawings.

“Good morning,” she greeted as the door snapped shut behind her.

“Good morning,” Josie replied as she turned the page of the drawings. “Headed out? Help yourself to some coffee before you leave.”

Carneline startled at the kind, but unexpected offer. “Oh. Thank you.”

“To-go cups are on top of the fridge.”

“I actually don’t drink hot coffee,” she replied sheepishly.

“Don’t drink hot coffee?” Josie asked, looking up from her drawings with a grin that Carneline had discovered seemed permanently glued to her face. “Don’t tell me…you’re like Baylee and only drink cold brew.”

Carneline gave an awkward little laugh, not liking the familiarity with which Josie talked to her about her sister. People always did that, acted like they knew her because they knew her sister or father. Another one of the ‘perks’ of a family business. “Guilty as charged.”

 “Well, I’m one step ahead of you. There’s cold brew in the fridge.”

The offer was tempting. Carneline considered for a moment, but finally decided against it. If she got caught in traffic, which was likely considering the time, she would definitely have to stop and pee. “Not today. I have to drive back to Baymill after this, but thank you.”

“Any time.”

Josie finally straightened up fully and leaned casually on the white plastic folding table, hooking her thumbs into her jeans. She was an unreasonably attractive figure, taller than Carneline, with kind brown eyes and a sharp fade that put every short-haired worker on the site to shame. In some universe she might have been Carneline’s type—if Josie hadn’t worked for the general contractor paying them to fix Clover Hill’s historic town hall.

Carneline hedged. “I…actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Josie’s voice remained impressively neutral. “Oh?”

“Yes…” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “We have some problems.”

“Define ‘problems.’”

“That depends, do you want the least expensive issue or most expensive issue first?”

“Least expensive.” Josie flashed a luminous smile. “Warm me up.”

Carneline pulled up the photos she had taken of the floor and passed her phone over for her to see. “The marble in the foyer is full of cracks. It’s going to shatter when we try to take it out.”

“Architects were ridiculous to think we could salvage the whole floor,” Josie said with a disbelieving scoff. “A-hundred-and-twenty-year-old marble doesn’t come up like that.”

“No, it does not,” Carneline confirmed.

Josie handed her phone back, her face suddenly all business. The shift was jarring, to say the least. “How much is this going to cost?”

“I can’t say for certain, but it will be a decent amount.”

Josie sighed. “Great. You submitted replacement marble, right?”

“A few weeks ago.”

Josie ran a hand through her hair. “Submit an RFI and we’ll see what the architects have to say.”

“Was planning to.”

“Thanks.” She took a sip from a nearby thermos. “What’s the bigger, badder bill?”

Carneline gave Josie a significant look. “Have you been up to the cornice?”

“Recently?”

“Yes.”

“I walked it at the beginning,” she replied with a frown. “Is there something wrong with it?”

If only. “The mortar’s full of asbestos and the stone is crumbling. A piece fell off in my hand.”

Josie inhaled in shock. “Oh fuck.”

“I don’t want anyone from my crew touching it until the town knows.”

 “Understandable. Do you think it’s going to need to be replaced?”

Carneline glanced around the trailer to make sure they were alone. “Off the record, I think you might want to figure out where Clover Hill has a million dollars stashed for a rainy day.”

 “It’s that bad?”

“The building is a hundred and twenty years old,” she said with a shrug. “I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

Josie’s face went grim. “Got it. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Not a problem.” She hesitated, not sure if Josie could handle a third thing on her plate. “There is…one more thing?”

“If there’s a massive structural issue that means we need to evacuate the building, please turn around and leave now,” Josie joked weakly. “Let me die in the collapsed building in peaceful ignorance.”

Carneline gave a dismissive snort. “Nothing so drastic.”

Josie brightened considerably. “Great! What’s up?”

“You need to have someone go into the main hall and put down sweeping compound. Rio’s rolling around on the floor in there looking like the Ghost of Christmas Past. To say nothing of the silica hazard.”

Josie was already grabbing her hard hat off the table. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“See you then!” Josie trotted off out the door, Carneline close behind her.

She checked her watch: three-o’clock.  Plenty of time to make it back to the city without hitting traffic. She pulled her hard hat off the second she hit the parking lot, shaking her curly red hair out so she could tie it back up once in the car. She’d get out of town, update her dad on the way home, then spend a quiet night with her plants before she had to go to bed.

Her phone rang. The song barely got four notes in before she picked up. “You’re psychic. I was just about to call you.”

“Are you done at Clover Hill?” Warren Triana asked gruffly.

“About to head home now, just have to throw my stuff in the ba—” She stopped dead a few paces from her trunk, eyes taking in the noticeable sink to her right rear bumper. “Fuck.”

Her father’s business tone instantly switched to fatherly concern. “What? What is it?”

She scowled and threw her hard hat in the back a tad more aggressively than was necessary. “It’s nothing,” she sighed. “I just have a flat.”

[END RFI 1]

Did you like this sample? If yes please consider buying my novella? You can preorder A Common Bond HERE!