#custom home bar faucets

[kolorkrazedolly]

Home Bar - Contemporary Home Bar Mid-sized trendy wet bar design example with a single-wall, medium-tone wood floor, flat-panel cabinets, medium-tone wood cabinets, granite countertops, and black countertops.

[purityofislam]

Home Bar Single Wall Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary single-wall medium tone wood floor wet bar remodel with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, granite countertops and black countertops

[treskoff]

Home Bar - Wet Bar An undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, blue cabinets, quartz countertops, and white countertops are featured in this medium-sized, trendy galley wet bar image.

[athousanddresses]

Home Bar in Los Angeles A mid-sized contemporary single-wall, medium-tone wood floor wet bar remodel with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, medium-tone wood cabinets, granite countertops, and black countertops is shown in the illustration.

[yugioh-network]

Single Wall - Home Bar

Large transitional single-wall medium tone wood floor wet bar photo with recessed-panel cabinets, gray cabinets, marble countertops and an undermount sink

[reopenfile]

Toronto Home Bar Seated home bar - large contemporary single-wall medium tone wood floor seated home bar idea with an undermount sink, flat-panel cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, yellow backsplash and subway tile backsplash

[chicavegan]

Home Bar Single Wall Blue cabinets, white countertops, an undermount sink, recessed-panel cabinets, marble countertops, white backsplash, and wood backsplash are featured in this mid-sized farmhouse single-wall wet bar design.

[odysseyek]

Home Bar Atlanta Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional u-shaped medium tone wood floor wet bar remodel with an undermount sink, recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, beige backsplash and mosaic tile backsplash

[dailytaylormhill]

Home Bar U-Shape Mid-sized transitional u-shaped medium tone wood floor wet bar idea with recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, beige backsplash, and mosaic tile backsplash.

[louweetomlinson]

Calgary Home Bar U-Shape Large traditional u-shaped seated home bar idea with travertine flooring, granite countertops, raised-panel cabinets, dark wood cabinets, multicolored backsplash, and matchstick tile backsplash.

[halfoffmarco]

Traditional Home Bar - Galley With an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, gray cabinets, solid surface countertops, a gray backsplash, a porcelain backsplash, and white countertops, this medium-sized elegant galley kitchen has a light wood floor.

[eagleflieswiththedove]

Orange County Seated Bar Home Bar

[veshkashaw]

Single Wall in Los Angeles

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I cannot believe that no one bought this elegant little gem of an 1877 2nd Empire townhouse in Minneapolis, MN. It's decorated in grand Baroque style, has 1bd, 2ba, 1,799 sq ft, $989k + $1,029mo. HOA. Maybe it's priced too high? Zillow says it's worth about $935k. The high HOA fee could also be a factor.

Come on, now. NOBODY expects the Baroque Townhouse! Look at the entrance- got some gothic doors, architectural salvage light fixture from a church, and what could be better than a wine rack where you can grab a bottle as soon as you walk thru the door? It also looks like a mini bar. What a way to greet guests.

They really did a lot of work on this place. That's why I think it's priced at almost $1m. The woodwork, alone, is incredible. Look at the delightful dining room that looks like it's under an arbor.

Stone wall with niches. Antique chandelier.

This is a sitting room fit for a queen.

Different areas of the home are done in different styles. The ornate sitting room is Baroque with a massive fireplace and chandeliers.

The custom kitchen has a Frenchy flair and it also has an Aga stove (big bucks) with a mosaic backsplash. Look at the flowers painted on the counters.

You can see the pantry on the left, plus plenty storage in the cabinetry, and another mosaic backsplash behind the sink.

There's a copper ceiling over the dining area. This is an eat-kitchen so you can enjoy it every day. View from the windows looks out toward the city.

Beautiful, cozy den has a door to the garden. Gorgeous wainscoting, wood ceiling, brick wall w/shelves, and stained glass windows.

Your guests get to use this fabulous powder room with an intricately carved sink topped by a marble counter, gold swan faucet, and a cut crystal bowl for a sink.

Down the hall is an Asian-inspired full bath with a carved black marble tub and a huge dragon head faucet.

Look at that thing. Then, right across, behind folding doors, they've got a convenient laundry room.

Check out the pattern of the marble in the shower.

Large bath has a beautifully painted chest-turned-sink, and a private water closet.

The magnificent entrance to the bath is guarded by foo dogs.

The bedroom decor ties in with the theme of the bath.

The doorway to the bath is in the bedroom. The walls look like a teahouse.

The stairs have murals and carved doors. The home has 3 levels and I can't discern what floors the rooms are on, b/c as usual, the real estate photos are completely mixed up.

Impeccably maintained garages.

I wish they would've shown the sunrooms and rooftop terraces. Look at the glass structures on the roof.

That's the Mississippi River going by. The home is actually on a little island called Nicollet Island.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/8-Grove-St-8B-Minneapolis-MN-55401/1913645_zpid/?

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun Mini-Chapter

Chapter 29.5 - Where does Katya go after leaving Viktor Friday night? And an answer to who that lanky someone was that Viktor saw at the end of the chapter.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Silco x Katya, Sevika x Nasha, everyone x horniness

Chapter 29

After a beat, Katya wiped her hands on the rag hung over the kitchen faucet before stalking over to her coat, hung on the peg by the door. Surprised, Viktor looked up as she whipped the garment around herself.

“What are you – “

“I need to go take care of something,” she answered, shaking the collar out around her head. “If I am not back before nine, get ready for bed. Yes?” He nodded slowly. “Good. I love you. I’ll be back soon. Do not open the door for anyone.”

Viktor’s brow crumpled as she whisked out of their home.

Katya strode purposefully in the direction of The Last Drop, surprising annoyance simmering in her belly. She knew Viktor was terribly bored, but she wished he would just settle. She was worried about Enforcers. She was also worried about a well-meaning Brother or Sister outing her.

She had meant what she had told Silco the night prior: That she wanted to keep Viktor at arms-length from what was happening in the Undercity – in Zaun – until they were on the cusp of independence. When he would no longer be in danger because of her involvement.

But there was a darker something slithering just behind that altruistic motivation. Something Katya was afraid to fully look at.

She pulled her coat tighter around her waist and pressed on.

Trenchers defiantly stepped passed Enforcers, their shoulders pulled back, chests puffed up, unwilling to let Topside claim any more of their energy. If they wanted to go out on the town, they would. And performative threats were not going to stop them. Katya was grateful for the extra bodies. She was less likely to be singled out by an uppity Enforcer. Easier to melt back into the masses, and become one with her people.

Being Friday night, The Last Drop was busy. Patrons at every table, booth, and barstool. Some leaned against walls, drink in hand, waiting for someone to vacate their seat. A large group was huddled around the billards table, laughing and egging each other on. Tolder was stationed at his usual table, his cards spread between him and his victims for the evening. Sevika was nowhere to be found. Annie flitted effortlessly between the tables and customers, beaming bright.

Katya felt herself warm from the inside out at the sight. A few Children noticed her come in, and raised their glasses in greeting. The warmth bloomed bigger, a smile spreading across her face. She nodded back at them before making her way to the bar.

As usual, Vander was behind it; Silco and Benzo seated on stools in front of him, lit cigarettes dangling from their fingers. Silco and Vander were discussing something, their heads tipped toward the other. Benzo’s eyes lazily drifted around the bar before landing on Katya. She saw his lips move, a playful lilt forming on them. At once, Silco spun around. Vander stood up and his face dropped, his expression unreadable before morphing carefully into one of practiced politeness.

Silco looked at her, eyebrows curling up to his hairline; unsure if he should be worried or excited by her unexpected appearance. Relief swept through him when she smiled. He reached for her, and when she was close enough Katya took his hand. Like comet, she easily slid into the orbit of his body.

“Thought you couldn’ get away on Fridays,” Vander noted breezily. He began futzing with the taps. Ignoring how Silco’s hand wrapped around her waist, tugging her closer.

“Is everything alright?” Silco asked, his hand sweeping up and down her side.

“Yes, everything is fine. And I cannot stay long. I came to ask a favor.”

She looked at each of the men.

“What’d’ya need, Lass?” Benzo asked, taking a pull from his cigarette.

“Viktor wants to go to Augmentation Alley’s scrap yard tomorrow to look for materials for one of his classes. He’s been cooped up inside for the past few weekends, and I feel badly about it. I want to be able to take him, but I am concerned about Enforcers. Or getting him caught up in some kind of skirmish.” She sighed, “Would one of you be able and willing to tail us tomorrow? Keep a distance so he does not see you, but close enough to provide warning if someone is coming our way?”

“Yeah, I can do it,” Silco said. “I don’t have to be at the mines ‘til late. You and your brother would head home before supper, I take it.”

Kat nodded, tension in her shoulders melting down. She kissed his temple, and Silco hid his pleased expression behind a veil of cigarette smoke.

“Wish I could help,” Benzo replied, “but I gotta be at the shop tomorrow.”

“’N I’ll need to straighten and prep fer tomorrow night,” Vander mumbled, gathering Silco and Benzo’s empty glasses.

“That’s alright. One should be enough, I think. I hope.”

“It’ll be fine,” Silco assured.

Kat gave him a grateful smile, and told him what time she was planning on leaving for the scrap yard. Vander placed two full glasses in front of Benzo and Silco, and both nodded their thanks. Kat looked at the drinks wistfully.

Her voice was glum as she said: “I should head back. I told Viktor I would not be late.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Silco said automatically, making to stand.

“Sil,” Vander huffed, trying to sound amused, “I just poured you a drink.”

“It’s fine, Silco. I can manage,” Kat promised. She pressed a hand to his chest in encouragement to sit back down.

Silco looked from her, to the drink, to Vander, and back to Kat.

“Let me walk you to the door at least.”

Katya chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“Have a good night, Vander, Benzo,” she said and grabbed Silco’s hand, guiding him to the tavern’s door.

Benzo raised his glass to her. Vander nodded stiffly.

Once they stepped into the cool and neon-lit night, Silco’s hand clamped tightly around Kat’s, and pulled her toward the alley behind the Drop.

“Surely you didn’t think that you would appear on a night I normally don’t see you, and get away scot-free?” he purred, pressing her back against the stonewall. Crowding her with his body and shadows.

A knife of a grin sliced across Kat’s mouth, and she tugged on his shirt. His mouth readily crashed into her’s, lips prying, tongue searching. Her hands snaked around his back, and gripped his shirt in needy bunches. He grabbed at her with equal fervor, large hands squeezing her waist and hips.

Kat angled her head for deeper access, their tingling lips slotting together perfectly. Silco’s nose moved and brushed against her cheek. He pushed small, quiet groans from his mouth to hers. She trembled, arousal growing rapidly and sitting heavily between her thighs.

Scrabbling madly, her hand wove itself into Silco’s hair. She clutched it tightly, and his hips gave a small buck. A growl rumbled up from his chest, and he surged forward. His left hand slid up from her waist, and made to fondle her breast through the soft material of her blouse. Kat gasped. And with his lips free, Silco dove to suck and bite at her neck.

“Si – Sil – “ she panted. Of their own accord, her hips began undulating in small waves.

At the sound of her voice, the tether of Silco’s control snapped. He pulled his mouth off her with a harsh pop! and pulled her deeper into the alleyway.

They stumbled toward the Drop’s backdoor. The lust haze covering Kat’s judgement lifted enough to question the wiseness of fooling around in Vander’s apartment again. But before she could voice her concerns, Silco stopped in front of the small shed just a few feet away from the backdoor.

These structures were common in the Lanes’ business district – especially for taverns and restaurants (few that there were). They were meant to house the wood and coal used to heat stoves and ovens. However, due to Piltover’s chokehold on the import of products into the Undercity, most were woefully bare. Allowing space and privacy enough . . .

Kat’s heart leapt to her throat, and the ache between her legs gave an excited pulse. She squeezed Silco’s hand in understanding. In agreement. An excited, warbling breath left him as he reached forward, and ripped the shed door open.

“OH!” Kat exclaimed, lurching back and covering her mouth. Silco stared.

It seemed they had not been the only ones with this idea.

Tucked inside the shed, in varying states of undress, Sevika had Nasha pressed against the wall adjacent to the door. One of her hands held Nasha’s wrist above her head, the other was shoved down the front of her pants. Sevika’s cheek was resting on one of Nasha’s nearly exposed breasts, her silver eyes wide with horror at being caught-out.

Nasha, however, was more annoyed than anything. Her flushed face frowned at Silco and Katya.

“Occupied!” she snarled.

 A long limb snaped out, and pulled the door out of Silco’s hand, slamming it shut.

Kat and Silco stood in the alley for a long moment, before she awkwardly giggled and gently tugged him back toward the alley’s mouth.

“It is probably for the best,” she sighed. “I do need to get back home.”

Silco hummed a disappointed, but amenable note, before ducking down and kissing her. More chaste this time. Sweet and simple.

Kat squeezed his hand, and reluctantly slid her fingers out of his.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

She grinned and shrugged. “In a way.”

The smile spun melancholy. Silco hated the sight of it, so he dipped down and kissed it away.

“Thank you again,” Kat murmured as he drew back.

“I got you.”

“You have me.”

Just a little something. Any excuse to smoosh Kat and Silco's faces together, really 😂

Comments, reblogs, and recommendations keep me and other author's motiviational fires burning! I'd love to hear what y'all are thinking.

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[gripefroot]

Jim Hopper romancing the waitress at his favourite diner; Jim Hopper and a cozy, romantic Christmas setting; Jim Hopper finally following his true dreams and opening a food truck; Jim Hopper doing anything. ANYTHING.

(Anything? Deeply considered an 1800s!Whaler AU, so thank you for that.)

It was difficult to pick out the worst part of her evening. 

Her soaking-wet apron and skirt from a spilled milkshake; docked tips for a burned cheeseburger that she hadn’t even cooked; only delivered; or her ex-fiancé that had shown up at the back door of the diner. He’d hollered for her for hours, apparently, until a cook hollered at her to get rid of him or he’d call the police. After spending twenty minutes physically shoving that menace away from the door, the manager had chewed her out for taking too long of a break. An extra ten minutes to sob in the bathroom had been necessary after that, mopping her tears with her stained apron until her cheeks were sticky from sugar. Then she’d straightened her hair and the jaunty hat of the diner uniform and gone back to work. 

Wear that cap like a crown, Grandpa had coached her long ago. He’d thought, as she had, that a year or two of working at the diner between beauty pageants would earn her enough to splurge on the prettiest gowns. And then he’d died and she’d stopped competing and it had been a good ten years since she walked through the diner door bright-eyed and full of dreams. 

Only three hours until closing. She could do anything for three hours. 

Why was it so packed? It was a Monday night, usually one of the slower shifts, but after seeing elbow-to-elbow customers at the bar and shrieks from families in the booths, she nearly started to cry again. 

You’re a princess, don’t forget that, bunny. Whatever you wear, make it your gown and crown.

Gown and crown. A dirty uniform and an itchy hat. 

A deep, trembling breath rattled her lungs. Pad and pencil in her pocket, and she marched to a table of new customers. 

Two hours left. 

Ninety minutes left. 

One hour left. 

Not that she had much to look forward to at home. Home had lost its hominess after Grandpa died. Now it was four walls and a roof, paid for and inherited, with blankets crocheted by a grandmother she hadn’t met and a photograph of her long-dead mother covering the only unfaded section of wallpaper in the kitchen. It was the ghosts she hadn’t known or hadn’t had the chance to love that haunted her the most. 

Time slowed. 

Fifty-five minutes left.

Fifty minutes. 

Forty-five.

Nearing closing time didn’t slow down the work. There were still tables to be bussed; dirty dishes to be stacked and cups to be dumped and more spills and stains waiting to make her dress and apron more worthy of a rag pile. She straightened napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers and shook ketchup bottles. 

With a heave, she got a towering stack of dishes to the sink behind the counter. All of her customers had left; the ones remaining were Janie’s. They’d argue, after everyone had gone, whose job was worse: convincing lingering customers to get, or accidentally plunging one’s hand into lukewarm steak sauce. 

She yanked on the faucet for a stream of water, plunging her hand in to wash off said steak sauce bit by bit. 

“Have a nice night!” Janie, at least, would get tips. Tips that rattled right into her apron pocket as she whisked away more dishes to add to the tower. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’ll split with you.” 

She smiled, and said nothing. 

“Speaking of,” Janie went on, emptying a few glasses of ice and watered-down Coke into the sink. “That fellow over there has been looking at you like you’re on the menu.” 

“Yeah, right. I bet it’s my skirt that did him in.” Ruefully she showed Janie her stained apron. Janie’s eyes went wide. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I have an extra apron in the back…”

“It got my skirt, too.”

“A clean apron would have covered it!” 

And then she would have had to wash and iron a second apron to return Janie’s to her. More work, more work, more work. 

“Well,” Janie said. “At least tell him whether you’re on the menu or not, then he can leave.” 

The he in question sat near the middle of the counter, a pie crust left on his plate. Her eyes went from his dishes to his elbows on the counter (rude) to massive paws of hands covering the lower half of his face. Up and up: he was watching her, just as Janie had warned. Good heavens. 

She dried her hands on the damp towel hanging by the sink, put on her well-practiced false smile, and approached him. These things were best dealt with swiftly and confidently. 

“I’ll take that for you,” she chirped, taking away his plate. 

He lowered his hands, exposing the remainder of his face. He needed a shave and a trim, but not bad looking, overall. And he looked familiar. The glint of the suddenly-visible badge on his chest confirmed it—the police officer from a few towns over. Unusual for him to come this way, but not unheard of. “Thank you,” he said. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” 

“Uh…yeah.” The man smiled. Not, not a smile: a grin. There was a difference, when you’d worked in a diner this long. This was a bonafide, ear-to-ear grin like a teenage boy that had just successfully hotwired his first Mustang. “I was wondering…what’s a guy gotta do to get you to go on a date with him?” 

Brazen, wasn’t he? Her smile was frozen in place. It was a thin line between chasing away customers and not opening oneself for business. She took a few steps back to the sink, running the plate beneath the faucet. 

“Ask, probably.” Not a no, not a giggle and battered lashes. Thin line. 

The man watched her a moment more. “You busy?” 

Startled, she dropped the plate in the sink. And left it there. “Am I busy?” She took another plate from the stack, scraping soggy fries into the trash bin beneath the sink. He said nothing, and she didn’t, either. Anything bound to come out of her mouth at that point would be unkind. So she took another plate, and another, and another, casting him a pointed look that missed the mark completely. 

“Yeah!” he said. “It’s a valid question!” 

Speak for yourself, was her bitter, unspoken response. Rinsing off the dishes meant droplets sticking to her bare arms, usually tainted with sticky sauce that would have her running to the bath first thing when she got home. No matter how tired she was, she was never so tired that she would crawl into bed dirty. 

“Yes,” she said at last, refreshing her smile to meet the man’s gaze square and sure. “I am busy.” 

His lips stuck out, in a purse or in thought. She didn’t know, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. A glance at the clock: ten minutes until closing. 

“I see,” the man said. “I’m sorry for bothering you.” 

That was new. She stopped, staring as he got out his wallet to tug out a few bills. He only looked at her once more, with an apologetic smile, before tossing money onto the counter and climbing off the stool. 

“Have a good night,” he said. 

Well! How about that! 

Shaking her head, she went back to the dishes. The rinsed stack grew, the trash bin filled, and her arms got wetter and wetter. The bell above the door chimed for a final time, Janie locking the door and pulling down the blinds. 

The tub was empty. With a sigh she turned off the faucet, fingers soft from the water, and started stacking the dishes back inside. 

“I’ll be back for the rest,” she said to Janie, who was closing the blinds behind the booths. Hoisting the tub up, she went to the door to the kitchen and went through elbow-first, the stink of fry oil making her tongue feel gross. 

“Sorry about that burger,” said the man at the griddle. Faithfully he dragged his spatula over the burned bits, scraping them into a trash can. 

“It’s okay, Paul,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Paul got a full paycheck without tips. She didn’t. It wasn’t worth pointing that out. 

Louis and Mike chatted by the refrigerator. Around the corner to where Mary would be washing the dishes, and—

She stopped in her tracks. 

The police officer man was elbow-deep in suds, Marry sitting on an upturned bucket as she fanned herself with an outdated menu. 

“Just put them in,” Mary said. “He won’t mind.” 

The man turned. He smiled for a split second before turning back. 

She stared at Mary. Maryjust shrugged. The dishes were getting heavy. 

“Don’t ask me,” Mary said. “He volunteered.”

But why?

Feet still planted where she stood, she could do no more than gawk as the man turned on his heel and took the tub of dishes from her. “No need to make a ceremony of it,” he said. This time he didn’t grin, but he smiled. It was a much more comforting expression. She surrendered the dishes weakly, hands falling to her sides. 

Well, it wasn’t any of her business, anyway. Customers sometimes stuck around to help with one chore or another, out of boredom or kindness or a million other things. This man’s angle—for he surely had one—could be any one of them. And it had nothing to do with her. 

“I was just telling Jim here about that crazy fellow of yours making a racket earlier,” Mary said cheerily. A break made her chatty. “He said next time he’ll remove the fellow for you.” 

“We get the deputy from Pint Nevre, when we need one,” she said. 

“I’m out here regularly, anyway,” the man said over his shoulder. “No skin off my teeth.” 

Unsure of why he was helping, or wanting to help again, or why he’d stayed or why she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his thick shoulders moving with his scrubbing each plate to put on the drying rack—she wrung her apron in her hands. Dry, but stiff, and it would make her hands smell like chocolate. 

The man looked back again. He was smiling again. “Just ask for Jim,” he said. “Jim Hopper.”