#Resin flooring near me

[resinflooringcontractor]

Decoding the Expertise of Resin Flooring Contractors

So, you're on the hunt for the wizards of the flooring world – resin flooring contractors. These are the maestros who turn mundane floors into sleek, durable marvels. Let's uncover the enigma surrounding Resin Flooring Contractors and how to find the perfect match for your project.

The Role of Resin Flooring Contractors

Resin flooring contractors – envision them as the architects for your floors, the artists who blend chemistry and craftsmanship to create surfaces that exude both style and resilience. But how do you find these flooring gurus who can turn your flooring dreams into reality?

Qualities That Define Top-notch Resin Flooring Contractors

Navigating through the multitude of contractors requires a discerning eye. Here are some key qualities to seek when scouting for the ideal resin flooring contractor:

Experience Speaks Volumes: Seek contractors with a rich history in resin flooring. Experience isn't just a number here; it's a testament to their expertise and reliability.

Portfolio and Testimonials: Delve into their portfolio, akin to flipping through an artist's masterpiece collection. Reviews and testimonials are the breadcrumbs guiding you to their skill and professionalism.

Transparency and Communication: Contractors who communicate openly and clearly about the process, costs, and timelines are akin to trustworthy partners in your flooring journey.

Where to Discover Resin Flooring Contractors

Now that you know what to look for, let's explore where to unearth these flooring virtuosos:

Online Platforms: Utilize search engines with phrases like "resin flooring contractors in the US" or explore directories like Yelp or Angie's List to unearth a plethora of options.

Social Media and Forums: Platforms like Facebook groups or Reddit threads might harbor insights or recommendations from homeowners who've trodden the resin flooring path.

Local Networking and Trade Shows: Engage with contractors face-to-face at trade shows or events in your area. This direct interaction can provide firsthand insights into their expertise.

Navigating the Evaluation Process

Congratulations! You've spotted potential resin flooring contractors. But before finalizing, here's what to expect during the evaluation phase:

Site Visits and Assessment: Anticipate contractors to visit your space for a detailed evaluation. This step is crucial to understanding your specific needs and constraints.

Detailed Proposals: A breakdown of costs, timelines, and materials involved should be presented. Beware of vague estimates – clarity is paramount.

Negotiation and Contract Terms: Engage in discussions about terms, warranties, and any queries before sealing the deal.

Choosing the Right Resin Flooring Contractor

Selecting the perfect contractor is akin to finding the right puzzle piece – it completes the picture. Remember these pointers before making your decision:

Trust Your Instincts: If something feels amiss, trust your gut. Your comfort and confidence in the contractor matter.

Clarity in Communication: Ensure both parties are aligned on expectations, timelines, and costs. Effective communication minimizes future misunderstandings.

Embracing the Transformation

Resin flooring contractors are the conductors orchestrating the symphony of style and durability in your space. Finding the right one is not just a search; it's an investment in the aesthetics and longevity of your floors.

So, embark on this quest equipped with discernment and patience. With the perfect resin flooring contractor by your side, your floors won't just be surfaces – they'll be testaments to craftsmanship and vision, embodying durability and sophistication.

Remember, the journey to finding the ideal resin flooring contractor is more than a hunt; it's a collaboration, a partnership in creating floors that go beyond mere functionality, becoming a blend of artistry and strength. Choose wisely, and let your floors speak volumes about your style and reliability.

[cambridgeshireresinflooring]

The Resin Flooring Contractors

[resinarthubdubai]

Phone No: 056 115 7515

Address: Dubai Cooperative Society Building - 407 - Al Garhoud, Dubai

Resinarthub is a place dedicated to all resin art supplies. We’re your go-to supplier for crystal clear epoxy resin, color pigments, silicone molds, tools, and all other resin art materials. We also offer Jesmonite (Eco-Resin), candle making supplies, ecosoya & golden wax, candle fragrance, candle molds, and other accessories.

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/resinarthub/

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@resinarthub

Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@resinarthubae

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/resinarthub

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/resinarthubuae/

Google maps: https://maps.app.goo.gl/LSJ4AmmKpBBNVJ9m7

[resinfloorings]

Unveiling the Elegance Beneath: Prime Resin Flooring

In the grand tapestry of home improvement, one often stumbles upon the quest for the perfect flooring – a foundation that not only supports our daily hustle but also embraces the aesthetic aspirations we harbor. It's a pursuit where durability shakes hands with design, and functionality dances with finesse. Amidst this intricate dance, resin floor cost per m2 emerges as a maestro, orchestrating a symphony of strength and style.

What Sets Prime Resin Flooring Apart?

Prime Resin Flooring is not merely a surface underfoot; it's a testament to a meticulous blend of cutting-edge technology and timeless elegance. Imagine a flooring solution that doesn't merely cover your space but becomes an integral part of its identity – a liquid art form that molds itself seamlessly onto any substrate, transforming mundane floors into a canvas of possibilities.

So, what exactly makes Prime Resin Flooring stand out in the crowd?

Unmatched Durability: Prime Resin Flooring is the fortress of your floors. It withstands the relentless footfall, the occasional spill, and the unforgiving test of time. It's not just about resisting wear and tear; it's about emerging unscathed, wearing the crown of endurance.

Limitless Design Palette: In the realm of aesthetics, Prime Resin Flooring reigns supreme. It doesn't just come in a range of colors; it offers a spectrum of expressions. From the minimalist elegance of a solid color to the avant-garde allure of metallic finishes, the design possibilities are as vast as your imagination.

Seamless Application: The application process of Prime Resin Flooring is akin to an artistic performance. Picture a fluid material cascading over your floor, filling every nook and cranny, creating a flawless surface that seems to have organically grown into place. It's not just flooring; it's an installation masterpiece.

Low Maintenance, High Impact: In the hustle of modern life, who has the time for elaborate maintenance rituals? Prime Resin Flooring understands this conundrum and emerges as the hero with a low-maintenance cape. A simple sweep or mop, and your floor is ready to dazzle again. It's a flooring solution that thrives on simplicity but delivers a visual spectacle.

The Art of Application: A Dance of Chemistry

Applying Prime Resin Flooring is akin to orchestrating a delicate chemical ballet. The components mingle and dance to a choreography that results in a floor that's not just sturdy but aesthetically impeccable. The resin, akin to a conductor, orchestrates the transformation, weaving durability and design seamlessly.

Picture this: your floor, once a mere substrate, now transformed into a surface that tells a story – a story of resilience and sophistication.

The Chemistry Behind the Brilliance

Epoxy Resin: The backbone of Prime Resin Flooring, epoxy resin forms a robust foundation. It's not merely a coating; it's a shield that stands resolute against scratches, stains, and the wear and tear of daily life.

Polyurethane Magic: The secret ingredient in the recipe of Prime Resin Flooring's success is polyurethane. It adds a touch of flexibility to the mix, ensuring that your floor not only stands strong but also has a subtle bounce, adapting to the rhythm of life.

Pigments and Finishes: Like a palette in the hands of an artist, pigments and finishes in Prime Resin Flooring allow for a spectrum of colors and textures. It's not just a floor; it's a canvas waiting for your creative strokes.

Application: A Symphony in Motion

The application process unfolds like a crescendo in a musical piece. The professionals, akin to virtuoso musicians, meticulously prepare the substrate, ensuring it's a blank canvas ready to embrace the transformative magic of Prime Resin Flooring.

Envision this: your space, devoid of its flooring symphony, now about to be draped in a cloak of elegance.

Surface Preparation: Much like tuning instruments before a concert, the substrate is prepared with precision. It involves cleaning, leveling, and ensuring a seamless canvas for the resin performance.

Primer: The Overture: The primer is the overture – a preliminary layer that sets the stage for the main act. It ensures adhesion and primes the surface for the grand resin entrance.

Resin Application: The Main Act: Here comes the star – the resin. It's poured, spread, and coaxed into place, a liquid masterpiece finding its form. It levels itself, filling every void, creating a surface that's as uniform as it is enchanting.

Curing – The Grand Finale: As the resin cures, it's akin to the final movement of a symphony. The transformation is complete, and your floor emerges not just as a functional entity but as a work of art.

Practicality Meets Panache: Everyday Life with Prime Resin Flooring

But how does Prime Resin Flooring fare in the daily hustle? Does its aesthetic grandeur withstand the rigors of everyday life? The answer is a resounding yes, and here's why.

Spill-Proof Brilliance: Life is rife with spills – from morning coffee mishaps to the occasional toppled glass of wine during evening soirees. Prime Resin Flooring laughs in the face of spills. Its impermeable surface ensures that accidents are mere anecdotes, not lasting stains.

Scratch Resistance – a Shield Against Chaos: If your space is a battleground of furniture movement and playful pets, fear not. Prime Resin Flooring is equipped with scratch resistance that rivals a knight's armor. Your floor remains unscathed, regardless of the chaos it endures.

Underfloor Heating Harmony: In the cold months, the harmony of underfloor heating often clashes with traditional flooring. Prime Resin Flooring, however, conducts warmth with grace. It becomes a seamless conductor of heat, ensuring your space remains cozy and inviting.

Beyond Beauty: The Eco-Friendly Footprint

In a world where environmental consciousness is not just a buzzword but a responsibility, Prime Resin Flooring stands tall as an eco-friendly choice. It's not merely about aesthetics; it's about leaving a positive footprint.

Low VOC Content: Volatile Organic Compounds (VOCs) are often the villains in the world of flooring. Prime Resin Flooring, however, is a hero with a low VOC content, ensuring that the air you breathe is as fresh as your floor looks.

Longevity Means Less Waste: The durability of Prime Resin Flooring is not just a testament to its strength but also to its sustainability. A floor that stands the test of time means less frequent replacements, translating to reduced waste.

The Unveiling: Is Prime Resin Flooring Right for You?

As we draw back the curtains on the stage of Prime Resin Flooring, the spotlight reveals a versatile performer. But is it the right act for your home? Let's consider a few key factors.

Design Aspirations: If your heart beats for design, if your space yearns for a unique identity, then Prime Resin Flooring is a canvas awaiting your creative touch.

High-Traffic Zones: In spaces where the hustle is incessant – be it a bustling kitchen or the entryway of a lively home – Prime Resin Flooring is not just an option; it's a strategic choice. Its durability withstands the relentless march of daily life.

Environmental Consciousness: If sustainability is not just a checkbox but a guiding principle, then the eco-friendly profile of Prime Resin Flooring aligns seamlessly with your values.

Parting Thoughts: A Floor that Echoes Elegance

In the grand theater of home improvement, Prime Resin Flooring takes center stage, not as a supporting actor but as the luminary lead. It's not merely a surface; it's a story, an expression, a dance of chemistry that transforms your floor into a masterpiece.

As you step onto Prime Resin Flooring, envision not just a surface beneath your feet but a stage where every step narrates a tale of endurance and elegance. So, let the performance begin – a symphony of style, a ballet of strength – and let your floor echo with the applause of a home truly adorned.

[resinflooringinstallersblog]

Resin Floors Manchester: Elevate Your Space with Enduring Elegance

So, you're on the hunt for that perfect flooring solution that combines durability with an elegant touch? Look no further than Resin floors manchester. These aren’t just floors; they're statements of sophistication. Let’s explore why resin floors in Manchester are not just a trend but a timeless choice for transforming your spaces into arenas of enduring beauty.

The Magnificence of Resin Floors

Enduring Beauty & Durability

Resin floors aren’t just about looks; they’re built to last. The seamless application and durable nature of resin floors make them ideal for high-traffic areas, ensuring they withstand the test of time.

Versatility & Aesthetic Appeal

What sets resin floors apart is their versatility. They offer a myriad of design options, from sleek and polished to vibrant and artistic finishes. It’s like having an artist’s palette for your floors!

Why Choose Resin Floors in Manchester?

Local Expertise & Craftsmanship

Manchester boasts experts who understand the nuances of resin floors. Their craftsmanship and attention to detail ensure your floors aren’t just installed; they’re meticulously crafted works of art.

Elevating Your Space

Resin floors in Manchester aren’t just flooring; they elevate your space to a new level. They breathe life into interiors, enhancing the ambiance and adding that touch of sophistication.

Seeking the Right Resin Flooring Experts

Navigating Your Quest

Searching for “resin floors in Manchester” marks the start of your journey. Local experts understand the area, the climate, and your unique flooring needs.

Assessing Expertise & Testimonials

As you delve into the search, explore reviews and testimonials. Insights from previous clients unveil the expertise and quality of craftsmanship offered by resin flooring experts in Manchester.

The Value They Bring

Long-Term Investment in Quality

Sure, the initial investment might seem higher, but think of it as an investment in longevity. Resin floors require minimal maintenance and offer durability that withstands the trials of time.

Transforming Spaces & Adding Value

Resin floors aren’t just about aesthetics; they increase the perceived value of your property. They transform spaces, making them stand out in the market.

Conclusion: Embracing the Timeless Elegance of Resin Floors in Manchester

In essence, resin floors in Manchester aren’t merely flooring options; they're the epitome of sophistication and durability. They’re more than just a trend; they’re a statement that withstands the whims of time. As you envision your spaces adorned with these exquisite floors, envision the resilience and elegance they bring. They’re not just floors; they’re the canvas upon which your style and endurance blend seamlessly. They're the unsung heroes of interior elegance!

[illubean]

Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (3)

Epoxy floor coating is not just a practical choice for enhancing the durability of your flooring; it's also a stylish solution that can transform any space. Whether you're a homeowner looking to revamp your garage or a business owner seeking reliable commercial flooring solutions, understanding the benefits of epoxy will help you make informed decisions. As you search for "floor polishing near me," consider how an expertly applied epoxy coating can elevate your interiors while providing a long-lasting finish. 

Epoxy Floor Coating

Epoxy floor coating is a highly durable and resilient flooring solution that has gained popularity in both residential and commercial spaces. This type of coating is made from a combination of resin and hardener, creating a strong bond when applied to existing concrete surfaces. The result is a seamless surface that can withstand heavy foot traffic, chemicals, and abrasions.

One of the major benefits of epoxy floor coating is its versatility. It can be customized in various colors and finishes, including high-gloss and matte textures. This means that property owners can choose a look that complements their interior design while still providing the durability they require. Additionally, the smooth finish of epoxy makes it easy to clean and maintain, which is particularly advantageous in commercial settings.

Furthermore, the installation process for epoxy floor coating is relatively quick, often completed within a few days. However, it’s essential to hire professionals who have the expertise and equipment to ensure a flawless application. The right team will properly prepare the surface, allowing for optimal adhesion and longevity of the coating.

Floor Polishing Near Me

When searching for floor polishing near me, it's essential to find a service that not only meets your expectations but also understands the unique needs of your flooring. Professional floor polishing can revitalize old surfaces, restoring their shine and luster while protecting them from future wear and tear.

Many local companies offer specialized services in floor polishing that cater to various materials, including hardwood, tile, and concrete. A quick search in your area will yield numerous options, allowing you to compare prices, services, and customer reviews to find the best fit for your needs.

Additionally, hiring professionals for floor polishing ensures that the job is done correctly and efficiently. They use advanced equipment and high-quality products that not only enhance the appearance of your floors but also extend their lifespan. So, don't hesitate to reac

Commercial Flooring Solutions

Commercial flooring solutions are essential for businesses seeking to enhance their aesthetic appeal while also ensuring durability and functionality. The choice of flooring can greatly influence the overall atmosphere of a commercial space, leading to improved employee morale and customer satisfaction.

Among the various options available, epoxy floor coatings stand out due to their seamless finish and resistance to heavy foot traffic. These coatings not only provide a sleek look but also protect the underlying surface from wear and tear, making them ideal for warehouses, retail spaces, and industrial environments.

Moreover, businesses often explore additional options such as vinyl flooring, carpet tiles, and laminate surfaces to meet specific needs. Each of these materials offers unique advantages, allowing business owners to choose the most suitable flooring solution that aligns with their operational demands and aesthetic preferences.

Metallic Epoxy Floor

A metallic epoxy floor offers a stunning visual appeal that enhances the aesthetic of any space. The reflective properties of the metallic pigments create a unique look, resulting in a three-dimensional effect that can mimic a variety of surfaces, such as water, marble, or even molten metal. This type of flooring is especially popular in modern homes, showrooms, and commercial spaces, providing an eye-catching yet durable surface.

One of the significant advantages of a metallic epoxy floor is its durability. This flooring solution is resistant to stains, chemicals, and impacts, making it ideal for high-traffic areas. Additionally, it is easy to clean and maintain, which means that business owners and homeowners can save time and resources. The seamless nature of epoxy flooring also contributes to a hygienic environment, especially in spaces like hospitals or laboratories.

Installing a metallic epoxy floor can be a customized process, allowing property owners to choose their preferred colors and patterns. Whether you’re looking for a sleek, industrial look or a vibrant, artistic finish, this flooring solution can be tailored to meet your unique vision. By consulting with professionals, you can ensure that your metallic epoxy floor is installed correctly and maximizes its longevity and beauty.

[deadhands69]

76 and 78 for the three-word prompts!

By a Thread

Tomua Shigaraki x reader

Thanks for the prompt requests Grace! Here's 78: “the dog’s cuter.” Working on 76 soon, you and Kisa both asked for that one! [prompt from this list of three word prompts, feel free to send requests and I'll be working on them in the evenings over the next few weeks!] fluff implied tw: blood, wounds

It’s well past sundown in the dead of winter. A dusting of snow coats the surrounding trees, silencing your little world. You've been reading the book you picked up on your last visit to town. The words swirl around the paper as your eyes grow bleary with exhaustion. 

A singular knock against your wooden door sends your dog into a frenzy. You mark your page then approach cautiously, looking through a side window. It’s far too late for anyone to have made it through the deep forest without a strong reason. The people don’t come here at night. Not unless they’re not afraid of you and those people are typically violent.

Or desperate. 

The man outside appears to be both. You’ve never seen him before but you know exactly who he is. The townspeople speak of him in hushed whispers, even lower than those they use to refer to you. He has many names, most notably: the symbol of fear. But hunched over on the doorstep to your cottage he doesn’t look so fearful.

Tentatively, you crack the door. Your dog stops barking and nudges her way out, licking any exposed skin she can find on him. Having been raised in the forest with you, she’s usually weary of strangers. Falling to his knees, he reaches one hand up giving her a few gentle pats. The man doesn’t seem to be a threat.  

“You the witch?” he groans.

“Come in,” you grumble, stepping out of the doorway. 

The light of your fire casts a warm glow and allows you to get a better look at him. His stark white hair hangs in clumps over his scratched up face. The blood red eyes you've heard terrified whispers of stare up at you, pleading. 

He's in bad shape. 

Most of his clothes are in tatters. A deep red stain marks the front of his shirt, only barely visible through the dirt that's caked on him. From what it looks like, he dragged himself through the muddy slush for a while. He stumbles a bit further, into your home before slamming the door shut and collapsing onto your floor. 

You can sense that there's not much time to waste. Pulling your grimoire from the shelf, you flip frantically to one of the last spells. Even across the room can feel the curse coming off of him. This is more than a simple wound to heal. Still tired, your dazed mind struggles to pull the letters together into words. Finally you find it: an enchanted healing potion for the most extreme cases. It's strong enough that it'll be hard to pull off, even for you. 

You'll try anyway.

Rushing to grab the ingredients, you mumble their names under your breath. 

“Calendula. Agrimony. Mugwort. Arnica. A length of red string or thread. Thread?” 

You check the last one, making sure you read it right. “Huh,” you mutter to yourself, tucking a piece into your pocket before collecting a few more items from your shelves. 

With your arms stacked with jars, you bring them to your cauldron already hanging above the fire. While throwing a few crystals of acacia resin into the flames, you hear a creak behind you. 

“Off,” you snap at him over your shoulder.

“What? It's a couch. People sit on these.” Well, it's kind of a couch. It's a few wooden boxes stacked with tufted mattresses and a makeshift back. But it's your furniture and you would prefer it not to be ruined. 

“Not covered in mud you don’t,” you glare back at him.

“Your dog’s covered in mud and she’s up here,” he grumbles.

“The dog’s cuter.”

He really can’t argue with that, so instead he stands with a grimace and moves closer to the fire. Taking his long black jacket off, he hangs it near the warmth. Followed by his boots. Then he begins to unlace his pants.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding more startled than you mean to.

“You told me I couldn't go on the couch covered in mud. I'm fixing that.”

You're about to protest when you see it. “Oh fuck,” you exclaim at the sight of three massive slashes across his chest. Black spiderwebs radiating from each of them. 

You get back to work. 

Mixing the salve together is relatively easy if you follow the instructions. It's the last few parts with the added spells and intentions that get tricky. 

Meanwhile, the symbol of fear has collapsed back onto your couch in a worse state than before. He's conscious, but listless. His breathing has slowed and become more labored. Along with the minimal clothing left on him, he’s pulled your blanket over his legs. Your dog lays by his side, continuing to lick his face. It's a good effort. Even as a small furry witch's assistant in training, there's only so much she can do. 

“And lastly…” you trail off, staring hesitantly at him.

“What?” he huffs meekly from the couch. 

“Oh, you’re not going to like this.” His eyes crack open at you in curiosity, “I need your blood.”

Weakly, he points at his stained shirt hanging from your mantle. 

“No, fresh blood.” Without a fuss, his open hand reaches out to you. “Take it,” he whispers, closing his eyes and settling back into the mattress. 

Grasping his hand in yours, you're shocked at how soft it is. With the bits of stories you've overheard of the reign of terror he inflicted with his hands alone, you expected something more horrific. You're finding him to be anything but that. His pale fingers lightly twitch in reaction to your touch. They're cold but hold an odd warmth that you don't completely understand. 

You can't recall the last time you felt the skin of any other human, it's been so long. Most people only interact with you out of necessity and certainly never dare to come close. They're afraid of you. 

You wonder the last time anyone touched him. Right now, he looks like he could be any other boy. Tired and trying his best. Falling short and needing help. Who cares for the man that everyone fears? 

He coughs then grips his chest with a groan. You'll need to finish this quickly. 

Grabbing your knife, you hold it above the skin of his palm. Moments like these make you wonder how people allow you to do this. With a quick slice, he winces but doesn't pull away. You're able to collect the few drops you need. 

And now you add your blood. It appears this magic relies on sharing a lifeforce momentarily which allows you to be more forceful in banishing the curse. 

With a cost. 

There's always a cost. 

You glance over it, reading the important parts a few times. It's fine, you're already this far. Plus, the man breathing shallowly on your couch won't make it through the night if you stop here. So, you keep going. 

With the same quick motion, you leave a cut on your own hand. When your own blood drips into the mixture, it suddenly stops frothing.

It's ready. 

You think. 

The potion has turned as white as his hair and doesn't smell like anything. It’s warm to the touch but not nearly as hot as it should be for the amount of time it spent cooking over the fire. You ladle the goop into a smaller pot. 

“Lie still,” you instruct him, moving to his side. He lays flat on his back, giving you a nod to continue. You pour the mixture over his gashes then place your hands on top of them like the drawing instructed you to. He holds his breath in pain, occasionally sucking in air between his teeth. A few drops of sweat trickle down his brow. 

You adjust your hands, standing to get a better angle. With every ounce of energy left in you, you concentrate hard on pulling the curse from him. 

The milky white salve turns to grey then black before your eyes. Your hands begin to sting and your head is spinning. Suddenly, the exhaustion of everything overwhelms you. 

The world goes black. 

Golden light spills through the window, waking you. Based on the lack of sound and how bright it is, you would guess more snow fell last night. Your cheek is pressed into the chest of the man underneath you as he takes slow deep breaths. Last night when the spell was complete, you must have passed out on top of him. He must have been out cold as well, leaving you like this. 

Your dog snores soundly while the weight of her rests heavily on your legs. You try to wiggle your way free, but your furry friend won't budge. All you succeed in is waking him up. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I must have passed out on you last night.”

Rather than recoiling in horror, he throws an arm around you.

“‘s fine, just stop moving,” he grumbles, still not fully awake. After a few more attempts to extricate yourself while he growls at you, you give in. It's difficult to get comfortable now that you’re aware of the situation and feel awkward. Laying with another person is a foreign feeling and your back is killing you for having slept like this.

His skin feels dewey against yours and warmer than you remember another human being. It’s not so bad, if you’re stuck here. The close contact is making you giddy so it’ll be impossible to fall back asleep. 

When your powers showed up as a teenager, you fled to the forest. Missing the days when most people were courting each other and exploring, you spent your time building your skills in near exile. Some part of you has always been curious what it would be like. The cute little existence you’ve built with your dog is comfortable, but you still find yourself missing a closeness you’ve never known. This is by far the most human contact you’ve ever experienced. You wonder if it’s the same for him, if he’s spent his time as alone as you. If he ever longs for more from a world that only shows him fear.

Eventually, your dog stands to adjust herself and you roll off the couch.

“Cold,” he mumbles as you move away. Seeing her opportunity, your dog snuggles up to his chest. He pulls her close, rolling over and falling back asleep. Muscles stretch over his back, toned but you can still see every vertebrae running down his spine. You should probably feed him before he goes. 

You laugh at the thought. This is the opposite of your usual interaction with people who come to you for help - they bring you money or trades and you provide them with potions and charms. It’s an exchange, nothing more. The townspeople are also weary of you, leaving as quickly as possible so there’s never been a reason to care for someone before. With him it feels different.

You throw on your cloak and boots to head outside. The air is brisk but fresh with the new-fallen snow. Throwing a few pieces of wood against each other to knock the bugs off, you bring them inside and add them to the fire. As the flames grow, you pick up the stray jars from the floor, placing them back on the shelves and pulling out something more edible. A sack of crushed buckwheat from your last venture into town. Some dried huckleberries you picked last summer. A pinch of cardamom. After cleansing the cauldron of all magic, you begin breakfast. 

Soon, the food is simmering and the smell wakes him up. You watch the muscles of his stomach ripple as he presses himself to sit. Your dog wraps around him, laying her head in his lap. In response, he mindlessly pets behind her ears while watching you. 

“What was the trade?” he asks, voice still gravelly with sleep. His free hand runs over the large white scars on his chest where the slashes had been. When  you don’t immediately answer, he continues, gesturing at the slew of scars and rough patches over all of his skin. “There’s always a trade.”

Giving the porridge a quick stir, you turn to face him. “The spell needed to form a connection between us so I could share my life force with you and hit the curse more aggressively to pull it out. It was strong.” He nods. “Even after the effects end and the curse is lifted, the connection remains.”

“Like we’re together now?” he asks curiously, you note that there’s not a single trace of disappointment in his voice.

“Not quite,” you add, “it means our lives are intertwined in some way. It could mean anything. We could be enemies or just always affecting each other from a distance. It’s not anything in specific, just that our fates will always pull us back together.”

“Hmm,” he considers, scratching his shoulder without thinking. “That’s not so bad.”

“It’s not,” you smile back at him as the snow begins to fall gently outside the windows.

masterlist

taglist: @shigarakislaughter

[overrboarrd]

roman reigns x black!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation a/n: decided to go ahead and run this one back. let me know what y'all think!

—————

Acrylic nails mindlessly stirred the deep amber liquid in front of her. She would’ve opted for something lighter, but the aching in her chest begged to be pacified. Shoulders brushed against her in the confined space. The vibrations from the speakers that traveled from the wooden floor throughout her body was her oxygen; the only thing keeping the monstrous cage around her heart from caving in.

She exhaled deeply before closing her eyes. The burning sedated the dull pain, finally giving her what she longed for. Relief. Though the days would pass and her heart would yearn once again. Inebriation soon overwhelmed her, and whilst her mind was almost gone, her body governed her with ease. Legs carried her outside of the bar and around the rust brick building. Fingers fumbled around a purse for a few seconds before pulling out a slim rectangular electronic, the lit screen anticipating the truth that sat on her heart.

“There are countless things that are wrong with me. I’m flawed and-and fragile. Why would you want a glass case as a fiancé? As your wife?”

The impulsive phrase magnified their romance into a blooming estrangement, condemning her to almost two years of seclusion. Her chestnut irises rapidly moved across the device, searching for the one name that could do more than just temporarily pick up the pieces.

Roman.

Her eyes lingered on his contact photo for a few seconds. She kept everything; pictures, voice messages, brief notes that he’d written on random loose sheets of paper succeeding their most intimate moments. When they first met she didn’t take him as romantic. They had not-so-subtly been surprised with a blind double date after Naomi suggested she join her and Jimmy out skating.

————

She walked into the building fully believing that it was another night out with her favorite couple. She’d roll around for a while; then go head to head with Jimmy in air hockey at the small arcade on the side of the rink while Naomi cheered her on. Jimmy would pout and joke that she loved her more than him. The Rink was their old stomping grounds. She and Naomi would go every weekend during their school years. Beating him was second nature. After their 3 round game, she took a seat at one of the benches near the lockers; switching out her sneakers for crisp white skates. Her fingers separated the lace before grabbing the skate and slipping it on. As she got ready to head back on the floor, she overheard a rich, baritone voice engaging with the underpaid worker at the counter, causing her to look up.

“Um, I don’t think we have a size 15, but I can take a look. Give me a second.” The lanky teenage boy disappeared from the counter while the mildly annoyed-looking man rubbed his beard in frustration. She watched his jaw clench, slightly shaking his head. His large hands barely fit in his pocket as he pulled out his phone. Her eyes scanned his side profile. Handsome was an understatement. She didn’t need to see his full face to know that, yet he must have felt her stare. His eyes immediately locked with hers and she got to see the entirety of his herculean features. A small smile replaced the frown that was there seconds before. His once furrowed brows softened, lips parting as if he took in a deep breath. She held her gaze while a smirk graced her face. Eye contact only breaking when she noticed the worker coming back to the front empty handed. Not wanting to be on the other side of his, presumably, growing irritation, she finished tying her skates and stood up. A quick glance was shot over her shoulder, leaving the alluring stranger to his dilemma.

An 808 bass guided resin wheels along maple floors. Strobe lights danced in her eyes and euphoria pulsated through her veins. After a few more songs, she finally decided to join her abandoned party of two. Naomi and Jimmy were sitting on the benches on the opposing side of the rink, his arms wrapped around her while they laughed. She found it adorable, just as much as when the couple first met. They were the perfect match, and they never made her feel like a third-wheel on their outings. So she could only imagine how crazy her face looked as she walked back to their bench, finding the new addition to their party leaning against the wall to the left of Naomi.

‘Who the fuck is h-’ her eyes squinted ever so slightly before widening. Realization and confusion tangoed in her mind while the three finally noticed her heading their way.

“This is my cousin, Roman.” Jimmy interrupted her unfinished thought, standing up and patting his cousin’s back before walking a few steps next to his wife. She was sure her facial expression said enough. Naomi looked at her with raised brows and pursed lips, holding back a laugh. The man outstretched his hand, a playful gleam in his eyes as he watched her. Chills ran down her spine as she hesitantly shook it and introduced herself. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reached the base of his neck. Blackcurrant and ambergris cologne encompassed her. Being so close to him felt magnetic. A hardened glare was thrown Naomi and Jimmy’s way; they met it with two awkward smiles and a thumbs up on Jimmy’s end.

“Sorry for interrupting.” Roman cleared his throat. “I’m visiting for the weekend and my cousin invited me out with him.” A tight lipped smile graced his face, letting her know that he, too, had fallen victim to the couple’s antics.

“Seems like those two have quite the sense of humor, huh? Naomi said the same thing to me.” A sarcastic laugh escaped her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes finally meeting his. “You should’ve known it was a set up.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “And why is that?” His brows furrowed in the same way she had seen earlier, slight wrinkles sat above the bridge of his nose.

Her lips formed into another smirk. “How many skating rinks do you know that actually carry a size 15.”

Roman let out a laugh and captured his bottom lip between his pearly whites, a small dimple forming in his cheek. A genuine smile spread across his face as he shook his head, causing her heart to flutter.

“Believe it or not, I’ve never been here before.” He rebutted.

Her brows raised. “Damn, you don’t visit your own cousin?”

“Oh you got jokes, huh.”

“Jimmy really dropped the ball by not telling you that I’m a comedian.” she quipped.

The rest of the night was full of playful banter between the couples. An old school evening of ‘girls versus boys’ transitioned to the Fatu’s home, where the drinks flowed and old college stories left her jumping across the coffee table to cover Naomi’s mouth. Roman and Jimmy reminisced on their youth, from wrestling in the backyard to finally making it to the mainstage together with Jimmy’s twin, Jey.

The liquor’s lethargic aftermath seemed to hit the group simultaneously. Naomi’s legs were stretched across Jimmy’s lap, his hand rested on her thigh as she nestled against him. She caught herself watching them, perhaps a bit too long. It was then she noticed Roman’s arm around her, his thumb tracing small circles on her shoulder. She let her eyes drift close, embracing the newfound comfort of her unanticipated future.

—————

If only she had known the consequences of her insecurities then. He was so good. Not just for her, but overall. Selfless. Understanding. Patient. Though she pushed the latter to exhaustion.

‘Two years couldn’t have been that long.’ She thought, knowing that each month was its own eternity. Her fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over blue digits. Apprehension started to peek through the logical side of her brain, longing fought to steer her in the opposite direction.

Push and pull. Angel and Devil.

Lucifer convinced the cognac to play puppet master, and ringing soon flooded her ears.

Once.

Twice.

A few more times.

Then she hung up. Heart sinking to the pit of her stomach. The line between relief and heartache blurred. She pressed the small button on the side of her phone, locking it before opening her purse again. Her chest tightened and a lump formed in her throat as she fought to hold back her tears. Embarrassed. ‘Pathetic.’ She thought. Of course he didn’t answer. He probably changed his number ages ago. Why would he leave that door open?

Ring.

She froze.

He was calling back.

The screen lit up with Roman’s name, his smiling face staring back at her. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. She could almost hear the ticking of a clock, like this moment held the weight of every second they’d been apart.

What if he’s moved on? What if he hates me?

Her chest tightened at the thought. But the weight of the last two years was too heavy, and the aching loneliness was unbearable. The liquor coursing through her veins urged her forward, whispering promises of fleeting courage.

Her finger pressed the button before she could stop herself.

“Hello?” The octave of her voice barely above a whisper. A long pause followed, she braced herself. There was a brief moment of shuffling before Roman decided to speak.

“Why now?” He answered, voice deep and groggy. Nostalgia engulfed her. She missed him. Her phone moved from her ear and she looked at the screen. 2:47 AM.

“I didn’t… realize how late it was...I’m sorry.” Her sentence dragged on longer than she intended. Shit.

“You’re drunk.” His tone was austere.

She hoped it hadn’t been too obvious, but Roman wasn’t fooled. “I might’ve had a drink or two. I just-”Her breath hitched. “I know... I know I fucked up.” Lucifer transformed from puppet master to a full on ventriloquist. A prolonged sigh followed by a slightly muffled ‘Fuck’ came from the opposite end of the phone.

“Where are you?”

“What?”

And for the first time in two years, her name left his lips.

“Where are you.” He demanded this time. Growing impatient with her lack of response.

She could hear him fully up and moving around. Keys jingled in the background, followed by a closed door and heavy footsteps. Those damn size 15’s . The Angel and Devil began waging another internal war. She could apologize for disturbing him so late, hang up the phone and never bother him again. Leave him, again. Or she could get left to her own devices. Allow herself to come face to face with the past that she destroyed. With the man that she never stopped loving.

A cranked engine pulled her out of her thoughts.

“I’m at club LaBelle.”

————

Another double shot of cognac found its way into her tremulous hand as she waited for Roman to arrive. Her body cemented in disbelief. He was on his way there. To her. She tried to prepare herself, playing out multiple scenarios in her head, but she was too far gone. Intoxication hijacked what was left of her partly sober mind. Her legs barely held her up as she sat on the barstool, turning to watch the sea of drunken people congregated together.

Then she saw him.

His jet black hair was tossed carelessly into a ponytail, much longer than when she last saw him. His height gave him an advantage over the crowd as he maneuvered through them, spotting her with ease. A full frown spread across his face, clearly irritated being around loud music and sweaty bodies at this time of night. Dark brows, complimented by wrinkles etched deep on his forehead, contrasted against his skin. She couldn’t read him. His eyes were empty as he looked at her, nodding his head towards the entrance. Wordlessly informing her that it was time to leave.

Not wanting to make the night difficult, she attempted to make her exit. Her head spun and heavy eyelids obstructed her vision. Roman followed not too far behind her. As they made their way outside, she stumbled, catching herself on the door frame. A long tattooed arm peeked into her peripheral vision. She shook the thought of him catching her out of her head. He had yet to say two words to her. She tried to regain her focus, eyes scanning the street for the familiar midnight black sedan.

“This way.” His voice came from behind her.

She turned her head to see him walking towards a black SUV. The headlights flashed as he unlocked the doors from the key fob. He opened the door for her, surprising her more than it should have. Roman was always a gentleman. She struggled to lift herself into the seat, limbs weak. Her legs swung into the vehicle and she let her head rest against the seat.

Roman watched her closely as she got in the car, closing the door behind her before making his way to the driver’s side. He followed suit, shutting his own door before looking over at her. Her eyes were closed, possibly in an attempt to sober up. The small button on the right side of the wheel lit up as he stepped on the brake, pushing it to start the car.

The silence during the car ride was overwhelming. Roman pulled the car in her driveway before shifting the gear to park. No one moved to speak first. Her eyes finally opened, head turning to look at him. He remained stoic. Face completely blank though his side profile was still nothing less than stunning. With liquid courage still lingering in her veins, her mouth opened to speak. “Ro-”

“Why now.” His voice reverberated off the black leather seats.

Her body tensed, finally understanding what he meant. . Emotions hit her simultaneously. Remorse. Love. Regret. Like that pivotal night years ago, it was, once again, all too much.

“I can’t right now Roman.” She slurred.

“Oh now you can’t talk? But your drunk ass can call me at 2:30 in the morning after not saying nothin’ for two years?” The betrayal of his true feelings finally spilled out of him. She watched his grip around the wheel tighten.

“I called you for weeks after you walked out and you never called me back. Hell, Naomi tried to talk to you about it in person and you dismissed her too. You completely erased me out of your life.” He continued, his voice carried as he briefly turned to face her.

A knife pierced through her chest. “I never erased you.” She swallowed back the taste of bile; not knowing if it was from her drunkenness alone or fear of it speaking for her

“You left.” The slight crack in his voice almost went unnoticed.

‘I had to.’ She thought. The words lodged in her throat fought to escape and her insobriety wielded the key.

The silence between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. Roman’s profile was as rigid as stone, his grip on the steering wheel tightening with every passing second.

“I love you, Roman,” she finally whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

His grip tightened on the wheel, knuckles white, as if her confession had sent another wave of anger crashing over him.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not after all this time. Not after I got down on one knee and told you that you’re the person I wanted to spend forever with.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the car. “You don’t just walk out on someone you love. You don’t vanish for two years and expect everything to be okay when you decide to waltz back into their life.”

“I know I hurt you—” she began, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“Man is this a joke? Hurt me?” Roman laughed bitterly, his eyes flicking towards her for the briefest moment. “You didn’t just hurt me. You left me, and for what, huh?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and loaded. Her chest tightened further, guilt mixing with the alcohol in her bloodstream.

“I wasn’t ready,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I was broken, Roman. I still am.”

His gaze softened, but only for a second. “I never needed you to be perfect. I just needed you to stay.”

“Why’d you answer my call?” She challenged. “Why, after all this time, haven’t you moved on with your life?”

“Because when I said those words to you, I meant it. I never stopped caring about your wellbeing. I’ll always make sure you’re good.” He let out a heavy sigh, pulling into her driveway to park.

“I’m just not in love with you anymore.”

There it went; the cage around her heart.

Shattering. Piece by piece.

[brrbrina]

lonesome

pairing: joe burrow x oc

warnings: angst!

a/n : sorry it took me so long to write this one, i had the worst writers block, we only have one chapter left, feedback and support is always well received 😊

"All i´m asking you is to be honest for one time in forever, is it really that hard to do?" Aria said with a knot in her throat, she wasn´t completly sure how she ended up in Joe´s place, the same place she once called her home, but there is always something inside her that drags her anywhere near him.

She was looking for a bank receipt of the payment she made when she finally paid off her college debt, she was sure she packed it when she moved to her own apartment, but she couldn´t find it and she thought that it could be at her ex boyfriends house, so she drove all the way there feeling numb.

Parking in the driveway she saw Joe´s car and took a deep breath, still not sure of how he would look at her after the nigth they broke things off. After knocking on the door, a tall blue eyed blonde perked while he opned it.

"Aria... what are you doing here, is everything ok?" He said scratching his head and looking at her not sure on how to approach her.

"Yes, everything is fine, I don´t know where my college payment recepit is and i´ve looked everywhere at home and i couldn´t find it, i thought maybe it was still here in one of your folders" she said looking at him as he looked surprise.

"Yeah sure, um, you can check in the closet maybe it's up there on a blue box, go ahead" He said leading her upstairs to the bedroom they once shared, to Aria´s surprise he still had a lot of things she helped him bought when they moved in together.

Making her way to the closet she realized it was a huge closet, they never really payed attention to that since it was always full, grabing a little stair she always kept there so she could reach above the shelfs, she put the box on the floor and start looking, there were a lot of things there and she didn´t knew where to begin.

Clearing his throat Joe spoke "So...how's your mom and dad,?" Aria turned her head looking at him confused, "Uhm, they´re okay, thanks for asking" she said as she looked back not finding the stupid paper.

"So...""You really don´t have to do small talk, it´s okay it´s not akward" Aria said closing the box after not finding it, resining herself to just go to the bank and pray they could give them a copy.

"It´s okay you can leave it on the floor i´ll put it back up later I was about to..." his phone rang, not allowing him to finish his sentence. "Hi babe, no i´m not busy, what´s up?" He said walking out of the room and Aria was feeling the same way the night they broke up again, and then it hit her, Joe wasn´t in love with her anymore, there was someone else in his life, sleeping on the same bed she used to lay her head and dancing in the kitchen at night, someone wearing his jearsey to his games and kissing him goodnight.

The hard thing about love, in any form it may present to you, if someones falls out of if or they stop loving you, there´s nothing you can do, there´s is nothing in the wprld that could make them want you again, love fades, it just doesn´t disappear overnight, and the heartbroken part of it, is that no matter how much love you have for the other person, the best thing you can do is accept things and move one, no matter how lonesome it migth feel, and how long you would take to put the pieces they broke together again.

Making her way downstairs Joe stopped her “Aria, I know i was an ass by the way I ended things with you, I know no amount of apologies will fix it but I really hope we can stay friends or at least in touch, I owe you al lot and you help me achieve my dreams” Joe stated and Aria had watery eyes looking at him, and that was the first time he felt a little piece of him break inside.

“When did you start seeing her, was it when we were still together, sleeping in the same bed?” Aria said

“What? Aria what are you talking about” Joe said trying to look confused

“All i´m asking you is to be honest for one time in forever, is it really that hard to do?" Aria said with a knot in her throat, “Were you thinking of her when you had your hands around my waist?”

“Did you even gave a fuck about our relationship?” She said looking at him almost crying.

“Of course I did, I told you that multiple times, I didn’t even… I couldn’t” Joe couldn’t find the words to tell her the truth, he wasn’t seeing Ellie when she was still with Aria, and after the breakup he didn’t want to meet anyone but he did, and he feel in love again.

She looked at him as he was struggling to talk, but she couldn’t stand there and watch him try to come up with something, it was too painful and she didn’t want to be there anymore.

Making her way to the door Joe grabbed her arm and hugged her, she didn’t moved, there wasn’t a single thought running across her mind. “I’m really sorry things didn’t work out with us” Joe said mumbling to her hair.

He let her go, and she made her way to the car, she drove home and hope she wouldn’t feel this way forever.

It was around 11:00 pm when she started crying, but it wasn’t a cry because he missed him, it was a crying because he broke her heart worse than anybody had ever done, everyone left, if she fell in love with all her problems will they leave her too?

[cambridgeshireresinflooring]

Resin Magic: Transforming Your Floors with Innovative Solutions

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In conclusion, resin magic has the power to transform your floors into captivating masterpieces, and the collaboration with reliable flooring companies near you is key to unlocking this enchantment. As you embark on the journey of transforming your space, the phrase "flooring companies near me" becomes a beacon, guiding you to local experts who understand the nuances of your location and can infuse a touch of magic into every resin-coated surface.

[tarnishedinquirer]

Fringefolk Hero's Grave 2

Here I am, back at the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. I'm stronger. I've got a torch and a spyglass. I'm wearing armor, thanks to a certain someone helping me take that mask off.

Though, to be honest, still not comfortable with my face. I think I forgot how it's supposed to work.

Looking from a distance at the handless woman, comparing her to the Erdtree Favor... They could both be earlier depictions of Marika, but I can't be sure. The Erdtree Favor looks a lot more recent, even if it was also in the distant past. If the statue was holding a vessel of some kind, she would've been holding it upright, rather than pouring it out. One removed of power, one removed of identity. I feel like I'm on the cusp of a discovery here.

This time, I looked around before crossing the bridge and noticed a ledge down below. No reason to antagonize the Grafted Scions, so I jumped down. There was nothing on the ledge, so I jumped down again, and landed in shallow water.

I took some stairs and then an elevator up, and found myself on a platform overlooking the chariot track. Unfortunately, I was not alone, as another of the red-clad Banished Knights attacked me with a halberd. By now I knew for certain that his techniques were of Stormveil. These knights must have served Stormveil at some point. So what was Stormveil's connection to dragons?

As the chariot raced back and forth below, I looked up, only to find several giant pots suspended from the ceiling. Can't imagine why they would be there. Some kind of failsafe, maybe? A way to take out the chariot if its creators couldn't disable themselves? That made sense. The magics to control it might be lost to time, but a giant exploding pot would probably do the trick in a pinch.

Took me until the last pot to get the timing right, but oh was it satisfying. I'd never have to worry about that thing again.

In the wreckage, I found an Erdtree Greatbow. That seemed odd... was the thing supposed to also shoot arrows at me? Was the artifact used as a power source somehow? Or was the chariot itself some sort of mobile reliquary? Impossible to say, considering how thoroughly I destroyed it.

Greatbow featuring Erdtree styling. In times of old, when faith and battle went hand in hand, this weapon was created in tandem with the Golden Arrow.

In times of old? FAith and battle always go hand in hand. They still do, if some of these gold-clad zealots I've met are any indication. Even when not led by fanatics, the faith is still used to oppress, like with Demi-humans and Misbegotten. My god can beat up your god.

This world keeps finding new ways to horrify me. When I entered the final chamber, I was expecting something like the chambers at the end of catacombs. This was similar to that, but instead of one mass of roots at the end of the chamber, enormous clumps of decaying bodies hung down from the ceiling like rotten fruit. The guardian was a creature like a gnarled root crossed with a snake, except far worse for how its cracked skin pulsed and oozed with unknown sickness. The voice called it an Ulcerated Tree Spirit. Was this in any way related to the Avatars? Perhaps their dark equivalent.

I found it was still as "holy" as its cousins, but rather than casting magic from its hammer-stave, it breathed fire like a dragon. Perhaps that's why I found a Haligdrake talisman on someone trying to flee. He must've thought it would protect him. It afforded me some protection, but nowhere near enough.

It took countless tries before I was able to read its undulating body language. Before I could tell a feint from a lunge from the thing just dragging its bulk across the floor. Halfway through the fight, it erupted into golden flames that did not consume it, only made it more dangerous to approach. I applied burning resin to my sword in hopes that like a tree, it would burn. It helped, but again, the creature was so resilient the damage increase was marginal at best.

Then I started using everything at my disposal. Picked turtle necks for stamina. Exalted flesh for strength. Aurelia as a distraction. I found that if I hugged its belly, it had a harder time hitting me, unless it decided to just roll over top of me.

Eventually, though, it fell, and I claimed my rewards.

Banished Knight Oleg. One of the two knights known as the Wings of the Storm. After his banishment, he attracted the notice of the Grace-Given Lord and later, having slain a hundred traitors as the Lord's hand, Oleg earned the hero's honor of Erdtree Burial.

First, this knight must've been Engvall's partner. Second, Engvall's ashes said that he was a hero of the fringes, yet Oleg is the one interred in the Fringefolk Hero's Grave. The one who rejected the Grace-Given Lord is in a tiny, waterlogged tomb on a rotten river, while the one who accepted him is buried in a hero's grave. The whole thing smacks of politics.

Finally, this "Grace-Given Lord." Godrick the Golden/Grafted was born in grace. That's basically the only thing he has going for him. A Grace-Given lord is one who was not born in grace but was rather granted it.

Conclusion: Engvall stayed watch over Stormveil while Oleg answered the summons. It's not a stretch to assume the summons was from Leyndell. Oleg distinguished himself fighting traitors, while Engvall died as a hero in exile. When Oleg died, he Engvall was stripped of his burial place and shunted off to a forgotten, disrepaired tomb, guarded only by a lone gladiator. Perhaps Engvall's master was one of the traitors, and Stormveil was the traitor's castle before Godrick took over? That would explain the disrespect.

Who is the grace-given lord?

What was wrong with this tree spirit?

Who was the former master of Stormveil, the one turned traitor?

When did Marika's iconography drop the ewer?

[davycoquette]

the interview 2/3

PART ONE

Gingerly stepping over Robert Barclay's stiffening corpse, I cross the kitchen to pick up the phone hanging on the wall. The dial tone buzzes, filling my ear like the droning of flies. Bile gurgles into my throat, and I hang up so I can swallow it back down.

I sink to my haunches, dropping my notebook and recorder. My fingers claw through my hair and I curl into myself. My mantra goes, "Oh, God. Jesus. Fuck."

A deep groan answers from behind me.

My heart launches into my mouth and I pirouette out of my crouch. I only manage to twist and land on my ass, then crab-walk a few paces from Robert Barclay’s corpse. This is the first good look I’ve gotten at his face. He looks like one of those wax figures in a museum, but on a day when the AC’s busted. His eyes stand wide open and his mouth is agape, resin teeth slanted like they're ready to drop out. One hand is stretched out toward me and the other is curled into his chest.

"Rob? Rob, are you…" Still in there?

It's gas escaping. Some crime scene investigator I talked to a couple years back mentioned this happened when we were gearing up for the interview. It always stuck with me, popping into my conscience intermittently. Death is embarrassing. It's always embarrassed me. I don't know why.

His body gives a little squeak and I gag.

I guess someday this is gonna be me. Maybe someday soon. This is why my momma calls all the time. She thinks I'm gonna overdose, and some jackass is gonna walk in on me stiff on a floor somewhere.

R. Barclay's sounds have attracted his little terrier, and it's sniffing around his face. I summon it away with a click of my tongue and put my hand out. It scurries over with its nubby tail going fast and licks at my fingers, and I scrub its saliva over the crown of its head before picking myself up off the floor.

Robert Barclay is one of those writers who’ll remain a household name. They already make you read one of his books when you're in high school. He's a 'great American' author, and I'll be the forgotten asshole who missed the chance to do his last interview.

If I just got here yesterday, I think. Or did he kick it yesterday?

I look at his little dog, and it sort of looks back at me with its beady eyes that skew in opposite directions.

"Where's your food at, baby?" I ask, and it turns in a tight circle. "Ready to eat? You want breakfast?"

More circles.

I start going through cabinets, but I'm met with leaning towers of pots and pans and plastic containers in each one. He can't have used any of this shit in years. Poor old guy's probably been living on crackers and buffet cafeterias. He never had kids. Never married.

Up until now, he'd been driving himself — I saw his Buick out front where I parked my Amigo. It was like any other geezer's car: beat up around the bumper. Grey, enormous.

The little dog tires of my searching and tap-dances over to a plastic bin near the sliding door where Robert Barclay has his breakfast nook. There's hard bread crumbs on the glass-top table, a few little ants scurrying up and down the wall.

I scoop some kibble out of the bin and deposit it in the dog's food bowl. It lets me check the tag on its collar while it's scarfing the little cardboard flavored nuggets down. Raisin. The name is familiar, I realize; the little author biography blurb I read when I took the job mentioned something about R. Barclay living alone with his dog, Raisin.

While Raisin crunches kibbles, I stand and lean against the counter.

"I was gonna ask if you were working on anything," I tell Rob's body. "And if you ever thought your books were gonna be required reading for schoolkids."

Raisin dislodges a kibble with a wet sounding cough.

"I was gonna ask who you like reading these days."

I scrub my hand over my forehead, rake my fingers through my hair. My hand drops and I stare down at him. "Who do you like reading these days, Rob?"

A clock above the sink ticks as I stand over him. I haven't done much else since breaking in apart from feeding his dog. When he didn't come to the door, I'd stepped down off the concrete slab of his porch to shield my eyes and peer through his living room window, and I could see his silhouette on the kitchen floor from the front of the house. His place is situated out in the countryside, not a neighbor in sight. He doesn't lock his windows, so I let myself in so I could use his phone to call the ambulance.

But there's no hurry. It's not like I want to spend more time than I have to with this unexpectedly stiff and cold version of Robert Barclay, but there's a little part of me that's irrationally concerned I'll be blamed for his death. I have to talk myself down from that ledge: you had an appointment. He's been dead for hours, at least. What motive could you have possibly had? I guess I'm already anxious about what Jason's gonna say; it makes everything feel like one grand conspiracy to ruin me.

I've got some pills in my Isuzu Amigo parked outside. Standing there with my hip leaned against R. Barclay's kitchen counter, I think I better go pop one or four. I'll seem more collected, less suspicious, when the cops get here.

…Will they send cops?

PART THREE

[resinfloorings]

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[aleielle-of-roshar]

The Rotten Underneath: Prologue

Nobody asked for this 💀, buuut I found this in my drafts so just for a writing refresher I’m freshening this up, changing names to fit current ocs and RoR, and making it moderately readable since I kinda like the plot lol.

Warning in advance I’m literally such a trash writer lol, this is for fun

The floor beneath their talons was polished to such a near mirror that they couldn’t help but grimace at the reflection that gazed back at them- eyes wide, brows furrowed, and antennae twitching like reeds in a storm. It would have been perfect if not for the scuff marks that had been formed by their endless pacing to-and-fro, garnering an annoyed glare by the hivewing cleaner mopping further down the hall.

     Saturnia smiled awkwardly at them, before turning back towards the golden bejeweled double doors before them, gliting softly under the gentle light of glowbugs- and the two hivewing guards sitting before it, their twisting spiked chitin made even more intimidating by the darkened steel armour that sat upon them, their ever serious expressions not exactly the most calming.

     And behind those doors, sat Queen Sawfly of the Hivewings. Fiercesome, enigmatic, and apparently… rather confusing.

     Why me? Was the thought that that circled through their head again again and again, but each idea that popped in their mind only garnered a shake of their head, and of course the occasional gulp. 

     It had been weeks since they’d been sitting under a lamp weaved from their own flamesilk, mixing herbs, when everything had fallen apart- the usual calm silence of their home suddenly destroyed by loud roars and the horrible crunch of shattering wood as dozens of hivewing soldiers had forced themselves into their home with their spears and swords… and.. and-

     They paused their pacing and flexed her claws, letting in a shuddering breath as they tried to center themself- but even the scent of the hive was overwhelming: exotic flowers, cinnamon, honey and resin… with an undercurrent of something metallic and sour that only made them want to retch. The hivewings had told them this was an honour, and that they wouldn’t be hurt- after of course beating them half to a pulp they winced as their aching muscles flared back up as they were acknowledged. Despite their obvious distress the guards didn’t even as much glance their way, dark eyes fixed forward, and razor sharp mandibles gleaming.

     They stared at them for a few moments, hoping to gleen some sort of reassurance or even acknowledgement, but it was like staring at statues- imposing and perfect.

     Their wings fluttered slightly, brushing against the edge of her abdomen- feeling incomprehensibly tiny next to them than they truly was- weak, fragile, and useless. Maybe with armour like theirs they wouldn’t be in this mess- they would be impenetrable! And well, back home.

     They took another step, then stopped- what were they even supposed to do in such a situation? Should they knock or would that be rude? Should they wait or would that only bring about their annoyance? Had they already missed the chance to make an okay impressions.

     So they stared at their palms as they wrung them together- the hands of a doctor not some courtier- trying to recall any of their mentors’ many lessons that could help them in this moment. The hands of a healer should always be steady was all that came, a phrase drilled into them every day for years one must be steady, precise, calm, and overall encouraging. Easier said than done, mixing tonics was one thing- but this?

     So they forced their mind to the meadow they called home- the golden sun warming the grasses and the scent of drying herbs, the village’s dragonets’ laughter filling the air, and the far off sounds of waves gently lapping against the shore. The life of a healer was a life of order- sick dragons had symptoms, symptoms had solutions… But this wasn’t order, this was as orderly as charging face first into one of the western storms’ gusts!

     The silence of the corrodor was broken by a faint click as one of the guards finally inclined his head towards them, unblinking eyes causing their breath to catch in their throat.

     “The Queen will see you now.” He said simply, his voice gruff yet formal.

     They considered fleeing- bolting as fast as they could south- yet somehow they forced themself to gulp and nod, voice hoarsh and shaky “I… Thank you.”

     He nodded wordlessly and pushed open the heavy door- its hinges groaning as it let loose golden lights, bathing the dark corridor in rays of splendor- and so they squared their shoulders, raised their chin, and faced whatever was to come. 

     The throne room was… bigger then anything they’d ever seen- marble pillars twisted with gold held up a domed roof painted with murals of hivewing history, sunlight poured in from amber windows and at the end of it all… Queen Sawfly of the Hivewings, on her dias.

     Their breath hitched- the queen was as terrifying as they’d imagined, yet somehow more. Her golden tinged chitin seemed to glow as six obsidian faceted eyes gazed down at them with such intensity that they began to tremble- and her mantibles, pratically jagged greatswords twitched as she tasted the air. But most striking was her spiraling, branching horns, that reached for the skies like some great ancient tree.

     “Come foward.” She ordered in a tone that was both smooth and commanding, yet glistening with underlying malice. It was obvious she was used to being obeyed.

     So of course, Saturnia did as soon as they could break from their frozen state, crouching into a bow. Steps slow and deliberate- yet their breathes felt much too loud compared to the otherwise nothingness of the room.

     “You must be wondering why I’ve brought you here…” the Queen stated, her tone now completely unreadable.

     They simply nodded, throat too dry to speak.

     “I have a… proposal for you…” Sawfly started, frowning as she leaned forward towards the petrified silkwing “An opportunity to use those… skills of yours for more than some common cold… and save so, so many more than you could even imagine…”