#Buy Hardwood online

[firewoodservices]

How to Purchase the Right Hardwood Custom Woodwork?

Custom woodwork is very common in our homes, and the first thing required for this is the ‘right materials’. So many different options are available in terms of wood, but most people opt for hardwood. It comes with timeless appeal, durability, versatility, and strength. So many different options are available in hardwood that it makes it challenging for the buyer to choose the right one based on specific needs. We have come up with a guide to help you understand the available options and choose the right one for your needs.

UNDERSTANDING HARDWOOD TYPES

Hardwood is available in various types, and all have different characteristics. Hardwood is categorised into two main categories – domestic hardwood and exotic hardwood. Domestic hardwood is sourced from local suppliers and has common species like oak, maple and walnut. They -are known for their classic appearance, strength and sustainability and are readily available in Australia. The most common types available are Brazilian Cherry and Australian Cypress that come in various colours and patterns.

HOW TO PURCHASE THE RIGHT HARDWOOD?

Every hardwood company and hardwood supplier offers a wide range of products to suit your needs. While selecting, follow the tips discussed in this post.

CONSIDER THE HARDNESS LEVEL

An essential factor to consider while purchasing hardwood is the hardness level of the wood. This hardness will determine the resistance that wood has against dents and scratches. Species like walnut, and hard maple are extremely hard and suitable for hard usage surfaces.

MONITOR GRAIN PATTERNS CLOSELY

A unique characteristic of different hardwood types is that they have different grain patterns. For example, oak hardwood offered by hardwood suppliers will have prominent grain lines that give it a rustic look. On the other hand, maple has a smoother, more subtle grain for its contemporary and cleaner look.

DETERMINE THE COLOUR AND FINISH

There are so many different options available in terms of colour and finish of hardwood like DAR Blackbutt hardwood, Rough Sawn Hardwood, Rough Sawn Hardwood. You need to be very precise about your requirements. There are light shades, including natural maple, and darker tones, including walnut and mahogany.

CONSIDER YOUR BUDGET

Your budget will significantly affect the type of hardwood you choose from a hardwood company. As mentioned above, exotic hardwood is more expensive compared to domestic hardwood that is affordable, but at the same time, equally attractive.

[charcoalkings]

Stainless Steel Bbq - Charcoal Kings

Product is made from marine grade stainless steel. Dimension are: 62 cm (L) X 22.5 cm (W) x 13 cm (Depth). The unit stands 47 cm tall with handles both sides and foldable legs for easy storing. Ventilation on both ends with elevated charcoal trays for optimal airflow and cooking experience.  https://charcoalkings.com.au/product/stainless-steel-bbq/

[wildgeesedotpdf]

Every time I see someone put a layer of latex paint over nice hardwood floors I lose 2 years off of my life…

[puckinghischier]

Heard you were in the mood for some yapping, so here I am lol! That Luke hugging blurb was everything! My supervisor decided that they weren't ruining my life enough, and now ask me to do something and have me completely redo it when I'm finished because they cannot decide on an aesthetic they want. So my daydreams are currently in a "stay at home girlfriend" era lol (please don't judge). Should you decide to quit and give yourself a few months Luke would be the happiest person ever. He gets all day every day with his sweet girl, his favorite person, his bestest friend. He gets pumped at every home game knowing you're there supporting, gets lunches with you to dissect practice or what you've been reading. You try to argue that since he's taken over all the bills, he won't buy you any gifts. He lasts two weeks before caving and buying you something "just 'cause."

“luke!” you screech from the kitchen, causing your boyfriend to come running, socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor.

“what? is everything okay? what’s wrong?” he rushes out, frantic eyes scanning you for any sign of a crisis.

when they fall on the large, open box on the island you’re standing behind, he knows he’s been busted.

“care to explain?” you cock an eyebrow at him, gesturing to the cardboard box.

luke rubs the back of his neck with his hand, thinking about how to drop the news without you blowing up.

“well…it’s a bag,” he starts slowly, walking towards you.

scoffing, you roll your eyes. “yeah, i can see that it’s a bag. care to explain why there’s a two thousand dollar designer purse in our apartment right now??”

when luke saw the handbag online the other day, he knew it was something you’d love.

you always talk about how much you’d love to have a good, quality purse, and he couldn’t think of anything better quality than designer.

with you having finally agreed to his offer of taking some time away from work, he was on cloud nine always having you around. he loved seeing you in his jersey at every home game (and several road games, too), and he loves how you meet him at the rink most days so the two of you can catch up over lunch or brunch, after morning skates.

one of the things he didn’t love about you not working, however, is the fact you told him no gifts for the time being.

luke has never been someone to spend his money on himself. he allowed himself a few frivolous purchases when he signed his rookie contract, but he really only spends his money on things he needs.

for the first few months of your relationship, luke refrained from buying you anything too crazy. a twenty for coffee here, a fancy dinner there, but nothing like what he started buying you once you knew he wasn’t just throwing his wealth at you.

he started showering you with random pieces of jewelry and trips and shoes and literally anything else he saw that he wanted to buy for you.

you told him to stop, once, loving how thoughtful he was and how well he knew how to pick out a gift for you, but you didn’t want him blowing through all of his contract money on you.

at first, he listened. the gifts stopped and you basked in your victory. but then, the gifts changed from physical gifts to trips, concert tickets, experiences.

as long as luke was able to experience the ‘gifts’ with you, you didn’t care to reap the benefits, because you could convince yourself he wasn’t spending his money on you. you were just a tag along on plans he wanted to do himself.

“you did say you wanted a good bag to use, so i thought i’d surprise you,” luke shrugged, hoping if he doesn’t make it a big deal, you won’t think it is one.

“yeah, i was thinking something along the lines of a tote bag, maybe a leather backpack, not this,” you hold the bag up, refusing to take it out of its protective packaging.

“well, this is good quality. and it’ll last you a long time, so really it’s something you specifically talked about needing,” luke defends himself.

groaning, you start pacing in frustration. “luke, we agreed when i took time off that the money you were spending on me had to stop. you’re already funding my existence right now, so there’s no reason for you to spend any more money on me than is absolutely necessary.”

luke walks over towards you, stopping your pacing. “honeybee, calm down. i was just trying to be nice. you seemed a little down lately so i wanted to surprise you with a little pick me up.”

you take a deep breath, calming yourself down. you’re not trying to be a bitch, because you do like the bag, you just don’t want luke wasting money on you now that you’re not contributing to any of the bills.

“luke, a ‘little pick me up’ is a coffee, or some ice cream. not a handbag that costs more than what i used to make in a month,” you place your hands on luke’s forearms, his hands resting on your shoulders while he’s crouched down to be eye-level with you.

“well, in all fairness they were grossly underpaying you at your old job,” luke ignores the point of your statement, earning another roll of your eyes.

“luke,” you warn.

luke stands tall again, letting out a sigh of defeat.

“you’re right. i should have asked you first. i’m sorry,” he starts, looking up at the ceiling. “but i’m not sorry that i bought you something nice that you genuinely need, even if you think it was too expensive,” he finishes, looking back down into your eyes.

you let out your own defeated sigh. the bag is really nice. and you couldn’t have picked out a more gorgeous one if you tried.

“just…don’t go so swipe happy next time. if you want to do something nice for no reason again, candy will work just fine,” you step back from luke, grabbing the bag again, allowing yourself to actually unbox it this time.

“no promises,” luke winks at you, walking around the island so he can see the awe on your face as you inspect the bag, knowing the matching wallet is already set to be delivered later this week.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slippery when wet

pairing: post re8! chris x reader

cw: fingering, thigh grinding, thumb sucking, reader is frothing at the mouth (metaphorically)

summary: reader applies to babysit chris' child (he's rose's legal guardian in this one), and she's v into her boss. one day, she ends up in nothing but chris' shirt when her clothes are in the laundry.

a/n: title not inspired by the bon jovi album (doesn't really fit the vibe, despite having some bangers)

wc: 2.4k

“Jobs that don’t require a degree”. You type it into the search bar for the millionth time this week. Grocery store clerk, delivery driver, server, you’ve tried them all. And quit them all. You’re going to have to settle for working as a coal miner soon - and you’re a 21 year old girl who lives nowhere near a coal mine. 

Babysitter. You’ve done it before, when you were younger. In fact, as exhausting as the job was, you were actually pretty good at it. Maybe you could even get a referral from your neighbors. The job posting was on a local message board online. The pay looked like a sweet deal - top tier babysitter pay. Could probably hire a nice German or Spanish or Russian au pair and make your kid bilingual, but these parents chose to ask your town of American idiots to apply. Parent, singular - not even parent - you come to find. He’s her legal guardian, which probably means her parents are dead or in prison but you don’t think it’s appropriate to ask such invasive questions at your interview. Not if you want the job, at least. And you really want the job. 

The interview is surprisingly casual, which is good because it’s not like you own business attire. You expected this: a young woman with a tired - and very forced, almost pained - smile comes to the door holding the cranky child while the dad shakes your hand on the way out to spend the day with his buddies from college. Their attempt to quell their marriage problems by getting a sitter will not get them off their track to divorce.

But it doesn’t go like that at all. A man - older than you’d think a new father should be, but far from elderly - opens the door. (honestly, if he were elderly, then you’d be whatever the opposite of a cradle-robber is. A nursing home robber?). Mr. Legal Guardian tall, muscular, kind of intimidating, but also incredibly sexy. He could choke you out but you’d get wet if he tried. Actually, you’d probably soak his nice hardwood floors if he so much as touched you since all he’s done is shake your hand and you’ll probably need to change your panties when you get home. 

Either you’re good at hiding your feelings or he couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re trying very hard to keep eye-contact and avoid the overwhelming urge to look and see if you can tell what he’s packing through the pants he has on. 

“I’m Chris Redfield. Nice to meet you,” he says and you’re really hoping that you said your own name in response and not what you were thinking which was “Oh god, please fuck me, Mr. Redfield, I don’t care about the job anymore”. 

You’re pretty sure you kept that thought on the inside because he seems to think this situation is totally normal and ignores the obvious sexual tension - or maybe it’s just you and there’s no real tension. Maybe you need to buy one of those fancy Hitachi wands and fix the leaky faucet downstairs. You’d need money for that. Money… Oh, right, you can get a job! How convenient. 

You keep the conversation going because you want to hear him talk, you want to burn it onto a CD in your brain and play it on the car ride home. No, you’d crash if you did that. 

He tells you the baby girl’s name is Rosemary.

“That’s a pretty name. How did you decide on it?” Or did your wife choose it? Was the divorce bad? Or is she dead? 

“I didn’t. Her parents did. I don’t know if it was her mom or her dad’s choice,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I think it’s a good name, too,” he follows up with, “Mostly, everyone just calls her Rose, though.”

“It’s probably easier. I’d imagine it’d be hard for a baby to say ‘Rosemary’.” You realize you know very little about child development. “Can she talk?”

“Some. Only small sentences and she still pronounces half of what she’s trying to say wrong, but she usually gets the point across. She calls me ‘Dada’ because it’s easier to say than ‘Chris’.”

Is she gonna call me ‘Mama’? Does she need a stepmom… or whatever? Anyway, can you please, please have sex with me, Mr. Redfield? If you don’t get dick soon, they’ll have to institutionalize you.

You must’ve done way better than you thought because you got the job. You’re lucky that Rose is more well-behaved than most babies you’ve met. 

She does call you ‘Mama’, though. 

You bring a change of clothes to work every day because babies don’t know how to avoid making a mess of everything they get their little fingers on. Rose is pretty tidy for a kid her age, but her favorite food is ketchup, so half of your wardrobe is stained red by the second week of work. 

One day, she’s sitting in your lap holding a sippy cup of apple juice with a lid you were sure you’d closed, but as it turned out, it had not been screwed on right and the bottom of your shirt as well as your jeans end up soaked in apple juice. You only have yourself to blame. 

You brush off the issue to the kid because you don’t want to upset her, but you hate being sticky. She’s lucky she gets a bath. You don’t think Chris would appreciate finding you in his bathtub, playing with rubber duckies, unfortunately. 

Once Rose is in new, dry clothes, Chris walks in the door. Rose reaches out to him and he picks her up. He notices the wet patch on your jeans and you realize how it looks when he raises an eyebrow. 

“Did you piss yourself?” 

“No!” 

You’re about to explain the apple juice spill situation when Rose chimes in, repeating what Chris said, without any idea what she’s saying. 

The way he groans makes it seem like it’s not the first time she’s picked up bad language. “Those aren’t nice words. Don’t repeat them.” Chris tries to remain serious, but you’re both holding back laughter. 

“It’s just apple juice,” you clarify, “My fault, not hers.”

“Do you need new clothes?”

“In theory,” you say because you do, but you don’t want to impose. 

Rose yawns and Chris says, “How about you put her down and I will find something else for you to wear?”

“Okay,” you say because it’s shorter than, “No, no, you don’t have to do that.” Plus, he will inevitably insist that “Yes, yes, he has to do that.”

Rose is reluctant to go to bed without saying goodnight to ‘Dada’. Luckily, he joins the both of you in her bedroom, holding clothes for you. 

“Here,” he says, “I don’t have any pants that’ll fit you, but I think this shirt will probably go down to your knees.”

“Thanks,” you say, taking the shirt. 

“No problem,” he says, “Go change and bring me your clothes so I can wash them.”

You nod and walk into the hall bathroom. Chris is right - the shirt is about mid-thigh length, so as long as you don’t bend over, you’re covered. It was probably a bad day to wear a thong to work, though. Or maybe it was a great day to do just that. Glass half-full?

You find Chris in the hallway and you give him a slew of apologies and thank you’s because you feel bad that he’s doing your laundry. He dismisses them all kindly, but the look in his eye has changed - scrutinizing, yet amused. 

“Normally, I would say, ‘you’re free to go’, but -”

Am I getting punished? God, fuck, yes, please. 

“- You probably shouldn’t wear that out.”

You look down at your state of dress - or undress, depending on how you look at it. Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t go out like that.

“You can if you want,” he says, “but you’re welcome to stay at least until your clothes dry.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

You’re standing awkwardly in his living room when he says, “You know you can sit down, right?”

You sit down next to him on the couch - an appropriate distance away, of course. There’s an awkward silence while you try not to stare at him. 

“Why are you so nervous? You’re acting like you’ve never been here before,” he says.

“For one thing, I’m not wearing pants right now. And, two, I’ve never been here while you’re here. I’m always here alone with Rose.”

“Do I make you nervous?” His smile says he knows more than you think. 

“No, not really.”

“Not really?”

You smile and nod. 

“Rose told me something she heard you say while I was gone…” “Oh shit. Did I swear in front of her? I try not to do that.”

He shakes his head. “She said, ‘Dada is sexy’, and as you can imagine, I was curious as to where she heard that…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but his eyebrow is raised. He knows.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel your face flushing. 

“She must’ve heard that from someone else,” you lie. 

“Who else would’ve said it?”

“I bet most people think you’re sexy. I mean, look at you, it seems like the most obvious conclusion any normal person would come to.” You shrug, trying to play it off as if you didn’t just reveal yourself entirely. 

“So, you didn’t say anything about my attractiveness in front of Rose, but you do think I’m ‘sexy’? Am I correct?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No, it’s a rhetorical question.”

You’d bolt out of the room if you had pants on, but now - wearing nothing but Chris’ t-shirt and a thong? It looks like you’ve already slept with him. 

You try to form a sentence, but much like Rose, all you can do is echo Chris’ words. “Do you think I’m sexy?” you ask. 

“Much more so than you were when I walked in - you know, with apple juice all over you.”

“So, you do feel the same way about me?”

“Correct.”

He looks like he’s thinking, considering next moves, but you’re already scooting closer to him on the couch. He hums in approval. He picks you up and puts you in his lap. 

“Do you wa-” He tries to say, but you cut him off with a kiss and he takes it in stride. One of his hands rests on the back of your head and the other is on your waist. His tongue is in your mouth and you think you can feel him getting hard, which makes you wetter than you already were, and now you’re really considering if this thong was of any use at all. Guess one more thing needs a wash. 

Chris reaches between your thighs like a psychic, though he acts surprised at how aroused you are. “Are you always this wet?”

“No, not always.” Liar.

“I’ll take it as a compliment then.”

As he should. 

His hands snake their way under your - his - t-shirt and find your tits. His fingertips brush your nipples and you absent-mindedly start to grind on him, longing for any friction you can get. You’ll ruin his pants at this point. Another load of laundry to do. 

He takes your hips and positions you on his thigh. 

“This should help,” he says. 

Out of embarrassment, you halt the movement of your hips. 

“What? It seemed like you wanted to get off and I’m not going to stop you.”

He acts nonchalant but it borders on teasing because you can see the amusement in his eyes. Maybe he’s not used to desperate little girls like you. 

You grip his shoulders to steady yourself - if you’re going to pathetically grind on this man’s thigh, you’re going to do it right - and you resume your back and forth pattern. You catch a glimpse of the smirk on his face and you let your head drop, not allowing yourself to look him in the eye. There’s no way you’d be able to continue like that. He lifts your chin, but it’s not to force your eyes back on him - he kisses you again, more passionately this time. Not romantic passion, the sexy, sloppy kind. You pull back first to catch your breath. Maybe it’s just nerves, but this whole thigh-riding activity is doing a number on you. Chris takes note of your struggle and puts his hands on your hips, taking on half of the work. Somehow, he does a better job than you, and if he’s this good at something so simple, you wonder about his other skills. 

“Suck,” he says simply, putting his thumb between your lips. 

In that moment, you discover your oral fixation - and Chris is observant enough to recognize it too. 

“Good girl,” he says, removing his thumb from your mouth and using it to rub your clit. He really didn’t need the lubrication and he must’ve known that. Admittedly, you’re a bit disappointed when he takes his thumb away from you. 

“It seemed like you were enjoying that,” he says, rubbing his other thumb over your bottom lip. You open your mouth and hope he won’t make you beg for it. “You’re lucky I have two hands.”

He flips you around so that you’re sitting in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. He returns his thumb to your mouth before you can grab it and shove it back in there yourself. You are lucky he has two hands, you come to fine, when he begins pumping two of his fingers in and out of you while rubbing your clit simultaneously. You moan around the finger in your mouth and he can tell you’re getting close. 

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks. 

You hum and nod frantically as your orgasm approaches quickly. Your inner walls clench and release as you gush around his fingers. When you come down from your high, you notice that you’ve left a considerable wet patch on the couch and on Chris’ pants.

“Don’t worry. We can do another load of laundry after this one’s finished,” he says. He checks the time and then says, “It looks like we have about 25 more minutes until the washing machine’s done. What do you want to do until then?”

“Depends? How much laundry detergent do you have left?”

[iboatedhere]

from that summer prompts list! an spending the whole day at the beach au would be really nice i think :))

Day 1

The screen door rattles as it slams shut behind him, and Alex drops his suitcase onto the worn hardwood floors. 

The cottage is small but beautiful. A little stuffy and warm, but that’s nothing that can’t be fixed by opening the windows and letting the cool ocean breeze in. 

He leaves his belongings behind and does a quick sweep of the kitchen. The basics are there, just as the AirBnB host said. Salt, pepper, oil, sugar. A box of tea and a canister of coffee. Prepackaged snacks on display on the counter. There are water bottles in the fridge and a box of baking soda. He’ll need to go to the market in town and stock up on produce, dairy, and good coffee, but it’s fine. It’s nice.

From the photos online, he knows the bedroom and bathroom are down the hall to his left, along with a small linen closet with extra sheets, blankets, and pillows. There’s a door that leads to the basement where the washer and dryer are kept and the hot water heater, which he might need to reset if the power goes out during his stay. 

The living room is basic but homey. A couch and two armchairs, each a little frayed at the edges, are set around a wide driftwood coffee table with stacks of board games underneath. No TV. Spotty WiFi. Perfect.

He steps out the sliding glass doors onto the small deck overlooking the beach. It’s early summer, and kids are still in school, so the beach is quiet and barren. It's just a little lonely, but it's relatable. 

He shakes his head, physically knocking the dreary thought from his brain. This isn’t what this vacation is about. So what if his boyfriend of nearly a year revealed that he’d been cheating on him for the last six months two days before the trip, and so what if both the flight and the booking were non-refundable. So what if he had to dip into his savings to pay for this. It’s better to learn that Peter is a heartless douchebag now than five years down the line when Alex is pushing thirty and thinking about marriage and kids and forever. So what if it’s brought up the same feelings of abandonment and inadequacy he’s shoved deep down inside of himself since his parents divorced. It’s okay. 

This week is about self-reflection and discovery. He’s going to learn how to be alone and be okay with it. He doesn’t need a partner to be happy. 

Alex leans forward on the railing and watches the waves crash against the shore until a man coming up the boardwalk catches his attention. 

He’s tall and blond; his blue linen shirt is loose across his shoulders and flutters around his body in the wind. He stops halfway, his shoes in his hand, and turns back toward the beach to whistle. A beagle hops onto the path beside him a moment later, shaking the water from his fur and making the man laugh. 

It’s a nice sound. 

The man and his dog continue up the boardwalk and into the house next door to Alex’s rented cottage. He towels off the dog and wipes his own feet on the mat before disappearing inside. 

Interesting. 

Day 2

The town market is small and overpriced, but Alex is able to get almost everything he needs, minus the coffee. 

Fortunately, the market is next to a cafe selling their beans by the pound. Alex buys two bags and a cherry turnover and learns that there's a farmer’s market in the church parking lot on Sundays. 

On his way out, he spots his neighbor sitting on the patio, a book in his hand, a cup of tea on the table in front of him, and the beagle at his feet.

When Alex passes, the dog lifts its head and wags its tail. Alex wants to stop and ask the man if he can say hello, but his hands are full of groceries and coffee, and the odds of dropping everything and embarrassing himself are too great. 

He keeps walking and regrets not stopping the whole way home.

Day 3

Alex spends the whole day at the beach. 

He packs a cooler with sandwiches, fruit, and beer and hauls one of the folding chairs provided by the host down to the water. 

It’s overcast when he gets down there, but by noon, the sun is high and hot, and he slathers on another layer of sunscreen before he reclines the chair and takes a nap. 

When he wakes up, his neighbor has joined him, sitting an acceptable distance away and a bit too close, considering he has almost the entire beach. 

Alex’s first instinct is to be annoyed because what the fuck, but then his neighbor looks over the top of the book he’s reading and makes eye contact with Alex, then looks away quickly, like he’s been caught. 

Interesting. 

Alex stands up and stretches his arms over his head before pulling his tank top over his head and dropping it to the chair. 

He feels his neighbor’s eyes on him the entire way to the water, where he jumps in without hesitation. When he surfaces, his neighbor is watching him again. This time, he doesn’t look away. 

Day 4

“Bone! You need to bone!”

Alex rolls his eyes at Nora’s voice in the background of the call. 

“We're not going to bone,” Alex says. “I don’t even know his name.”

“Maybe you could ask him,” June supplies helpfully. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“To know his name?”

“To bone,” Nora says, sounding closer to the phone. “Alex, your piece of shit ex cheated on you. You’re legally required to sleep with someone else. You should know that. You’re a lawyer.”

“I’m a paralegal.”

“Same diff.”

“Definitely not.”

“You did say he was good-looking,” June says, getting the conversation back on track, and Alex hums as he looks out the back door. 

From this angle, he can see his neighbor on his deck, where he’s been fiddling with his grill for the last twenty minutes. 

“He is,” Alex agrees, looking over his long legs and broad shoulders. “He can’t work a grill, though. What the fuck is he doing?”

“Go help him!” Nora chimes in. “You two can eat dinner, and then he can eat you—” 

Alex hangs up and opens the door, then steps over to the far side of the deck, closest to his neighbor, who is tapping the gauge of the propane tank.

“I think it might be empty.”

His neighbor’s head snaps up. “Pardon?”

“The tank. If you can’t get it to light, you’re probably out of propane.”

“Oh,” he says as he looks down at the tank. “How do I fix that?”

“Get the tank refilled.”

“And where do I do that?”

“At this time of night, nowhere.”

Those broad shoulders fall. “Oh.”

“You can come over and use mine,” Alex yells over. “The host said it was full.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

His neighbor looks down at his dog at his feet. 

“You can bring—,” Alex starts, and his neighbor interrupts. 

“David.”

“Your name is David?”

“No, I’m Henry,” he says before he gestures down to the dog. “His name is David.”

“Okay….well….you can both come over. This place is listed as pet friendly.” 

Henry looks down at David, then at the grill, then over at Alex. 

“I’ll be over,” Henry calls. 

Alex nods. “I’ll be here.” 

Day 5 

“You know, you never told me what your friend does to afford a beach house.”

“Oh,” Henry says as he picks up a pint of strawberries. “It’s hard to pin Pez down. I suppose he does a bit of everything.”

Alex nods as Henry pays for the berries, and they continue their loop around the farmer’s market. 

Dinner last night was fine. Henry seemed nervous the entire time, but Alex can’t honestly say that he was playing it cool. 

It’s like they both knew mutual attraction was simmering beneath the surface, but neither knew what to do about it. Maybe Henry is just shy, and maybe Alex is a little out of practice after spending nearly a year of his life in a dead-end relationship. 

He did learn that Henry was a copy editor who could work from practically anywhere. He has a sister who might join him next month and a brother who thinks what he does for a living is pointless. 

Alex kind of hates his brother, but he likes the way Henry smiles when he talks about his sister and friend.

“You never told me why you’re here alone,” Henry says, and Alex shrugs.

“You’re here alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have David.”

“Okay, point, but do I have to have a reason? Is it a crime for someone to vacation alone?”

“Certainly not, but….”

“But,” Alex starts with a heavy sigh. “I was supposed to come with my boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Henry says, sounding disappointed.

“Ex-boyfriend now,” Alex explains. “Turns out he was cheating on me, and all the reservations were non-refundable, so…here I am. Alone.”

Henry knocks their shoulders together with a soft smile. “Maybe not so alone.”

Day 6

The power goes out at exactly 11:59 at night.

“Fuck,” Alex swears up at the ceiling while rain and wind pound against the windows and lightning flashes outside. “Fuck.”

He knows he’s lucky that it stayed on for this long. While he’s no stranger to storms (everything is bigger in Texas), the constant weather alerts and warnings that pop up on his phone, combined with how close the house is to the beach, are making him nervous. 

He could leave, get in the rental car, and go, but when he sits up in bed and looks out the window, he can see the lights on at Henry’s place. 

Of course, Henry’s rich friend would have a generator. Of course, Alex can’t leave without him. 

Alex puts on his sneakers and makes a run for it, skidding onto Henry’s front porch and banging on the door, hoping he’s heard over the rolling thunder.

He hears David bark, then quick footsteps, and suddenly, the door opens, and Henry appears through the screen. 

“The power went out,” Alex says with a thumb hooked over his shoulder. “And I don’t know where the candles are in the house, and I’m trying not to freak out–.”

“Are you bloody mad,” Henry interrupts as he opens the screen door and yanks him into the house. “You could have been struck by lightning.”

“I’m a pretty fast runner.”

“Fast enough to dodge lightning?”

“I made it, didn’t I?”

“I suppose,” Henry says. “Now, wait here.”

Henry disappears down the hall while Alex drips over the hardwood. 

“Should we be worried?” Alex calls after him after a particularly loud clap of thunder. “I’m always seeing ocean homes swept into the sea on the news.” 

“Pez said this place has never flooded.”

“Okay, but climate change is getting worse. Just because it didn't happen last season doesn't mean it won’t happen this season.”

“I don’t think we need to worry,” Henry says when he returns, a towel in one hand and a change of clothes in the other. “But I understand why you are.”

Alex takes the towel and the clothes but doesn’t move from his spot by the front door. He’s not sure what to do with the clothes or with Henry, dressed in sweatpants and the softest-looking t-shirt he’s ever seen. Pillow marks across his cheek and his hair mussed with sleep. 

Alex is leaving in a few days, gone forever, and he doesn’t know how he’ll handle losing someone he’s never even touched.

“I’m going to make tea,” Henry tells him as he moves into the kitchen. “I’m thinking chamomile. Would you like some?”

“Later, maybe,” Alex says as he sets the clothes down on the kitchen table and crowds into Henry’s space. “Is this okay?” He asks as he slowly brings his hands up to cup Henry’s face. 

“Oh,” Henry says, expression falling softly as he nods. 

Day 7 

The storm is over by morning. 

Alex wakes to the sun in his eyes, David curled up at his feet, and Henry’s arm draped over his waist.

“Baby,” Alex whispers, his lips brushing across Henry’s forehead. “We should get up.”

Henry’s face scrunches as he tightens his grip on Alex. “Ten more minutes. Or forever.” 

Alex smiles. 

Forever sounds nice.

Day 371

Alex wakes to the smell of coffee and lips pressed to his cheek. 

He reaches out blindly, smiling when his hand catches the hem of Henry’s shirt. 

“Happy anniversary, love,” Henry whispers, and Alex rolls over and opens his eyes. “I got you a coffee and a turnover from the place in town.”

“You’re up early,” Alex says as he sits up and takes the coffee and the bag from Henry. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I could,” Henry says as he sits down beside him. “I wanted to make sure I got to the coffee shop before they were out of the cherry turnovers.”

“I would’ve gone with you.”

“You seemed pretty tired,” Henry says smugly. “I thought it was best to let you sleep.”

Alex hums and takes a sip. “I’ll repay the favor tonight.”

“Looking forward to it. Until then, plans for the day?”

They could do anything. Head down to the beach or take a drive up the coast. Get lost in a coastal bookshop or an antique store for hours. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. 

All that matters is that they’re together. 

[vmrenarde]

An Email Through Time

You have mail… You have mail…

The computer echoed across the room. The robotic voice flowing through the speakers sounded as though it was trapped inside of a tin can. Old hardware seemed strangely difficult to upgrade in the Age of Technology. I groaned, slamming a pillow over my face and tuning out the sound of the broken notification system. You’d think that one alert would be enough. 

Almost as if a God above watched me in spite, my alarm clock blared on my bedside table. I’d always been a strong advocate for sleeping in. Waking up at five in the morning to catch the train to work seemed to exacerbate my affliction. I grabbed my phone, silenced the alarm, and checked my social media. It was my daily routine and a comfort I had grown accustomed to. 

You have mail… You have mail…

The notifications from my computer did not stop, interrupting my routine. Slowly, I dragged myself out of bed and over to my cluttered desk. I sat down quickly, the rolling chair under me was not expecting my sudden weight and rolled away. I grabbed the corners of the desk and pulled myself back. Clicking through my computer, I looked at my new mail. Most were ads or subscriptions that I had long since forgotten about. Nothing of interest caught my eye until I saw a subject line in all caps. 

READ IMMEDIATELY 

My heart began to beat faster. The email was only a few hours old, landing in my inbox while I was deep in sleep. The email address was clear as day. The same string of letters and numbers that I had created so many years ago. I had begged my mom for weeks to let me create an email. I had wanted to play my online games, but I could never have imagined that one day this would be waiting for me.

I had heard from so many of my friends that they had all received emails from the future. I didn’t believe them, choosing to think they were being scammed by someone who wanted them to buy thousands of dollars in gift cards. But, with my email address staring back at me, I felt a pressure in my chest that I could not comprehend. 

The news had not spoken of this phenomenon yet, but in the coming years, it would wreak havoc on the world as we knew it. We would be able to communicate with our past selves. As far as I knew, my friends had only used it to warn themselves away from boys who would eventually break their hearts. At the time, it seemed silly to me. There were pros and cons I suppose. On one hand, you would save yourself the pain of a breakup, but on the other, you would be restricting yourself. You'd be limiting the deep and enriching moments you have with other people.

My heart was in my throat as my finger hovered over the mouse. I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to read it. But, I knew myself. If, in the future, I had become okay with this procedure, there was a reason. Or, even more horrific, I still wasn’t on board with it in the future but had to make the difficult choice because of a catastrophe waiting to happen. 

I took a deep breath and clicked the email. 

SUBJECT: READ IMMEDIATELY 

Today, for you, it is March 15th, 2025. Do not under any circumstances go to work. 

Short and sweet. To the point. Distressingly so. 

“I have to go to work,” I spoke out loud. “What the fuck. I have to go to work!” I began to get frustrated. I can’t imagine a world where I have forgotten my constant struggle with money.

I searched through my email frantically, praying that there would be another message holding more context than “Don’t go”.  It’s honestly so typical of me to leave out pertinent information. Maybe future me knew that if I was told why I shouldn’t go, I wouldn’t think it was a big deal. I left it vague to set off this type of response in myself. 

I cursed under my breath and stared at the phone lying on my desk. I thought of the shop’s number, reciting it in my mind like a mantra. My foot bounced against the hardwood flooring and I rubbed my eyes in frustration. 

I picked up the phone and dialed the number, placing the phone on speaker and laying it back down on my desk. My manager, Meghan, answered in a somber tone. 

“I can’t come in today.” 

“What? Eileen, come on. You’re the third person to call out this morning. If one more person calls out I’ll have to close the shop for the day.” 

“Wait, other people are calling out?” 

“Yeah, and if you don’t come in I’m fucked.” 

“Meg…” I rubbed at my temples. “Please. I never call out. This is my first sick day in over a year.” 

I heard a deep sigh come through the speakers. “I know. You’re my best employee for a reason. Do you know why everyone is calling out?” 

“I can take a guess,” I said, running my mouse over the cryptic email. “You know, you should probably close for the day. I don’t know why. I just have a bad feeling about today.” 

I had worked with Meg for seven years. We had been the only consistencies through years of other people quitting or being fired. She deserved her spot as manager. Well, she deserved a more lucrative job, but if she had to stay in a shithole, she might as well manage it. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I got an email from the future. You know, like Dennis was talking about a few weeks ago?” 

The line went quiet for a moment, then clicking from a computer mouse. Meg gasped. 

“I just… This is impossible. I thought we always said it was bullshit.” 

“I thought it was too. What happened?” 

“I just checked my email. I got one too. Oh my god, this is so scary.” Meg took a deep breath and cleared her thoughts. “Okay, I am thoroughly terrified, so I’m going to close up the shop for today. I’ll send everyone who is here home and then I’ll send a mass text to all the employees that we will be closing for the day. That seems like a good idea. I’ll text the boss and tell him that too many people called in sick and that it is impossible to run the store with three people.” 

“Good. Wanna come over?” 

Meg laughed as she began the process of closing down the store. “I feel like we shouldn’t be in groups, what if it’s like the apocalypse or something?” 

“If it was like the apocalypse I think the news would be reporting on mass emails. Come on, we can wait it out together. I have alcohol!”

“Well, neither of us works tomorrow-“ 

“And maybe we will never have to work again!” I laughed into the microphone. This entire situation was much more than I could bear on my own. 

“Okay. Fine, give me an hour to close up and I’ll be there. You better have breakfast ready for me, I’m starving.” 

“Of course, whatever your heart desires shall be yours.” 

Meg laughed and hung up. I put my phone down and stretched my back against the chair. I allowed my head to spin for a few moments before shaking it off and heading to the living room. I cleared any garbage, refolded the throw blankets, and fluffed the pillows on the couch. Walking into the kitchen I noticed last night’s dinner plates sitting in the sink. I groaned and got to work cleaning. Once I was done, I realized how much time I had before Meg would arrive. 

I plopped onto the couch, trying to wrap my mind around the events of the morning. I could not come up with any substantial theories and it hurt my brain to think about it. When I started to make breakfast, the email was still burned into my brain. Do not under any circumstances go to work. I made large strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast. Do not under any circumstances go to work. I ran around the kitchen, looking for the blueberry muffin mix that I knew I had bought. Do not under any circumstances go to work. Finally, I took a deep breath and placed my hands on the counter to steady myself. I needed to relax. It was probably just a fluke or a scam. 

As I finished breakfast, Meg had arrived. She sat down at the kitchen table and filled her plate. I poured her a glass of orange juice and apologized for the lack of muffins. She rolled her eyes and ate her fill of eggs and bacon. I pecked at the food, but I was no longer hungry. My stomach was still in knots.  

Meg insisted that we have the news on in the background, in case something happened while we lounged around for most of the day. We swapped stories and gossiped about the people we knew. None of it mattered and that was exactly what we needed to take our minds off the heavy weight in our hearts.

We had ordered an early dinner before I started work on a large pitcher of margaritas. I had to make good on my promise of alcohol. Between pulses on the blender, Meg filled me in on the contents of the latest romance book she had finished. We laughed at all the protagonist's stupid decisions. 

“It was like a Hallmark movie. You have to read it.” 

I sat down with our glasses and we talked for hours. By 10:30, we were drunk and giggling like any other night. Meg was gushing over how cute Dennis was. She said that she’d love to ask him out but didn’t think that he liked her. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so in love. You should text him.” 

“What? Right now? No way, I could barely keep a conversation with him going right now.” 

I threw my head back with laughter. “You’re probably right. In the morning, then?” 

Meg repositioned herself on the couch, swirling her almost empty martini glass. She was quiet for a moment. 

“Here, let me get you a refill,” I said, grabbing her glass and walking into the kitchen. 

“I can’t believe we got those damn emails, it’s like-“ She cut herself off, I turned to look at her. She was staring at the TV, the look on her face sobered me. “Turn the volume up. Come here, turn the volume up!” She was frantically looking for the remote. I rushed back in, swiping it off the armchair and raising the volume. 

A lone reporter stood in the center of the city, our storefront in the background of the broadcast. The street was desolate, an unsettling sight. The area had a lively nightlife. There were many bars within half a mile of that spot and a slew of businesses that stayed open late to accommodate the heavy, drunk, foot traffic. Seeing it empty left a pit in my stomach. 

“…After nearly twelve hours, police still have no clue what has happened in the city. Unfortunately, there are no witnesses. The area has been almost abandoned. Families are saying that their loved ones came into the city this morning to go to work. At some point, around 11 am, they stopped responding to texts or calls. Nobody has heard from them since.” 

Meg had a hand over her mouth, muffling any gasps she would accidentally release. My head felt like it was spinning again. I checked my phone. I was bombarded by texts and calls but my fingers shook too much to respond to any. Twelve hours had passed since these people had gone missing. I felt my breathing become faster and my heartbeat grew louder. 

“…We are unsure of what this means, where these people have gone, or if they will come back. The police have put a lockdown on the area. Once we have wrapped here, not a single soul is allowed in or out of the area.” 

“We would have been there,” Meg said, stating the obvious thought that floated through the room. 

“And if we were there, we would have disappeared.” 

“So, if we disappeared, how could we have emailed ourselves?” 

Meg and I looked at each other for a long moment before reverting our attention to the screen. 

You’ve got mail… You’ve got mail…

Meg and I jumped out of our skin, the notification seemed like thunder in a world that was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. 

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head and getting up to check my email. As I entered my bedroom, I looked out the window onto the open street below. Nobody was walking and there weren’t any cars driving, but all the apartments were lit up with people flitting around inside. Everyone was too terrified to leave their homes. 

“Nobody is outside,” I called to Meg, hoping to share in the unease. I shook the computer mouse, bringing my computer screen back to life. The newest email made my heart leap again. I couldn’t take much more of this. 

SUBJECT: THANK YOU

I can’t begin to explain how grateful I am. I’m not sure how time will flow moving forward, but you stopped us from, technically, enduring the worst experience of our life. I do not know what happens from here but thank you for saving us. 

The message was still so cryptic. What did I save us from? How would this change events in the future? Will I remember an event I didn’t experience? Well, technically, I guess I did experience it, but this current form of myself didn’t. I began to feel nauseous. Margaritas didn’t seem to go well with changing the course of the future.

I stood from my desk and walked slowly back to the living room. Meg was staring at her phone screen, tears pouring down her face. She looked up at me, holding her phone in my direction. I took it gingerly and read the email that was brightly displayed on her screen. 

It was the same.

For more original writing, follow my Patreon! All my writing is currently public access.

[madhavsarawagi]

How to Choose the Right Plywood for Your Project

Selecting the right plywood for your project can make a significant difference in the outcome. With a variety of types, grades, and sizes available, it’s essential to understand what to look for to ensure you get the best results. In this blog, we’ll guide you through the process of choosing the right plywood for your needs. Plus, we’ll show you why Bhawani Plywood is your go-to source for top-quality plywood.

Understanding Plywood Grades

Plywood is graded based on its quality and waterproof level , and knowing these grades can help you make an informed decision.

BWP-Grade Plywood : This is the highest quality plywood, Which is boiling water proof best for places like chennai which are near sea . It’s ideal for projects requiring a long life, such as cabinetry and furniture.

BWR-Grade Plywood : Slightly lower in quality than BWP-grade, BWR-grade plywood has a little less life than BWP . But can be used for furniture which are not often in contact with water.

COMMERCIAL-Grade Plywood : The lowest grade, with several imperfections and lowest level of water that is moisture resistence . It’s best used for structural purposes where appearance isn’t a priority or temporary furnitures. It is also called as MR grade

Types of Plywood

Different types of plywood are designed for specific applications. Here are some common types:

1. Softwood Plywood : Made from softwood species like pine, fir, or spruce, this type is often used for construction and industrial purposes. 2. Hardwood Plywood : Made from hardwood species like oak, maple, or birch, this type is ideal for furniture, cabinetry, and high-quality interior finishes. 3. Marine Plywood : Specially treated to resist moisture, marine plywood is perfect for outdoor projects, boat building, and areas exposed to high humidity.

Key Factors to Consider

When choosing the right plywood for your project, consider the following factors:

1. Application : Determine where and how the plywood will be used. Structural applications require strong, thick plywood, while decorative uses benefit from high-quality veneers. 2. Exposure to Elements : For outdoor or high-moisture areas, choose BWP or marine-grade plywood to prevent damage. 3. Budget : Higher-grade plywood costs more but provides a better finish and longevity. Balance your budget with the quality required for your project. 4. Thickness : The thickness of plywood affects its strength and stability. Ensure you select a thickness appropriate for the load and stress it will endure.

Tips for Selecting Plywood

Here are some expert tips to help you select the right plywood:

1. Inspect the quality : Look for smooth, even surfaces with minimal defects. High-quality face ensures a better finish. 2. Check the Core: The core layers should be consistent and free from gaps. This affects the strength and durability of the plywood. 3. Consider the Weight : Heavier plywood indicates a higher density, which can be beneficial for structural applications but might be overkill for decorative uses.

Why Buy Plywood from Bhawani Plywoods

At Bhawani Plywood, we are committed to providing the highest quality plywood for all your project needs. Here’s why you should choose us:

- Quality : We offer plywood of kitply which is our most trusted partner for plywood with good support for any issue. - Expert Advice : Our knowledge and experience can help you select the best plywood for your specific needs. - Competitive Prices : We provide top-quality plywood at competitive prices to fit your budget. - Convenience : Shop online at Bhawani Plywood or visit our store for a hassle-free shopping experience.

Conclusion

Choosing the right plywood is crucial for the success of your project. By understanding plywood grades, types, and key factors to consider, you can make an informed decision that ensures the best results.

Ready to get started on your next project? Visit Bhawani Plywood for the best selection of high-quality plywood. Our team is here to help you find exactly what you need to bring your project to life. Shop with us today and see the difference quality plywood can make!

[multifandomizer]

Buying Furniture the Smart Way

Get Educated

While looking for furniture it's essential to require your investment, with so many retail bargain shops and custom shops, also online stores and indexes, it's exceptionally easy to become overpowered. First glance around, put off buying for a little while, and examine indexes magazines, surf the internet, come out as comfortable click here with development and styles, then, at that point, look at all cost ranges.

Buying Quality Furniture Tips

First and chief ensure what you like will fit in the room. Make a scaled floor plan, and carry it with you while shopping, alongside a measuring tape and texture and variety tests if you have them.

If the furniture you're taking a gander at is an upholstered seat, sit in it, read the labels, feel the weight, when you rest on it, does it feel strong. At the point when you turn it over how is it developed, is the edge hardwood and furnace dried, it ought to be, is the hard wood associated by interlocking pieces or dowels, it likewise ought to be, and certainly not butted together. Coil springs ought to be sagless and made of tempered steel, and search for the springs to be eight ways hand tied, that is the very thing that you will track down in a top notch piece. The most widely recognized filling is polyurethane froth, with down being more agreeable and softer, yet in addition more costly.

Tidy up (in all seriousness) on how you might interpret the different sorts of woods accessible in the present furniture. While looking for cupboards or chests, realize what facade and woods are being utilized by perusing the labels and names. Concentrate on development of the pieces that convey the most weight like drawers, legs, racks, supports, is basic. Ensure that the drawers and entryways open and close without a hitch, and that the completion is smooth and hard without blemishes.

Reproductions

If you're buying a serious reproduction, you ought to first realize what the development, craftsmanship and subtleties of the period were like. Recall that reproductions are actually clones of the first old fashioned and ought to be worked with similar subtleties and materials, transformations can be approximately founded on the first furniture, which will thusly cost less.

Textures

If reupholstering is in your arrangements then the textures are unquestionably a question of taste, damask and brocade express class; gingham proposes country, lively stripes or chenille fit into any stylistic layout or style. If you go to a texture shop remember to bring tests of wall covers, rug, paint and some other textures you might utilize. Try not to buy piece of clothing textures they are not quite so sturdy as brightening textures. Brightening textures are for the most part 54 inches wide and all the texture for the adorning task ought to be bought simultaneously.

[emsworne]

Purchasing Furniture On the web - An Introduction

Everybody needs to make their home climate look wonderful. Nonetheless, it tends to click here be an extravagant and tedious business.

It would seem OK to spend some time pondering the kind of decorations you need in your home prior to spending your money. Everybody has exceptionally bustling lives nowadays, and nobody needs to burn through their valuable recreation time at the end of the week by wandering around shops. In the event that you purchase furniture online this is an ideal arrangement as you can peruse a large number of styles in various woods.

Some a word of wisdom would be to involve a respectable retailer with a decent foundation in web-based deals. This implies that you can make your buy with complete certainty. You can likewise be guaranteed that the merchandise might be returned assuming they end up being unsatisfactory. there may likewise be a chance with the expectation of complimentary conveyance. Everybody likes to imagine that they have something for no good reason.

Two exceptionally popular woods these days are oak and pine.

There is a distinction in cost between pine furniture and oak. Pine trees develop rapidly. Oak is a deciduous hardwood which implies that it will require close to 100 years to develop. That will significantly affect the cost and makes sense of why an appealing oak feasting table is so much dearer than a pine eating table.

The presence of various woods likewise changes relying upon the tree it comes from. Think about the annular rings in trees. A speedy investigation of the cross-part of a pine tree will show dim and light rings. The dull stripes show seasons of slow growth in winter. Indeed, even human hair fills all the more slowly in winter. The warm, mid year months bring about more extensive, paler stripes.

Mild hardwood trees, in light of the fact that their growth is all the more slow, have a denser grain with less obvious rings.

Which would it be advisable for me to pick? Oak or pine?

One ought to first and foremost think about style. That implies the amount you personally like the vibe of something. Some people simply love the open-grained nature of pine, others like the more modest, denser grains of oak. Pine likewise will in general develop into a hotter variety. Eventually it is down to personal choice.

[v6mp]

Buy the Best Garden Furniture

A garden is the primary resource for the guests. It is an expansion of your home and the garden furniture gives a thought regarding the stylistic layout of your home. You must arrange the outdoors with the indoors, to make your home alluring. Mixing the outdoor furniture things with indoor furniture things is the most vital move towards planning. The terrace might have a different topic, however your home and the garden ought to have a comparable subject. In the event that not comparative, the style ought to basically complete one another. Utilizing similar colors isn't required. You can involve differentiating colors for uniqueness, as a matter of fact. Be that as it may, the furniture type is vital. You can't have this website rattan furniture in the outdoors, and created iron furniture indoors. This is a befuddle. Rattan garden furniture would mix well with wooden home furniture. The thought is to have some essential closeness in style. Likewise, a one of a kind look in the home and an extremely contemporary look in the garden won't mix well.

In the event that you need a fair plan, internet is an ideal spot to look for outdoor furniture things. You will get a colossal assortment under one rooftop. In addition, you can shop from the comfort of your home and the things will be delivered very close to home. In addition to that, when you buy online, you get an amazing chance to save cash. Many sites offer limits when you buy online. This is on the grounds that a shipper can sell straightforwardly to his clients online, and there are no delegates. You are ensured to get garden furniture at a limited rate online. At the point when there are no middle people, the shipper is in a situation to save cash, which is generally given to the wholesalers and retailers, as commission. This saving is passed to the clients and functions as an advantage for both the buyer, as well as, the vender. There is a tremendous assortment of furniture and you won't be denied of decisions when you buy online. You will be ruined with decisions, as a matter of fact. Here is a rundown of furniture things that you can buy online.

Types Of Garden Furniture

*Wooden: The wood utilized for outdoor things is of different types. There is hardwood, softwood, and climate safe wood. Wood isn't exceptionally high on support and is cost compelling. All you want is a covering or stain with the adjustment of seasons.

*Rattan: Rattan furniture looks extremely elegant and suits most preferences and spending plans. This material is water and intensity safe, and is ideal for outdoors.

*Metal: Metal furniture things are normally made of iron blended in with other combinations or aluminum. The metal is covered with different colors and gives a one of a kind look. Metal furniture looks classic.

*Teak Wood: The most popular and the most strong wood is teak wood. It has an extremely lengthy life and is known for its security and strength. Teak wood garden furniture might be costly, yet it merits the cash spent.

*Garden Seats: Seats are accessible in different sizes to address different issues. In the event that you have kids or pets at home, you could pick a medium level seat for the garden.

[e3khatena]

I had an experience this week that brought me to the very precipice of a certain flavor of madness and ripped me out of it, returned to the Earth after but just a moment, and it has shaken me to my very core, fundamentally changed my entire being.

I promise you this is about my transition.

For the uninitiated, I was able to start feminizing hormone replacement therapy as of 16 December 2022, and at this point have been on it for just shy of four months. After an early wave of soreness in the first few weeks, I had not felt or noticed any major changes, and went to my endocrinologist after the first three months with virtually nothing to report, not even mental changes brought about by hormones. I was, somehow, a late bloomer to my own second puberty.

Despite that, I did not let that get in the way of acquiring a small outfit completely of piecemeal, cheap components. I bought a sports bra on clearance, a dress at 40% off, and used a prepaid Visa from my birthday to buy a skirt and some other accessories. The dress in particular has been one of my favorites, especially given the warm room I occupy, not aided by a large PC that I absolutely put through its paces. It provides ample ventilation while also just looking really cute to boot, and it has provided ample gender euphoria on the days I do wear it.

I sent this selfie to a friend of mine shortly after helping them out with a bit of money during one of their livestreams. I like helping my friends and also likewise enjoy sending along stuff like this as a nice bonus. “GOD you’re cute, dawww” was the response I got from them.

This was the first time anyone had ever called me cute, and it was a friend who I looked up to and felt was infinitely more fashionable and confident in themselves than I was about me. I shared this story with other friends, who also confirmed, and posted the selfie online, where someone DMed me to add to the euphoria. This part of the story ends here but we will return to it briefly.

This past Sunday, I purchased the indie game Unpacking. The title is a puzzle game in which you unload moving boxes of the protagonist’s stuff into new spaces as they move into new locales during their time in college and their adult life. In the penultimate level, a new set of boxes arrive, a character quickly discovered to be the girlfriend of our apparently-queer protagonist. In the final level, the two kinds of boxes are scattered around, and their contents are not specific to the protagonist or her girlfriend, but are completely mixed, and the ending song calls this out as part of the tender act of “unpacking a life”.

I cried. This is not new, I cried in a not-dissimilar manner after playing Gone Home, which featured a similarly wholesome lesbian romance, but I still cried regardless. I went to bed, and it’s clear that I was still dwelling on it all.

I dreamt that I had laid my head in a girl’s lap, sitting on a hardwood floor. She ran her hands over my body and told me I was cute, that she loved me, and that I didn’t have to worry or even think around her, it was okay to just breathe and relax, and I did. Her touch felt so real, so gentle and sweet, and for a moment the pretense of a dream faded away, it was real and it was so beautifully sweet.

I awoke Monday morning to the phantom of a comforting touch I had never felt in my life. I had an experience so real-feeling but so far beyond description that it had rocked me completely. I have zero experience with love outside of the platonic sort; the way I love my dog or spending time with my friends. I had second-hand knowledge of relationships based on accounts from those friends, but they never ended well and called me lucky I “didn’t get any of this”, as if my ignorance was a gift to be cherished and not just an integral hole in my being that had never even attempted to be filled.

I’ve had debilitating social anxiety my entire life, the kind that gives me paralysis and chest pain around the girls in middle and high school that I wanted to know better, the kind that felt ashamed and terrified when Valentine’s Day in 9th grade had us fill out surveys to ultimately aid in matchmaking in our school, the kind that looked at prom only as an expensive catered meal in another town and nothing more (my prom apparently sucked but that’s a story for another day; I spent the night playing Fallout New Vegas and had a better time for it). This anxiety had never gone away, I had never grown out of it, and my teenage creed to prove myself “better” or “more mature” than my peers by not getting engaged with romantic social matters had only ever made me less confident, less mature, and worse off for my adult years than those same peers.

And now here I was, spending most of Monday too distracted by this yearning I felt to be held, to be appreciated, to be *loved* the way I had been in that dream, and entirely unable to comprehend the emotion I had felt. I described the sensation of having my brain replaced by a “sickly sweet mush” and spent the whole day with a deeply emotional pining gripping at me, a sensation far surpassing my traditional touch starvation, a craving so deeply personal and so foreign to me, but so heartfelt and strong that I still feel it more than a day later, even as I write it.

I know nothing socially. I’ve never even gotten to hold another lady’s hand, let alone be told I was loved by one, and I’ve never felt the need to even bother vocalizing those mannerisms because they felt weird and gross of me, after having been so avoidant for so long, but now the feeling welling inside me is so strong that I’ve had to let them spill, if for nothing else than my own sanity. At long last, after more than a decade of post-pubescent life, I’m finally absolutely starved of romantic and sensual love and it’s eating at my recently estrogen-flooded mind and body.

I don’t know how to proceed. Like, part of me knows the answer is to find my fellow local queer folk and make friends and such in there, to actually be vulnerable around them, but I have zero experience with that all and have no idea where to turn. If you made it this far and have any ideas regarding this, I’m open to hearing them.

Thank you.

[the-iron-orchid]

Canvas-making: Materials

Here's what you will need, I go into detail on each under the cut!

Wooden stretching frame

Wooden dowels

Cotton fabric

Bookbinding thread

Kitchen twine

Gesso

Upholstery Needles

Bulldog clips

3" Paintbrush

Sandpaper

Dust Mask

Mixing cup

Distilled water (optional)

(links are just examples, I'm not affiliated with any of them!)

The Frame

Traditionally, we use a simple frame with half-lap joints, held together by bolts or even just lashed together with twine. This allows it to be disassembled when not in use. However, you can absolutely salvage the inner stretching frame from an old canvas, or make a frame from inexpensive stretcher bars you can get at most hobby and art supply stores. These usually friction-fit together; you can also glue or staple them for more security.

You need to leave room on the inside of the frame for the stretching technique. If you want a specific final canvas size, add about 8 inches (20cm) to each dimension when buying stretcher bars. (For example, if you want a 12x14 final canvas size after trimming, you should get two 20-inch and two 22-inch stretcher bars.) It's better to err on the side of larger, as it will give you some extra area to test your paints on!

You will also need four 3/8 inch (9-10mm) thick hardwood dowels, cut to roughly 2 inches (~5cm) shorter than the inside dimensions of your frame. The inside dimensions of our example frame would be roughly 17x19, so you would cut two 15-inch dowels and two 17-inch dowels. (You can also make smaller canvases with the same frame, just by using shorter dowels!)

Fabric

You want a plain medium weight 100% cotton fabric with a nice even weave, like Kona or Pimatex. (Avoid muslin, it stretches far too much and may tear!) You can find Kona cotton in the quilting section of most fabric stores. I personally prefer Pimatex, and I buy it from Dharma Trading Company.

Threads

For lashing the fabric to the dowels, you will want linen bookbinding thread. Other threads will stretch, break and/or tear your fabric. Size 35/3 is good, 25/3 is better. You can get this at most art supply or craft stores (albeit rather overpriced) or at a specialty bookbinding supply shop online. One spool will last a very long time.

For the actual stretching, just get a ball of some good old-fashioned 100% cotton kitchen twine from the grocery store.

Gesso

Any decent quality acrylic artist's gesso will do. My teacher prefers Winsor & Newton; I often use Liquitex. For colored grounds, I like to use Matisse Background Colors. If you are planning to paint with transparent watercolor, you may want a specialty watercolor ground like these from Daniel Smith or Golden. You don't need a huge bottle; this process doesn't use as much gesso as traditional canvas.

Tools

Upholstery Repair Needle Kit: The big curved-tip needles will make this a lot easier. Find them at any fabric or crafts store, or Amazon.

Bulldog clips: Not strictly necessary, but they do make it easier to stitch the fabric to the dowels. Binder clips can also work. Get them at any office supply store or 'borrow' some from work

Paintbrush: A regular 3-inch synthetic flat paintbrush from the hardware store or Harbor Freight will do just fine.

Sandpaper: A hand-sized piece of 240-300 grit is plenty. I like to use drywall sanding mesh because it doesn't get blocked up by gesso dust so quickly.

Dust Mask: Please wear a dust mask when sanding your gesso! I prefer to do this outside, it's real messy.

Disposable Cup: For thinning your gesso. I just use an old yogurt container or such.

Distilled Water: For thinning your gesso. Not 100% required.

[steelriverdoors]

Wonderful External Hardwood Doors

External Clear Pine Glazed Door With Flemish Glass

Take a look at the traditional external hardwood doors with stunning features and classic appeal.

20% Off On All Orders Above £1000 At Checkout!

Buy online to grab the best prices and get home delivery!