#Homes for sale Davie

[shannongrasso]

Homes for sale Plantation

Selling a home is not a very simple journey. The people want to put Homes for sale Plantation as quickly as possible because they want to move to the new property and want to get over the old chapter.

[sgiandubh]

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

[kimyadawson]

It’s Bandcamp Friday! Bandcamp waives their cut today so it’s a great day to support musicians!

https://kimyadawson1.bandcamp.com/music

I’m excited to announce that crew and knee socks are back in stock AND the knee socks stretch to 21” before the design gets weird! The text has been moved to the foot on these because it works better that way with the enhanced stretch-ability.

And I heard you and have added black shirts to the preorder options. Shirts are available from youth xs (2/4) up to a 7x!

There are also copies of the remastered Remember That I Love You album (red vinyl) and pin packs available!

https://kimyadawson1.bandcamp.com/merch

This Sunday Clyde and I are heading out on a little tour! New shows have been added! Here are the dates:

Monday Oct 9

Kimya Dawson

Your Heart Breaks

Car Crash Hearts

7pm

$20 suggested donation no advanced tickets

All ages

At the Tri Co-ops (outside)

530 Regan Hall Cir

Davis, CA

Masks strongly encouraged

Wednesday October 11

Kimya Dawson

Your Heart Breaks

$20

at TBA SECRET OUTDOOR LOCATION in Phoenix, AZ

Doors at 7:00pm / Show at 8:00pm

All Ages

Masks strongly encouraged

https://www.thetrunkspace.com/product/10-11-2023-kimya-dawson/260

Friday October 13

Kimya Dawson

Michael Hurley

Kinky Friedman

Growling Old Men

at Welcome Home Festival

Kerrville, TX

https://kerrvillefolkfestival.ticketspice.com/welcome-home-fest-2023

Saturday August 14

Kimya Dawson

Your Heart Breaks

Hamell on Trial

Graham Wilkinson

at The Museum of Human Achievement (outside) Austin, TX $20

Parking lot opens at 3:30, music starts at 4pm

All ages are welcome but it’s not a show specifically for kids.

Bring something to sit on. Masking is encouraged.

https://withfriends.co/event/16741456/kimya_dawson_your_heart_breaks_hamell_on_trial_and_graham_wilkinson

Monday October 16th

Kimya Dawson

Your Heart Breaks

Mega Ran

at The Splinter Collective (outside)

Tucson, AZ

7pm, All ages

Masks encouraged

https://givebutter.com/kimya

Tuesday October 17th

Kimya Dawson

Your Heart Breaks

and more

at Taylor Junction (outside)

Joshua Tree, CA

Details TBA

Wednesday October 18th Kimya Dawson

Your Heart Breaks

Rymodee

Practicing Sincerity (solo set)

Outside at SubRosa

Santa Cruz, CA

Doors 6pm

All Ages

$20 suggested donation (no advance ticket sales)

No vampires turned away for lack of funds.

[inourselveswetrust]

Can i ask for an angst prompt about august going to MCs house and discovering that they're moving out bcoz they feel bitter and hurt and they never wanna see august again.

Of course! One prompt ft August and special guest Blair coming right up!

The moving vehicles in front of your home can only mean one thing. Panic rises in their throat, threatening to upturn their lunch. They’re nauseous – so, so nauseous – and sweat has begun gathering on their forehead.

They had been far too focused on a meaningless case, a petty squabble between two bickering neighbours, to notice the signs. If they had done more, maybe they would have noticed the realtor visiting and appraising your home, the red “for sale” sign posted in your yard would have been impossible to miss. If they had had the time to be near the area. 

A taunting voice echoes in their head, rattling against their skull. Never enough. You never do enough. You chase away everything and everyone. The one person who mattered sees you for who you are, and they hate what they’re looking at.

August’s patrol vehicle’s door is open before they even register what they’re doing. It slams shut with unnecessary force, but August couldn’t care less. Their pace is fast as they cross the street, not bothering to look for oncoming traffic. They’re fixated on you – seeing you, talking to you, begging you to stay.

“They’re not here,” a voice calls, pulling August from their thoughts. “And you shouldn’t be here either.”

August turns to glare at the unwelcomed guest, their glower morphs into surprise as their eyes land on Chief Davis. Questions whirl through August’s mind, and uncertainty nestles itself deep within them.

Blair stands next to the moving truck, sweat coats their face and they clutch a water bottle as if it’s a lifeline. They look far more casual than August has ever seen them, and August wonders why Blair is so casual and comfortable near your home. Jealousy washes over them, but they burrow it.

“What are you doing here?” August asks, hoping their voice is steady. If it’s not, Blair doesn’t show any reaction aside from arching one of their brows.

“I’m helping with the move,” Blair replies coolly before sipping their water. 

“I can see that,” August replies bitterly, wincing at the harshness of their tone. “But why? Where are they?” Their gaze moves to the home, it already looks so void.

“They left yesterday.”

August’s heart stammers, and they swear it stops for a second before it beats back to life much faster. They can’t breathe.

Oh god, they can’t breathe.

“August, how can I help you?” Blair asks calmly, but the worried expression on their face shows their concern. Unable to reply, August meekly shuffles forward until their arms wrap around Blair’s large frame. They really don’t expect any comfort from Blair, they don’t deserve it, but a sense of peace wraps them in its embrace as Blair returns the gesture.

“I think this is for the best of both of you,” Blair sighs as they rub a soothing pattern into August’s back with their palm. 

[lizbethborden]

Hi again! Yeah, from your bookshelf! You seem well informed and I wanna know the type of stuff you read and might recommend. I don't even know what to tell you for my interests because I feel like I'm just begining. Sorry I'm young and dumb still haha.

#1 you're not dumb and #2 nothing to apologize for :)

Here's some books I've got on my shelves or that I've read:

Men Who Hate Women: From Incels to Pickup Artists, Laura Bates

Pro: Reclaiming Abortion Rights, Katha Pollitt

Women, Race, & Class, Angela Davis

American Girls, Nancy Jo Sales

Lesbian Culture: An Anthology, eds. Julia Penelope and Susan J Wolf

Lesbian Studies, Margaret Cavendish

Hood Feminism, Mikki Kendall

Against White Feminism, Rafia Zakaria

Sister and Brother: Lesbians and Gay Men Write About Their Lives Together, eds Joan Nestle and John Preston

Another Mother Tongue, Judy Grahn

Aimee & Jaguar, Erica Fischer

Mouths of Rain: An Anthology of Black Lesbian Thought, ed. Briona Simone Jones

Same-Sex Unions in Premodern Europe, John Boswell

The Mary Daly Reader, eds. Jennifer Rycenga and Linda Barufaldi

Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Past, eds. Martin Duberman, Martha Vicinus, George Chauncey Jr.

Testosterone Rex: Myths of Sex, Science, and Society, Cordelia Fine

Speaking Freely: Unlearning the Lies of the Father's Tongue, Julia Penelope

The Resisting Reader, Judith Fetterley

The Double X Economy, Linda Scott

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture, ed. Roxane Gay

Home Grown: How Domestic Violence Turns Men Into Terrorists, Joan Smith

Intercourse, Andrea Dworkin

The Trials of Nina McCall: Sex, Surveillance, and the Decades-Long Government Plan to Imprison "Promiscuous" Women, Scott Stern

The Politics of Reality: Essays in Feminist Theory, Marilyn Frye

Only Words, Catharine A. Mackinnon

Everything Below the Waist: Why Health Care Needs a Feminist Revolution, Jennifer Block

Witchcraze: A New History of the European Witch Hunts, Anne Llwellyn Barstow

Cinderella Ate My Daughter: Dispatches from the Frontlines of the New Girlie-Girl Culture, Peggy Orenstein

Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men, Caroline Criado-Perez

Lesbian Ethics: Toward New Values, Sarah Lucia Hoagland

We Were Feminists Once: From Riot Grrrl to CoverGirl, the Buying and Selling of a Political Movement, Andi Zeisler

Of Woman Born: Motherhood as Experience and Institution, Adrienne Rich

On Lies, Secrets, and Silence: Selected Prose, Adrienne Rich

Feminism, Animals, and Science: The Naming of the Shrew, Lynda Birke

The Female Body in Western Culture: Contemporary Perspectives, ed. Susan Rubin Suleiman

Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza, Gloria Anzaldua

Flesh Wounds: The Culture of Cosmetic Surgery, Virginia L Blum

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, Patricia Hill Collins

Pornland: How Porn has Hijacked our Sexuality, Gail Dines

Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women, Susan Faludi

From Eve to Dawn: A History of Women in the World, Marilyn French

This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color, eds. Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua

Seeing Like a Feminist, Nivedita Menon

With Her Machete In Her Hand: Reading Chicana Lesbians, Catriona Reuda Esquibel

The Disappearing L: Erasure of Lesbian Spaces and Culture, Bonnie J. Morris

Foundlings: Lesbian and Gay Historical Emotion before Stonewall, Christopher Nealon

The Persistent Desire: A Butch/Femme Reader, ed. Joan Nestle

The Straight Mind and Other Essays, Monique Wittig

The Trouble Between us: An Uneasy History of White and Black Women in the Feminist Movement, Winifred Breines

Right-Wing Women, Andrea Dworkin

Woman Hating, Andrea Dworkin

Why I Am Not A Feminist, Jessica Crispin

Sapphistries: A Global History of Love Between Women, Leila J Rupp

I tried to avoid too many left turns into my specific interests although if you passionately want to know any of those, I can make you some more lists LOL

I would suggest picking a book that sounds interesting and using the footnotes and bibliography to find more to read. I've done that a lot :) a lot of my books have more sticky tabs or w/e in the bibliography than in the text so I don't lose stuff I'm interested in.

Hope this helps!

[duckprintspress]

Happy August Short Story Release Day!

Whether you’re craving fluff or feels, laughs or tears, our August general imprint short stories have got something for you!

Title: Count the Number of Seeds Series: Sunrise Over the Black Forest Author: Lyn Weaver

This installment of the Sunrise Over the Black Forest ‘verse, formerly Patreon-exclusive, is now finally available to our general readership!

M/M, Gothic Fantasy with Technology, Vampire grapples with the Proper Care and Handling of the human he’s definitely not pining for

The third story written in the Sunrise Over the Black Forest ‘verse, occurring second chronologically, in this tale of the vampire Sevan and the human priest Kel, Sevan suddenly realizes that humans need to eat…and he has no idea where Kel is getting food from.

If Kel starves, Sevan won’t have anyone to feed from, and that’s definitely the only reason he cares enough to pluck some apples from his orchard and bring them to Kel’s church. 

-

Title: if it’s meant to be Series: Welcome to PHU Author: Tris Lawrence

Author Tris Lawrence brings us this short, fluffy alternate universe PHU piece exploring what could have happened if Mac and Pawel had met under different circumstances.

F/M Pre-relationship, Canon Divergent Alternate Universe, A “What If They Met Differently” Story, Meet Cute

After acting as the harbinger of the Emergence when she emerged during the Olympics, Kenzie Davis buried her old identity as a gymnast, changed her name, and found a new home and new family in the circus. 

Under the identity “Mac,” she’s managed to hide herself very well, using her Talent to aid her act. Her high-risk acrobatics are rendered safe by her timely teleportations…until a boy in the audience doesn’t realize it’s an act, and tries to “help” her with some magic of his own.

-

Title: Chinaski’s Dirty Work Series: Nasti Chinaski Author: J. D. Harlock

The first story in an all-new series from imaginative author J. D. Harlock!

Magic + the Wild West, Humor and Mischief, So Much Drinking

Chinaski might be fangirling a bit when her plan to capture noted criminal Shootin’ Shiloh comes to a head in Pico’s tavern. Now, if only she can collect her pay-day without everything going wrong…

Or: the one where a lesbian bounty hunter debates whether she should seduce the mark before, during, or after the hunt.

-

Title: Chrysopoeia Author: Zel Howland

Author Zel Howland, a contributor to our upcoming anthology Aether Beyond the Binary, publishes their first stand-alone story with Duck Prints Press!

Sort-of-One-Sided F/F (It’s Complicatedtm), Trapped Together, Everyone Needs to Use Their Words, Victorian Alchemy and Witchcraft

After Faith is found guilty of witchcraft, she’s subjected to the traditional punishment for her supposed crime: imprisonment for a month in a cave that may or may not hide a gateway to Hell in its unexplored depths.

But Faith isn’t a witch. She’s an alchemist. And while she could use alchemy to survive her imprisonment…if she’s alive when the townspeople return, she’ll be executed, because obviously only a witch could survive a month stoned-in with no food or water.

Even worse, Faith is increasingly sure that she’s not alone in this cave…

-

These, any many other great stories, are for sale on our webpage! Come read with us!

(Or, support us on Patreon, and claim our stories for free as a reward for your backing!)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Geez, this must be a crappy place, b/c they won’t show the interior, but it’s a 1bd. 1ba. pyramid for sale in Fort Davis, Texas. $80,000 for .50 acres. 

Looks kind of desolate and there’s an ax sharpener wheel out here.

One small window, maybe a BBQ b/c there’s no kitchen? Also, there’s an industrial style roof fan at the point.

There are a few windows here & there, plus a white structure and horse trailer in the back. Intriguing, mysterious home.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/300-San-Juan-Fort-Davis-TX-79734/243751140_zpid/

[watermelonsugacry]

OK I HAVE SO MANY THINGS I WANNA TALK 2 U ABOUT SO HERE IS ME RANTING AND PUTTING QUESTIONS:

I lovehe relationship yn has w the tomlinsons😫 like how she has a secrete handshake with the twins and how lottie is like her little sister and LOUIS IS LITERALLY A DREAM FRIENDSHIP

I have this thing where i like to think that yn was a big fan of paramore, and she also wrote some hits like only exeption (it just screams her and also it reminds me of how she would feel abt harry)

I also see her writing 'girl crush' when harry and taylor were dating and then saling it in 2014 but idk thats just me

And am i the only one who sees a PERFERT friendship between her and jennifer lawrence??

OK NOW I GOT SOME QUESTIONS SO HOPE THEY'RE NOT TOO MUCH

Whats the readers networth? Like i know that shes rich but how rich🤔

On a scale of 1-10 how famous is she? Like comparing to a big celebrity like Beyonce is she just as famous or..?

Whats her favorite colour?

Who is more clingy, harry or her?

Besides harry and louis who is her bestfriend that she hangs out w the most

What are some celebrities that got a crush on her and who has made that public

The weeknd has a song 'the party & after party' and it kind of sounds that hes describing a girl like yn "with your louis v bag, tats on your arms, high heels shoes make you 6 feet tall.." so are there some speculations ab this from the fans?

AND LAST is the reader the teaser in the relationship or does harry like to make fun of her more? ( srry if theres any mistakes)

IM ALWAYS DOWN FOR THIS LOVIE 💚

same!! they're family 🥰

funny enough, i actually picture a lot of paramore's music to be the music that yn would make with her band when she was in high school!

in the 1d!yn universe, she wrote Girl Crush!! (I remember talking about it a while ago on here but I forgot what year she wrote & sold it lol)

I don't know much about jennifer lawrence but thats an interesting pair 👀

I'll base it off of ariana grande's net worth at 240 million. But we all know that no number can amount to her actual worth 💅

I'd say that on a scale of 1-10, she's about an 8. She's a household name and an absolute force to be reckoned with. She's the type of famous that she forgets that she is and she'll record herself reacting to tiktoks lying down in bed, make-up free, and just lose her mind laughing. Or there was another time when she took herself out on a brunch date bc Harry went out to play golf that morning. Two girls approached her table and politely greeted her, said how much they loved her and had tickets to see her show that night. But before they could leave, YN invited them to sit with her and spent the rest of the morning eating and chatting with them.

Her favorite color is lavender 💜

Harry is the more clingy of the two! He's always the one who lays himself on top of her when she's about to get out of bed. When they arrive at the stadium he's going to perform at, her hand is constantly intertwined with his. When she's doing some last-minute rehearsals and sound checks, he's sitting at the edge of the room as he watches her work while still giving her her space. Or when she's in her home studio, he insists that she sits in his lap as she works because he's missed her all day, promising that he won't be a distraction to her (even though he totally is). And don't get it twisted, she can be clingy too sometimes; she's just better at hiding it.

Her other good friends that she hangs out with whenever she can are: Abel (the weeknd), Perrie Edwards, and Alisha Davies (an old friend from Doncaster turned choreographer).

oh my gosh where do I even begin?! There's a couple that initially come to mind: Matt Healy, Alex Turner, and Taron Egerton. For some reason, I can hear Matt say in an interview: "YN YLN is totally fit. Yeah, she's a fucking babe she is."

OOO definitely! Fans from both fan bases had speculated that they might have dated in 2017 (they didn't) bc that's when they hung out in public for the first time. Some people still speculate that Abel might have a crush on her til this day.

I'd say they share the teasing role. She throws playful jabs at him left and right, but she's the one who helped coax out that side of him. While they tease one another behind closed doors ALL the time, their favorite time to make fun of each other is at each other's shows.

[peashooter85]

Suntory Toki --- Whisky Review Time

Founded in 1899, Suntory was originally a small store in Osaka which sold imported wines. Over the next century that small store grew into a powerful multi-national corporation. Suntory specializes primarily in alcoholic beverages such as beer, wine, and spirits as well as some soft drinks. Recognize these famous brands of liquor; Jim Beam, Makers Mark, Knob Creek, Courvoisier, Cruzan, Lamphroaig, Pinnacle, Old Crow, Canadian Club, Skinny Girl. Well, they are all owned by Suntory.

In 1923 Suntory opened it's first distillery and began making whisky. Japanese whisky grew in popularity as American GI's brought it back home with them after serving in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. By the 1970's Suntory was rapidly expanding and began heavily marketing overseas. They even hired Sammy Davis Jr. to do commercials.

Suntory Toki is their most common overseas product. A blended whisky created from malted barley, it is produced from the Yamazaki, Hakushu, and Chita distilleries, aged at lest three years in American oak barrels, and then blended into one product. I think I bought this for around $30, in Japan I bet it's much cheaper.

Drinking from a glencairn, the whisky gives off a sweet aroma. Very very light, to the point where it almost doesn't smell like whisky at all. It smells more like a dry white wine, like a pino blanc, chardonnay, or riesling. Is this really whisky? With it's very light color it almost looks like a white wine. After tasting I can confirm that it is indeed a whisky. It has tasting notes of honey, green apple, green grape, and a bit of vanilla. It finishes with a very dry oakiness, and leaves a dry taste in your mouth that quickly goes away, the aftertaste does not hang in the mouth long like other whiskies. The flavors of this whisky are very light and subtle, for me perhaps too subtle.

To me this is a good whisky, not great, just good. It could be better. If it had a little bit more body to it and a bit more flavor, I would rate this higher. As it stands I rate it 3.2 out of 5 stars. I might buy a bottle every once in a blue moon, particular if it is on sale. I will drink it if it is put in front of me. But I probably would rather drink something else. Now I must come forward and admit a big bias, I'm a bourbon and rye drinker, whiskies which tend to have much bolder and richer flavors. So perhaps this whisky doesn't fit my palate. I could see someone who enjoys dry white wines likewise enjoying this. Perhaps Scotch drinkers who enjoy the non-peated Scotches would like this. But it's just not for me.

[leiawritesstories]

Next Thing You Know, part 1

inspired by the song "Next Thing You Know" by Jordan Davis

turns out, this fic got a little out of hand and took on a life of its own, so i'll be splitting it into probably two parts.

Word count: ~8.2k

Warnings: little bit of language, references to abuse in foster care, depictions of a car accident, minor character death, little bit of angst but otherwise it's pretty much all fluff

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was eight years old when the moving truck pulled into the driveway of the house across from hers. 

The house had been empty for almost a year since the sweet older couple who’d lived there for decades had moved away to be closer to their children. When she was very little, Aelin had often spent time with Sam and Philippa, the couple who’d lived there, since both of her parents worked full time and she had to have somewhere to go after preschool. Philippa was very much like a grandmother to her, and she’d grown to love the older couple’s cozy house. After they moved away, though, Aelin had to come home after school, but she was old enough to stay home by herself for a little while until her mom or dad came back from work. 

So when the “For Sale” sign in front of the house changed to “Sold,” she could hardly contain her excitement at getting new neighbors. And when the silvery-haired couple climbed out of the SUV that parked next to the house, she all but pressed her nose to the window of her living room, eagerly waiting to see if the new neighbors were going to be like Philippa and Sam. 

To her surprise, despite their silvery hair, Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn were only about her parents’ age. And they had a son who was a year older than her. 

His name was Rowan Whitethorn. 

Aelin and her parents went across the street that evening to say hello to their new neighbors, bringing a small welcome basket with them. She found herself a little bashful and stood close to her dad’s side as he knocked politely on the door. 

Mrs. Whitethorn opened the front door a moment later. “Hello!” 

“Hello,” Evalin grinned. “I’m Evalin Ashryver.”

“Enna Whitethorn.”  

“Rhoe Galathynius,” Rhoe introduced himself, offering his hand. “This is our daughter, Aelin.” 

“We’re across the street from you,” Evalin explained, “and we just wanted to stop by and offer you a little welcoming gift.” 

“Oh, how kind of you!” Enna exclaimed, accepting the basket. “Pyotr, darling, come say hi to our neighbors!” 

Pyotr Whitethorn came to the doorway a moment later, his son’s hand in his. “Pyotr Whitethorn. So lovely to meet you,” he smiled. “Rowan, kiddo, you want to say hi to our new neighbors?” 

The boy’s muffled voice mumbled a shy reply. 

Pyotr chuckled. “C’mere, son.” Moving aside, he gently nudged the boy forwards. “Say hi to Mr. Galathynius and Mrs. Ashryver, Rowan.” 

Rowan’s big, timid green eyes peered up at Rhoe and Evalin through the floppy, pale-blonde hair that fell over his forehead. “Nice to meet you,” he said softly. “My name is Rowan.”

“How old are you, Rowan?” Evalin asked gently, flicking a brief grin at Enna. 

“I’m nine.” 

“Well, isn’t that lovely!” Evalin turned to her daughter. “Fireheart, honey, he’s only a year older than you.” She stroked Aelin’s blonde hair. “Will you say hi to the Whitethorns?” 

“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn,” Aelin said, her hand small but confident as she shook hands like her parents had. “My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I’m eight years old.”  

His hand on her shoulder, Rhoe subtly turned Aelin towards Rowan. “You should ask him if he’s going to your school, Fireheart,” he murmured. 

Aelin turned her eyes to Rowan, finding–to her mild surprise–that she was a little tiny bit taller than him. “Are you gonna go to Brannon Elementary?” 

He nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna be in fourth grade.” 

“I’m gonna be in third grade,” she replied. “We can walk to school together if you want, ’cause I know the secret way to get there.” 

Rowan’s eyes widened. “There’s a secret way?” 

“Yeah!” Aelin beamed. “Well, it’s kinda secret. Other kids know about it too. But just kids!” she promised, quick to defend the secrecy of the secret path. “No parents!” 

A small smile curved across Rowan’s face. “Back at my old house, we had a secret path in our backyard.” 

Aelin gasped. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really!” Rowan’s timidity faded away the more he talked to Aelin. “It went down to the creek and we called it Narnia.” 

Aelin’s mouth dropped open. “I love Narnia!” she exclaimed, clapping with excitement. “Did you read the books too?” 

Rowan nodded. “Mhmm. Well, my dad reads them to me.” 

Pyotr grinned fondly at his son. “And now you’ve found someone else who loves Narnia just as much as you do.” 

“We started reading the Narnia books to Aelin when she was six,” Evalin added. “She’s been in love with them ever since.” 

Watching the two children rapidly overcome their shyness and eagerly talk to each other, Enna beamed. “I think we’re going to be seeing our young ones in each other’s houses an awful lot.” 

She couldn’t have been more correct.

~

Rowan Whitethorn was screwed. Completely and utterly and in all ways screwed.

Well, all ways except the one in which he would have liked to be. 

Rowan Whitethorn was head over heels in love with his best friend, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and he didn’t know how to express it. 

And, of course, there was the very small matter of the guy she was dating. 

A guy who wasn’t him. 

Sometime over the summer, Aelin had gone out on a date with Chaol Westfall, a guy in her class. She’d come home wearing a small grin and had later informed Rowan–as best friends do–that she had said yes to going on another date. Which turned into another, and another, and eventually, she’d become Chaol Westfall’s girlfriend. 

Every time Rowan saw them together, he wanted to punch the shit out of Chaol. 

It was a strange feeling, really, because there was no legitimate reason for him to want to beat Chaol’s ass. Despite what Rowan irrationally feared, Chaol was a complete gentleman to Aelin, and she was always telling her parents how sweet he was to her. Any time he passed the two of them in the halls, Rowan couldn’t help but notice their linked hands, their shared smiles and laughter, their little happy bubble that made him irrationally, impossibly jealous. 

But Aelin was happy, so he forced his impossible jealousy down deep in his mind, burying it beneath a heap of happiness for his best friend. 

Until the day he came over to Aelin’s house for their usual Thursday night homework session and found her sitting alone at the kitchen table with a lost look on her face. 

He dropped his backpack and rushed to her side, stopping himself before he could do anything idiotic like–like kiss her. “Aelin? God, are you okay?!” 

She turned her head, meeting his worried eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She shook her head, clearing the pensiveness from her face. “I…never mind, you wouldn’t really care.” 

“Ae.” Rowan dropped into the seat next to her and instinctively laid his hand over hers. “You’re my best friend, of course I care.” 

She sighed. “I broke up with Chaol.” 

He smothered the joy that swelled within him. “What? Why? Was he doing something bad to you? I swear to the gods, if he was hurting you, I–” 

“It wasn’t like that,” she interrupted, squeezing his hand. “Really, Ro. Thank you for…for asking, though.” She swallowed. “It’s just…no, never mind, it’s stupid.” 

“Ae, please.” 

She looked up, faltering, her usual brazen confidence nowhere in sight. “If…” She cleared her throat. “Rowan, if I tell you, will you promise not to laugh at me?” 

“Aelin,” Rowan breathed, squeezing her hands. “I will never, ever laugh when you tell me something this serious.” 

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Ro, I broke up with Chaol because he, well–it wasn’t right. We didn’t have any spark, any fireworks, nothing magical–and I’m not being silly and shallow and overly romanticizing my life, Ro, I’m not that kind of girl–I just…gods, after almost a year, you’d think there would have been…something.” She sank backwards into the couch, her eyes going distant, misty. “I almost wonder if there’s something wrong, if–”

“No.” Rowan’s response was whip-quick. 

She blinked. “You sound so certain.” 

“I am certain.” His gaze, deep and calm as the forest, steadied her. “I am one hundred percent certain, Ae.” 

“You’re too good to me,” Aelin mumbled. “Ro, I just–it was almost a year and I felt…nothing. He checked all the boxes, he was a gentleman and he was sweet and he was never too cloying or too demanding or anything and I can’t help but wonder if my standards are too high?” She released a short, dry bark of a laugh. “Am I just fooling myself thinking I’ll ever find a real-life guy who makes me feel the way all the lead females in my favorite books do?” 

“Don’t ever feel like you need to lower your standards,” Rowan whispered. “So Chaol was everything you wanted except the…what did you call it, the spark?” 

“Yeah. Everything but the spark.” Her voice was faint. “Which I’m coming to realize really is just something from fantasy books that I was stupid to even expect in reality.” 

“Hey.” Before she could talk herself down any more, he leaned down to peer up into her downcast eyes. “You can and should expect real-life guys to treat you just as well as your favorite fantasy ladies get treated by their love interests.” 

She sniffled. “You’re just saying that ’cause you’re sorry I won’t let you beat Chaol’s face in.” 

“True,” he grumbled. 

A soft, watery chuckle. “You boys and your testosterone, always needing to beat each other up over the stupidest things.” 

Before he could really process what he was doing, Rowan wrapped his arms around Aelin, pulling her into his embrace. “Not being the right guy for you isn’t stupid, Ae.” 

She sniffled, leaning into his chest. “Maybe not. But still–you can’t beat him up, Ro. He didn’t hurt me, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” he promised, relishing the way she was letting him hold her. “Still not completely happy, though.” Because I could be everything for you, he added silently. 

Words he couldn’t–wouldn’t–say. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a long moment, lifting her head to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Ro.” 

“Anything,” he whispered, his lips quirking. “What else are best friends for?” 

~

Three years later, when Rowan unexpectedly ran into Aelin late at night at the University of Terrasen’s west campus gym, it was like time froze still, the frame stuck in a long lingering endless moment until he blinked and the clock restarted and he recognized her. 

~

During her sophomore year of college, Aelin made a vow. 

She may have been a little tipsy, may have been more than a little emotional, but a vow was still a vow, and she meant this one with all her being. 

No matter what may arise, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius swore she was staying single. 

There were…too many reasons why she couldn’t let anyone else into her life, into her home, into her heart. Beginning and ending with I’m still in love with my best friend even though I know he doesn’t reciprocate or he would have said something a long, long time ago. 

Not to mention, Sam Cortland. A name she’d sworn to put away, along with all the…memories that name inspired. 

She shook her head, clearing away the reminiscing, and tapped her student ID against the card reader of the west campus gym door, letting herself in. Since moving into an on-campus apartment with Lys and Elide, she’d grown fond of going to the west campus gym for her nightly workouts, finding it usually pretty empty at night. And she preferred an emptier gym–fewer people to potentially stare at her ass or her boobs or just flat-out ogle her while she worked out. Gods, it was like none of the gym-bros had ever seen a girl before. Though maybe that was true–they spent so much time in the gym, they probably didn’t see anyone other than the other gym rats. 

Music pumping through her headphones, Aelin focused her attention on her workout, tuning out her surroundings until she was walking on the treadmill as a cooldown, pretty damn exhausted but giddy with the serotonin rush that came from a good workout. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the door open and a figure step inside. Someone else who liked the west gym when it was emptier, apparently. Not really paying attention to who’d walked in, Aelin turned the treadmill down a notch, stretching her arms over her head as her body cooled off. 

It wasn’t until she climbed off the treadmill that she realized the guy who’d just entered hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. Faintly concerned, she glanced over towards him. 

And time screeched to a halt. 

Her eyes widened in shock. “Rowan?” 

His hands shaking, Rowan Whitethorn carefully placed his water bottle down on the floor before he dropped it on his foot. “Aelin,” he breathed, just as stunned as her. 

She huffed an incredulous half-laugh. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages, Ro, how are you?” 

“I…” He ran a hand through his messy, pale hair, the movement drawing her gaze to the tattoo flowing down his sculpted arm. “Gods, I’ve missed you.” 

Not what she’d been expecting. 

Despite the iron chains enveloping it, her heart fluttered. “We literally go to the same college, Ro.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but we’re in such different fields, and I live halfway across campus and have to deal with hockey and all that other fun stuff.” 

She chuckled. “Remind me again who was oh so elated to sign to UTerr?” 

“All right, you win,” he grumbled playfully. 

She flashed him a little grin. “Night, Ro.” 

“Hey.” He touched her shoulder before she headed out the door. “We should grab food or coffee sometime, it’d be…um, I mean–I want to catch up.” Was he…blushing?

“You’re cute when you blush,” she teased. 

His flush only deepened. “Please, Ae? I know I’m babbling like a freshman, but I–I’ve really missed you.” 

She couldn’t control the soft smile that broke across her face. “I’d love to. You have my number, text me when you’re available.” 

His “I will!” rang in her ears for the rest of the night, leaving her with a giddy little grin when she returned to her apartment. 

~

Sprawled on the couch with whatever show she was watching this week, Lysandra glanced up when her roommate came in. And smirked. “Well, well, someone met a hot guy at the gym.” 

“Shut up,” Aelin laughed, shrugging off her light jacket and hanging it in the hall closet. 

Lys paused her show and sat up, grinning like a fiend. “You did?!”

“No comment.” Smirking, Aelin made to head down to her room. 

“Oh hell no!” Lys caught her arm. “Details, babes. I need details!” 

“There aren’t any details,” Aelin chuckled. Lys arched a dark brow, folding her arms across her chest. “Really, darling. Nothing happened. It was just Rowan.” 

Lysandra’s jaw dropped so far so fast Aelin was half afraid it would break clean off. “JUST ROWAN?!” she squealed, gaping at her roommate. 

Aelin smothered a very satisfied grin. “Mhmm. What, is there something special about that?” 

“You tell me, babes,” Lys smirked, eagerly awaiting the details she craved. 

“Calm down, Lys,” Aelin laughed, heading down the hall towards her room. “We just ran into each other at the gym, it wasn’t like anything actually happened.” Not like I've dreamed that he kissed me like I’ve never been kissed or anything. 

“Boo!” Lys frowned. “C’mon, Ae, please tell me he at least said hi?” 

“Oh yeah, of course. We talked for a little bit, but he was coming to the gym when I was close to leaving, so we weren’t both there for too long.” 

“Boring!” 

Aelin flipped her roommate off over her shoulder, giggling at Lysandra’s screech of protest. “Told you there weren’t any details!” Well…perhaps one detail. She poked her head back out of her room, waiting until she heard her roommate grumbling to herself in the kitchen. “Oh, Lys, one thing?” 

“Yeah?” Lys stuck her head around the corner. “What?” 

“We might have a date for coffee in a few days.” Cackling like a madwoman, Aelin closed her door, cutting off Lysandra’s squeals of shock and excitement. 

“BITCH!” Lys shrieked, glee making her voice rise about three octaves. “You can’t just LEAVE like that!” 

Oh, but Aelin could. 

~

“Hey.” A small, warm grin curled Aelin’s lips as she opened the apartment door for Rowan. “I’m just about ready, you can come in while I grab my shoes.” 

“This is a really nice place,” Rowan commented, his own little crooked grin flitting across his face. “Not much you can do with a campus apartment, I know, but this feels like…like a home.” 

“Thanks,” she grinned. “Lys and Ells and I spent like three weeks decorating the place when we moved in.” 

He blinked. “Gods, that’s a, um, a long time?” 

“Yeah, it is,” Aelin chuckled, “but we pretend it’s normal.” 

“Bet all the home decorating stores in town just love you,” Rowan teased, taking a casual seat on the plush dark-blue sofa. 

“Back in a minute!” She disappeared down the hall, taking just a moment to pull on her ankle boots, fluff up her hair, and grab her small purse before heading back out. “I’m ready!” 

Rowan stood up, holding the door for her. “You look gorgeous,” he said softly, appreciatively glancing at her outfit. 

She flushed. “Thanks.” 

He led her out to his car, clicking the key fob to unlock the pickup’s doors. “Don’t tease, it’s a bit of a mess in here but I love this old hunk of rust.” 

She chuckled as she swung herself up into the cab. “Hunk of rust, huh? Then why don’t I see any rust anywhere, Ro?” 

“Cleaned it out just for today,” he beamed. 

She giggled. “You did not. I know you, Rowan Whitethorn–you can’t live with a dirty car.” 

“Fair enough,” he conceded, winking at her in the rearview mirror. And damn her, but that little gesture sent butterflies racing in her stomach. “So, coffee?”

“Please,” Aelin announced dramatically. “Me without caffeine is a sight you never want to see.” She flashed him a grin. “All right, the place I love is pretty close, but it’s also really popular and you might not be able to park in front. Just a warning.” 

“Damn weekend coffee drinkers,” Rowan grumbled playfully. “Thanks for the warning, Ae.” 

“Yeah, of course.” She directed him down the streets, pointing out the coffee shop as they drove past. Sure enough, the handful of parking spots by the building were already taken, so Rowan drove a few blocks down to the public parking lot and parked there. “Hope you don’t mind walking.” 

“On a day like this?” He shook his head. “Not at all.” 

They fell into step together, their hands completely coincidentally linking as they walked the short distance to the coffee shop, the building’s brick exterior slightly faded by decades of weather. Rowan pulled open the front door for Aelin, flashing her another of his little half-grins that made her belly do funny flips, and followed her inside, both of them deeply inhaling the warm, welcoming aroma of the place. 

“I come here all the time,” Aelin chuckled, waving quickly at one of the employees. 

“Obviously,” Rowan grinned. “Half the staff’s probably back there running around in a frenzy because that damn Galathynius girl is here to buy out their whole stock of pastries again.” 

“Rude!” She swatted his shoulder, lips puffing out into a dramatic, feigned pout. 

He just smirked. “Am I wrong?” 

“Shut it,” she muttered, poking him in the ribs. 

His soft, deep laugh rumbled against her back. “Don’t worry, Ae, I’ll get you a pastry. Even two. Three is a stretch, though.” 

“Such a gentleman,” she crooned. 

“Just trying to impress you enough to wheedle a second date.” 

“Ah, Ro.” She squeezed his hand. “Maybe I shouldn’t say this before you buy me food, but you don’t need to wheedle me with pastries.” She winked. “I was already planning to ask you for another date.” 

“Jumping to conclusions before the first date?” he teased. 

She swatted him again. “As if you hadn’t already envisioned the next three to five years in that lovely little brain of yours.” 

It was his turn to flush. 

She snickered and tugged him up to the counter. “C’mon, Ro, ready to order?” 

They ended up taking their drinks and two chocolate croissants over to a cozy little table by a window, which Aelin spotted and immediately claimed. Lucky to find one indoors, she joked, since it was so busy in the coffee shop. 

Rowan eyed her drink dubiously. “You sure that’s not going to kill you?”

She rolled her eyes, taking a languid sip. “It’s my usual order, Ro, of course it’s not going to harm me. Not all of us drink boring black coffee, you know.” 

“Menace,” he teased. “Not that I want to know, but…what in all things holy is that, Ae?” 

“Iced mocha with oat milk and a pump of hazelnut.” She rattled it off with practiced ease. “Oat milk because I’m lactose intolerant and dairy will not be kind to my apartment’s plumbing, and hazelnut because chocolate and hazelnut is the best combination ever created.” 

Rowan blinked rapidly, processing her order. “So, caffeine and sugar and more sugar?” 

“Exactly!” She beamed. 

He barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “Here, have even more sugar, then, gods know I can’t control your eating habits.” 

“Glad you’re learning,” she laughed, accepting the plate. “And yes, you will be eating one of these.” 

“But I–”

“No but,” she interrupted. “Indulging yourself every once in a while doesn’t mean you’re abandoning your meal plan, Ro. And besides, Emrys would be horrified if he saw me bring someone who won’t eat pastries into his beloved coffee shop.” 

“All right, all right, I yield.” Rowan took his plate, cut the pastry in half, and took a bite, his eyes closing at the taste. “Gods, this is incredible!” 

“Told you so,” she smirked. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, pretending to look affronted. 

She snickered. “See? Drinking sad, boring black coffee does have negative side effects!” She bit into her own pastry, not even bothering to mute her soft, appreciative moan of delight. “Emrys, you are my favorite person.” 

“Ouch,” Rowan teased. “What a thing to say on a first date.” 

Aelin huffed a laugh. “So funny, aren’t you?” 

“It’s why you agreed to go out with me,” he grinned, giving her a theatrical dip of his head. 

“Mmm, yeah, me agreeing to go out with you had nothing to do with years of pining, not at all,” she deadpanned. 

He froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. 

Shit. 

Think before you speak, dammit! she berated herself, cheeks blooming bright pink. “Gods, I didn’t mean for that to just slip out, I’m–” 

“Years of pining?” he breathed, shakily setting his coffee down. “Aelin…Fireheart, I’ve been head over heels for you since we were kids or something.” 

It was her turn to muffle a gasp. “Are you…are you serious, Rowan?” 

“Completely.” He reached across the table and laid his hand atop hers. “I can only say I’m sorry it took so damn long to admit it.” 

“Gods.” She laced her fingers with his, a smile brighter than the morning sun breaking across her face. “What took us so long?” 

“Gods only know,” he chuckled, his joy matching hers. “Gods only know.” 

~

They had a month until graduation. 

Aelin honestly didn’t know how the time had flown so fast. It seemed like just last week that she was a terrified freshman moving into the dorms for her first semester of college. She felt like she’d blinked and four years had flown by, like it had only been a day instead of just over a year since she and Rowan started dating. 

Which meant that it was now nearly two and a half years since the incident–the main reason she kept evading Rowan’s gentle urges that they move in together after graduation. 

The last time she’d moved in with her boyfriend, things hadn’t exactly gone according to their youthful dreams. 

“Fireheart.” Rowan trailed his fingers through Aelin’s loose hair, pleading with her to offer him some kind–any kind–of answer. “Please, Fireheart, I’m freaking out, did I say something wrong?” 

She raised her head slightly from its comfortable position in his lap. “No, buzzard, you didn’t say anything wrong, I promise. I just…” She closed her eyes, the memory almost too much. “Ro, I don’t know if I–if I can.” 

He shifted on the couch, moving so he was lying down with his head against the throw pillows she’d all but forced him to buy for his apartment, and settled her back against his chest, knowing how much the closeness calmed her. He didn’t say anything for a good long moment, spinning words around his mind until he finally figured out the phrasing. “I don’t want to pry, Fireheart, but you know how my mind is, and I’m imagining some fuckin’ terrible things right now.” 

Her hand rose up to curl against his jaw. “Ro, love, I promise I’m okay.” She sighed, long and soft. “I…I need to tell you something.” 

“Anything,” he murmured. 

The next words out of her mouth just about made his brain stall, though. 

“His name was Sam. Sam Cortland. And he…he’s dead.” 

Rowan felt the weight of those words, the heaviness of the sorrow woven into that name. He stayed quiet, giving Aelin time to form her thoughts, just holding her close and offering whatever wordless comfort he could give. 

She exhaled slowly. “I met Sam the first week of classes here, he was in a few of mine. Well, actually, I met Sam in middle school; I was one of the student leaders, so new students got to shadow me. He was all scared of his own shadow because his former foster dad beat him. I’ll get to that…later. We started talking pretty soon, and he asked me out before the end of September. And I, well, I really liked him. He was sweet and funny and made me laugh at his stupid jokes and stayed up with me whenever I needed company at two in the morning because I had an assignment due the next day. He had to stay in the dorms for that first semester like we all did, but he told me he was getting an apartment for the next semester, and he asked me if I wanted to live with him.”

“His foster dad what?” Muted violence laced Rowan’s tone. 

Aelin pursed her lips. “Arobynn Hamel was…a piece of fucking work. Somehow, he stayed in the foster system, but almost every time the agency gave him a kid, that kid transferred within six months. Sam was one of the only exceptions, and he, well, he told me it was because he was too damn terrified to say anything to the caseworker.” 

“That monster,” Rowan growled. 

“So violent.” Aelin traced her thumb along his jaw. “Arobynn’s been dead for two years, Ro, so your violence won’t get you anywhere.” She shook her head a bit. “Anyway. Sam finally got transferred when he was sixteen, and Philippa–his foster mom–is the most wonderful woman ever. Arobynn was not happy about the transfer, of course, and he spent an alarming amount of time basically stalking Sam. Which is why Sam came to UTerr. It’s so far from Rifthold that he knew he’d be safe, plus he was a legal adult and he could file for a restraining order, which he did.” Her eyes went distant. “Gods, we thought we were safe from that asshole.” 

“Thought?” 

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Sam and I moved into an apartment together for the second semester of our freshman year, and it was…really great, actually. I loved the independence of living off campus and feeling like a real adult, and I loved living with Sam. And we really thought we were safe from his horrific foster dad, we really did. Gods, we were so stupid. People like that–you can go to every extent of the law, and they’ll still defy it.” Tears clogged her throat now, choking her words. 

“Fireheart, don’t feel like you’re obligated to tell me,” Rowan murmured, smoothing his hand down her spine. 

Aelin sniffled. “I want you to know, Rowan.” 

“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m right here, then.” 

She took another deep, steadying breath. “Not quite a month after the semester ended–we both decided to stay in the city and work for the summer, so we were still there–I got home from work late and Sam wasn’t home yet. It didn’t surprise me, I knew he usually worked evenings and his some of his coworkers were the ‘give all the sidework to the newest employee’ type, so I just went about my business like normal, expecting him to get home later.” She swallowed. “It was maybe ten or ten thirty when I started to get concerned. And we didn’t exactly live in the most pristine of neighborhoods; our place was low-cost but pretty clean, it’s not like we were in the worst part of town. But hearing road racing and finding the occasional drunk passed out on the sidewalk was…not uncommon.

I decided to go check on things a little after eleven. I locked up and headed downstairs, hoping I’d run into Sam on my way down. I didn’t. So I walked out of the building, headed down the street in the direction he’d be coming from, and I just…walked and waited and hoped. I convinced myself he’d just had a hectic shift and he’d be coming down the street at any minute, complaining about how much he hated working with these two servers because they always left early and made him do their sidework. Gods only know what time it was when I saw him coming down the street. He raised his hand to me, and I swear I could see the way his face lit up when he saw me. He checked the crosswalk, because he always did, he was that one person who’d always check for traffic even late at night when nobody was around, and started across the street to me.” 

Her whole body shuddered. 

“And then that godsdamned black car came screeching out of fucking nowhere and fucking slammed into him and just sped right the fuck on past like nothing had happened and I swear I hear the way his yell cut off in my nightmares.” Aelin sobbed, her body shaking, tears pouring down her face. “I don’t even remember what happened next–I was by his side, he was bleeding out all over the road, he was barely even alive, he–he just–he told me–” She broke off, burying her face in her hands, the salty heat of her tears soaking into Rowan’s shirt. 

Rowan wrapped his arms tighter around her, wishing he could take away her anguish. 

Her breath came shuddering out. “He told me to live. He–he could barely even whisper, I could see the way the light was leaving his eyes–and he told me, ‘You have to live, Aelin. Don’t just survive or exist. Live.’ I swear I felt like I was bleeding out right next to him.” She went quiet for a long moment, her tears steadily dripping into Rowan’s shirt. “Someone on the other side of the street got a picture of the car’s license plates and a short little video clip of the driver, and it was enough to identify the driver. And if you’re thinking of a certain Arobynn Hamel, you are correct. Bastard didn’t ever give a shit about the restraining order, he just wanted to get after the one man who had stories to tell the world about his cruelty in the foster system.” Aelin closed her eyes, breathing slowly. “The police arrested Arobynn maybe a week later for violating a restraining order, aggravated murder, vehicular homicide, and some other charges. He went to trial relatively fast, was found guilty on all counts, and got sentenced to life without possibility of parole. I was a witness, and gods, it might make me an awful human, but I felt so fucking vindicated when the judge pronounced the verdict.” 

“As you should,” Rowan mumbled. 

“Yeah.” Aelin wiped tears off her cheeks. “Just over two years ago, the news ran a little article mentioning that Mr. Arobynn Hamel, a convict in the state prison, had been found dead in his cell. They couldn’t find any evidence of who or what did it, but the coroner’s report mentioned that his autopsy indicated trace amounts of some pretty goddamn fatal drugs. And gods, it was the biggest load off my shoulders to hear that the filthy bastard was dead.” 

“As it should be.” Rowan’s voice was firm with conviction. 

She sniffled. “Really?” 

“Really.” He traced his thumb over the slope of her cheekbone. “He deserved it.” 

“Yeah he fucking did.” Aelin brushed the last stray tears from her face, moving so she could tuck her head into the crook of Rowan’s neck, meeting his soft gaze. “Stop looking at me like that, Ro.” 

“Like what?” He tucked a loose strand of hair away. “Like I love you and wish with everything I am that I could take away your pain?” 

The tiniest of smiles flickered across her lips. “Like that, yes.” 

He brushed a whisper-soft kiss against her forehead. “I’m so beyond sorry that all of…this happened to you, Fireheart. Hell, sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what I want to say.” 

“I know.” She cupped his face, her fingertips trailing across the tattoo that flicked along the side of his neck. “You don’t have to try and put it into words, my buzzard. I know.” 

Aelin fell asleep atop Rowan’s chest that night, curled close into his soothing warmth. When she awoke, still in his arms, she knew from the thrum of complete contentment that raced through her whole self that she wanted to spend forever with this man. 

~

Something was up. 

Aelin didn’t know exactly what it was, but lately, Rowan had been acting…weird. Anytime he was scrolling through his phone when she walked into the room, he’d inhale sharply and switch screens or just put down his phone entirely. Same with his laptop–he’d close tabs before she could see what on earth he was trying to hide. 

And if she was being honest, that worried her. 

What with her tendency to jump straight to the worst possible conclusions, Aelin was struggling to keep her imagination in check. No, Galathynius! she berated herself. Stop thinking about Rowan doing shady shit like that! Try as she might to force herself to think of happier things, her mind always found a way to slip in a sliver of uncertainty. 

Gods, she hoped she was wrong. 

“Fireheart, you okay?” Rowan’s hand rested atop her thigh, his brows wrinkling in concern. 

“Yeah.” Aelin blinked herself back into the present moment, flashing him a quick half-grin. “I’m just thinking, love.” 

“Mmm, having deep thoughts?” 

She poked his side. “Smartass.” 

“You love it.” 

“Right.” She winked wickedly. “I do love your smart ass.” 

He choked on his water, coughing deeply. “Aelin!” 

She snickered. “What?” 

“You’re a menace,” he grumbled, his cheeks flushing bright pink. 

She gave him a quick peck of a kiss. “I love you too, buzzard.” 

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. “Remind me again why I let myself fall for all your little jokes?” 

“Because you love my little jokes,” she beamed. 

“I really do, love,” he agreed, chuckling. “Gods, I really do.” 

~

Rowan was in mild distress. 

Actually, he was in major distress, but he couldn’t just go around showing it, could he? He was a college graduate with a real adult job and a mortgage and a car and a girlfriend whom he loved more than life itself, a girlfriend to whom he was planning to propose. 

Hence the distress. 

He’d known pretty much since their first date in college that Aelin was the woman he wanted to marry, but he hadn’t wanted to rush into anything lest he destroy his dreams before they’d bloomed. So he waited, and he spent every possible moment with her, and he fell more and more in love with her each day they spent together. They had each moved into their own homes after graduation–Aelin leased a condo near the business district, conveniently close to her workplace, and Rowan signed the mortgage on his house using some of the funds he’d inherited from his stinking rich old auntie Maeve when she passed. Between his work schedule and her hectic work hours, they often went over to each other’s places to find nobody home, but they’d managed to carve out regular date nights and time together. 

About six months ago, Rowan had opened up a secondary savings account next to his main bank accounts. Into this second account, he deposited a small percent of each paycheck, watching the numbers climb steadily up until there was a decent-sized chunk of money in the account. 

Then, he started looking at engagement rings. 

He’d nearly had a heart attack the first time he opened a jeweler’s website and saw the price ranges and how those prices changed based on the metal and the jewels and the design. And he had been utterly lost among the pages and pages of seemingly infinite ring designs, each new website and webpage he looked at screaming advertisements at him. All he wanted was a ring that Aelin would love, not some gaudy, tacky statement piece. 

A few weeks ago, he’d deliberately come over to her condo before she got off work so he could quietly check her ring size. He knew there were a few rings she frequently wore but couldn’t wear at work and just about cheered when he saw one of them atop her dresser. Quickly, he placed the ring against the sizing guide he’d printed out, noting down what size it was. 

The next day, he’d taken Aelin’s ring size and a few photos of the kind of jewelry she usually wore into the jeweler’s shop near the building where he worked. 

When he walked in, probably a little wide-eyed and nervous, he’d been almost immediately greeted by a kind-faced older gentleman wearing a neatly pressed suit. “Good afternoon! How can I help you, sir?” 

Rowan’s breath whooshed out. “I, uh, I want to propose to my girlfriend but I have no idea what kind of ring to get.” 

“Wonderful.” The gentleman held out his hand. “You’ve come to the perfect place, then. My name is Malakai, and I’ve owned this palace for over thirty years.” 

“Wow.” Rowan gazed around the shop appreciatively. “That’s wonderful!” 

“Mmm, it’s nothing much.” Malakai waved him off. “I do it to see all the happy couples who come in here.” He led Rowan towards the back of the shop and gestured towards the simple table and chairs. “Have a seat, Mr…” 

“Gods, I’m so rude.” Rowan took a seat. “Rowan Whitethorn.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Rowan.” Malakai folded his hands atop the table. “Now, what were you thinking your girlfriend would like?” 

“I don’t know,” Rowan admitted. “I’ve spent weeks looking at pictures and ideas and hiding the evidence from her and I’m still stumped.” He placed the sizing guide and the few photos he’d brought along onto the table. “I do have a few things, though.” 

“Excellent.” Malakai looked at the sizing guide first. “Oh, you’ve found her ring size! That’s a perfect first step, it means you most likely won’t have to get a whole different size of the ring.” 

“Thank the gods,” Rowan huffed. 

Malakai chuckled. “What else have you brought?” 

“Just a few photos of the jewelry Aelin usually wears, I didn’t know if that would help at all.” 

“It does help.” Malakai looked over the photos. “Hmm…all right, we can work with this.” The creases around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Don’t worry, Rowan, it won’t be as terrible as you might be imagining.” 

“Good,” Rowan laughed. “So…help me out?” 

“Right.” Malakai grabbed a notepad and a pen. “From what I can tell, she typically wears white gold or silver jewelry, yes?” Rowan nodded. “Good. Then you will probably want to select a white gold or silver metal for the ring. The metals do look similar upon first glance, but white gold is one of our most popular materials, since it can work with both silver and gold jewelry.” 

“Right.” Rowan considered for a moment. “I trust your judgment, let’s go with the white gold.” 

“Excellent.” Malakai made a note on his page. “Now, the stone.” 

“Any stone?” 

“Any,” Malakai confirmed. “Most couples choose the diamond for the engagement ring, as I’m sure you know from looking at references, but any precious stone can be the centerpiece of a ring.” 

“Okay.” Rowan toyed with the band of his watch. “Well, here’s the thing. I guess I do kind of have more ideas than I thought, because I’ve…I’ve always dreamed of proposing with an emerald ring.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “See, it’s her birthstone and maybe her favorite and I gave her my grandmother’s emerald necklace for our first anniversary dating and I don’t know, I guess I just had the vision since then of giving her an emerald ring.” 

Malakai scribbled down some more notes, smiling softly. “That’s a beautiful vision–really, Rowan, it is. We can certainly go with the emerald.” 

“Perfect.” Rowan sat back in his chair. “Now what?” 

“Now,” Malakai grinned, “we work on the ring’s design.” 

Rowan went home that evening with his head spinning and a big bright grin on his face. After several hours spent with Malakai in the jewelry shop, the two of them going over potential designs and settings for Aelin’s ring until Rowan’s head was spinning, they’d finally settled on a few different designs, which Rowan had copies of. He would have to choose one design, yes, but just knowing that he nearly had a ring for the woman of his heart made him a thousand times happier. 

One step closer to asking her to be his forever. 

~

The midsummer evening faded slowly into night, the sunset’s pastel strokes bleeding into deep blues and violets flecked with silvery-bright sparks of stars. Aelin sighed contentedly from her position sprawled in Rowan’s lap, her head tucked against his shoulder and his arms around her bare waist, both of them a little salty and sandy from hours at the beach. 

“Don’t wanna get up,” she mumbled, tugging at his arms when he tried to stand. 

He chuckled softly. “Fireheart, don’t you want a bath?” 

She shook her head, her blonde braid rustling. “No, buzzard. I just want you.” 

Rowan swore up and down that he’d felt the hands of the gods themselves on his shoulder at that moment, as if they’d given him the perfect moment he’d been hoping for. “Ah, Fireheart,” he grinned, standing up despite her pretend protests and coming around in front of her. “I just want you, too.” Never once taking his eyes from hers, he lowered himself to one knee, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for the small velvet box he’d been carrying around for a month or so. “Aelin–Fireheart–will you marry me?” 

Aelin pressed her hands over her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes. “Yes,” she breathed, dropping to her knees in the sand, a brilliant smile spreading across her face. “Yes, Rowan, yes, always and forever yes.” 

“I love you,” he whispered thickly, his throat clogged with unshed tears of his own as he took her hand in his and slipped the ring onto her finger. “To whatever end, my love.” 

“To whatever end, my buzzard,” she whispered back, flinging her arms around him and all but tackling him into the sand. Her fingers tangled into his wind-snarled hair, tipping his face up to hers as she pressed the sweetest kiss to his lips, all the years of her love for him poured out into the press of her slightly-salty lips. 

When she pulled away, both of them were grinning like fools, young and in love and so beyond elated to be there with each other on the beach, basking in the cocoon of their joy. 

They strolled slowly back to the hotel hand in hand, glancing over at each other and beaming like idiots every few seconds. Rowan’s thumb traced along the ring now adorning Aelin’s left hand, as if he could hardly believe it was real. Hell, she could hardly believe that it was real, that she was engaged to her best friend and dearest love, the man she’d dreamed of for years and years. 

And the ring was stunning–a teardrop-cut emerald surrounded by tiny emeralds in a lighter shade of green set atop a simple white-gold band. Inside the band, as Aelin discovered, were engraved the very words they’d exchanged that night and so many other times. 

To whatever end. 

~

“Yes, Mom, we sent out the invitations weeks ago.” Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose, doing her utmost to keep from throwing her phone at the wall. “We spent a whole day addressing all the envelopes, remember?” 

“Yes, I remember,” Evalin conceded. “I’m just going over the checklist I have and I needed to make sure the box had been checked off.” 

“Well, according to my copy of the list, we’re all the way up to collecting RSVPs and doing dress fittings. You don’t need to be so worried, Mom, you’ve got it all planned out.” 

“I know, honey.” Evalin paused. “I just…oh, Aelin, I want you to have the best day of your life, I really do, and–”

“And it won’t be any less beautiful if we don’t have the cake flavor picked out seven months in advance,” Aelin deadpanned. “Please, Mom, I’m stressed enough as it is.” 

Her mother sighed. “All right, then. And it’s only ten weeks until the date, but I won’t bother you so much. I’ll be at the dress shop for your and the bridesmaids’ final fittings next week, okay?” 

“Okay.” Aelin forced herself to put a smile in her voice. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Fireheart.” 

Aelin flung her phone onto her couch and groaned, pressing the heels of her palms against her forehead. “Fuck!” 

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked, popping into the living room. “Are you okay?” 

She grumbled a string of unprintable words. “If everyone would stop breathing down my damn neck about this bloody massive wedding and all the bloody endless details, I would be.” 

Rowan came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “Need to rant?” 

She leaned into his solid warmth, turning around so she could drop her head against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat soothing her heated blood. “I don’t–gods, Ro, every time I turn around there’s someone else with some form to be signed or some deposit to be made or some other detail I need to think about and have a decision within two days. It’s getting to the point where I’m almost afraid to answer the phone when my mom calls, because I just know she’ll be waving her godsdamned list at me and banging on about how we’re so behind when I know we’re not and gods it’s just so much stress I don’t fucking need!” She was panting by the time she ended, tears misting her eyes. “I don’t know how to handle it, Ro.” 

“Oh, Fireheart,” he murmured, wishing there was some way for him to banish her stress. “Do you need me to handle your phone for you?” 

She chuckled humorlessly. “I wish. Gods, Rowan, why can’t we just run off and forget about all this huge glamorous wedding bullshit?” 

“Who says we can’t?” 

She blinked. “What?” 

He cupped one hand around her jaw. “Love, this ‘glamorous wedding bullshit’ is making your life hell. Who says we can’t just elope and not worry about it?” 

“Rowan…” Aelin cleared her throat. “What about how everyone’s gonna get mad? What about–”

“No.” He placed his fingertips over her lips. “Aelin, this is your day.” 

“Our day.” 

“Our day.” He kissed her softly. “We get to choose how we want to get married, my love. We can have a huge glamorous wedding that’ll make us both so stressed it won’t be a day to treasure, or we can have a little wedding by ourselves and be in love with the day.” 

She flicked a stray tear off her cheek. “You’re an old sap, buzzard.” 

“So…”

“Hell yes.” Aelin rose up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. “I’m going to text Elide and pack some stuff. Let’s go get married, my love.”

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added or removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

[redundant2]

Mystery Solved! Pippa Middleton and James Matthews have purchased Sir Terence Conran's previous estate in Berkshire: Barton Court.

Reports about the Princess of Wales' sister Pippa's new estate in Berkshire have been quite vague, but today I finally found the planning permits.

The Matthews paid £15 million for Barton Court, located in Kintbury, Hungerford, Berkshire.

"Barton Court was built in 1772 for Admiral Lord Dundas: a typical, red-brick, early Georgian house of five bays with a projecting central open-pedimented entrance front, enhanced by round-headed windows in the upper storeys."

The top yellow star in the right part of the above map is the estate where Michael and Carol Middleton live in Bucklebury, and the solid red dot on the left is the location of James and Pippa Matthews' new estate. Close enough for a short car drive to visit, but far enough apart to allow each family some private time.

The planning permit request is for "Relocation of an outdoor swimming pool and construction of a tennis court within the walled garden, and conversion of a potting shed to associated changing room and plant room."

Below is the celebrated walled garden that will be replaced with tennis courts and possibly a very large swimming pool:

Sir Terence Conran was a famous British designer who passed away in September 2020. He founded the Habitat and Conran shops. He was also renowned for designing restaurants, office buildings and stores. Conran ran several restaurants and wrote more than 50 books about design.

House and Garden UK did a nice feature on the property with many color photos taken by Princess Margaret's ex-husband, if you're curious about the interior of Pippa's new home.

From the article: "In earlier days a stone-flagged hallway ran from the door to the stairway between the enclosing walls of adjacent rooms. These rooms have now been gutted to provide a combined hall and living room of vast area: over a hundred feet in length." Looks like the original tile is still in place.

Apparently, some of the family of Sir Terence Conran was very upset that his estate was sold, as it was said to have been his dream for the estate to remain in the family.

"Both the house and the estate, according to one visitor, were to be 'overseen by the Conran family'. But no longer: I can reveal that the house has been sold for £15 million, despite Conran's vision, which included selling fruit and vegetables from greenhouses and a massive walled garden.

Members of the family appear to be in the dark about quite why the sale has gone ahead. One tells me that it is the executors of Conran's will who are selling the property, not his widow, Lady Conran.

The interior designer Vicki Davis married Sir Terence in 2000 at Chelsea Town Hall. His children — Sebastian and Jasper by his second wife, Superwoman author Shirley Conran, and Tom, Sophie and Ned by his third, cookery writer Caroline Herbert — only learned of it later.

That was no accident: Conran's children, it was playfully said, needed an appointment to see him.

The executors of his will decline to comment. But I can disclose that Vicki has already left the house and a new family has moved in."

Little did we know in June 2022 that it was Pippa Middleton and her family who bought the estate!

But here is another article interviewing Conran's widow, Vicki. She felt the house was too much for one person to maintain, and that none of his many children would want the upkeep. Conran apparently did not die of Covid either. It's a good article, detailing his vast collections and giving you a better idea of what he was like. After living there 50 years, Conran's widow was given 8 weeks to pack up everything and move out by the new owners...

Here is the planning application map showing the property outline:

Interestingly, the large buildings to the left of Barton Court are actually a very large custom furniture workshop and retail store. The owner, Sean Sutcliffe, "met Terence Conran and a firm friendship was made over a shared interest in making, wood, design and sustainability. They founded Benchmark together and our workshop and showroom are situated in the grounds of Terence’s country home."

That should prove very interesting for Pippa and family - perhaps those who are royal watchers might plan to do some furniture shopping in the near future! I'm sure, however, that the Matthews family will have plans in place to secure the perimeter of their new estate - or perhaps Mr. Matthews will just buy Benchmark Furniture outright and have its premises moved. Pretty sure he can afford it, since they recently sold their Chelsea mansion for £22.5 million, £5.5 million more than he paid for it.

[starqueen87]

Madam C.J. Walker was born Sarah Breedlove to former slaves, Owen and Minerva Breedlove in Delta, Louisiana on December 23, 1867. Breedlove became an orphan at age seven when her parents died. Three years later, ten-year-old Sarah and her sister moved across to river to Vicksburg, Mississippi to work as maids. By her fourteenth birthday, Sarah married Moses McWilliams of Vicksburg and three years later gave birth to her only daughter Lelia (who later changed her name to A’Lelia). Breedlove became a widow in 1887. She and her daughter moved to St. Louis to join her older brothers who were barbers. While in St. Louis she found work as a washer woman earning $1.50 per day. She also married her second husband, John Davis, in 1894. The marriage lasted nine years.

In 1905, Breedlove moved to Denver, Colorado where she sold hair care products for St. Louis businesswoman Annie Pope-Turnbo. It was in Denver that she married her third husband, newspaper sales agent Charles Joseph Walker. She also decided in Denver to found a business to manufacture and market her own hair treatment formula which she called Wonderful Hair Grower. Breedlove adopted a new professional name, Madam C.J. Walker, which she retained after her divorce from Charles Walker in 1912 and began to offer her products for sale through door-to-door agents called Madam C.J. Walker Hair Culturists. Walker also set up a training school for her sales personnel.

As the business expanded Walker relocated her operations to Indianapolis, then the largest inland shipping hub in the nation, to establish a factory for her line of beauty products. She also created a chain of beauty parlors in major cities in the United States, South America, and the Caribbean. Breedlove also set up a training school for beauticians in Pittsburgh and began to advertise and sell products by mail order.

By 1915, Madam C. J. Walker was by far the wealthiest African American woman in the nation. Walker was now invited to major gatherings of black leaders and shared the platform with notables such as Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. DuBois. Her personal triumph inspired other women and she was often invited to lecture on business and politics. During World War I the federal government enlisted her to persuade African Americans to support the war effort and to buy war bonds even as it placed her on a list of “Negro subversives” because of her advocacy on behalf of black soldiers who faced racial discrimination. Walker also spoke out on the social conditions affecting African Americans and devoted particular attention and money to the campaign to make lynching a federal crime. Walker also donated money and time to the NAACP, the National Association of Colored Women, the YMCA, and the YWCA and provided the largest contribution for saving the home of Frederick Douglass in Washington, D.C.

Madam C.J. Walker also lived lavishly in a country estate she called Villa Lewaro overlooking the Hudson River in Westchester County, New York. Her neighbors included Jay Gould and John D. Rockefeller. The home at Villa Lewaro, designed by the black architect, Vertner Woodson Tandy, also served as a conference center for summits of black leaders. On May 25, 1919, fifty-one-year-old Walker died at Villa Lewaro.

Source: Facebook

[betterthanapokeintheeye]

30 gifts for 30 days of November

Day 4!

Here is the fourth of thirty Better Than a Poke in the Eye recommended gifts for the book lover in your life even if that book lover is YOU!

Day four's recommendation is What You Need to Be Warm by Neil Gaiman

I don't think we need to push why this is in our list, read the official synopsis below.

Sometimes it only takes a stranger in a dark place... to say we have the right to be here, to make us warm in the coldest season.

In 2019, Neil Gaiman asked his Twitter followers: What reminds you of warmth? Over 1,000 responses later, Neil began to weave replies from across the world into a poem in aid of the UNHCR's winter appeal. It revealed our shared desire to feel safe, welcome and warm in a world that can often feel frightening and lonely.

Published in hardback and illustrated by a group of artists from around the world, What You Need to Be Warm is an exploration of displacement and flight from conflict through the objects and memories that represent warmth. It is about our right to feel safe, whoever we are and wherever we are from. It is about holding out a hand to welcome those who find themselves far from home.

Featuring new, original illustrations from Chris Riddell, Benji Davies, Yuliya Gwilym, Nadine Kaadan, Daniel Egnéus, Pam Smy, Petr Horácek, Beth Suzanna, Bagram Ibatoulline, Marie-Alice Harel, Majid Adin and Richard Jones, with a thought-provoking cover from Oliver Jeffers. Sales of every copy of this book will help support the work of UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency, which helps forcibly displaced communities and stateless people across the world.

R.R.P. £12.99

You can order a copy from our Bookshop or any of our affilate links below

Better Than a Poke Bookshop .org

Amazon UK

Waterstones

Foyles

WHSmith

Blackwells

Forbidden Planet

[singeratlarge]

WHAT A MINDBLOWER! BANDCAMP FRIDAY IS TODAY! Today’s the day bandcamp waives their revenue sharing on music downloads from my site. That means 100% of the cut goes to the artist, like me—your grateful friend (colleague, cousin, kinfolk, neighbor...), and your support helps to underwrite my music as I perform in assisted living homes for people with dementia and disability.

On bandcamp, you pay “whatever you can afford,” big or small. My entire online discography is “on sale” plus a bit of physical merchandise, including vinyl LPs and CDs and photos—including a rare photo of me and Davy Jones (Monkees). Plus I will sign any merch you buy. So please dial in and expand your mind and spirit with the music God has given to me. https://johnnyjblairsingeratlarge.bandcamp.com

Thank you from the bottom of my heart! JJB

#johnnyjblair #davyjones #Monkees #mikegarson #davidbowie #prairieprince #tubes #toddrundgren #halblaine #badlees #singersongwriter #poprock #powerpop #artrock #progrock #glamrock #eriksatie #johnbechdel #killingjoke #ministry #chrisvonsneidern

[freakingoutthesquares]

Pulp's Guide To Sheffield Words: Gina Morris, Photographer: Louise Rhodes Taken from the New Musical Express, 3 April 1993 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

Welcome to Sheffield, home of Sound City '93. Your guides through the historical sights, prime drinking places and doss-spots of steel city are local pop gurus Pulp.

Situated in the 'alternative' area of the city (Division Street), amid the second hand clothes shops and 'in' cafes, is Warp Records, the shop, the label, the empire. Warp is the most important British dance label outside London, responsible for club/chart hits like LFO's 'We Are Back', Tricky Disco's 'Tricky Disco' and Nightmares On Wax's 'Aftermath'. Started back in July '89 by Steve Beckett and Rob Mitchell, Warp has expanded to massive worldwide recognition. Recently they set up an offshoot indie label, Gift, and signed local god-like legends Pulp and hopefuls Newspeak and Various Vegetables.

"This is the safe area of town," says our guide and Pulp lead singer, Jarvis. "You get a lot of grief if you're alternative round certain parts of Sheffield. It's like Pac Man, you have to dodge your way through the centre of town to get to Division Street. Anyhow, this is the shop that started the record labels Warp and Gift, the Warp Empire began right here. Arrgh! There's a large display of our new single in the window."

Renowned in certain circles for their appalling dress sense, Pulp take us to the very heart of lurid-thread city. Freak Boutique, also on Division Street, is just one of a number of shops specialising in gruesome '70s wear.

Jarvis: "We shop here occasionally. The last thing I bought was a pink and purple patterned shirt. Sheffield's pretty good for second-hand clothes. The jumble sales are best because they're the purest form - you don't know what you'll get, the clothes haven't been sifted."

City Hall, aside from housing the council is also a famous heavy metal venue, boasting a sprung Saturday Night Fever-type floored ballroom.

"This is perhaps the only building that has decent architecture in the whole of Sheffield," observes drummer Nick. "The inside is marvellous. They have an indie disco in the ballroom every Saturday night,"

Jarvis: "Sheffield City Council used to be really radical. I remember when the buses were only 10p to go anywhere. That's why buses are mentioned quite a lot in our songs. Anyway, it all stopped in the mid-'80s. There are about six different bus companies now, like Eager Beaver, Yorkshire Terrier... it's, ridiculous - if the driver sees the stop they're supposed to be going to hasn't got any people at it, they change the number and go to one that has. People came from Japan to see our bus service - it was the envy of the Western World."

Jarvis: "Fargate is a pedestrianised area. This was the centre of Sheffield dole culture. In the summer, everyone would go dolestrolling. Sometimes it would take you a whole day to get from one end to the other because you got to know everyone. It was a nice little scene. Then they introduced YTS and it cut off the new generation. It just got older and sadder after that. It was also the place to come it you wanted to put a band together, you didn't bother putting ads in papers, you just walked up and down for 20 minutes."

At the very core of Sheffield's sports culture is the Crucible Theatre. Every year, top potters like Steve Davis and Jimmy White gather to compete for snooker's top prize.

Jarvis: "Yep, this is the famous Crucible Theatre, just off Fargate, snooker central. It used to be the favourite hangout for goths in Sheffield, when goth was the big thing. I'm not sure why, maybe it was because Ray Reardon looked a bit like Dracula."

Castle Square is a weird underground market, off Commercial Street, with an open air 'sun roof', known locally as the Hole In The Road. Once it was the meeting place for tramps and down-and-outs-but-on-the-way-ups. Now the authorities want to get rid of it.

Nick: "We've started the Hole In The Road campaign, the council want to fill it in with concrete, which will mean more people getting run over. We can't let them do it. It's all part of a conspiracy to dispense with the town centre altogether, and move everything out to Meadowhall (a huge shopping complex known locally as Meadow Hell)."

On the other side of the Market there's Ladies Bridge which runs over the River Don, the largest river in Sheffield. It's a beautiful part of the city despite being situated in the centre of the once prosperous, now derelict, steel industry warehouses.

Jarvis: "I went on a very good adventure down the River Don once. I had an inflatable boat and I went from here to Rotherham which is about eight miles away. It was like Apocalypse Now, there was all these factories pouring thick smoke across the water, we got attacked by gypsies and then there was a bloke stood on the river bank trying to shoot fish with an air rifle. It was probably the best thing I ever did. It's good to find an adventure in mundane surroundings. Sheffield is built on seven hills, just like Rome but I think that's where the similarities end."

Nick: "The Wicker is just a street, but it's a very special street. It's difficult to say why, but The Wicker arch was the gateway to all the old steel works. Sheffield's oldest brewery is just there, it always smells of hops round here."

Jarvis: "I used to live round here, in the same warehouse that FON Studios and our rehearsal rooms used to be... and the only porno cinema in Sheffield, Studio 567. I bet you didn't know Bob Marley spent a lot of time in Sheffield, did you? Well he didn't, but there's The Bob Marley Recording Studios anyway. I did once see Sly and Robbie on this road though, that was very bizarre."

FON Studios is Sheffield's most prolific recording house. In 1985 it was the first local commercial 24-track studio and over the fast few years has attracted such luminaries like Ian McCulloch, David Bowie, Yazz, Erasure, James, Altern8 and, erm, Rolf Harris. FON is the centre of Sheffield's music culture.

Nick: "Did you know FON actually stands for F*** Off Nazis?"

Jarvis: 'We recorded the LP 'Separations' here, and 'Countdown', 'O.U.' and 'My Legendary Girlfriend'. They're very nice to us. I can't imagine people coming to Sheffield to record because of its exotic location but FON is the best. It's where all the big names come but it's more a studio for techno acts, you couldn't get a grand piano in here, sorry Elton."

The Leadmill has appeared in the Top Ten venues in the NME Readers Poll every year since it opened in 1980 - not bad for a place that used to flood every time you flushed. Now it has the best venue toilets in Britain (fact) and been described by the House of Commons as a prime example of good business practice. Bands that have graced its boards include New Order, Simply Red, The Pogues and EMF.

Jarvis: "The Leadmill's a pretty important venue, I used to come here a lot before I moved to London. The main bus garage is just opposite and, when it first opened, they had a policy of letting bus drivers in for free. So a friend of mine got hold of a bus driver's uniform and got let in for nothing. It was a good little scam but the trouble was, he'd walk in and all the other drivers would be at the end of the bar saying, 'What route does he do then?'"

Of all the pubs in Sheffield The Washington Public House, just down the road from the Grosvenor Hotel, stands out as a reminder of when public houses were quiet family affairs decorated with the landlady's china.

"This is the only pub left where you don't get grief for looking slightly outlandish," remarks guitarist/violinist Russell. "They don't allow riff raff in here. The bar people are very friendly. If you went into town, you'd notice all the pubs have loud jukeboxes, you can't hear yourself talk. This is a little oasis of sanity."

Jarvis: "It also has a large quantity of tea pots, one of the finest collections in the land. It's a theme but it's for real. It's a '4 real' pub."

[hapalopus]

“We’re talking about a film that’s 13 years old, which people can watch at home,” says Paul Dergarabedian, a senior media analyst with Comscore. “The big draw is the Imax presentation. ‘Avatar’ is serving as a reminder of how cool the imagery of Pandora looks on the big screen.”

In North America, “Avatar” placed third on box office charts behind newer releases like Olivia Wilde’s “Don’t Worry Darling” ($19.2 million) and the Viola Davis-led “The Woman King” ($11 million). In terms of recent re-releases, ticket sales for “Avatar,” which played in 1,980 locations (mostly Imax), came in 85% ahead of the re-release for “Spider-Man: No Way Home.” The latest Spidey adventure, which returned to theaters months, not years, after its original run, collected $5.4 million from 3,835 theaters over Labor Day weekend.

Overseas, where the first “Avatar” made over 70% of its money, the remastered version took the No. 1 spot in smaller markets like France ($2.9 million), Italy ($1.5 million), Singapore and Thailand. Other top territories were Germany ($1.3 million), the United Kingdom ($1.3 million) and Korea ($1.3 million).