#Concrete joist

[speedframewa1]

Crafting the Future with Steel Frames and Trusses Suppliers Perth, WA | Steel Frame  Building Perth WA - Speed Frame WA

At the crossroads of innovation and construction lies Speed Frame WA, a visionary force reshaping Perth landscape. Their dedication to crafting the future is evident in the seamless fusion of steel frames and trusses suppliers perth wa within the city's architecture. Speed Frame WA  partnership encapsulates not just building but a journey towards a more resilient, sustainable future.

With an unwavering commitment to quality, Speed Frame WA steel frame buildings rise as symbols of strength and elegance. The harmonious integration of advanced truss technology further amplifies their structural excellence. Beyond construction, this partnership is an embodiment of progress, embracing design intricacies that resonate with functionality and aesthetics. Every project becomes a narrative of pioneering spirit, rewriting Perth skyline with innovation.

As they continue to shape the urban fabric, Speed Frame WA collaboration is not just about erecting structures; it's about weaving the threads of time, connecting the past to the future through architectural ingenuity and a commitment to a better, more enduring world.

[lucianaurtiga]

Basement Underground in Toronto Inspiration for a large industrial underground concrete floor basement remodel with white walls, a standard fireplace and a brick fireplace

[tsa23urban-hostel]

STRUCTURE MODEL......drawing and description of the steel structure

_ik

[captainjonnitkessler]

The problem. The FUCKING problem with renovations. Is that they always start off small, you know? I once tried to replace the fan in my bathroom and ended by ripping the entire bathroom down to bare studs and replacing literally everything in it.

Take my washing machine, for instance. I want to move it twenty feet over to create a little laundry area in the basement. I'll have to reroute some plumbing, nothing too onerous. Except.

The concrete floor in the new area is a disaster. Last guy painted it with the wrong paint, it's scratched and marred and stained, it has to go. No problem! You can rent concrete grinders from Home Depot, grinding and repainting should take less than a week if I'm being lazy about it. Except . . .

Now that everything is moved out of the way for the grinding, I'm thinking about the lally pole that supports the main beam of the house. It's right in front of the basement door and makes it really hard to move things in and out of the basement. If I could move it over just three feet that problem would be solved. But even if a structural engineer signs off on that, I'll have to cut up the floor to remove it, which of course will delay the grinding and painting. No problem! I can spend that time painting the ceiling (it's too low to put in a drop ceiling, but if you paint the ceiling and everything in it one color it has a great effect). Except . . .

If I'm going to paint the ceiling I need to pull down all the gross, mouse-infested insulation from the rim joists and replace it with foam board insulation, which will also hopefully help with the severe pillbug infestation we have down there.

Except, as I'm up there pulling down the insulation, I can't help but notice how awful the romex wiring is. Just wires absolutely everywhere, they look like shit in a way that a coat of paint won't hide. Not to mention that my electrical panel is overflowing with romex. Surely, surely it would be easier and neater to just put up a few runs of nice clean conduit, and re-wire that half of the house while I'm at it so the breakers in the kitchen quit tripping.

And that's how moving a washing machine twenty feet ends up taking three years and thousands of dollars.

[leibal]

The design focused on retaining and exposing the house’s original timber lattice structure, inspired by the Katsura Imperial Villa in Kyoto. The renovation revealed the rich character of the timber floor joists and roof trusses, emphasizing their imperfections. A natural material palette, featuring white walls, stone, timber, concrete, and exposed brick, complemented this approach.

[goodpointsandbadpoints]

OOH 19 PLS !!! (not sure if you want ships but my brain went to Nivannedy first 👀)

prompt 19: a kiss during a fake relationship

hello! hehehe nivannedy it is! Also, I know I took some liberties with the prompt. I know I did. Please forgive me 😂. This is not the conventional fake relationship stuff, but... you'll see.

tags: hurt/comfort; broken bones; blood; panic; recovery.

-

He keeps swiping at the rain running down his forehead. It was sprinkling softly all morning, from the moment they touched down onto wet grass, armed and ready.

“Leon?” he calls again. 

The house is somehow standing. He steps away from the body of the creature where it cools on the ground, and turns to the building. There’s a hole where smooth, unbroken paneling had been before—taller than Piers, wider than the two of them side by side—and he crosses the threshold of it to get inside. His rifle is somewhere around here. He doesn’t need it. 

The hole in the floor stares up at him. 

He drops down the short gap to the basement floor, and the wooden studs and joists bent and broken-in splintered ends are around him. This all happened a hours ago, so it’s had time to soak and settle. There are puddles on the floor from where the rain had found its way in—sideways and ceaseless all last night and into the morning, silvering streaks of it pooling in dark shapes on the ground. 

It’s dark down here, and too quiet. 

He wonders why here, of all places, and why now. That thing had gotten out of control and taken them across fields where it shouldn’t have gone.

The house had basically disintegrated wherever the creature touched. It tore through walls and cabinetry and furniture like they were nothing. He follows the torn trail through the place. Around a busted wall, beams showing, towards the back corner. 

“Leon?” 

It crosses his mind, not for the first time, that Leon might not have made it out of his chase. Piers tried to lead the thing out of the dead end of the house, down where it had run to the basement on Leon’s heels, but—

There’s a sound from the dark, and he’s breathless. 

“Piers.” 

“I’m here,” he says immediately. He stumbles over fragments of a chair and the torn-up edge of a carpet, turning in place. “Talk to me, Lee, where are you?” 

“Back here.” 

Back along the basement wall, along cool concrete wrapping around to hold them in the earth, there’s a body on the floor. He’s behind an overturned washing machine wrenched from the wall. Torn hoses hang from the back of it, bleeding water in shallow puddles on the ground. 

Piers runs there. He’s heavy with rain and gear, but he feels weightless as he gets down on his knees. 

“Hey.” 

Leon, breathing, looking up at him and laying on his back. 

“Hey, yourself,” Leon says. His teeth are the brightest thing on his face. His eyes are shining slivers only for a moment before they close. He’s filthy with mud. 

And of course, even now, he’s trying to smile.

Piers checks him over from head to toe. “How’s the damage?” 

“Ah,” Leon says, somewhat conversationally. “Leg’s busted.” 

Piers blinks through it, the stinging and endless run of rain into his eyes. It blurs his vision as he tries to get a better look at Leon’s leg, and wonders where his flashlight had gotten knocked off. God, they were both busted. 

He roughly drags his sleeve over his eyes, and when he blinks down again, he can see the clear lines of Leon’s leg on the ground. Bent to the side, the line interrupted just enough to make his gut turn. “Shit.”

“Doesn’t hurt.” 

Leon must have been thrown at a wall, or through it, or stepped on, or some other split-second thing that left him breathless and stuck on the ground all this time. But Piers is here now, and there’s pickup coming for them soon.

“Piers.” 

Around him, the broken walls don’t hide the thunder booming above. It’s far away, two soft claps of it that rumble and dissipate into the gray sky. Rain doesn’t hit them straight on down here, but he hears it start to pick up on the roof.

They each have splints in their vests. He reaches into a side pocket for his now, the flat piece of it that he can barely feel through his gloves. Then something touches his face, and he flinches. 

“Piers.” 

Leon is looking at him. Piers realizes belatedly that the thing on his face is Leon’s hand, and it’s trying to get ahold of his cheek. 

“Enough, Leon,” he says. His voice is low.

Everything in here is dark. The rain-heavy dimness around them, a house with no lights on, Leon’s wet and torn uniform on the carpet littered with debris. Yet Leon’s still trying to lighten it with a fucking joke, like they’re back at the beginning of this operation all over again.

“We can be done with that,” he says. 

Leon’s face hardens. For a moment, Piers thinks he’ll lie back again and let him work. But the man only pulls back to strip off his gloves, tugging them harshly one at a time to lose them on the ground, then he’s pulling Piers down by his body armor.

“You’re bleeding,” he says. 

Piers goes still where he had been fiddling with the splint. The sting in his eyes makes a bit more sense—could have easily been rainwater, full of dirt and metal and whatever else had run off of the house onto him. But he’d taken a swipe at some point. 

Leon carefully prods at his forehead. His fingers push and hold, and his right hand comes away bloody when he reaches down to his own vest. Chem spray in the pocket, slid out and uncapped with his teeth, and then Leon covers Piers’ eye with his other hand. Neither of them say anything through the spray-hiss of it on skin. 

When it’s done, Piers quietly begins bending the splint with his hands. He goes to press the molded shape to Leon’s leg, but the man’s hand tightens painfully in his collar. 

“Good?” Piers asks, glancing at him.

His teeth are gritted together, slightly bared, and he takes harsh breaths through his nose. “Just do it— jesus, Piers, fuck.” 

He does. 

It’s worse to wrap it. He has to raise Leon’s heel enough to pass the bandage underneath, and the motion makes Leon groan tightly.

“Almost done, almost,” Piers promises. He works quickly, passing over and under and bringing out the white shape of a wrapped leg, until he can fasten the end on. He tests the tightness one more time, trying not to rush. Leon’s pained breathing saws at his side. “Alright…” 

That’s the best he can do until they get picked up. He sits back and checks his work—once, then again, checking the shape and the straightness, probably not enough—until the sound of a hiccup pulls him back out. 

Leon’s grimace has fallen apart into something else. His mouth opens and shudders, chest rising to take a deep breath. 

“Hey,” Piers says. His gloves suddenly feel damp on his hands, and he struggles out of them. “Hey, Lee, take a breath.” 

Leon lets out a gasping, warbling sound. 

“I’m still here.” He feels Leon clawing for him, a hand at the edge of his armor on his side, the other for his sleeve, and he lets him. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Dim, filtered light, but he can see the tear tracks through dirt up close, the faint trail across skin and crease and his hairline. He sits there and lets Leon find an anchor as he panics. 

And he shouldn’t be wandering there, thinking about it. He should be listening for helicopter rotors and figuring out how to get Leon onto the porch, but instead he thinks about every time Leon must have been in a place like this but worse—alone, darker, quieter, more bruised and bent than this, maybe bleeding. How any times had he been left to shed tears on his own?

Piers will hold him through this one. 

He cradles the back of Leon’s head with one hand, the other settling over his heart. They sit there as long as they need to. 

Eventually, the gasping becomes steadying gulps for air, and Leon’s hands twisted in his uniform ease up. They don’t let go, though. He hangs onto Piers and stares up at the ceiling. 

One more deep breath, and then, “We made it,” he says, gravel. 

Piers shuts his eyes, lets his head fall forward between his shoulders, and sighs. The man—with his bullshit jokes and no sense of timing—just holds onto him even as he leans down. He doesn’t care about the mud or the scratches or the fucking rainwater as he kisses his head.  

He presses his lips there twice. The dirt is gritty.

“We need to get you up,” he says. He kisses above his eyebrow. “You think you can stand?” 

Leon is gripping his sleeve tight with his nails. When Piers sits up, Leon’s eyes are closed. He barely nods.

“Okay. They should be here soon.” 

Maybe everything they had done up until now was strategic, a tactical edge on the operative blade, but he can’t let it be anymore. He shuts his eyes and stays there. The weight of Leon in his arms means something, and the sharp breath at the tail end of his crying means something.

"Wait," Leon says.

Piers settles back onto his heels and hums in answer. The hands shift to hold him back—his shoulder and the slope of his neck—and Leon makes him come back down. He doesn't expect it when brings their mouths together.

A moment, just a breath of it, relief. Then Leon tucks himself under Piers to hug him close.

Forehead throbbing lightly, arms wrapped as far around Leon as he can manage, Piers just breathes. They made it.

(read on ao3)

[conkreetmonkey]

holy shit this is long... tldr; I get neurodivergent over masonry

So I've been doing a lot of research on building methods, from the conventional to the old school to the new, and one thing I always found missing from older methods (as in basically anything that isn't either solid concrete or stick-frame) was the lack of hard, impassable moisture barriers on exterior walls. Surely a wall that looks like old red brick on the outside and inside must have more layers in between, right? Where's the housewrap? Where's the bitumen or tar paper? Pretty much all old-school roof materials I've seen have had some sort of waterproof layer under the shingles, but never the walls, floors nor foundations themselves.

Now, I live in a town with a lot of 100 year old buildings, which isn't that old but still predates the prevalence of the 2x4 and the popularization of plastic. I've been in many buildings where the walls on the inside are seemingly the same clay brick material as the ones on the inside. My grandma's basement was seemingly made from assorted stone, and I've seen many basements with walls of brick or cinderblock. Despite the inherent porosity of their materials, these walls hold strong through the harsh Canadian winters and the soggy spring thaw, the wood and plaster up against them free from water damage or mold. It felt impossible. Surely there was something I wasn't seeing, right? Surely you can't just build a 2-whyte brick wall with an air gap in between and some drainage holes and just have it work, right? Where's the mould? Where's the mildew? Where's the water damage, and crumbling from repeated freeze-and-thaw cycles?

I was unable to find a straight answer, despite the fact that I was obviously missing something. You can't just stick insulation, plasterboard and framing joists up against a brick wall that's exposed to outside air on the other side, right? Surely it will rot!

The only things I was able to find were synthetic sealing creams that make things hydrophobic, and something about a metal "dimple sheet" that required you to "decouple" the roof joists from the walls to install it, because it was simply assumed that you'd be installing the product in a preexisting brick house. Both of these things were obviously modern, and heavily flawed as products. The sealants needed reapplied every 5 years and didn't even provide full protection, and the metal sheet, once installed, required that no wood any longer touch the bricks as it would somehow become guaranteed to rot. This isn't even what I wanted to know. How did people 100 years ago build the buildings I know I've stood in, where the bricks were free from chemical sealants and physical moisture barriers yet didn't let the rain in?

Finally, after posting to a masonry forum, I recieved my answer.

There is no secret ingredient.

The exterior layer of bricks simply get wet when it's wet and dry out when it's dry.

Limestone is naturally antifungal and antibacterial, so mold simply cannot grow on materials made from it. Lime plaster allows water vapour to pass through it, yet resists actual liquid water, so at once water cannot become trapped within it and fester, but applying a lime stucco to exterior walls or a plaster to interior ones prevents leakage while allowing water vapour in the air to pass through, and thus the house to "breathe." Additionally, old insulation "fluff" that is now made from foam or fibreglass was then made from wool, which is also naturally antibacterial. And wood, of course, can simply be sealed to prevent decay with a multitude of different methods, if that's even needed, which it often isn't unless it's actually touching a surface that can be expected to routinely become moist.

Old buildings simply weren't built with absolute airtightness in mind. There's no one layer that's 100% moistureproof in an old exterior wall; even water repellant surfaces such as lime stucco allow humidity to pass through. There's no hydrophobic layer of tarpuline, rubber or tar anywhere but on the roof.

Dudes, I'm starting to realize that modern stick-framed housing insulated with pink fiberglass and made of pine, chipboard and plastic wrap... kind of sucks? Like, they have their advantages surely, they're immensely easier, quicker and cheaper to build, and way easier to heat/cool, but they're also flimsy and, quite ironically, actually MORE prone to mold than old school buildings, because once the housewrap under that vinyl siding, stone block veneer or board-and-batten starts to go (and it will eventually), it's a single point of failure, and everything behind it is prone to rot? And if moisture does seep in, it has no way to escape due to the moisture-tight, airtight quality of the home, so it has no choice but to fester? Like, think about taking a hot shower, and the steam that builds up, only removable from the home with a modern HVAC fan or by opening a window. Think about how, if you don't do one of those things, you're all but certain to get mold on the drywall. That's because of the lack of vapour-permeable materials! It simply can't pass though any exterior wall, back outside into the air! The air is stagnant by default!

And look, this is not me claiming that stick-frame is inherently bad, or that old style building methods are always better. Back then they put asbestos in the walls and lead in the pipes, paint and windows. Technology has moved forward, not back, and is continuing to move forward, becoming better, stronger, more efficient. But when the modern home uses housewrap and housewrap alone as waterproofing, it's hubris manifest. It's a sheet of plastic screwed to some plywood with a wide washer. Eventually, there will be a leak, inside or out, and once that happens you're all but guaranteed destructive rot and mold. It's a tradeoff, exchanging durability and ease of maintainence for cheaper construction and better insulation, and sometimes that's justifiable, but nowadays it seems to be the only option in all of suburbia.

Limestone is a great material. It has a variety of uses, it's abundant, it's simultaneously water resistant and breatheable, it prevents mold, and it can even self-heal from minor damage. Clay and stone may be porous, but they're strong. These materials have their downsides, but they're not inferior. Pretty much no material is (except for fucking cordwood, which just plainly sucks ass in 95% of situations). Logs and timber have a place. Concrete has a place. Steel and other metals have a place. Plastic has a place. So long as it's not toxic, it has a place. There is no one best way to build a building, just as there is no one best way to cook a meal; it depends on where you are and who you're serving it to.

And now that I understand the simple genius of lime mortar and stone or clay blocks, I feel bad that they're not really used in the mainstream anymore. Sometimes, it's better to accept that moisture exists and have a multi-faceted system for directing it away from decay-prone materials, rather than to try to "defeat" it entirely with the modern miracle material of plastic, and then cockily build everything behind the plastic out of rottable materials. No home can go forever without repairs, just as no person, tool or machine can. The question is whether there's any redundancy, or if one failure in a crucial area destroys the whole system.

I've always loved masonry aesthetically, and now I love it functionally as well. This world has so many wonderful things in it.

[calculations1]

Steel beam calculations

Box frame steel calculations

Structural engineers with over 30 years’ experience servingthe UK. We design steel beams with full calculations for Building Control, steel connections, raft concrete foundations, joist rafter flitch timber beam calculations, and steel frames such as box frames, goal post frames, gable frames and loft extension frames. We design new build, extensions, load bearing wall removal and open plan projects by demolishing the load bearing wall and designing calculating a steel beam with padstones.

[iatrophilosophos]

numbers 4, 20, and 31 :3

4. What are you looking forward to?

Good question. I do live in perpetual anticipation of when we will go to the good Chinese buffet next. Winter cuddles will b nice. I'm cautiously optimistic abt my 3 sisters bed

20. Favorite song at the moment

"Favorite"? So long by coyote wall

Playing in my head all day every day since I first heard it? https://youtu.be/lcSA3TyiTjc

31. 3 random facts

It's jimsonweed season and I keep seeing it blooming in ditches like 👀👀👀 what if I Made Everything Worse For Me?

I harvested a fuckton of tulip poplar bark the other day and my hands got pruney absorbing so much juice and honestly? Got a Lil high

Most traditional timberframe foundations just like, ain't anchored? You build a rock wall or pour concrete either in a wall or just literally a bunch of individual piers and just like. Lay a long CHUNKY horizontal piece over it called the sill plate. Both ur posts and floor joists hook into the sill plate via like mortise n tennons. & it just stays put cuz its fuckheavy

[thecandywrites]

Kihro and Brie- Househunting

Enjoy.

Kihro and Brie

House Hunting

“So this one has a slightly more open floor plan,” the realtor, Cassie explained as she showed Kihro, yourself and Grace the tri-level house as you both looked with keen eyes at the place. Trying to see flaws and mentally noting what features you liked and compared them with the other properties you had seen so far. 

“Can we see the basement?” Kihro asked hopefully before she took all of you to the basement where Kihro inspected the foundations and of course the plumbing and heating as you looked for signs of any rodents or termites or any other pests along with mold and mildew. Each of you armed with small but powerful flashlights to further inspect things that the light in the basement couldn’t quite reach. 

You could tell there was some mold and mildew somewhere because your allergies were already kicking up on account of the presence of some but not too much like the last house did.

But while Khiro and yourself were looking for signs of the house’s soundness and possible imperfections, Grace fearfully looked for spiders to make sure she could point them out to you so you could kill them before they would ever endanger her personal space. Kihro thought it was hilarious and was actually very proud of you that you were “so brave” and thought it was entertaining to watch you squish them as he teased Grace about it as the two of them bantered back and forth. 

Grace was more high strung and much more vocal about her opinions and for you it was entertaining to see the two bicker. Grace, being a snotty preppy 16 year old, had used every date she got to play chaperone for- to make sure Kihro took you out to eat and always ordered the most expensive thing on the menu while you just ordered whatever looked good or sounded good. Until you got engaged that is. 

But for this, such a huge and monumental occasion of looking at houses- Grace insisted she be a third set of eyes. Everyone in Kihro’s family and especially everyone in your family saw how Kihro was trying so hard to make you happy and was courting you right and was upright and respectable and was impressed that Kihro was trying to buy you a house. Even though Grace would be loathed to admit it to his face. She was all about making sure Kihro earned every inch of respect and this was a big part of it.  

This house had an unfurnished and unfinished basement which was actually nice so you could actually see what was in the walls themselves as far as pipes and wires and have good views of the foundation itself as well as the floor joists for the upper levels. 

Kihro cleared his throat in such a way that was your secret cue to come to him as he kept the beam of his flashlight on what he wanted you to see. There was a bit of mold and mildew where the sub-pump was in the basement that looked like it was original to the house and would most likely need to be replaced as you sniffed pointedly twice with a meaningful look with a grin to convey that you had smelled it. But you were grateful that he had found the source before you looked over everything else with him, since once you had looked over the floor joists, then looked down to the concrete to look for cracks or even “repairs” to the foundation. Which was- to your mutual relief- solid. Nothing looked like it had been cracked or “repaired” at least in the last decade or so. And Khiro had already inspected the septic system and the drain field the moment he got on the property since he was also getting into septic work while being a plumber since it seemed he was eager to add “modalities” to his license the same way you were with massage since you already knew what modalities you would be pursuing once you would get your own massage license soon. 

Once you were satisfied with looking at the basement, you continued to look at the rest of the house. 

The house itself was a bit of a fixer upper but nothing crazy. It didn’t need to be bulldozed like one you had seen earlier did. With this particular one- the foundations were good, the structure was sound. It wasn’t fantastic or new but it was functional, it had charm and character, natural wood floors in a lot of the rooms and a benched bay window you fell in love with. Kihro himself, was head over heels for the amazing garage that was half a wood shop because the former owner had been a carpenter, just like your grandfather on your father’s side was. And while you and Khiro had both dabbled into carpentry in your childhoods, this would give you opportunities to dabble into it further which excited you both. 

This tri-level straight out of the 70’s or 80’s though, which you thought was fun in some respects. And it had real and fully functioning fireplaces in the lower level sitting area, and the main living room and in the bedroom. And you could tell the previous owners, the snowbirds who had got this house when they were newly weds, had taken really great care of it over the years. Your biggest clue to that was that the landscaping, while a bit abandoned and weeded, you were sure was breathtaking at one point, they had flowerbeds with various bulb flowers continuing to flower despite the abandonment recently. But it had a wrap around porch. And you already knew what porch furniture you wanted. What pattern of patio furniture cushions even. Give your mother and yourself an afternoon with a truck bed full of mulch, and another of good planting soil and about $200 or even $300 of plants from a greenhouse, some garden gloves and tools, some knee pads, sunhats and a pitcher of lemonade and you’d have it back to its former glory in no time. In fact, you had already mentally picked out where you wanted to plant hyacinths to accompany the huge and amazing lilac bushes that were becoming almost trees rather than large shrubs, a day, even an afternoon. Which you thought was amazing because you loved heavenly scented flowers in general. And this property had wild honeysuckle shrubbery in the back of the lot where there was a stretch of woodland between the back of the house and the woodland that was between this stretch of houses and the surrounding farmland. 

This house really just needed some rather minor but not necessarily inexpensive improvements. If you could exchange some linoleum for tile, update some cupboards and countertops and a few appliances from the classic avocado green to hopefully something white, perhaps black, but not stainless. But easy to clean none the less- since your parents had learned the hard way- stainless steel appliances had a habit of leaving smudgy fingerprints on the surface and needed to be meticulously cleaned with special wipes to get the smudges off. And while it was aesthetically pleasing, it was a pain to upkeep. And if you were going to turn any house into your home, you wanted the upkeep to be rather easy and simple once it was set to how you wanted it. Plus a fresh coat of paint could do wonders. 

But in all honesty- this house was showing more promise than everything you had seen so far. And, it was in a decently good neighborhood and relatively safe one too. There were kids actually riding their bikes up and down the road since this house was on a cul-de-sac section of a suburban neighborhood. You even saw a woman jogging her dogs down the sidewalk too and even an older couple on their afternoon trip in their golf cart to visit others a street over. So that was a big vote of confidence that if the woman felt safe to jog in normal athletic attire. You could be too. 

Plus the house had a huge fenced in yard all around it. It was sitting on two whole acres including the house. You could totally take a whole acre and have something of a homestead farm. Plus every neighbor had a garden of some kind. But the chainlink fence all around the house? It was perfect for your dog Kelly. 

And the house had space for a really nice sized massage room so you could run your own massage business from your house. And while it wasn’t as big as your parent’s house, it was still plenty big enough for the two of you and perhaps a third and maybe even a fourth and dare you hope- a fifth. 

But one look at Khiro had you stifling your giggle because you could tell by just the way Kihro was looking at it, he was already planning exactly what he was going to do with it. You could practically see how he wanted to go to Lowe’s tonight just to get the materials to get started as you gave each other discrete yet meaningful looks about how you both seemed to really like the house. 

“Is that a chicken coop?” You asked as you pointed to the structure in the backyard of a neighbor from the kitchen window once you had come back upstairs. 

“Yes, they have some backyard chickens, one of many backyard chicken coops in the area.” She confirmed as you gave Kihro an excited smile. 

“Oh no.” Kihro laughed because- while you were happy with your dog, and your cat. You also really wanted to get into backyard chickens since you had experience with birds since your mother loved her cockatiels almost as much as she loved her horses and her aquariums. But at this point, Kihro already knew he was going to build you a coop so you could have some too. Right after he fixed up that garage and possibly built a greenhouse. He was already planning exactly where he was going to put the plot for his garden in the yard. Because it even had a shed for a riding lawn mower and Kihro was already practically drooling. 

“Won’t that negatively impact the worth of the house? Having a stinky chicken coop right next to it?” Grace complained as you frowned at her. 

“I don’t think so. That coop isn’t an eye sore to me and as long as they don’t have a rooster crowing every 5 minutes, I don’t mind it at all. Especially if there’s a good chance I could get one of my own.” You countered with a scheming but bright smile to Khiro who mirrored your smile and a nod of acceptance and agreement as he was pretty sure the chickens would actually work out really great for pest control in the garden and depending on how he built the coop and what you did with the litter- you could have a composting in the far corner and have a great supply for fertile planting soil. 

“So let’s see- the upstairs.��� The realtor suggested before you walked up the stairwell to the upstairs where five more bedrooms and three more bathrooms were. This house was actually listed as having 7 bedrooms since the other two bedrooms and two bathrooms were in the lower level in what was once a ‘mother in law suite’ which would be perfect for your massage business. You already knew which one your massage room would be and the other would be an office for said business. And the lowest part of the trilevel where the lowest level was half walk out patio and sitting room and half “basement”. 

But on the upper level- the master bedroom was a very good and decent size and had an amazing closet. The carpet though still showed where the previous occupants had put their bedroom furniture. But the master bathroom needed a lot of work, simply for aesthetic reasons because the color scheme wanted to make you hurl. But it was something you could overlook for now because the rest of the house was so far- practically fantastic in your opinion. 

The other four bedrooms were a bit on the small side but you were sure Kihro was going to turn one into an office/game room/ snake room. And while this house could use some work, it was, technically, move in ready. There wasn’t anything in dire need of fixing in order to achieve that, it had great potential to be a wonderful home in your opinion. 

You went back downstairs to hang out in the kitchen and talk numbers, which were actually really reasonable for such a big house in a decent neighborhood and it was it's lack of cosmetic updates that hurt its value which made it perfectly reasonable and well within the budget, so much so that Kihro could handle the house payment and all other bills all on his own with just his income, which of course he had gotten a raise and a promotion in title conveniently the week of your graduation party/ birthday party. And if need be, you could cover it too if he was down for some reason as you broke down the house payment into how many massages it would take to cover it. And it was doable for you too.  

But while Khiro was still asking questions about the house and the neighborhood and was taking notes in his own notebook, you looked out the kitchen window which overlooked a covered patio and wondered how you were going to improve that patio and where you’d put a grill and a table for an outdoor eating space. And where you could even put a hot tub as you added that to your notes too and even added stars to the address in your notebook that you had dictated was your ‘future house’ notebook. 

When you were done, you thanked Cassie and agreed to call her back with your decision, which she warned you that there were other couples that were also house hunting and also looking at the property and that there might be a bidding war for it. Which you weren’t quite sure if that was genuine or if it was Cassie simply trying to close the sale. 

But Kihro was firm in his stance that you both needed to think it over and talk it over later and insisted that you, Grace, and himself should go get something to eat since it was about dinner time.  

At the restaurant, you got your notebook from your purse and traded yours with Kihro’s so you could both see and literally compare notes while you waited for your food to come. 

“You and your doctor’s handwriting.” Kihro mock complained which made you laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, my parents still think I should actually go into at least nursing so that only the other doctors would be able to see and read my writing.” You laughed off with a grin as you looked at his perfectly legible and practically perfect print. 

“So, what did you think about the first place? The townhouse?” You asked Kihro curiously as neither of you had really talked much in the presence of the realtor but your looks had said plenty. And the only thing thing he had written was P.P. B.S.D and N.N. which you knew the first one was an acronym for ‘Picture Perfect But Skin Deep’ which was not a compliment. But the N.N. had you wondering what he could mean by that. 

“Eh,” Kihro shrugged but you still caught the lip curl of subtle disgust.  

“I thought it was perfect.” Grace chimed in. 

“It was modern, in a great neighborhood and very stylish.” Grace listed off and you wanted to laugh at the subtle way Kihro was subtly rolling his eyes and subtly shaking his head no. 

“What did you think?” Kihro asked you because to him, your opinion outweighed his own and if you had fallen in love with a place, he would find a way to be content with it no matter what.  

“It was ok, I wish it had a garage for the work truck instead of two parking spots in front of the place and that means that having people over is an inconvenience for our neighbors. And the yard was super small and there was that homeowners association that dictated how you kept your whole three square feet of yard. And all gardening had to be in pots or raised beds. And it’s a fleece instead of owning. Wasn’t wild about that part.” You appraised. 

“What about you Babe?” You asked him. 

“Didn’t like it.” Kihro said simply. 

"How?! How could you find anything wrong with it?" Grace demanded with a deep frown. 

"Quite a few things," Kihro countered evenly and calmly.  

“What didn’t you like about it?” You asked Kihro and you couldn’t help but grin smugly because you were pretty sure you knew his answer. 

“Too small and too expensive for what it really was.” He shrugged again. 

“You didn’t like it because you couldn’t change it and if something went wrong you couldn’t fix it yourself. Picture perfect but only skin deep.” You discerned as you tapped on the acronym on his notebook with your pen which earned you a nod. 

“Yup.” Kihro confirmed with an appreciative smile. 

“So what’s N.N?” You asked. 

“Nosey Neighbors. That place shared walls on both sides and you could hear the neighbors next door.” He expounded as you ‘ah’-ed in understanding as you added that to the acronym that you’d most likely be seeing a bit more of in his notes.  

“Or that they might hear us.” He added with another scheming smile beginning to bloom on your lips. 

“And get jealous?” You teased with a waggle of your eyebrows as he blushed and ducked his head but his smile was just as dashing now as it ever was. 

“Exactly. I have enough competition for you as it is.” He nodded as he sucked down his beer but kept his arm comfortably around your shoulders, if not just a tad bit possessively. 

“Just because every male client I’ve worked on has mockingly proposed- does not mean you have competition.” You laughed as you swore he got even greener with envy as he rolled his eyes again but grinned knowingly just the same because he had no doubts about your own loyalty and fidelity towards him and he trusted you implicitly. But others? Not a chance. 

“Besides, what about me? Don’t I have to contend with every thirsty homemaker that suddenly makes hand squeezed lemonade and homemade cookies every time you come over to refill the water softener with salt?” You reminded him as he shook his head again and chuckled. 

“You say that like I would ever be tempted.” Kihro retorted with a shudder and a grimace which made you giggle. 

“So, townhouse is out. House number 2?” You went down the list. 

“It had a lot of potential.” He noted as you looked over his extensive notes on it and what he would and could do to it. 

“A little too much. At least in my opinion. That place would need a bare minimum of twenty five to fifty thousand dollars just to get it livable. And that's if we revive the structure, otherwise we would have to bulldoze it and start from scratch. Which would and could cost at least a hundred grand if not close to two. And granted it was out in the country and had lots of space, but the other components of the property were in extremely poor condition. The barn was falling down, the roof had a hole in it the size of a motorcycle and growing at least five kinds of mold. And the wood of the structure was eaten up with termites. And it had a huge mouse problem- which, I’m sure Speed Bump and Minion would love to help with, if the mice weren’t crawling with their own parasites and other diseases. But I swear I could feel the walls breathing because it’s an old farmhouse, with turn of the century insulation. It’s also forty five minutes from anywhere and everywhere and surrounded by fields and forests owned by other farmers- that we can’t hunt in. Or at least wouldn’t be able to even ask for permission for a long time because we would be too focused on the house, which was very disappointing to hear.” You listed off. 

“True, that was very disappointing. Yeah so house number two is out.” Kihro gathered. 

“What did you think of the third place?” Kihro asked. 

“Just the house by itself was ok from the looks of it at least, not wild about the neighborhood. I’m a little concerned as to why such a huge house with brand new interiors would be so cheap. It had no yard and no garage and street parking and securing the work truck would have been a nightmare.” You answered honestly. 

“It’s because those interiors were masking major flaws, the countertops weren’t put down right and I’ve worked in that neighborhood, the electrical work needs to be torn out and redone and the pipes need to be replaced and you could flood that basement with bleach, it ain’t gonna get the mold and mildew out, besides most of that bleach would leach out through all the cracks in the foundation, did you see all those patches? They’re hiding major cracks, that house is just one little straight wind or little tremor of an earthquake from collapsing in on itself.” Kihro added. 

“Yeah so house number three is out.” You decided and watched as Kihro nodded adamantly in agreement. 

“So, the fourth house? The tri-level?” You asked. 

“My favorite so far. It was big, spacious, had a really nice garage and workshop area. Had a good shed for a riding mower and a yard big enough for not just the animals but for a garden and a greenhouse and most likely a chicken coop because at this point, I’ve accepted my fate.” Kihro gently teased which made you giggle again as you smiled bashfully. 

“And it didn’t have any pest problems and the mold and mildew problem was minimal and that was only because it’s been sitting empty for a few years and easily taken care of and managed and you could replace that sub-pump in what- an hour or two?” You added. 

“Less than, easy.” Kihro assured you. 

“Uh, I don’t know about you, but I saw spiders big enough to eat birds, I would definitely call that a pest problem.” Grace piped up which got you and Kihro to snicker a laugh. 

“They weren’t that big.” You countered. 

“Besides, spiders can be killed and that problem can be resolved. A cracked foundation- less so, and that house’s foundation was pretty solid. And besides some minor updating, because the appliances were pretty dated, but they were functional and I had a hard time finding anything I didn’t like that wasn't cosmetic.” Kihro calmly argued. 

“The only things I wasn't wild about were the closets in all the other rooms except the master bedroom, they were on the small side and by small, I mean, tiny coffin size, like I don’t think all of your work uniforms would fit into one. And that master bathroom was- hideous. I’m sure that mauve pink color was all the rage in the eighties. But now it’s just...so ugly. Like I can put up with an avocado stove, because that was a kickass, gas stove. I’m pretty sure that thing was from like the thirties or forties and will outlive us all. But I draw the line at a pink bathtub with yellow sinks, and not just any yellow, but mustard yellow, browning, mustard yellow that would never look clean. Just..no, no, no, no. I know it’s cosmetic, and I know they can be changed out. But if we ever get the chance to move there, please let that be the first project.” You shuddered which caused Kihro to just grin fondly as he chuckled in amusement. You were still, just...too cute for words. And the idea of getting a house- with you- his Brie, was still almost too good to be true.

“But otherwise, everything else was fine. I agree, it didn’t have anything major wrong with it and instead, had a ton of potential and was really reasonably priced. It’s my favorite so far.” You professed. 

“Ugh, that house was too dated for my tastes. And not in a cool vintage kind of way- like the whole sunk in living room kind of way- but the ‘dear gods, the designer was doing mushrooms or LSD while they designed the color scheme. All the bathroom needed was a lava lamp and shag carpet and you could have had a 70’s swinger’s orgy in there.” Grace complained which made Kihro and yourself burst into laughter as you squirmed and shuddered at the thought of anyone but Kihro being intimate with you as you cleaved to his side just a bit more. 

“Yeah, don’t worry Grace, you’d never be invited.” Kihro teased which got her gasp and mockingly threatened to toss her drink into his face.

“Hey! Hey! I’m kidding! I’m kidding.” Kihro put his hand up in defeat since the other was around your shoulders. 

“As if I’d ever…” Kihro began. 

“Aren’t enough of your friends drooling over my sister as it is and waiting for you to muck up so they can play hero and swoop in and sweep her off her feet? You shouldn’t even joke about it. Because I know of at least a few who would do anything to be invited especially if Brie is involved.” Grace practically sneered mockingly. 

“Who?” Kihro demanded. 

“All of them. But some, more ardently and earnestly than others.” Grace insisted a bit more aloofly. 

“Wow, someone’s been watching Bridgerton. But seriously, who? Who of my friends do you think would even think about making a pass at Brie?” Kihro demanded. 

“Borug for starters.” Grace insisted. 

“That smug spoiled leech is not my friend. He is a friend of a friend at most, more like an acquaintance I tolerate because his Dad is a friend of your dad. Besides, isn’t he your best friend’s boyfriend anyway? Any friendliness on my part is solely because of those factors, no others. He's not even in the same clan as me.” Kihro challenged in a tone that bordered on vehement but you agreed with every word as you nodded along in agreement. 

“No, Korryn is dumping him. For good this time.” Grace insisted. 

“Borug and Korryn are like the weather, they change every 5 or 10 minutes and you never know from one minute to the next what their moods or choices will be because of how unpredictable they are. They’ve broken up and gotten back together more times than anyone else can count.” You calmly defended. 

“And while we are on the subject, can you please try to help me convince Korryn that my bridal party is already full and large enough as it is? I do not need or want her as a bridesmaid. And she is not subtle about dropping her hints and I don’t know how else I can tell her no without her retaliating against you for my refusal to her frankly childish demands. It’s my wedding, not hers. She’s the one acting like a bridezilla when she isn’t even dating according to you. She can be your bridesmaid if you want when you grow up some more and choose to get married. But I don’t want her drama at my wedding, let alone in- my bridal party. I put up with it for my graduation party as a favor to you but that’s as far as I’m extending it. Borug is as close to Kihro as I am to Korryn. We tolerate each other and try to keep peace- but at a distance. And that applies to both of them- from both of us.” You defended. 

“Amen.” Kihro gladly agreed before your food was brought out and served as Grace didn't feel the need to argue it any further. 

The next day Kihro thankfully had a job close to your school and knew you’d be getting a lunch in a little bit and even took time to get you and him lunch and drove into the parking lot, and parked in an inconspicuous spot and texted you that he had lunch for you and was in “the spot”. Not even five minutes later you came rushing out of there and practically jogged across the parking lot to climb into his truck.

“You’re a lifesaver.” You gushed as you greedily got your lunch from his hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I swear, one of these days I’ll surprise you for lunch.” You vowed. 

“How much time for lunch do you have today?” He asked curiously. 

“I get forty five minutes this time.”  You answered. 

“You?” You asked hopefully. 

“About the same.” He answered before you both quickly chowed down on lunch in companionable silence. 

Eight months ago there was no way Kihro would have believed that this was going to be his life. But here he was, in his big- boxy work truck- having lunch with his fiance- the love of his life and looking to move into a house together, and get married and that person being you. It would have been an ethereal and epic fantasy. But because he finally got the courage and spoke up and made his move and finally acted on his feelings, he reaped the great reward of finding out that they were returned instead of unrequited. 

And he never would have believed that he would have had the pleasure of having sex with you, especially as much as he had been getting since his engagement with you. He never thought his work truck would see so much action. Or that the love of his life was just...so horny. Oh sure, you looked and acted all sweet and innocent to everyone else. But behind closed doors and in private- you were still incredibly sweet, but not so innocent as he once imagined you were. And while you were outwardly discrete, in private, you were practically insatiable which he had to admit was mirrored by him and only fanned the flames even more and he was so grateful he could let passion consume you both as much as it could.  

Every day you were either in massage school or in the clinic and you both took lunch together- the usual chain of events was that you’d eat in his truck before walking into the back of it and fucking like rabbits. 

He had already kept his work truck practically spotless and meticulously cared for his tools and the truck which only impressed his father and yours. And for being so old- he had taken remarkably good care of it. And he turned down a newer, nicer truck that was actually smaller, and more compact, but only because this had it’s own work bench that he could stand in the truck, with air conditioning or heat, and have everything he needed either at his fingertips or at arm’s reach. And because he preferred the spaciousness of this one. He had room to keep a lot of extra supplies so he didn’t have to run to a hardware store for each and every single job. He often usually had what he needed before he even drove into the driveway. 

But now- he kept it for one more reason. This. 

He could sit you on that work bench and practically devour you whole by either fucking you practically senseless on that work bench or kneel and eat you out with your legs resting on his shoulders while you braced yourself on the bench. And because of the insulated nature of the box part of the truck- meant you could fuck in any weather and be comfortable and it would dampen the noise too. And having sex in the truck was something he found out, almost immediately after new years- you were into and liked and wanted and was kind of thrilling actually. It was an addiction he was powerless to fight against, but instead, indulged and did everything in his power to encourage. Because you both apparently had a few years of pent up sexual frustrations to release.  

Before your engagement but after new years, you would simply exchange oral sex because his hands were usually too dirty- in his opinion- for him to finger you properly. To hear you pant and whine and beg and plead for him while your legs rested on his shoulders and squeezed his head and then shake as you found your release was heaven yet torturous because that was as far as you could go. 

But to see you try to wrap your mouth around his manhood was always quite the sight. Especially since that first time you tried it and he was rather mortified by how quickly he had cum. You had barely sucked the head and stroked your hands down the length of him, but just the way your love drunk and determined gaze fixated on him and the glinting light from the beads in your hair and your warm cheeks in his palms and silken tresses between his fingers and the moan from your throat, he was done for. And just like that, he had emptied himself down your throat. And his body was a jittering, twitching mess. It had been the fastest time he had ever cum, he couldn’t even masterbate himself that fast. He had been so embarrassed but not exactly surprised. But once you had swallowed it all down and happily kissed your way back up to him, reassuring him that you had still enjoyed yourself and had had fun- he was ok. Still embarrassed but ok. 

And it was a start and you were proud of yourself for gaining more experience and skill in that department ever since, and he was still in awe every time you tried and succeeded. Because while you had both taken each other’s virginities, to learn you and your tastes had been his greatest delights, and on par for as much joy and delight you had taken in learning him and what he liked and what he wanted and needed from you. 

And today, was again, something akin to business as usual, but not in any sense that it was dull, mundane, boring or taken for granted or heaven forbid- dreaded. On the contrary- it was the best part of his day and something he wanted to repeat as much as possible. Because the moment you were done eating, you were taking his hand and walking him to the back of the truck and closing the small door between the two front seats of the truck and the back of the big, boxy truck as he laid down ‘the jacket’ for you to sit on on the cleaned off bench before he was eagerly taking your pants and panties off with one hand and hung them up on the hook he had designated for them as you hopped up on the bench and spread your legs and pulled him in and kissed him and impatiently pushed your chest into his and pulled him in towards you. All while he was trying to hastily- yet proficiently sheath his cock in a condom so he could bury himself into the hilt into you. Even though you were officially on birth control, he didn’t want to take the chance until after you were married.

He barely had his pants and underwear down his mid thighs and kissing you hungrily. And in one quick but powerful thrust, he had succeeded in stuffing you full of himself as the condom hung on for dear life. He grabbed your hips with almost a bruising grip and pistoned his hips into yours while your legs crossed behind his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders as you kissed each other passionately before you moved one of his hands up your scrub top to grab at your breasts that were aching to be squeezed by him, which he was all too happy to oblige. He used both hands to unhook your bra and push up your top and bra so he could bend you back just enough so his mouth could have purchase on your breasts, which he was delighted had somehow grown and developed even more now than they were when you first started dating as your body kept morphing back into that of a woman every time you could afford to gain weight between flares. 

Your moans and keens were music to his ears and his scalp welcomed the sensation of your fingers scratching through his hair and against his scalp as he feasted on your breasts while his cock stroked into you with enough force to make the truck rock just slightly as the tools and supplies clattered just a little in their spots. 

Then the almost all too familiar but heavily anticipated and eagerly awaited chain of events as he felt your body start to tense and writhe as you canted your hips so that he rubbed ever so deliciously inside you as you gasped and whined as your voice reached a desperate pitch. Your canal clenched around him as his movements sped up and hurtled you over the finish line as you embraced your orgasm as much as you were embracing him as you clung to him. You pulled yourself up and off the bench so that all of you could be touching him as he held you up by your ass, both hands dimpling the soft flesh as he growled and snarled as he reached his own orgasm as he buried himself deep and let loose, his own body going tense as you playfully bit at his neck which got him to moan in your ear as he changed his hold around you to hold you more comfortably and securely so you could loosen your hold and relax against him which you happily did. You let your forehead rest at the crux of his neck and shoulder and nuzzled your face into his chest as you relaxed and enjoyed the afterglow. 

He still smelled amazing. You could still smell the bodywash he used, and the shampoo and conditioner he used. And his mom’s laundry detergent and fabric softener and the hint of the cologne you had gotten him, and just him in general. Not to mention his rather divine heady sweat from hard work. In addition to the other scents of copper and PVC pipe and their primers and glues and wood and just work in general.

You had previously always associated the “work” scents with your dad and uncles and grandfathers. And growing up in the business, they were the scents of your childhood. 

But when you started courting Kihro and especially once you started having sex in all it’s forms in his truck, suddenly these scents took on new meanings, new facets and your appreciation and adoration of them deepened. And now you couldn’t smell these scents without thinking of Kihro and without getting at least a little turned on. Because now these were the scents you were associating with Kihro and your deep love for him. And now that they were mixed with Kihro’s own personal scent the smell of sex with him, they were the epitome of comfort and sexy now.  

“You still alive?” Kihro asked as he could feel you relax completely as he happily still held you while he recovered and basked in the afterglow too and every day, no matter how shitty, both literally and figuratively his day would get, lunch, especially one that gets to have you as his dessert is the greatest reward for his work and why he refused to get rid of this truck any time soon. Hell, he would rip this box off of the frame if he ever got into an accident or rebuild it from scratch if he had to- just to keep getting this before he gingerly set you back down on the bench. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, your cock isn’t the death of me, this time.” You teased with a giggle as you lifted your head and kissed him sweetly again before you pulled your phone out of your pocket in your scrubs as they hung up nearby and made a face. You only had a few minutes left before you’d have to get ready for your next appointment. 

“I don’t want to go back.” You complained as Kihro slowly untangled himself from you so you could both get redressed and straightened up after he took off the very full condom and tied it off and wrapped it in work towels and tossed it in the garbage on his truck to be taken out at the end of the day.

“Me neither, but I have three more jobs today.” Kihro confessed. 

“Yeah I have three more massages too. Then I can call it a day, I’ll meet you at the shop after ok?” You offered to him. 

“Sure, wanna grab dinner after? The Realtor sent me five more listings she wants to show us this weekend, now that she knows that we like the tri level and suburbia best, she has a few more lined up for us that should be closer to that than just all over the place.” He confessed. 

“Yeah, I was looking at them earlier. The one off of Emerald looked promising.” You offered hopefully. 

“Yeah, we’ll just have to see.” He nodded before you hugged him tight one last time once you were both fully put back together. 

“I love you Kihro, drive safe, can’t let anything happen to our shaggin wagon.” You murmured into his chest as you just hugged and held each other until the very last moment before you had to go back as the comment made you both laugh before his work radio went off. 

“Yeah, heaven forbid. Love you too Brie, see you after work.” He kissed the crown of your head and then gave you one last kiss goodbye before you reluctantly parted and went back into work to get ready for your next massage client as Kihro answered the questions from the operator about his next jobs and set his GPS to his next job site location. 

“So? How was it?” Meadow asked with a knowing grin. 

“Great, he got me Jimmy Johns again.” You answered rather innocently. 

“Yeah, no, I was referring to him getting you lunch and then you having him for lunch and him blowing your back out in the process because you’re walking like it.” Meadow murmured with a giggle as you smiled brightly and blushed bashfully.

“Oh that’s always excellent.” You giggled mischievously. 

“But do I wreak?” You asked self- consciously. 

“You smell like a plumbing truck and some good orc sex.” She answered honestly. 

“Of course I do.” You sighed as you took the Febreeze out of your purse behind the front desk and sprayed a ‘cloud’ of it and walked through it a few times to help mask the scent a little before your next client came in and you got back to work and thankfully it was enough to mask it enough to keep you from getting any probing or embarrassing questions about it from anyone else. 

When you were done with the massages and got the room ready for the next student- you texted your parents the news that the realtor had sent you and Kihro more potential houses and that you were going to meet him at the downtown branch and have dinner and go over them with him so not to expect you home for dinner. Which your parents were grateful for - the heads up which only helped them put faith and trust in you that you would be honest and forthcoming with what you were doing and who you were doing it with, which was a lesson Grace was having a difficult time learning as of late. 

“Hey Brie, how was the clinic today?” Shelly, the head receptionist at the Wright Plumbing Downtown Branch asked as she saw you park in the parking lot and come in- in your scrubs from school which was a very common occurrence and nearly every receptionist in the business was a client of yours especially when you promised you would get a massage chair and wheel it in as soon as you got your license but didn’t mind one bit being “homework” for now. 

“Tiring, is Kihro back yet?” You asked curiously. 

“No, he won’t be for a little while, but his dad is in his office.” She answered. 

“Is he busy?” You asked. 

“Just the usual paperwork.” She answered. 

“Cool. I’ll pop in and say hi.” You offered before you went to do just that only to be met with Kihro’s dad, Kidron poking his head out of his office. 

“Hey Hun, how are you?” He asked as he met you half way and gave you a good bear hug as you returned it just as tightly as you could manage because your soon to be father in law gave really great hugs. And while he had been reluctant at first he warmed right up pretty quick and was surprisingly gentle and thoughtful with you the way he was with his own daughters which you appreciated and his insights on his son were invaluable. 

“Good, just got done with the clinic for the day, Kihro said to meet him here to go over the new listings the realtor sent us over dinner.” You answered cheerfully. 

“Oh yeah? Anything sticking out so far?” Kidron asked curiously. 

“Actually yeah, if you have a moment, I wanted to ask you about a few of these.” You proposed. 

“Absolutely, I’ll always make time for you Darlin’.” Kidron reassured you as he brought you into his office and you showed him the listings before he looked them up on his computer and gave you feedback on whether he or anyone else had ever worked in those neighborhoods and what the houses were like as you sat in Kidron’s other chair that usually was set on the other side of the desk but that he had happily moved so you could sit next to him, both of you looking at his computer screen as Kihro came back and suddenly took up the door frame. 

“So, what are we scheming?” Kihro teased you and his dad. 

“Looking at what that realtor sent you as potential houses. She got a couple of good ones, a few I wouldn’t bother looking at, but that’s my two cents, you two get to make your own decisions though.” Kidron reassured his son. 

“Which ones shouldn’t I bother looking at?” Kihro asked curiously. 

“Oh the ones…” Kidron began as he gave the addresses of the ones you and him and looked up together as Kidron could see potential issues just from the pictures as Kihro took mental notes of what his dad was saying as you had already taken notes in your ‘future house’ notebook in your more ‘legible’ handwriting for him to read later.  

“What did your dad say?” Kihro asked you. 

“Well, at first he insisted that you and I should form our own opinions when we go in person. But he also said that we may want to look into registered sex offenders and possible drug busts in a few of the locations, in fact they were the same exact locations your dad flagged.” You answered.

“Sadly those are things everyone has to carefully consider these days.” Kidron sighed tiredly. 

Once Kihro was done handing in his paperwork, and cleaned out his truck and restocked it since he had already gone to a store to restock his truck with supplies he had sold that the office didn’t have the space to carry before he came back in for the night before he finally clocked out for the day. 

Kihro took you to a place within walking distance of the shop that the two of you frequented a lot as you were happy to walk beside him to the place. 

“So are any of the other ones piquing your interest?” Kihro asked. 

“Actually, yes…” You began before you went over the different ones that had struck your fancy and interest as you cuddled into his side so he could look at the screen of your phone as you welcomed Kihro’s arm wrapping around your shoulders gratefully as his fingertips softly drew absentminded designs on your upper arm as he looked at your phone between sips of beer as his attention was torn between paying attention to you and how excited you were talking about these potential houses and the actual information you were conveying before your conversation went to wedding plans. 

“So which do you like better?” You asked him as you showed him the different styles of wedding invitations as it seemed your previous thoughts of having ‘a small private wedding’ and ceremony, had changed. Because both Kihro and yourself had become swayed by Kihro’s parent’s and his clan’s insistence that the whole clan be invited and of course your parents had wanted to invite everyone who had been invited to your birthday/graduation/surprise engagement party would also be invited to your wedding and the bigger it got, the further it got pushed back until Kihro insisted that- barring major medical complications, to put your foot down on a date, which was finally accepted. But you were delighted when neither you, nor Kihro lost any control of the event. So that it was still very much, your wedding. And no one else's. So now your wedding was going to be in what felt like a millenia, but would actually be in a year and a half, which felt like a small millenia right now. But for how much work there was to do with it, you were almost grateful for the time. 

Your parents were splitting what was left of your college fund, since massage school was much cheaper than a four year college would be, and using the vast majority of the rest of it to help with the downpayment for a house and a tiny fraction to help pay for the wedding itself. 

Kihro’s parents had no such college fund set up for Kihro since he had never expressed interest in being anything other than a plumber or any other kind of builder but they had started college funds for Kihro’s other siblings. But they were also donating a large chunk of money towards the downpayment and paying for ‘the clan side of things and other ‘groom’s side’ things for the wedding as the Clan was happy to also contribute to it as well since it was a huge point of pride for them as well to gain such a precious new Clan Member in you and your family. While your parents paid for ��the bride’s side’ of things. All while both of you were encouraged to save all your money for your house and furnishing said house. 

Still the house to beat was the tri-level with all those bedrooms and bathrooms and room and space. Granted it needed updating and a face lift here and there. But it was the best and ‘biggest bang for your dollar’ so to speak and your gut told you that it was the one, which Kihro shared that feeling. And the potential to get it and really use the opportunity to give it cosmetic changes and updates gave you much more freedoms to make the house your home was getting to be the biggest temptation so far. 

That weekend, you and Kihro continued to look at the other houses, both of you comparing all of them to that trilevel you both loved so much and while you did find another with equal potential and another that was updated and had already gotten facelifts and was much more ‘move in ready’, but it was smaller, and in higher priced neighborhood that had a firm ‘no backyard chicken’ rule and you found that to be your deal breaker. 

So after meeting with Kihro’s parents, and yours and the realtor and the banker, you made an offer for the tri-level, the one that had all the potential and space and freedom to get a backyard chicken coop and a fenced in yard and space for a greenhouse and a good sized garden and the big garage that was half garage and half workshop. 

And that was the most stressful process because of all the other offers and bids for it too from four other couples. That you had to outbid over asking price. 

But thanks to your parent’s supplemental money and Kihro’s parent’s supplemental money as well as Kihro’s and your own- for the downpayment, you, by a miracle, managed to outbid the other five couples who also put in bids for the house and got it, by offering 15 thousand dollars over asking price. Which was the highest and most handsome bid that there was and the other four couples couldn’t top it. 

And thanks to having so much cash to put down for it, it meant that you only needed to finance less than half of it and immediately got a very handsome home equity loan for home improvements and set a closing date so that Kihro could move in first and begin home improvements before the wedding when you would ‘officially’ be moving in yourself. 

And, that day was one of the happiest days of your life so far. 

You happily signed on the dotted line next to Kihro’s name on all the paperwork. Granted, in your maiden name, and it could be changed to your married name once you did get married. Finally, you had a house, a home, and something that would sooner than later be your new home and something that was truly and wholly yours, that you could share with the love of your life, Kihro, who had always been your hero. A true Hearth and Home. You had never cried so many happy tears.

[ahedderick]

Being Frank 2

This post would be TOO long, so I’m breaking it up into two parts. Frank continues:

   “The next project was to get timber for the floor joists. Where I got most of it for the subfloor and the joists was from the power line that was put through. The trees were cut down and left lay. I didn’t have a truck to haul these logs, but there was a 1952 Chevy two ton with the motor shot. I went to Saccos salvage and got a motor out of a Chevy that was wrecked. It fit in the truck and I used that to haul the logs to the sawmill in Palo Alto. It was twenty dollars a thousand board feet to have them sawed. I worked by myself logging. I drug the logs down and backed the truck into a ditch. I played out cables across the bed and used the tractor to winch the logs up in the bed; that was how I loaded them by myself. I had excess lumber after milling. Mike C. approached me to take down a silo and he put it up at his house. It was forty feet high. I had to take all the excess lumber and build a wooden scaffolding inside the silo. I got paid 500 dollars and I hired two guys who were tree trimmers to help. They were used to working high in the air. It took me two days to master myself to go all the way to the top of it. In those days I was afraid of heights! Everything had to go in those manholes and they’re not big! You put a round of scaffolding around every six feet. That’s how I got more seed money to build the house. I had no deadline and that was key. You can eat an elephant one bite at a time. It was a labor of love. 

   Now I began my hunt for other materials, wherever I could get them. After the trees from the farm, I bought a stone ranch house up on Brown Ave that was going to be demolished for Interstate 68. It was on a concrete slab and all stone exterior. I paid 100 dollars for it. All I wanted was the stone, rafters, paneling, 2x4 studding, and  bathroom fixtures. I sold the windows, doors, and roof to a friend of mine who was building on Oliver Belt Rd for $100. So I got my money back on that deal. I hauled all that stone and material out here on that old truck, loading and unloading by hand. The basement of this house was studded out with the 2x4s and the paneling from that house. The bathtub was square and had two seats in it. The fireplace insert came from that house. I did have an old man, Elsy C., help me haul the stone. The stone for the planter came from Costello Construction, which was located on Valley Street, and I purchased other building material for the meat shop at the same time. The planter here, Max, laid that for me. He was a mason.

    I was deer hunting over at the Gordon farm, now Hemmis, and found that big stone out front to the left. The one downstairs over the fireplace came from Cosgrove’s farm when I was plowing. There are some fossil stones on the patio that came from Wills Mountain. All the stone windowsills and lintels came from a building on Bedford street that was a tombstone company. When they were being demolished, I was able to get all the windowsills. I saved a pile of money on that! The stone slabs approaching the porch came from the parklet next to Times News when they were renovating. I bought all the cement I needed to lay the block and stone for 15 dollars from the B&O railroad damaged freight depot. Their freight agent was Tom R. One corner of the freight car got damp and I removed all the cement and cleaned the car out. When I was using the cement I had to take a window screen and put it over a 50 gallon drum. I had to screen all the cement so there wouldn’t be lumps in it.

   The steel beam needed to run the entire 48 foot length of the house. Moore farm was having a sale where the current AC College is. I bought a two steel beams there that would cover the length and hauled them on the old Chevy. I also bought a stack of pine 2x10s. The beams were over the top of the truck and 5 or 10 feet out in front. I put a flag on the longer piece and hauled it on Sunday morning when there was no traffic. I put the beam on a wagon and brought it around to the back of the house with the tractor. I had pipes on the wall and slid the ends on one at a time. I worked each end over to the center and set it by myself. Next thing was to set the floor joists. I used sidecut boards on a diagonal for the subfloor. All oak! The diagonal boards add to the strength.

   Over to the garage: the garage door came from a house in the Dingle where I was able to salvage many items. The structural steel supporting the roof/patio I set by myself with an old Dodge truck with a telephone pole on it. The header was steel, and came out of the B&O freight station on George Street. The other major steel beams came from the demolished Sears building that stood where the Holiday Inn parking lot now is. The next steel was 30ft long coal mine rails that came from Abe Feldstein’s salvage yard in LaVale. The corrugated metal decking that the concrete was poured on came from a B&O derailment at Swanton. Some of the same corrugated metal was used on the barn roof. 

Interviewer: Well, Frank, did you get anything from West Virginia?

Frank: Hell no, they didn’t have anything to throw away!

   The posts on the patio were originally pipes that I welded plates on the end of. The 6 inch steel beam that goes across the center was also salvage from a building. In later years when the Bowman’s addition flood program began, I salvaged some ornamental aluminum posts from a house behind Hartman’s Store. They weren’t long enough, so I cut the short ones and spliced them into the long ones. The ceiling joists for the patio were the 2x8s from the stone house I tore down on the I68 right-of-way. The patio step stringers were two pieces of timber from the B&O freight station. The two posts that are on the stairway came from the old German Brewery and the handrail, redwood, came from the farmhouse (Old George’s porch). All the rafters and ceiling joists for the house portion were salvaged from the loading dock at the B&O freight. All the plywood on the roof was from a ‘fire sale.’ The rail car overheated and the floor caught fire; the smoke damage to the plywood was severe enough that they couldn’t sell it. I paid 75 cents a sheet. 

   Downstairs there’s one room I didn’t finish. All the ceiling was salvaged drywall that had been damaged by forklifts at Valley Lumber. I had an Amish man swirl the ceiling down there. On the other side downstairs the ceiling was finished by tile that came out of the Woodmen of the World building, along with that maple cover over the planter. It was previously a banister at Woodmen of the World. The bedroom downstairs was finished with mismatched paneling from Valley Lumber. The interior of the closet was lined with leather-type paneling that came out of B&O. 

   My uncle Charles built these cabinets in the kitchen out of birch plywood. He was a finish carpenter. He also trimmed out all the oak trim doorways and baseboard in the house. The front doorway was custom built by Slim (Cecil), neighbors down the road here, and Don, from my sketch. The two birch doors, front and basement, solid core, I bought from the B&O freight claim agent Tom for 15$. The sidelights on the front door I bought from Bernie G. in Frostburg. The outside hanging light was from a yard sale for $5. It had a sidearm on it, but I figured I could adapt it to hang on a chain. The inside light there on the steps came from Westons department store. 

   There were many people who helped me build. We traded labor. Floyd, a carpenter, helped me frame; we traded labor. The stonework was crafted by Hayes Albert Northcraft, a WWI veteran. Elsy was the mudmixer. I was at this time working 7 days a week at the Kelly. Hayes laid all the stonework and this fireplace for $1,400 with no time in it for job completion. I had a dump truck with scaffolding I’d drive around the house and we’d throw the stone in the bed of the truck, then hoist it up on the scaffolding for him to pick out what he wanted. I was to move the scaffolding every day after he was finished. One time I missed it and he was laying the stone under the bay window. He left a divot in the stonework because I didn’t move the heavy timbers for him. That’s a forever reminder that I didn’t do my duty. Hank P., whom I worked with at the Kelly, was a part-time cement finisher. He’s the one who placed the penny in the front stoop. 

  Well, that was a long story. It seemed like I had all the time in the world in those days, and lots of energy. You might ask when I finally finished the house. I don’t think I ever have! In fact, this year (2016) I reclaimed the large plate glass windows from the solarium at Roy Roger’s restaurant when they tore it down and I’m using them to put a sun room on the back of the house. It’ll have a hot tub when I’m finished, and also the washer and dryer. So, you see, it remains a work in progress to this day.

  My note: Frank, like my parents, was born slightly before WWII and lived in this area all his life. Members of the “Silent Generation” are getting fewer these days. I had my doubts about committing to this project, but now I’m very glad I did.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Nineteen — Convergence

“Oh, he won’t die. Like I said — this isn’t war. This is strategy. It’s chess, and Delsin Rowe has a bigger part to play.”

6.3k Words | 25 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: thalassophobia, body horror, stabbings, injections, ...monsters? I suppose

Brent took to the sky in a burst of silver while I flooded through the holes between each steel beam, the silver on them going orange with rust the moment I touched them. If…if we survive this, we’ll have to figure out why it did that. 

That was scary. The if. Dad prepared us so we could take care of ourselves, sure, but I think he was thinking more along the lines of Akurans or overzealous Lifeline idiots — not a Conduit that’s had her powers for years. We never even got to start training to fight! I just kept repeating to myself how she was in my domain; I had the upper hand here. She’d run out of concrete eventually, and Dad said we’d have to drain from an authentic source of our power — not one we put down ourselves. 

I zipped past the edge of the cliff and began to fall towards the Sound, the edges of its water rushing up to meet me on a wave as I solidified to human again. The water wrapped around my bottom half and gently pulled me closer as I fell, securing me in place as I plunged under the surface.

That funnel stayed around my legs, tapering away at the end into bubbling ribbons sort of like a mermaid fin, only not as defined. I’d have to work on fixing that later — regardless of aesthetic, I was using it to shoot through the water like a dolphin, using my gauntlets to push the disturbed silt back down so I could get a good look at the bottom of Augustine’s platform before going back up there. 

Each of the three support beams or joists or whatever Brent called them were dug deep into the dirt, spires of concrete splitting off at the bottom of each one to further tether them to the bottom of Puget Sound. Tendrils of gross sticky tar laced up in the water, polluting the poor estuary further. There was no dismantling her throne from down here. 

I reangled underwater, the funnel around my legs beginning to bubble and churn before spitting me out, launching me out of the water and into the air. Brent was still soaring, circling high above Augustine’s platform like a buzzard, coaxing her into concentrating on him instead of the evacuating Akomish, her throwing spears of cement in the sky in an effort to bring him down. 

At least, she was until I came up with my waterspout, freefalling for a moment before letting the humidity in the air catch me, spinning in place as I stood level with her on my own watery platform. I felt a tug from below, the Sound protesting a bit, and the surface split all of a sudden as a steel pillar came shooting out, Brent falling from the sky wingless to land on it once it settled. 

Brooke Augustine always looked fierce in the pictures of her in our textbooks. Put together, commanding — a real leader. Whoever was in front of us lost that composure over the years. Her hair was more brittle and frizzed, her eyes seemed alight with an energy and yet…not fully concentrating on us, either. I knew a little bit of what Augustine’s trial looked like, the guilty verdicts and the aftermath; she was deemed too much of a threat for herself — and too at risk — to be with the general population. She was shoved in a mostly-solitary system for the past seventeen years, and the effects were definitely showing on her. She seemed bordering on insanity.

All of her energy went into a deranged sort of anger, one that barely kept her from spearing us as we settled in front of her. “So,” she said, an uncomfortable calm to her voice, “He’s so cowardly he’s sent two kids in his place,”

Brent used all those years of shit talking other teams across the line of scrimmage to stare her down with ease, saying, “You asked for a Rowe. You didn’t say which one.”

She hummed, eyes squinting at Brent — and then landing on me, examining my face for a long time. “You’re his children,” she observed, looking at me like I was the only proof. 

I pushed as much power into my voice as I could. “You need to leave.”

She laughed, the sound carrying a bit too loudly for just a bit too long. “I don’t think so, child.” She spit the word like it was a slur. “I’m here for your father, and I’m not leaving unless it’s with him. Now stand aside, the adults need to talk.”

“He’s not here,” Brent bit back. He was still full steel, and I watched the shavings crawl up from his back to his arms, layering on him in shingle-like panels until they made an armor around his shoulders. Jabbing a thumb my way, he continued, “Like she said — you need to leave.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.” She purred unsettlingly, like it was a casual request and not a demand. “Not until I get what I came for.”

Heat shot up my spine in anger. Brooke Augustine — she was a mastermind, someone devoid of empathy, especially when I remembered how personal her presence was in our family’s history. “Haven’t you done enough?” I demanded. “You killed our uncle, you used our mom — you’ve hurt the Akomish once already! I don’t know what you want him for, but he’s not here — so like we said, leave.”

Augustine’s eyes didn’t leave Brent, but her disquieting smirk played wider on her lips. “I see her, in you. She scowled like that at me all the time until I offered her the chance to kill. I was disappointed to hear she died. Abigail seemed so strong,”

The way she said disappointed — it didn’t sound like grief or woe. It sounded like her favorite toy just lost a piece and she deemed the rest of it unusable. Broken, useless, worthless. 

“Maybe she was thinking about how to kill you instead,” Brent growled, “‘Cause that’s what I’m gonna start worrying about if you don’t go.” 

“And do you think you can do that, child?” She asked, all humor sliding off of her face only to immediately be replaced with seriousness. It wasn’t natural, how quick her mood flipped. “Are you able to kill like Abigail did? Like your father?” 

“The only killer here is you,” I accused. Standing right in front of me was the propagandist whose fear mongering helped create Lifeline, who started the push for the DUP and all the fucking bills that followed. How many Conduits died because of her? How many experiments at Curdun Cay went wrong? Empire City was a tragedy, sure — but she’s the one who made it into a Shakespearian play. She’s the one who’s caused so much pain for all to come.

Her head tilted slightly, eyes breaking away from Brent. The smirk snapped back into place. “Oh, dear, I’ve never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it.”

My mind flashed fifty yards behind me to the guy speared into the cement. It jumped eighteen years back to my namesake. This woman was deluded! “You mean anyone that doesn’t fit your agenda.”

She hummed, amused. “Perhaps you’re right.” She shrugged simply. “Perhaps all I care about is my objective. Right now, that objective does not involve either of you. I’ve been told to bring in Rowe. I’m not afraid to remove you two from the equation if it means accomplishing my goal.”

Told to bring in Rowe.

“You’re with those people,” Brent breathed, realizing the same thing. “Archangel.”

She didn’t bother answering. She was already beginning her attack. 

I don’t think linguists have managed to find a word that could describe pain like what I was suddenly experiencing; it burned and stung and stabbed and gnawed. Something serrated tore through my bone marrow and sliced away at the ligaments around my calf, lighting up the end of each nerve ending in the bottom half of my leg and sending volts of painful electricity up my spine, short circuiting my brain. I lost concentration, the puddle of water holding me up falling away — but I didn’t care. Not even as the whipping winds of my plummet vibrated the shards of concrete in my leg; there was nothing but some deep intrinsic need to run away from it. 

The waters bended around me, thank God; when my leg hit the Sound, even with the help, it still made me yelp, the shaky exhales leaving in horrible staccato bubbles as I sank. The shards of concrete sticking out of my legs were thick, thicker than the actual shin bone they were stabbed through, deep red blood pooling with the thick black tar and polluting the waters. What wasn’t floating away around me was sinking into my shredded skin, burning everything in an acidic sort of way. The sight, the pain, all made me lose concentration — and a bit of my stomach. I didn’t know there could be a pain so bad it’d make your gingerbread cookies reappear. I writhed, losing focus and accidentally taking in a mouthful of water before spitting it back out.

The primal instincts tapped into the Conduit side, and I was full water before even registering it, the swirling mass of my body’s outline seeming to billow faster around that leg. But it did what I was begging someone, something to do; the concrete suddenly dislodged, all pain sapping away with it, a giant cast of my body’s lower leg rapidly falling into the floor and kicking up silt. It took a few breaths for my brain to catch up to my body, for my senses to pull back in fully and the electricity shooting up my spine to die off into a dull voltage. I solidified, the wounds on my leg staining my jeans red and black before it sealed up whatever gross stuff was stuck in it, leaving nasty scars that were fighting to change shade. 

I stayed there for three deep, ragged breaths, reabsorbing water and trying not to think of all the pollution that was suddenly in it as I made my heart rate steady. That heat in my spine stayed, though; is that what that felt like? That’s what she did to Dad? Betty, so many of the Akomish? Uncle Reggie? I tensed my arms and the water closest to them began to broil with my anger; she may have had no issue with hurting others, but Augustine was on my turf. She was going to bow to me.

I let the water resupply me consistently as something in my lower stomach tightened, like my core was flexing, and I began to force a current into the Sound, a steady swirl that pushed back as I rose on a waterspout. 

My biggest concern was both cornering her and keeping her from refocusing on the Akomish. Cornering her was going to be impossible with how she could build those concrete structures unless I put something in her way, something she couldn’t pass. One small wall of water wasn’t going to do much — but if I shifted everything into a thunderdome of waves…well, maybe she’d be less inclined to leave if she had to swim the whole way. 

I kept the waterspout as I broke the surface, a consistent drain source to counteract the sudden twinge in between my shoulder blades as I pulled the surrounding Sound up, the current swirling higher and higher as it created a wall between the three of us and the rest of the world, tsunamis frozen in their crash. 

Us. Looked like Brent was spared from the pain of the concrete, or at least managed to shrug it off as well; he was back in the sky, jumping between winged to freefalling and back again as the pannels of his wings slipped off his back and rolled in on themselves, becoming spears to throw at Augustine, re-equipping new wings in time to dodge her counterattack. 

The edges rose until Augustine’s concrete tower stood in the middle of a giant whirlpool, our fight hidden away in its open center. The waters below the tower were diminished — but I made sure to push some there so I’d stay connected to the Sound at all times, my bottom half engulfed in the waterspout and liquid as well to make draining easier. 

My appearance and the walls distracted Augustine, who turned in place to look at me again — giving Brent the perfect chance to swoop down from his place in the sky and throw a barrage of sharpened spears straight for her, each metal missile whistling as they cut through the air. Augustine heard them, turning again in time to spot them but not in time to stop them. All she could do was bring her arms up and bring in the concrete that spun around them to still and build on each other, blocking her face. 

The spears embedded in the concrete shield and she flew back with the force of their hit, splashing into the wall of water behind her and disappearing into its current. 

Everything fell still, save for the roar of the water and Brent as he forced another steel beam next to me and landed on it, wings settling against his arms and melting into extra armor there. “Y’think she’s gone?” He called over the sound of the whirlpool, looking at where she last was. The water was dark, frothy, and entirely void of her. 

“I don’t know,” I answered, trying to peer through it all. Maybe I could catch her form knocking around some water molecules? “She didn’t get you with that concrete trick?” 

He shook his head. “Steel’s stronger than concrete.” I glanced behind myself and tried to find her there, pulled out of the effort by Brent going, “Jean, Jean!” 

I shifted in place, looking to my left like he was, trying to see what the hell he was freaking out about. For a moment, nothing – just the dark waters, a bit of debris swept up in their rush. There was so much trash, swirling shards of wood and plastic and what looked like a giant sun-bleached tarp—

The tarp suddenly moved, and that urgent pull in my stomach flipped as the shape fought against the current in warning; because now there were two giant white shapes, symmetrical in size and position, and they blinked. 

Augustine was indistinguishable from the creature as it pushed through the water, a concrete leviathan. Cement was piled on itself again and again, scales to the giant snake that shot out of the wall and straight for the concrete tower, its giant head crashing into it and sending the shattered remains everywhere. The steel on Brent’s arm slithered down and stretched out, solidifying into a shield just in time to block the debris as I just let the water crawl up the rest of my body and turn me liquid, the rocks slicing through my form. 

I resolidified, brushing off the dusting of concrete and the sticky tar that pushed to my skin’s surface in the action, water slipping down into their gauntlet positions as the snake rounded to face us, opened its maw, and screeched, revealing Augustine hiding in the back of its head. She was smirking, her own armor of concrete on her shoulders as the vest on her body emitted a soft glow, the seams of the plating on her armor lighting up the rest of her. They weren’t blue by design — they held something. Some sort of liquid shifted in it, pushed through the tubes in the armor like a river, bubbling and churning and looking all too gel-like. 

I watched Augustine press some little button on the chest of her vest, and the blue in it illuminated even more, its aura leaving the seams entirely and enveloping her in its glow. It traced her outline, crawled into the concrete sleeves on her arms and following the pulse of her veins—

My mind shot back to only a few days ago, when I watched Brent’s jugular light up just like that after Dad hit him with the power of the Core Relay, leaving him on the cusp of movement just like Augustine was now. That blue liquid held the same stuff that was in the Core Relays.

Everything around Augustine zapped away and she fell to a knee on the tongue of the snake, prompting the giant reptile to snap its jaw shut. I didn’t get a chance to express this realization to Brent; legs broke away from the snake body, and slammed into the remaining tides at the bottom of the Sound, stabilizing the snake that, for a few moments there, was levitating on nothing but air. The structure of its shoulders extended far beyond the joints – and not just to make the spidery-thing look badass, I found out, giving it a matching set of spinal spikes that started with a giant mohawk-looking formation on top of its head. Where the spiny shoulders should have collapsed, the slabs instead stayed up so she could launch boulders of concrete at us from holes in the body, the rotator cuff becoming some sort of revolver. 

 I reached out and yanked some water from the wall to my right, piling it in front of us to try and catch the rock and throwing the entire pool away before they could fly through the water. Brent countered with twisted steel blades, launching one after the other at Augustine’s giant as I caught her barrage and threw them aside. 

One of the twisted stakes of steel slammed into Augustine’s creature’s shoulder, the grinding of steel against concrete making something in my teeth twinge as the creature cried out, the sound like dozens of well-paved roads trying to wrestle. There was a giant burst of concrete and the creature was now limbless again, Brent’s steel falling into the water below with a splash as the giant snake charged straight for us. 

Brent’s shoulder armor separated from him and he launched towards the sky on wings, leaving me alone with the viper that looked ready to swallow me whole. I pulled the waters against my legs — that were my legs — up, letting them creep up my body and take me in its wave, colliding with Augustine in the fall of my tide. 

I could feel the impact, and yet something more; the tug in my chest came with a flash of a vision, a reminder, and I heeded it without hesitation. Bits of the water — of me, although we were all one when I was intertwined like this — sunk into the pores of the concrete and expanded, orbs of water with air in the middle cracking away at the concrete, making bits of it shatter away. 

I pulled away as Augustine’s snake pushed against the aquatic Jericho wall, falling into it enough to pull myself together and emerge as a whole person again. Well, mostly whole; my bottom half was still connected to the whirlpool by fading away into water. The head of Augustine’s creature whipped around to look at me with malice in its concrete eyes — bits of its brow falling away from its slick, wet body. 

I managed to damage it. 

There was a sudden pattering from beyond the walls of the whirlpool, the consistent chopchopchopchop of a helicopter as its black shape broke the cover of the waters and began to hover over us. It was bright green and black, EMERALD CITY NEWS painted on its side in all white. What the hell were they doing here? This wasn’t a spectator sport!

The sound caught Augustine’s attention, the snake’s head swiveling in place to look at the helicopter as it steadied in place, the huge camera attached in the space in front of its landing skids swiveling in to focus on Augustine and I. I could barely count three heads through the tint in the windows. 

Augustine’s spiderling screeched, the sound coming out like a rock slide down a mountain, and turned to better face the helicopter before the holes in her shoulders opened and launched boulders of concrete bigger than the cockpit of the helicopter straight for the cockpit. 

I tried to catch it, I really did. The boulder moved faster than I did and I only managed to hit its side with the wave I pulled from the wall, knocking it off its course towards the cockpit and instead sending it barreling towards the tail of the helicopter. The slab collided and cut off the helicopter’s tail entirely, both metal and concrete exploding as the helicopter began to spin with the impact. 

“Brent!” I shouted. I don’t know why — what was he gonna do, catch it? I didn’t want him anywhere near those propellers even with the steel chrysalis. But there were three people in there, three innocent albeit nosey people that needed help. 

Brent zipped past, going as high as he could to still have a vantage point on the helicopter before releasing his wings and shooting the aura of steel across the capless dome we were in. The steel attached to the landing skids and began layering over them again and again. I could see what he was doing — he was making those floats that seaplanes have — but it wasn’t going to be enough to straighten their flight, nor stabilize them in the end. 

Augustine’s creature geared up to throw more at the helicopter, that terrible grinding sound coming from the rotating barrels on her shoulder as she readied another shot. I reached back and yanked water from behind me forward, over my head and towards Augustine just as she took her shot, snatching the boulder of sharp concrete out of the air. I pulled, something in my biceps stinging as I yanked the rock back in the riptide of the wave and let it fall atop Augustine’s spiderling with a comedic ping.

The spiderling reacted by rearing back a bit, giving Brent enough time to bring his wings back, shoot up into the sky, and yell, “Jean! Get ready to catch them!” 

The wings were let go again — he couldn’t use his powers and wings at the same time, which scared me if I’m being honest — and each bit of shrapnel that dispersed from him was woven tightly until he made a huge steel cable a lot like the ones that hold down telephone poles. He kept a hard grip on one end and tossed the other like a rope, swinging the opposite hand the moment it was free to summon a pillar of steel up from the ground to land on. The rope shot off with his mental guidance, whipping around the rotator mast at the base of the propellers and swinging back towards him, steel crawling down his shoulders and welding over his hands as he gripped both ends to keep them in place. And he leaned back, trying to stabilize the helicopter. 

Brent screamed out with the effort, more steel shooting up from the pillar to lock his feet into place as he put all his weight into pulling back, yanking the helicopter out of its freefall and keeping it still for just a few seconds. That’s all I needed, though; I pulled the tides diagonally until there was a swell building on top of the wall that barely caught them, rocking them violently around as I pushed the surge out and down. Hopefully they could swim to Seattle, or the helicopter would stay afloat. 

The steel cast encased around Brent’s left hand released in a halo of silver that ate away at the end of the cable until it was just long enough for him to whip the spiderling’s face as it turned. The sonic boom that came from its snap coupled with the grinding sound of shattering concrete as it sliced the beast’s spiny mohawk in half. 

Augustine exchanged with a few more missiles that Brent couldn’t block in time, making me to throw a wall of water between them and catch the hits in its tides. I forced pressurized water into every crack and crevice and broke the concrete apart before the slabs could hit Brent. 

Unfortunately, doing this meant Brent’s cable got caught in the waters, which caused it to disintegrate, the entire thing rusting rapidly like a lit wick before falling apart in his hands. 

“Jean!” He said incredulously, obviously miffed.

“What?” 

“Watch where you’re throwing that shit!” 

I glared at him. “Wh-, my water?”

“You’re gonna rust up everything of mine!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly planning on spending Christmas Eve fighting the rock-snake from fucking Pokemon!” 

“Onyx!” 

“Is now the time?” I demanded, pointing to Augustine as her spiderling tucked its legs and spikes, turning into an Onyx, apparently. 

The snake somehow levitated enough to rotate once in thin air like a roller coaster loop before angling itself for me and shooting forward. I shifted into full water again and pulled another wave up with me, colliding against Augustine and pushing into every orifice that disgusting creature had. 

I couldn’t describe the sensation. Technically, I was ripped apart, each atom a separate droplet that snuck somewhere differently — but it didn’t feel like that. Whether it was my body or the Sound, all of it felt like an extension of me — one I used to try and pull Augustine apart. 

I didn’t know much about concrete; I’ve never thought much about it beyond when I’d scuff my knees on the rough pavement or those chalk walks downtown Portland did. But I knew that while what I was doing was working, it was going to take hours to essentially hose her down. We’d have to come up with a better plan, and only one of us might have had an inkling as to what exactly we should do. 

I pulled away from Augustine and fell into the shallow waters at the bottom of our battle arena, regrouping and solidifying before rising back to the surface on another waterspout. Brent was back in the sky, leaving behind the rusted remains of the beam and instead returning to alternate between flight and fight, wings becoming projectiles and shooting back onto his arms just as fast. 

Augustine didn’t tire — but neither did we. She’d dodge Brent’s direct attacks and throw more and more concrete at us, and I’d encase them midair and chuck them aside. I was sure of it now; that suit, somehow, was something like Dad’s Core Relay things. Her power didn’t stop despite not draining, shard after shard of concrete launching away. When she’d work her way closer, force herself into our space so Brent couldn’t directly attack, I’d summon another wave and fall with it, colliding with her and sinking into every hole and crevice in her body.

We danced like this for a while before Brent found his way back to my side, landing on another beam as Augustine’s spiderling shook off the spears embedded in its forehead. She was definitely looking worse for wear, that was a good thing. “How is she still going?” Brent gasped out on labored breathing, and I couldn’t help but agree; even with staying connected to the Sound and constantly draining, something stayed sore between my shoulder blades. This was so hard. “When d’you think she’s gonna go drain?”

“She’s not.” I gestured towards the creature as it opened its maw to scream. Augustine was perched where its tongue should have been, hand moving to press something on her shoulder. “She’s using that stuff Dad does! It’s resupplying her!”

Brent looked at me like I was insane — but that glare quickly turned to horror as he watched blue emit from her, lighting up each avenue of vein like a passageway to her heart. Steel pulled away from his arm into his hand until he was holding a spear and he lobbed it, years of playing shortstop helping his precision as it soared and aimed for Augustine’s chest. The electrified aura around her zapped away just as the spear crossed the threshold of the creature’s maw, and she leaned aside to dodge it, a hand shooting out to instead catch it in its flight. 

Augustine flipped the spear in her hand like a baton and slammed its bottom into the platform she was floating on, concrete crawling down her arm, along her fingers, and to the spear, spreading fast. The entire thing was encased in concrete in the blink of an eye, now some giant staff Augustine kept in her hand as the spiderling’s mouth snapped shut. 

Brent didn’t seem upset he lost this round; his face was actually alight in realization, shining bright even without the sun reflecting off his steel features. “Spalling!” He shouted. “If we can induce delamination, we can kill the giant monster-thing.”

He looked over at me like I should have understood what the hell that meant. “What?” 

Brent rolled his eyes, exhausted at my lack of knowledge at whatever dorky architecture thing he was rambling about. Augustine’s creature began letting off more missiles, and I took to catching and throwing them back as he yelled over the grind of her shoulder cannons, “Spalling is when the steel in concrete structures corrodes! It makes the entire thing weaker because of the chemical carbonation and expansion of the metal! If I can stick more steel in her, and you rust it—”

“We can break down the rock snake!” I finished, glancing his way as I released another boulder. 

“I told you — Onyx!”

“I’m not calling it that!”

Brent himself threw a couple sharpened poles at Augustine, testing the waters on how big the pieces of steel would need to be and how hard he’d need to throw them. “I’m running low, Jean!” He warned. “I’ve gotta drain before we do anything else!”

Even if there was something metal nearby for him to drain, I wouldn’t have been able to pull it through the wall of water surrounding us. “Go, drain!” I demanded. “I can hold her off!”

The glance he shot me was uncomfortable, but he didn’t have much of a choice; he suddenly took off like a rocket, climbing the 20 foot whirlpool and disappearing from view. 

I refaced Augustine’s creature, which froze in place to glare down at me. David and Goliath in a proverbial stand-off before discovering who was God’s golden child in a final sprawl—and I wasn’t yet confident it would be me. “What do you people even want my Dad for?” I demanded, hoping the roar of the waters would carry my voice. “He’s done nothing but mind his business the last sixteen years! Why are you Archangel people so hellbent on getting to him? Why are you committing war crimes against a bunch of innocent people?”

I expected another barrage of missiles. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the spiderling snapped out to try and crush me in its maw. Instead, though, that maw opened, Augustine’s levitating platform pushing out from the back of the creature’s throat to the tip of its taste buds, arms encased in concrete padding like Dad’s was a few days ago. There was no way I’d be able to attack her now, I knew she’d just block my hit. “This isn’t war,” she called with ease over the sounds around us. She could make her voice carry without putting any effort into it. “Every game of chess starts with a line of sacrifices, child.”

“So, what? Everyone’s your little pawn to mess with? These people don’t deserve to die because you want to play games!” 

“I am not playing games.” She responded. “I am far from being in a playful mood. This is about your father, and what he’s done.”

“Delsin Rowe hasn’t done a thing in the past decade for any of you to even be upset about!” I retorted.

She chuckled. It was infuriating, how she thought this was a game! “He has debts of retribution that are overdue,” she shrugged.

“He’s paid enough!” I motioned to myself. “We’ve paid enough! How many more people gotta die before you’re all satisfied? Till he’s dead too?”

The way Augustine looked at me…I didn’t like the volt that shot up my spine. Like I was a poor stray she couldn’t wait to eat up. Like she knew more, a lot more, than what she was giving away. “Oh, he won’t die. Like I said — this isn’t war. This is strategy. It’s chess, and Delsin Rowe has a bigger part to play.” The concrete on her arms released and began to spin around, and the staff she made began to gain an eerie orange glow in the gaps of the concrete. “Unfortunately for you, you’ll just have to be another sacrifice in this tactical gambit.”

I couldn’t have stopped the next hit even if I tried. The misshapen cannonball of concrete was so fast I didn’t even get to shift to water in time; I took the hit straight to the chest, the polyps on the stone cutting into my collarbone and the bit of bicep it reached. I flung backwards into the wall of the Sound, the water not giving me the liberty of bending around me this time and instead letting me feel its full hit, lighting up my spine. 

It took me a moment to differentiate the white in my vision from the white froth of the churning water — for a second, it definitely all looked the same, especially when my eyes stopped focusing. The lopsided ball of concrete became another piece of pollution and fell away from my chest, leaving me scratched and bruised as I tried to convince my lungs to work again. 

I let the waters grab me, something separating from the current to pull me lower and away from the drama above the surface — or beside it, I guess — to the safety of the dark depths. It was something else I’d never be able to translate well; there was a very thin, very gray line between me and the water. It sometimes felt not like this was my power, but that I was, in all sense of the word, a conduit — the water chose what happened next. It nudged me towards the shadows so I could reorient my brain. It told me to breathe, and washed the blood out of the scrapes on my shoulder and collarbone. Moments like this made me feel like I went beyond being one with the water. 

But eventually it prodded and poked, warning me that my respite was coming to a close as Augustine’s snake dove underwater to finish the job. 

I was hidden. That was probably the only good part of any of this, that the sky was too dim and the water too murky for her to see me. I could barely see her; if it wasn’t for the water molecules shifting around her figure, I wouldn’t have been able to pick apart the snake from the surf. The creature stirred, shifting all kinds of directions to try and catch its bearings. 

She could call me a pawn all she wanted, but Augustine just set herself up for checkmate. 

I pulled down the whirlpool above, replenishing the waters here in the Sound without giving up the push of the spinning tide. The water beat around us like a tornado; there was a roar that pushed in with the swimmer's ear, the black hoodie I stole from Dad’s closet threatened to rip off of me. I waited until the Sound was now spinning with the push before redirecting the wild riptide, aiming straight for Augustine and her creature. 

The hit sent her snake spinning backwards twice before she could right herself, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered aside from pushing more speed into the water and chipping away at everything I could in its dash, weakening the snake’s armor from the outside in. I didn’t relent; not when the snake screamed some garbled screech, not when it tried pushing back, not even as it reangled and shot towards the surface again. I pulled some water to my sides and followed her to the surface, breaking just in time to see Brent loop back around in the sky. 

I pushed out my hands and grappled the water still on the snake’s concrete scales as it rose, pushing them back into the gaping holes and cracks and lining them with ease. “Now, Brent!” I screamed. 

Brent didn’t hesitate; the wings left his back and grew above him into sharpened, swirled pillars of steel that spun when he threw his arms forward, elongated bullets that pierced the body of Augustine’s creature with ease. I could barely see the tips of them rust upon impact before they drilled themselves into the cement, and I pulled more water from below and forced it to follow the slide of the spindles into the holes. 

The spider screamed out, a grinding sound killed almost immediately as Brent sent off three more spiraled spears and one of them stabbed through the roof of the creature’s mouth. I could see Augustine beyond it tumble, the concrete cane she made barely stabilizing her as the snake shuddered with the hits. She tried to move to press that button that resupplied her with Core Relay stuff but another spear shot through the back of the head, barely missing her back, and she fell forward. 

The concrete around each wet spear began to crack — spalling, I think Brent called it. Pits in the concrete widened, scales fell away until the twirled rebar was fully exposed underneath, a piercing of the exoskeleton that was failing to exist. 

And then everything fell apart, and Augustine plummeted towards the Sound. 

[accessdoorsandpanels]

Insulation 101: Benefits and Types of Insulation

Commercial building owners invest in quality insulation materials because of their numerous benefits. Insulation helps enhance the overall performance of any commercial building, decreases harmful greenhouse gas emissions, and helps keep your energy bills from increasing.  

In addition, adding insulation to your establishment can also reduce the number of noises coming in and out. This is beneficial mainly for establishments that require better acoustics or sound barriers. Let's learn more about the different types of insulation material available now.

Batt Insulation

Professionals use batt insulation efficiently, one of the most affordable options available today. It comes with two options; with or without facing. Professionals must place this per specifications to resist water vapor transfer. Most insulation today contains recycled materials such as sand. Fiberglass also includes sand which is an environmentally friendly content source.

Batt insulation can either be fiberglass, cotton, or stone wool blankets. Fiberglass is the most common type out of the rest. It is the perfect insulation for attics, walls, ceilings, crawl spaces, and basements.

Blown-in Insulation

When it comes to blown-in insulation, proper installation is a must. Professionals should utilize special equipment and safety measures to ensure long-term function. In addition to being primarily recycled, cellulose blown-in insulation also contains fire-retardant properties. It also resists insects, rodents, and mold and impressively creates a good sound barrier. Once the professionals finish the application, there are also available products with insulation that you can incorporate to enhance your commercial building, such as an insulated roof hatch.

Spray Foam Insulation

If you prefer an insulation material that forms an air barrier, then spray foam insulation should be the option on your list. This material can effectively cover your walls, floors, and ceiling cavities against air movement. This includes spaces around electrical outlets, light fixtures, and walls that meet windows and doors.

Professionals use spray foams in open cavities, like in new construction, crawl spaces, rim joists, and attics. You can also use this on remodeled homes. You can apply the spray foam if the cavities are unrestricted and accessible. Here are the two varieties of spray-foam insulation;

Closed-cell SPF- is a type of spray foam insulation that adds structural strength and is a rigid, vapor-resistant foam that doesn't require replacement in case of a flood.

Open-cell SPF- spray foam insulation that offers identical insulation advantages but does not act as a water barrier or vapor retarder.

Air Sealing

Controlling the air leakage of an establishment is critical to effective insulation. You can do a great job protecting an establishment, but if air can seep through gaps or cracks in the building envelope, you lose your valuable heated or conditioned air.

Concrete Block Insulation

A concrete block's center contains insulating materials such as polystyrene, polyisocyanurate or polyiso, and polyurethane. The hollow centers of concrete blocks can be filled by pouring and injecting loose foam beads or liquid foam. Some professionals create concrete blocks that support rigid foam inserts.  

Reflective System

Unlike most typical insulation, which resists convective and conductive heat flow, reflective insulation works by reflecting radiant heat away from your commercial building. These insulation types are best for hot and humid climates, primarily if you have cooling air ducts in the attic. According to research, radiant barriers can lower cooling costs by up to 5% to 10% when utilized in a warm, sunny temperature.  

There are still other insulation options available. Ensure to collaborate well with your architect, engineer, or contractor to choose the best insulation option based on your commercial building's needs and your project budget.  

Did you find our blogs interesting? You can find more exciting blogs at Best Access Doors! We also offer various top-quality access doors and panels for any commercial building application. You can dial (800) 483-0823 to learn more about our products.

[litanyforlove]

Roof Raising

How many stones does it take to make a building? Thousands, thousands. The bricks are making friends. More are showing up each day. They are moving in from all the places where bricks are baked. Soon they will be a wall. How many hands does it take to raise a roof? Dozens, dozens. Upon the walls will rest the Timbers. They're very excited. With tall and sonorous voices they are booming to each other that soon, Soon, They will be a roof. How many places does it take to mix a mortar? Many, many. The salt water and mortar are not ready to be concrete. Their forcastings , who have been concrete for years, Keep telling them all the ways being concrete could be, The salt, water and mortar are nervous and excited and hopeful. They pray that it's true, that they may someday be one strong thing together How many dreams does it take to make a new world? Millions, millions, The sand has been waiting to be glass since they were rocks. Granite calls sand its autumn years, Marble tells its children on Sundays that it's real good, Someday, someday, when it dies, it will pass on through a fire to the other side and be glass. How many weavers does it take to clothe the world? Thousands, thousands, The fibers are calling it a homecoming They're whispering to each other on the loom about the times they remember when they were plants and animals. In hushed and breathy voices they hum that they will be connected again, Finally what they were meant to be; Soft to the touch, and warm. How many stars does it take to grant a wish? Billions, Billions The nails are proselytizing, They've already converted the pegs and the dovetails. They hold a quiet communion in the tiny spaces between the joists and the floor boards. They sing the most beautiful songs. How many ropes does it take to raise a roof? Only a few only a few How many choices does it take to change your life? Just one, just one. How many people does it take to make a new world? Only ours. Only ours.

[tommystimber]

The Importance of Quality Timber Supplies in Construction Projects

Timber has been a cornerstone of construction for centuries, and its role remains crucial in modern building practices. Whether you're working on a large-scale commercial project or a small DIY home renovation, having access to high-quality timber supplies is essential. The right timber products not only ensure structural integrity but also add aesthetic appeal and sustainability to your work. From framing to finishing touches, timber is a versatile and indispensable material in the construction industry, and understanding its value can make all the difference in the success of your project.

One of the primary reasons timber remains a popular choice for construction is its strength and durability. Well-sourced, high-quality timber offers outstanding structural support, making it ideal for framing, flooring, roofing, and other essential building elements. The strength-to-weight ratio of timber is also unmatched, providing both stability and flexibility to structures. Whether used for beams, joists, or studs, timber can withstand significant loads and stresses while maintaining its integrity over time. This makes it a reliable choice for a wide range of applications, from residential homes to commercial buildings.

In addition to its strength, timber is also a naturally beautiful material. Its warmth and character add a distinctive touch to any space. The grain patterns and texture of different types of timber, such as oak, pine, and cedar, can elevate the aesthetic appeal of both the interior and exterior of a building. Whether you're designing an elegant hardwood floor or crafting intricate wooden features for your home, the visual impact of timber is undeniable. Many construction projects today incorporate timber not only for its practicality but also as a design feature, using it to create stylish, sustainable environments that stand out.

Another critical aspect of timber supplies is their environmental benefits. Timber is one of the most eco-friendly building materials available, especially when sourced responsibly. Unlike steel or concrete, which require intensive energy processes to produce, timber is a renewable resource that can be sustainably harvested. When sourced from certified, managed forests, timber offers a low carbon footprint, making it an excellent choice for eco-conscious builders. Additionally, timber products have the potential to act as carbon sinks, storing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and helping to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. This makes timber an important material for those looking to incorporate sustainability into their construction practices.

Quality timber supplies are also known for their versatility. Timber can be used in a wide variety of applications, from structural components like beams and columns to non-structural elements like cladding, decking, and paneling. It can be easily cut, shaped, and treated to meet the specific needs of a project, allowing for custom solutions that meet both functional and aesthetic requirements. Timber can be treated for weather resistance, fire retardancy, and insect protection, ensuring that it performs well in diverse environments. Whether you’re working on an outdoor deck exposed to the elements or interior features that need to withstand heavy use, there’s a timber product suited to your needs.

When it comes to sourcing timber, it’s essential to choose a supplier who can provide products that meet the highest standards of quality. The best timber suppliers offer a wide range of timber options to suit different construction needs, whether you're looking for softwood, hardwood, or engineered timber products. High-quality timber supplies should come from responsibly managed forests, ensuring that the materials are harvested sustainably and with minimal impact on the environment. A reliable supplier will also ensure that the timber is properly seasoned and treated, preventing issues like warping, cracking, or infestation. This ensures that the timber will perform optimally throughout the life of the structure.making it an excellent choice for cost-conscious projects. While the initial cost of timber can vary depending on the species and grade, it remains one of the most cost-effective options in the long term due to its durability and low maintenance requirements. With the right care and treatment, timber can last for many years without requiring significant repairs, making it an investment that delivers both value and longevity.

Additionally, the use of timber in construction supports a wide range of industries, from forestry and milling to transport and retail. Choosing high-quality timber from a reputable supplier supports local economies and ensures that the materials used in your project meet the necessary regulatory standards.

In conclusion, timber supplies are integral to the construction industry, offering a blend of strength, beauty, sustainability, and versatility. Whether you’re working on a small DIY project or a large commercial development, the right timber products can significantly enhance the quality and longevity of your build. By choosing responsibly sourced, high-quality timber, you contribute to both the success of your project and the health of the environment. With its enduring popularity and unmatched qualities, timber will continue to play a crucial role in construction for years to come.

[ultraheydudemestuff]

Stuyvesant Motor Company Building

1937 E. Prospect Ave.

Cleveland, OH

Built in 1917, the five-story Stuyvesant Motor Company Building is located at 1937 Prospect Avenue in Cleveland, Ohio, and stands in downtown Cleveland’s growing Campus District. At the turn of the 20th Century, this area was an American automobile manufacturing hub. The Stuyvesant Motor Company Building opened in 1917 as a sales showroom, service center, garage, and storage facility for the Stuyvesant Motor Company. The operation served as a precursor to the eventual shift away from local car manufacturing enterprises to much larger, assembly-line based operations. As well, the building survives today as a reminder of Cleveland's once flourishing auto industry during the early twentieth century; the city supported seven significant car manufacturers who contributed heavily to the evolution of the automobile and auto manufacturing.

Developer Woda Cooper Companies partnered with Perspectus to convert the vacant property into affordable housing apartments while retaining its historically-integral materials and structural features. Perspectus prepared nominations to both the National Register of Historic Places and Cleveland Landmarks Commission for eligibility of Federal and State Historic Tax Credits. Transformation of the property followed, creating 42 loft-style apartments with attractive amenities not often found in affordable housing units. It was listed with the National Register of Historic Places on September 22, 2015.

The Stuyvesant Motor Co. building features a restored car lift elevator, exposed interior concrete columns and original joist-and-slab ceilings. Giant steel sash windows frame views of the Cleveland skyline and flood apartment units with natural light. On the exterior, structural masonry and concrete repairs were completed and a new EPDM roof installed. Its high ceilings, durable construction, expansive views of the city, and open-footprint warehouse space lent itself to the adaptation.