#his original name timber had sad origins so he wanted to change it to give himself a fresh start with a positive name

[the-starry-seas]

I've made more OCs

this is Nihaan, formerly Commander Timber, and Chen Xunielah

Nihaan was assigned head of a protection detail for Ms Chen when she was the Togruta representative to the Senate on Coruscant. It was her first experience with clones and she was very intrigued with them and polite. Timber came to like her more and more as a result, but was always well aware that nothing could come of it. She was, after all, a rather important natborn.

("Timber, how many times must I ask you to call me Xunielah?" "At least once more, Ms Chen. As always.")

Xunielah had no such reservations about a relationship with him, which is quite frankly for the best. When her time on Coruscant ended, she asked Timber and his squad to come home with her. They were honest with her that they would never be allowed to leave the GAR but they would otherwise like that very much. They assured her that they would remember her fondly, and Timber gifted her the only thing he had - a spare set of gloves that came with his armour.

She decided that she wasn't going to just leave them there. They were unfailingly kind to her, and she didn't want them to get shipped off to die at some battlefront because she no longer needed their protection. So she arranged things with the Senate to have the squad transferred to her possession and took them home to Shili, where they were recognised as both sentient beings and free citizens.

There was a bit of doubt that Timber might not really love her once he had a whole new world in front of him, but he'd been simply wild about her from the moment he saw her, and that only deepened when she gave his entire squad their freedom. He changed his name to Nihaan - a Togruta word for beloved - and did his best to put the GAR behind him.

Nihaan gets deeply invested in some of the best and most dramatic holovids that Shili has to offer, and is deeply surprised to find out that his beloved Xunielah is not just an ambassador but a sort of duchess. She takes him to her estate in the Celestial Mountains and is very charmed with how he's charmed by the scenery.

Nihaan was reluctant to have kids for a while. He had complicated feelings on clone aging and passing that on to his kids. Xunielah loves him unconditionally, he knows, but he also knows that a lot of other natborns aren't the same. Eventually when the clone aging cure is synthesised, Nihaan's able to get his hands on it, and finally gets the family he always wanted but worried about having. They end up with three kids - a girl named Nukoi, and two boys named Hiyet and Tanul.

And bonus Nihaan pic to show off his facial tattoos!

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta the Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted. 

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse. 

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own. 

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. When he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed. 

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house. 

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home. 

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe. 

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain. 

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier. 

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it. 

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness. 

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together. 

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held. 

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession. 

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

An Enjoyable Relationship The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild Revali x Reader

You sat on the landing, the wood creaking under your weight. Gusts of cool wind blow by your ears, but your feathered garb keeps you relatively warm. Your legs dangled over the world below, swinging above the treetops and timber huts. The sky was shades of bright blue and laced with white clouds, the sun perched high above Rito village. You watched the sight before you as the leaves swayed and birds chirped. Other Rito flew freely in the air above, blurs of hazel and black, pinks and jades, colors decorated an already beautiful sky as the villagers went about their daily routines. Finally, the color you had been waiting for descended. The winds swirl around, billowing behind the Rito as he picked up speed before stopping gracefully before the landing. A deep blue, bordering on indigo, with accents white as snow around his face and on the edges of his wings. Revali landed beside you, standing atop the arm railing to your left. His face was smug, as usual, but silent for now as he looked expectantly at you, as if waiting for your reaction to his grand entrance. You gave a smirk, before you started to speak.

“Stop stealing my quills, feather face”

“Always one to cut right to the chase, [name].”

You sighed. For the last few weeks you had been in Rito village, Revali had been bickering with you non-stop. As one of the top Sheikah researchers, it fell onto you to review and analyze the Divine Beasts. However, throwing petty insults, having little squabbles, and overall dealing with the proud Rito Champion wasn’t in the original job description.

“Whenever I seem to put down my journal, or go out to lunch, or stay up on Vah Medoh, my quills and ink always seem to magically disappear.”

“Well, how should I know anything about that? For all we know they could have been blown up to the Hebra Peaks.” Revali tucked his wings behind his back, his posture shifted to become more regal, as if to give the impression that he was above whatever nonsense you were talking about. “Why, it sounds like you’re simply an irresponsible scientist.”

You stood up and paced around the wooden landing. 

“Well, of course you weren't my first guess. I, at first, assumed I kept misplacing them. Plus, I made the mistake of assuming the great Rito Champion was above such trivial things. That is of course…”

You turned to meet Revali’s gaze, and removed an ivory quill from your pouch.

“...until you dropped this at the latest Champion meeting.”

Revali scoffed. He hopped off the hand railing and moved closer.

“Why do you even come to those? They only concern those of important rank.”

“Quit your slanders and return what's mine, cucco.”

He circled around you for a moment. His gaze looked you up and down, as if assessing you. His eyes narrowed. Then, with the speed of a gale, he snatched the quill right out of your hand. 

“Hey! Don’t yo-”

“If you’re so smart, why don’t you riddle me this. What incentive would I have to return the rest of your possessions? Why would I return the things that would continue to allow you to meddle with Medoh, and work so far off into the night that I can hear you scratching notes down in my nightmares?”

He gave a fake shudder, to add to his dramatics on that last note. You tried to grab back your quill, but Revali’s reflexes were too much as he continuously sidestepped and pivoted out of your reach. As you danced around him, you thought for a moment. He wasn’t the type to waste his time, he always complained that he didn’t have the time to fly you up to Vah Medoh as your “very presence alone conflicted” with his archery practices. No, Revali always wanted to get something out if whatever he did. Never wasted a moment to gain recognition, improve his skills, practice, something. You sighed again.

“What do you want in exchange, fuzzy...”

“AH! So there's half a Hylian mind in there after all”

Revali’s familiar smug expression returned once more. He fiddled with the quill, brushing it against his own feathers as he continued to dodge your attempts to retake it.

“Well, since you asked so nicely. Perhaps I’ll consider returning your items in return for your… extended company later this evening.”

“What?!”

You stopped in your tracks, dumbfounded. Revali did the same, although his expression was more meek, his stance changed as his weight shifted between his feet. Why did Revali, this Rito who obviously didn’t think much of you, want to spend the evening together? As you stood there, startled, the Rito began speaking rapidly,  the feathers on his neck poofed up, as if he was...embarrassed?

“Now, obviously, it’s not a date or anything. Why anyone would even assume so is beyond me. I mean you’re not even that attract- wait that's not true. I mean, yes it's not a date, but the part about your looks is, I mean- you’re very smart and beautiful and… uh swell?... and I’m sure you’ll find someone who appreciates that someday but, uh, not me, obviously, well I mean-”

He paused. Revali stared at you, his words bounced around in his beak as he tried to formulate the right sentences.

“There’s an...event, that the Champions are invited to this evening. However, I have accurately anticipated that it will be boring. No doubt, everyone will be more concerned with talking about that little knight, or the princess, or the the other Champions and myself rather than more pressing or captivating topics. I’ve already endured a thousand and more of those conversations about myself and the others, truly, it gets tiring after awhile. I’m not one to go through a party without...enjoying myself,” He swept his wing towards your direction, gesturing to you. “Throughout our time together, it has been...interesting. For you, obviously, it’s been great, being in my vicinity all the time, experiencing the grand life of the Rito Champion, Revali! However, it has also been entertaining for me as well, as I find myself appreciating your sarcastic tones and baseless insults. I figured, your presence alone would help make the night more tolerable. So, I’m simply asking for one night where you get to be yourself and keep me from falling asleep in front of those other, insufferable people.”

You continued to stare at Revali. Was he really inviting you to a party? For so long, your relationship had consisted of quips and banter back and forth. Mostly because you didn’t want to feed his ever growing ego. Apparently, your personality had entertained Revali enough that he wanted to spend time with you at a boring party probably meant to entertain loafing nobles and royals. Oh joyous day.

Revali continued after a brief pause. “In exchange for the quills of course, as I know you’re not the type to attend festivities without incentive. Normal people would flock to me just for the chance to spend a moment in my vicinity, of course, but alas, you prefer the illogical option of tucking away to your quarters for the night and reading textbooks for fun.”

“It’s productive.”

“It’s sad.”

You snorted. Fine then. One night with Revali wouldn’t be terrible. You could tolerate his fancy words, flambouyant manner, and deep blue feathers for one night. HIs words earlier were nice enough that you could smile. Gosh, were you blushing?? Or was it just the cold???

You snuck another glance at Revali. Who knows? You might be able to enjoy your time with him too. The winds blew your hair around as the breeze whispered sweet nothings. The Rito stood there, his gaze wandering up and down your figure expectantly.

 Well, it’s not like he gave you much of a choice. 

“If I go with you, you give me back my ink and quills and whatever else you’ve taken after?”

“You regain your ability to write and research for eternity without sleep, and I get to have an enjoyable night, yes.”

“Sounds like a deal then, Revali.”

[the-canary]

A Million Stars - B.B. (4/8)

Summary: It’s a whisper in the night, a promise to disappear forever. Don’t trust the Goblin King – it’s just that some princesses never learn. (Labyrinth/Royalty AU!Reader/Bucky Barnes).

Prompt: “The kind of smile that would be cruel not to kiss.”  

A/N: This is for @sweetboybucky 1k writing challenge. So, this might be longer than I originally thought, but I am trying to juggle everything I have in my head.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Make sure you do not ever regret the choices you have made, Morgan. There is nothing sadder than a regretful king -- all that power and you still couldn’t achieve your heart’s desires.

King Morgan can hear his first wife’s voice echoing in the hallways to the library as the darkness settles in. It had been days since his children disappeared and all he can do is wonder what he had done wrong for both of them to be sprited away. He had always tried to be a fair and just king, but he had weaknesses like any other man with power -- he took in more than he should in terms of wealth, loved more than one woman that wasn’t his wife.

I may leave you, Morgan. But, our daughter -- she is half yours, but should you play with that temper of hers, fae blood always burns everything in its path. Do not call for it.

His first wife, the one he married more out of obligation to nobility than anything else, had told him before she spirited away. Her family had been said to be connected to the old fae that lived in the land once, that she could see things that normal humans --like him-- couldn’t and he would laugh at her, scorn her heritage for years until their daughter was born, the heir he needed. The Old Queen watched her daughter grow for 5 years before she left -- without a word and in the middle of the night with a letter from one of Morgan’s lovers on her desk. Morgan was sure that’s the moment his kingdom fell into ruin.

War, famine, debt were all that followed his kingdom on the footsteps of the Queen disappearing. Morgan struggled stopping everything from being destroyed or worse have the people going into a full on rebellion, while raising his only child, his bright princess. However, he made sure that she knew nothing of the old stories, of the ill that might run through her veins -- she grew skeptical of the very thought of it instead.

Years passed and Morgan married once again, more due to love this time to a lady-in-waiting to his daughter, though of a lesser nobility compared to his first wife. The happy couple married and welcomed their son, Marcus two years ago and in his new happiness, Morgan forgot his first wife’s warning. He pushed his daughter aside, took away her birthright, and prepared to marry her to a man that was more brute than prince.

Fae blood always burns everything in its path.       

War, famine, debt -- he had called on all of those once more after his children’s disappearance days ago, it was only a matter of time. The people were angry and mournful, his younger brothers were surely watching the shadows and waiting to see what was going to happen next. His wife hadn’t stopped crying.

As he sits in the darkness, in her favorite high chair within the library. Morgan can’t help but call out: “ Why do you curse me, Gwyneth ?”

An invisible wind shutters throughout the library, as if answering back.

You called for it.

“Are you sure we are heading in the right direction?” you can’t help but ask as the teddy bear gives you the best glare that it can, only for you to laugh. You didn’t know where Sam was taking you, but after surviving those “blades of death” back in the the bottle dungeon, you were starting to warm up to your guide -- even, if he hadn’t.

“Don’t forget your end of the bargain, Smellington,” the Goblin King chuckles before disappearing with a flick of his cloak. Before you could ask what he meant, a flurry of blades rush in your direction as you screamed and started punching the walls along with the teddy bear until one push forward and you both fell into the clearing below.

You were weary of why the Goblin King knew Sam and where the bear pirate was taking you, but you had to take it one step at a time. You had to play this a certain way to get the information you wanted, however that wasn’t one of the things you were very good at.

“Why did the Goblin King seem so familiar with you back there?” you can’t help but ask, as the bear just shakes his head.

“Don’t ya get tired of asking so many questions?” he remarks back, only for you to shake your head. He groans, not knowing what he has gotten himself into, though Sam couldn’t help but think it was better than all those times that visitors were silent or even treated him negatively when he was just trying to help. You wouldn’t shut up with all your questions, but he was starting to get used to it -- as scary as that was.

“ James knows everyone in his kingdom,” Sam explains, as your ears perk up at the sound of the Goblin King’s true name -- rather ordinary, if you had a say so, “He likes make sure everyone is under his palm and reminds them in awful ways.”

“Oh, that isn’t very nice for a king,” you can’t help but huff out in annoyance as Sam nods in agreement, “A good king cares of his people and the kingdom. This James must not be a very happy fellow.”

“Oh if you--”

Before Sam can say anything else, the two of you hear an angry growl. You jump, but curiosity has always been your downfall, as you head towards the sound completely ignoring that Sam has run the other way. You hide for a moment to see a large green beast being attacked by goblins in silver armor. It lets out desperate cries as it tries to fight back. You look around on the ground, to see that there are smooth pebbles around you and doing what you can -- you begin to throw them, unaware of the sparks coming out of the things you throw, as each pebble lands on their intended mark and electrocutes the creatures until they run away screaming and smelling like cooked chicken.

Brown eyes turn towards your direction, as you can’t help but laugh at the aftermath. The green beast gets up and makes it way over to you, but instead of being scared you look up at it and grin.

“What’s your name?” you question softly as the green beast looks at you wearily, “I just want to be friends. I helped you out, no?”

“Yes,” he manages to say in short burst, as you nod, “Hulk.”  

“Well Hulk, I think we should find a way out of here,” you declare as the beast agrees in its own way. The two of you head out of the clearing and that’s when it happens.

A sparkle catches your attention, as you stand there for a moment. The barren wasteland of the labyrinth quickly changed to a castle much like your own, but different with stained glass windows and smooth marble, as you see a long piano in the corner of the room. The melody is sad, perhaps even lonely as you try your hardest to move forward and see who might be playing such a haunting piece.  

I dreamt of you last night –

as if I was playing the piano

and you were turning the pages for me.

The familiar voice echoes and your eyes widen.

“ AAAAHHH ,” Hulk yells, which breaks whatever daydream you were just in as you go back to staring at him. He grunts before motioning at you to keep moving within the labyrinth with a new companion and slightly more confused on who the Goblin King is.

The clock strikes eight hours left when he hears it. Over the baby’s giggling and his goblins’ cheering, it sounds like a godsend.

James. James. James.

The first time he had heard his name being said by someone similar to him, like a hymn that boils the magic in his blood. It isn’t said in disgust or malice like when he hears it from Sam, but rather curiosity maybe even a teasing tone, as he sees your lips quirk just a bit, like there is something funny to his name, but it is the brightest way anyone has ever said it.

James , that’s all it takes for his heart to slowly be won over by all too stubborn, tempestuous princess that is slowly defeating his labyrinth.

 It takes the warriors only a few hours to reach the kingdom across the mountain path. Queen Rebecca feels their arrival before anyone else comes to her room saying that there are warriors coming into the capital, she is already waiting for them in the throne room when they ask for an audience with her. There are five before her -- three men different shades of silver, gold, and blue. A woman is standing in the back of all of them with her hand to her weapon, but the one commanding the most attention is the man in all gold armor and eyes to match.

Pure fae, Rebecca thinks as her old bones tremble at the thought of what they could want with her, of what her long-lost sibling has done. However, she is the queen of this land and that will not be ignored as she begins to speak in a commanding voice.

“And what do you warriors need of me?” the Old Queen asks from her high chair, as golden eyes turn to look at her.

“Your sibling has taken our country’s princess,” Heimdall explains, as Rebecca gets up in her chair in sudden distress over this new piece of information, “We need your help to get her back.”

“How?” she can’t help but ask, since she can faintly feel the magic coming off from all of them -- more so the man with golden eyes in front of her. It looks like he could see both the past and present all at once. Rebecca could only imagine all that he had seen and experienced, but she could see how strong his loyalty ran in the cautious timber of his tone for said missing princess.  

Maybe, that’s what won her over so quickly.

“What exactly would you need from me?” she questions, as she sees the woman behind the man frown.”

Part 5

[krycss]

Crossroads | oc:Alice Harkins/Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith

Prologue: Alice Joins A Gang

[Read on AO3]

 - Next Chapter

I won't be changing anything from the canon, despite how sad some things might get, except for the fact that my character will be along for some of the missions. Yes, that means THAT is going to happen - I’m sorry. Or am I?

Alice Harkins joined the Van der Linde gang from it's early days. Growing up alongside the older Arthur Morgan, she can't help but feel an attraction to the man who taught her so much. When the gang gets the addition of one Charles Smith, Alice quickly realizes she's found herself in quite the predicament: She loves them both and both men not only share the feelings towards her, but towards each other as well. As the gang moves on from the tragedy at Blackwater, the three find themselves at a crossroads, embarking on a strange but happy journey together. Can they find a way to maintain their relationship while the gang that brought them together begins to crumble around them?

Alice Harkins was twelve years old when her life was turned, quite literally to ash. Living in a small town in Missouri, Alice just so happened to be away from home one blistering summer eve when her family’s home was burned down. By the time she returned, her home was but a pile of smoldering timber, thick black smoke swirling high into the sky. Her ma, pa, and younger brother were scattered about the yard – gun shots in each of their bodies the only evidence to what had happened.

Alice spent the next four years wandering from town to town. A shell of her former self. The happy little red-headed child was now a struggling teen, trying to survive in this cruel world. She became a pickpocket over the years. Stealing trinkets and money in order to afford food and, if she was particularly lucky, a roof over her head for a night.

It was one fateful afternoon that Alice spotted a new man wandering the streets of the backwater town she was currently holed up in. His carefree attitude and easy-to-pick satchel made him the perfect target in Alice’s eyes. She tailed him for most of the evening and when he finally stopped into the local saloon Alice made her move. At sixteen she knew just how to distract men – despite how degrading it made her feel. Adjusting her bodice she casually made her way over to the bar. From this close she could see just how handsome the man was. His dark blond hair fell in short tresses, just barely past his ears. But what drew her to him were his eyes – she spent far too long trying to decide if they were blue or green. Perhaps both. She found it easy to chat with the man, Arthur Morgan, she learned his name was. Perhaps it was his friendly demeanor, but Alice found herself telling Arthur things she had never told any of her other victims – about her family and growing up alone. She wasn’t too worried, she’d never see the man again.

The two spent what felt like hours in the saloon with casual conversation and a handful of drinks – although Alice was careful to simply nurse hers. When night fell Arthur made his farewell, leaving the saloon on wobbly legs with Alice’s help in getting down the rickety saloon stairs. As she helped him to the stables where he said he left his horse, Alice took advantage of his inebriated state to begin rifling through his satchel. She felt the distinct feel of money and various other items – despite its size the bag seemed to hold quite a lot of things for some reason. She continued laughing at whatever silly thing happened to come out of Arthur’s mouth. She just needed a few more seconds. Gripping onto the bills she went to pull her hand out when Arthur quickly grasped her wrist. His slurring had stopped and he pulled her around to the side of the stable, suddenly less drunk than before. Alice quickly realized she was the one who had been played.

“Little lady,” His voice rumbled lowly, “if you’d like to keep your hand, I’d suggest letting go now.”

Alice stared wide-eyed at the man. His face remained dark, but there was a hint of something behind his eyes – amusement?

Alice sighed.

“I have to admit, Mr. Morgan, this is a tad bit embarrassin’.” She sulked.

“It was clever, I’ll give ya that.” Arthur released her wrist. “But you’ve still got some learning to do if you’re going to continue this here line of work.” He hummed thoughtfully.

“What in the world are you talkin’ about?”

Arthur stared at her, his eyes staring down into her light blue ones.

“Not sure.” He scratched at the scruff on his chin. “I may have a proposition for you though. Meet me at the saloon, same time tomorrow? If you’re willing.”

Alice’s eyes widened.

“I was just robbin’ you…and you want to see me again?” She scoffed, crossing her arms.

Arthur laughed, it was a sharp thing but Alice felt herself fighting a smile at it.

“Let’s just say I know someone who might be able to help you out.”

“And who says I need help?”

Arthur stared down at her. Her head only reached his chest.

“Just think on it. I gotta get goin’.”

He waved her off as he entered the stable.

 The next day Alice argued with herself for hours, and continued to argue with herself as she sat at a table in the corner of the saloon. Just as she was considering leaving for the umpteenth time that night, in walked Arthur Morgan, followed by another man. The other man was slightly older, black hair framing his sharp face. He held himself high, dressed in clothes far too sharp for him to be a local. The two sat down at the table with Alice.

“Glad to see you again, little lady.” Arthur smirked.

Alice huffed.

“Dutch, this is…Alice, yes?” Arthur looked for confirmation. “Alice, this here is Dutch.”

Alice stared at the man. The name sounded slightly familiar but she couldn’t remember if she’d seen him before.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, miss.” Dutch smiled. “Arthur here tells me you have the makings of a rather fine pickpocket with the right help.”

There was no judgement from the man before her, in fact, Alice thought he seemed a little too eager. Apparently Arthur had told Dutch the things Alice had told him about herself. She regretted it immediately.

“We’ve got a family, of sorts, a small, ragtag group of people just like you. And we’d be more than happy to have you join us – if you’re willing. We’ve been in need of someone with your particular skillset for a while now.” Dutch’s eyes gleamed in the lantern-light of the saloon.

“What kind of group needs a pickpocket?” Alice questioned.

Arthur leaned forward.

“The kind that makes a habit of surviving doing very similar things.”

“So…a gang?” Alice lowered her voice at the end.

Dutch hummed in agreement.

Alice’s brain kicked into gear.

“Are-Are you Dutch’s Boys?!” Alice whispered loudly.

Arthur’s back straightened up as he glanced around, making sure no one heard. Dutch simply laughed heartily.

“Ya’ll have been causing quite a storm with all your robberies of late”

Ever since their first big heist in 1887, Alice had been following the news of the gang robbing their way across the Midwest through whatever means over the past two years. She never learned how to read before her parents were killed so the most she got was from overhearing others talk about them.

Alice tried to hold her excitement in but it must have been apparent on her face as Dutch’s smile grew wide.

“That’s the goal, miss. And, if you’d like, we’d be more than willing to give you a place to stay if you’re willing to put in the work.” Dutch folded his hands on the table. “You’d have a family with us. Arthur here was just like you when we took him in – an orphan making it on his own on the streets.”

Arthur smiled fondly at Dutch, Alice could tell there was a deep respect for the man. She sat there for a moment, but she already knew her answer. Standing up, she held her hand out towards Dutch who was quick to grasp it between his own two hands.

 Alice quickly found herself playing the role of a sister to John Marston who was the same age as herself. They were taught to read together by the very friendly Hosea Matthews- who found Alice to be the better-behaved student. The other members of the gang at the time were Susan Grimshaw, who Alice found to be a hard but hardworking woman, Hosea’s wife Bessie, and Annabelle. Alice quickly took a shine to Arthur’s dog, Copper.

Her first few years with the gang were spent learning how to properly shoot by Arthur, picking up her pickpocket skills with the help of Dutch, and the learning how to better con people by Hosea. Over the years, since her time joining in 1889 to 1894 the gang went through many changes. The loss of Annabelle by Colm O’Driscoll was a stark reminder to Alice of how cruel the world is – eventually the gang would also lose Bessie, another reminder. However the gang also grew and prospered as they continued to travel. They met the Callander boys, Mac and Davey. Karen, Tilly, and Mary-Beth were added; Mary-Beth and Alice became quick friends with their shared skills. Pearson, Swanson, the lovable oaf Uncle soon joined as well. Sean MacGuire was quite the addition to the gang, followed by Molly O’Shea, and eventually Josiah Trelawny. By 1894 the gang was still growing and Alice found herself no longer haunted by the loss of her original family – she had found a new one. Bill Williamson joined around this time, followed by Abigail Roberts who Alice wasn’t sure how to feel about at the time. When Jack was born the gang quickly took a shine to the boy, helping Abigail to raise him. John left a year later and Alice was sad to see him go but a part of her understood – the two of them were close and she knew how he felt about the kid. Around this time Javier was introduced to the gang by Dutch. Alice was about the same age as him, twenty-three, and despite the language barrier at first, the two found a quaint friendship between one another.

It was around this time that her relationship with Arthur would begin to change as well. Everyone in camp knew the two were close – he was the one who brought her into the gang and showed her the ropes – and the teasing was relentless but it didn’t bother either of them. Besides, she would remind those who taunted her, he has that Mary woman, right? Even if they weren’t together anymore. As she grew up Alice couldn’t help but notice that sometimes her eyes would wander over to Arthur during his morning chores, watching his muscles tense beneath his shirt. It only increased in intensity as she got older. He was only ten years older than her, but that was enough for her to think that he only saw her as a little sister and as such, she kept her feelings to herself. It was during a rather emotional, drink-filled night that Arthur started [Alice later learned his drunkenness that night was due to what had happened with Eliza and Isaac] that it happened. The two eventually found themselves in the woods away from camp, just drunk enough to have no inhibitions but sober enough to remember what had happened. Strong emotions, heated gazes, and experimental kisses turned into a long night in the woods. At twenty-three, Alice was happy that her first time was with Arthur – someone she trusted. The two remained friends after the night, though not without a bout of awkwardness for the first few days afterword. It was just one drunken night, the two would agree on, it didn’t mean anything else.

By the time John returned in 1896 the gang began heading towards Montana. 1898 saw the gang in a bit of a rough patch for a while. The loss of Copper was hard on both Arthur and Alice. The gang ended up travelling into the Northern Grizzlies where they settled for a few months. Dutch even considered looking into getting some land for the gang but when that didn’t work the gang moved on. 1898 also brought in the latest members of the Van Der Linde gang – Lenny Summers, Jenny Kirk, Micah Bell, and Charles Smith. Alice adored Lenny and Jenny and their sprouting relationship. She shared the same thoughts Arthur did about Micah. And Charles, well, Alice found herself quickly intrigued by the man. Charles was the same age as Alice when he joined, twenty-six. Quiet and reserved, it took some time before he began opening up to the gang but he was quick to show his loyalty. Alice, despite her rowdy and extroverted nature, found herself often coaxing Charles into conversation around the campfire – even if it tended to be a little more one-sided on her part. She found that her eyes also began to seek out Charles around camp, much the same way they did with Arthur before. She tried to ignore what that meant.

When the gang made their way into West Elizabeth in 1899, camping just outside the growing town of Blackwater, Alice was twenty-seven and found herself caught between a rock and a hard place. She loved Dutch like a father, much like others, but when the planning of the Blackwater Robbery was underway, she found herself with Arthur and Hosea, scoping out a job of their own. By the time the three caught up with the rest of the gang after hearing what had happened, Alice knew she had made the right decision. John, Jenny, and Davey were all shot in the incident – Jenny and Davey ending up with the worse injured. Mac was unaccounted for, as well as Sean. Charles had somehow been injured, Alice helping him tend to the burns on his hand. The trip back into the Grizzlies on the run was a hard one. Fighting the law, the weather, and the low morale quickly put a dour mood throughout the gang.

Alice, ever the optimist, kept her head up. Surely it couldn’t get any worse.

Right?

~~~

Mostly just a timeline. I spent most of the day reading the wiki on the formation of the gang and pretty much ran with it.

[gigsoupmusic]

SORAIA's New Album 'DIG YOUR ROOTS' Out Today

Personal growth, rebirth, even revolution – such transformative concepts are the heart of what Soraia is all about. These heady themes inform the songs on Dig Your Roots, the band’s latest album, out March 13 on Wicked Cool Records. “I look at Dig Your Roots as a continuation of what was begun on Dead Reckoning,” says singer and frontwoman ZouZou Mansour of the new album’s relationship to their 2017 Wicked Cool LP. That record’s release prompted Rolling Stone/Mojo scribe David Fricke to write Soraia’s “searing guitars, burning soul and true CBGB grit…are the rock you need, in your face now.” “Dig Your Roots is coming to terms with the light and dark inside myself and in the world,” ZouZou shares. “I come from a diverse multicultural and multireligious background – my father was Muslim and Egyptian, and my mother was Belgian and Catholic. I was ‘different,’ and I hid some of my background from people, thinking I wouldn't be accepted. Digging my roots is being proud of who I am, letting it come before me even at times, being proud of where I come from, and asking the listener to do the same. “Dig Your Roots also refers to loving what grounds you: the people, the lifestyles, the places you live, where you grew up. It’s being willing to dig up your roots and re-plant if where you are no longer keeps you free – metaphorically, of course. Inherently, I want this to be the message of the record: if you're down, get up.” As a spiritual descendent of iconic women in rock such as Patti Smith and Joan Jett, ZouZou’s Philadelphia-based band also embodies elements of kindred spirits of the ’90s and beyond - like PJ Harvey and The Kills, with more than a sprinkling of ’60s Garage Rock and Soul. Their primal sonic attack spreads a message of perseverance through trials of love, loss and letting go. Bassist Travis Smith continues to be a crucial root of the Soraia tree, co-writing five of the album’s new songs with ZouZou, including “Superman Is Gone” and “Wild Woman.” “Travis delved into places on this album that we didn't go to on the last record,” she reveals. “That's scary. But he did it, which ultimately made me do it, too. It's like, ‘Hold my hand, we're going into this dark cave, and who knows what's going to happen…” Roots also finds drummer Brianna Sig with her first Soraia co-write, the enchanting “Don’t Have You.” “Her melody for the choruses reminded me of how The Sirens would lure sailors in Greek mythology,” ZouZou relates. “It was haunting and beautiful – and if Soraia isn't both of those things, then I don't know what we're doing here.” The band faced an unexpected challenge when guitarist Mike Reisman, who co-wrote four Dig tracks, including 2019 single “Evergreen,” left the group. “Mike can’t tour for longer periods of time anymore,” says ZouZou. “It hurt. He still works with us and we still connect. But you grow closer with who remains, and grow yourself.” Going forward, Nick Seditious is handling guitar duties. Further nourishing their roots is the continued support of Wicked Cool’s Stevie Van Zandt. The label head has been an advocate ever since naming their breakout track “Love Like Voodoo” the Coolest Song in the World on his syndicated radio show and SiriusXM channel Little Steven’s Underground Garage in 2013. In January 2020, Dig Your Roots' opening cut “Dangerous” becomes the tenth Coolest Song they’ve earned. Van Zandt has even become a creative collaborator, penning “Why” for Dead Reckoning and co-writing two Roots tunes: 2019 Coolest Song “Still I Rise” and forthcoming single “Darkness (Is My Only Candle).” “I trust him more than anyone in knowing what I'm trying to say and who I am,” says ZouZou. Complementing them in the studio once again is producer/engineer Geoff Sanoff, whose credits include notable work with Bruce Springsteen, Fountains Of Wayne and Dashboard Confessional. “He’s a member of the band when we’re in there,” ZouZou acknowledges. Soraia has come a long way since their punked-up cover of The Kinks’ “(I’m Not) Like Everybody Else” hit #1 on Rock radio in South America in 2015. Their independently released debut album In The Valley Of Love And Guns from 2013 features five songs co-written with Jon Bon Jovi. “I'm all about playing a fun song and throwing myself around, that's Rock ’n’ Roll at its heart,” ZouZou remarks. “But I'm also about telling the stories of resurrection and life and hope and darkness.” And now, the songs of 'Dig Your Roots' in ZouZou’s own words… 1. Dangerous I was listening to a ton of Jet and The Vines at one point, and just loved the recklessness – especially in the screams on those songs – and the pure Rock eruption of it all. It's less than three minutes and explodes the entire time. “Dangerous” was born from that specific decision to write a song with those kinds of explosive dynamics and lyrics – and as always – easy and passionate conversations about the things we love. 2. Wild Woman I had been listening to this female preacher talking about being “born inside the wild” and not knowing where you were – but that strong women thrived in the wild. I fell in love with that idea of birthing yourself – which is one way to put it – over and over when you enter into situations you're uncomfortable in, or have never been in. An added bonus is the notion of being a “wild woman” in that way was a different take on the idea I think social consciousness has on being a “wild woman.” Empowering instead of denigrating. Travis had written this swampy, mysterious riff, so we took that and made it the forefront of the song, and took the subject matter – pieced them together – and VOILA! WILD WOMAAAAAAN!!! 3. Evergreen Mike played this riff that became the verses and said he heard this drumbeat like “Howlin’ For You” by The Black Keys for it. I had been watching the movie Black Snake Moan and heard this line that the main female character “had the devil in her.” That conjured up this old South feeling for me, so I wanted to put that in and give it that vibe. The story is told with a sometimes playful and teasing attitude, and sometimes aggressive and frustrated tone. It really felt freeing and gave the speaker the power back she didn't feel she had in the first place. 4. Foxfire Travis had this intriguing idea of “foxfire” for a title line. I didn't know what it meant, so he told me all about it. It’s this phosphorescent light emitted by certain fungi on decaying timber. It’s beautiful when it glows, but it isn’t real, it’s a momentary thing. And when people would see it in the woods, many got lost being guided by it. We thought it would be interesting to write a song about depression from the standpoint of “foxfire” – or these glimmering thoughts that lead you astray and only give the illusion that everything's alright. The struggle to believe in any one thought, to characterize the confusion of that type of struggle from the speaker's point of view. 5. Darkness (Is My Only Candle) Again, a song written almost together in a room. There's a line of a Rumi poem, “Darkness is your candle.” At the time, there had been the Charlottesville riots, and lots of violence that seemed horrifically reminiscent of the racial injustices of the ’60s. I remember thinking “Where are we?” and being really upset about all the hatred and racial slurs. This song came as a result of anger, pain, sadness, worry, and ultimately the idea we can't be separate anymore or stay quiet. It took a few sessions to write because Travis and I were both so impassioned about making sure we told the truth and stayed with the times as we saw them. 6. Nothing Compares 2 U I had always felt so strongly about the Sinéad O’Connor version of this song. But despite being a big Prince fan, I had never heard his version. When I did, and heard the first line lyric change – “It’s been seven hours and thirteen days” – I knew immediately this was the one. Those numbers alone and the darker, more soulful approach he took to the lyric and melody spoke to me in a different way than the more popular version by Sinéad. In the studio, Geoff Sanoff really wanted to bring this Mott The Hoople vibe to it like “All The Young Dudes” – which added a lot more to our style of approaching it. 7. Superman Is Gone Another Travis and I song, this one was specifically about the idea of being high and feeling like “Superman” when you did that first line of anything. I'm a recovering person, so it was important to me that I also tell the story of the anger I had at my father over being absent when I was going through that. I have already forgiven him and me about that, but I wanted to tell the story honestly. And there's a part of me that still questions where were a lot of different people in my life when I was busy getting high. That idea that you wonder where people were and what they were doing when you were hardcore in this addiction – with no feeling attached to it – just a human curiosity. 8. Way That You Want It It's really just about this guy who is frustrated by a girl he digs but can't have. It's based lyrically off the same idea as “I Hate Myself For Loving You” by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, but from the viewpoint of another character – where I'm singing as the storyteller/observer instead of the person it's all happening to. 9. Still I Rise Based on a Maya Angelou poem. I live my life in no particular time, almost in a time vacuum. And no matter what, you get up. Mike and I had originally written the song, and called it “I Am (Rise).” But Steven Van Zandt got a hold of it and loved the story of the song, so we rewrote the lyrics, and he rewrote the music to it, to really tell the story of people getting up after falling. I had taken a few lines from actual conversations or experiences I had. Then, Steven and I tried to pay homage as much as possible to the original poem. We rewrote it together in an afternoon – one of the best experiences I've had with him. 10. Don’t Have You This was officially the last song written for the album. Brianna sent me two separate song ideas that ended up becoming “Don't Have You.” This was also the last song recorded for the album, and Geoff knew right away the approach to the piano. It became something really beautiful, and I wanted to keep it simple and stripped in the front end, so the lyric could pull in the listener. This was about my own heartbreak, and that little feeling of hope and possibility still inherent in the relationship is really powerful in the middle of the song. It was Geoff's idea to speak that part instead of sing it, and I was thrilled with how it came out. 11. Euphoria “Euphoria” was written by myself and Travis. I loved the bluesy and spacious riff he came up with. I felt it left a space for some sort of testimony – so I told the story of all these experiences smashed together. Though each line seems to stand alone in some parts, they weave a truthful story of this woman coming back from the dead. I love the lyric in this one. Brianna had this great idea to end it in a church-y way, since it's mainly about wanting this high experience in life. And what a great way to end the record! Read the full article

[anneedmonsonus]

The Hilton Fibro Cottage Renovation

I love this house. This is the former home of our friends Tim and Caity Phillips, it’s a cool renovation and a house that I like because it suits its owners down to a tee. You guys may already know Tim’s name from some of my earlier posts; he and his TJP Carpentry team put up the cladding as part of our Scyon Walls makeover, and they also recently completed our new deck. It was actually through House Nerd that I met Tim and Caity; I got Tim’s name from a House Nerd reader who recommended him as a carpenter years ago, and completely by chance we were looking for a carpenter that week – and it randomly turned out Caity already followed my blog! Now we’re lucky to call Tim and Caity friends. Little Nerd in particular worships them with the kind of awed reverence Mr Nerd and I only dream of attaining.

The first time I visited Tim and Caity’s house was when they opened up their backyard for a gig as part of Parlour Gigs, an initiative where people can host musicians to play in their homes. With their huge oak tree and deck, it was an awesome setting for live music and I fell in love with the house as a whole. I could 100 percent see why they were sad to sell it (and yes they sold it not long after we did our shoot – more on that later!)

GREEN ENVY: Plants at every corner pay homage to the home’s roots – the house was rumoured to have once been used as a plant nursery. Photos by Heather Robbins.

I feel like I have to pop in a disclaimer here, because we all know I am a terrible blogger but this is particularly embarrassing. Heather (Robbins) and I shot this home AGES ago, just before Tim and Caity put it on the market… at the end of 2017, I believe. WHAT THE. Insert monkey emoji covering his eyes. In my defense, we had a limited amount of time to shoot the house quickly before Caity and Tim styled it to sell, because I just knew a house like theirs would be snatched up quickly (and it was – it spent only two weeks on the market before the Phillips accepted an offer).

Shortly after Heather and I visited, I got pregnant and spent the next ten months throwing up as fun, unsponsored posts like this one took a backseat for a while, as pretty much all my energy went towards doing the bare minimum of sponsored posts to get me through. Obviously I have no qualms about doing sponsored content, but home tours like these (and personal ramblings) are still the stories I love to share the most. That said, they’re also the ones I tend to put the most into. Whenever a house like this crosses my path, I feel this funny sense to ‘do it justice’ and to write it as best as I can. And when the owners are my friends, or when I meet them and they turn out to be people I really like (which, if I’m honest, tends to be pretty much all of them) then I feel this even greater need to put together something I hope they’ll be proud of.

I can’t even say this is just a House Nerd thing; I was this obsessive back when I just used to write features for the paper and magazines. I’d spend WAY more time and energy on the stories of the houses I loved (and the home owners I liked) than the ones that I was indifferent to, which I could dash off and shoot through to my editor in half an hour. The downfall of the overcommitted, procrastinating perfectionist, people. Sometimes it feels like a fault; like everything I do must be my full effort or I feel dissatisfied. I don’t even think it’s about trying to do something ‘perfectly’, it is just about effort. I can’t do anything half-arsed. I must put full arse into everything. That sounded wrong and will probably bring me some unsavoury SEO. (2019 New Year’s Resolution – stop being weird. Finish what I have in my folders before enthusiastically committing myself to more and more and more like I’m still a-20-something-uni-student-with-no-kids).

Anyway – back to the story. Tim and Caity met years ago through mutual friends – Caity was best friends with the drummer of Tim’s band (“We had a real love-hate relationship in the beginning,” says Caity, but the thought seems laughable now; they are one of the best-suited couples we know) and were living in a share house in Attadale. They had just returned from four months travelling through Europe when they decided to start looking for a place of their own, feeling like it was time to have their own space. Initially they were looking to rent before realising it would actually be cheaper to buy. “We’d originally been looking at renting,” says Tim. “But it was peak time on the rental market and we were really struggling to find anything that we liked without paying a huge amount every week- so much so that we realised it would just about be cheaper for us to buy our own place and pay a mortgage. We had a broad area we liked but kind of fell in love with Hilton and honed the search in here.” They bought their house in May 2014.

Hilton was designed under the state government’s post World War II ‘garden suburbs’ initiative, with single homes on larger blocks and wide verges, and the suburb has no shortage of timber and timber-framed cottages; one of its attractions for Tim and Caity. “As Tim is a carpenter, we loved the idea of a timber frame house that we could easily work on, along with plenty of trees and room for a dog,” says Caity.

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER.“Our favourite paint colour is Dulux Lexicon,” says Caity of the white they chose for both inside and outside. “We’ve used it on practically everything and love how bright and calming it is. We made a bold choice in choosing gloss black for our architraves but think it really paid off. The architraves and black door handles become such a great focus point now.” Photos by Heather Robbins.

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

AFTER. “The house is really small at just 120sqm but it’s on a 640sqm block so we have a lot of external living space,” says Caity. Photos by Heather Robbins.

The home they ended up buying was a 1950s fibro cottage with jarrah floorboards. A previous owner had clad the fibro exterior in cedar weatherboards, and although the house was looking worn, Tim and Caity knew it could come up a treat. Inside, every room was a different colour. “There was avocado green, lemon yellow, pink, purple and maroon,” Caity remembers. “We never really loved the look of the house but we fell in love with the feeling we got from it. After we moved in we wondered what we had got ourselves into.”

Over the next three years they painstakingly worked on and off on every room, with the older house throwing up some fun curveballs. “From the get go we had to repair things we weren’t expecting,” says Caity. “We had to gut the entire master bedroom, because the false ceiling was falling down, and then found the original ceiling above it was falling down too. We also found quite a few roof leaks in our first winter. We remember coming home one day to practically find a waterfall in our spare bedroom.”

SCYON CLADDING: A previous owner had overclad the original fibro cottage with cedar weatherboards. Tim and Caity restored some of these and painted them white, but at the front of the house they replaced the whole front with Scyon Linea cladding. Photos by Heather Robbins.

The shabby external cedar weatherboards were restored and painted white, and Tim and Caity replaced the whole front of the house with new Scyon Linea boards. The old original veranda had at one stage been turned into additional space and a bedroom, so Tim and Caity extended the front to create a new veranda with timber decking and a paneled ceiling, where Tim added skylights. For the garden they called in the help of friends, Moloney Gardens, who put in lawns and reticulation, while other friends Fozlek Electrical helped out too.

Quaint is a good way to describe this house, where walls are wonky and the old jarrah floor in the front bedroom (originally a veranda, see below) isn’t quite level. “We’re pretty sure there isn’t a single straight wall in the house!” laughs Caity. But somehow things like this just add to the home’s charm.

“Our records are currently stored in a vintage buffet unit that my dad picked up at Vinnies for $5,” says Caity. “He’s since passed away, so even though it’s practically falling apart, we can’t bring ourselves to get rid of it. He also made the shell lamp that is in our lounge room. When he passed, it was the one thing of his that I really, really wanted to have.” Photos by Heather Robbins.

Tim says the part of the renovation they were most happy with would be the kitchen. “It was an IKEA kitchen put in by the previous owners. Cream cupboards and a tiny round sink. We swapped the door fronts to gloss white, made up some matte black panels, a cupboard over the fridge and put on black handles and a bigger black sink. It completely changed the feel of the house in one weekend and at a minimal cost too.” Photos by Heather Robbins.

Being just five minutes from the beach, where they take their kelpies, Mabel and Tiger, each morning, Tim and Caity wanted to give the house a coastal-inspired ambience. “We love the beach, so we wanted that sort of carefree vibe, but still keeping it basic with a monochrome palette,” says Caity. “We used a lot of jarrah and greenery to add colour.” Another thing I love about Tim and Caity’s style is their confident use of black. I am a big believer in the adage that every interior needs a touch of black, and they’ve used it in unexpected ways like with black gloss on the doorframes, making them a feature with new doors in a VJ style.

Both work long hours (they say that recently making the decision to get a cleaner in on Fridays was the best idea they’ve had in a long time!) Caity works for MRL, Tim plays football on top of running TJP Carpentry, and Caity used to own a shop and coffee hub in Fremantle, Calypso Warehouse. So home is about relaxing (or trying to, in between demolition work and renovations). “We are both pretty busy people, so when we come home we want to be able to relax and feel like we’re on holiday,” says Caity. “We find that our house is often influenced by our travels. A trip to New York led us to select more industrial, warehouse kind of furniture while a trip to Bali led us to choose more soft furnishings and tropical plants. We pick up a lot of our little bits and pieces from vintage shops. We don’t specifically seek out these things; we just stumble upon them and feel like they fit.”

AFTER

They share a similar design aesthetic (although one difference is that Tim is tidy, Caity is not!) “Our styles are pretty much the same,” says Tim. “The only real compromise we’ve had to make is that I wanted a custom-built kitchen and Caity was happy to just replace the fronts on the IKEA kitchen that was already there. We compromised by keeping the layout, using IKEA drawer and cupboard fronts and then I built some custom cabinets and put in custom-made side panels.” “It actually worked out really well!” says Caity. “We couldn’t have been happier with the result.”

Tim’s carpentry work is at every corner – he made the plumbing part shelving in the study corner and the drawer unit in the kitchen, one of the first things he built in the house. “He’d already designed the overall look so my contribution was the white leather tab handles,” says Caity. “We then copied that exact style for our floating TV unit which completely opened up the lounge room space. There’s a hall table in the spare bedroom that Tim made as well. We always try to use recycled jarrah and other woods to minimise on costs and waste.”

She and Tim are two of the most social people I know, and entertained here often. “Entertaining is our favourite thing to do,” says Caity. “We’ve had countless parties and even hosted a live music gig. We love being surrounded by our family and friends.”

The gig they mention was the night they hosted under the Parlour Gigs banner, the first time I visited their house – and I remember then thinking their house had such a warm feel to it. They rushed through another stage of renovations for the gig, adding a small deck beneath the oak tree which worked as a stage and also an external powder room (in the space of a week!)

HILTON LOVE: “We love this area – being so close to the beach and the cafes in South Freo,” says Caity. “We spend most of our Sunday nights at the Local Hotel and love café-hopping for breakfasts on a Sunday morning. Hilton is so full of trees so it almost has a bush kind of vibe to it.” Photos by Heather Robbins.

FAVOURITE ROOM: Overlooking the spectacular oak tree, the back deck is their favourite part of the house. “Our oak tree covers almost the whole backyard so it’s really nice and cool in summer and then allows the back deck to be flooded with sun in the winter,” says Caity. “Our lounge room is so beautiful and cosy in winter too.” Photos by Heather Robbins.

And then… right as they finished renovations (and as so often happens) Tim and Caity decided to sell! They were sad at the thought of leaving as they love this house, but had gotten some good advice from a friend on the real estate market and decided to take the plunge and put it on the market. They accepted an offer within just two weeks. Then they went on a big trip to the States and South America and eloped in a hot air balloon in Vegas, as you do.

When they got home they threw a wedding party and promptly jumped into renovating their next buy – this one a quaint 1960s brick cottage. “It was owned by a little Italian nonna and papa I imagine,” says Caity. “The shower curtain rail comes up to my chin!” Suffice to say, it needs a lot of modernising. Their plan is to renovate this cottage and subdivide the big block and build on the back of it. You can follow along their progress at Caity’s Instagram @what.caity.did.next I’m sure I’ll do a shoot of this house in 2020, and probably write about it in 2028. Stay tuned. Maya x

HOME LOWDOWN

THE OWNERS

Tim and Caity Phillips and their two dogs, black and tan kelpie Tiger and red cloud kelpie Mabel

THEIR HOME

A fully renovated 1950s fibro cottage, since clad in weatherboards and Scyon

LOCATION

Hilton, Western Australia

PURCHASED

2014

THE BUILDER AND DESIGNER

Tim and Caity designed the interiors and did all the work themselves. Tim runs his own carpentry business, TJP Carpentry

FEATURES

Main suite with parents retreat, two minor bedrooms, open-plan kitchen, living and dining, study, workshop, bathroom, external powder room

SUPPLIERS AND TRADES

TJP Carpentry (Tim’s business) Scyon Walls Dulux Fozlek Electrical Moloney Gardens for reticulation and lawn

PHOTOGRAPHY

Heather Robbins of Heather Robbins Photography

The post The Hilton Fibro Cottage Renovation appeared first on House Nerd.

from Home Improvement https://house-nerd.com/2019/01/03/hilton-fibro-cottage/

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta the Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted.

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse.

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own.

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. When he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed.

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house.

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home.

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe.

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain.

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier.

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it.

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness.

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together.

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held.

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession.

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta The Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted.

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse.

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own.

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. when he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed.

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house.

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home.

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe.

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain.

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier.

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it.

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness.

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together.

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held.

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession.

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta The Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted.

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse.

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own.

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. when he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed.

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house.

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home.

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe.

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain.

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier.

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it.

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness.

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together.

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held.

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession.

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta The Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted.

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse.

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own.

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. when he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed.

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house.

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home.

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe.

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain.

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier.

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it.

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness.

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together.

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held.

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession.

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta The Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted.

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse.

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own.

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. when he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed.

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house.

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home.

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe.

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain.

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier.

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it.

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness.

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together.

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held.

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession.

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.

[myhauntedsalem]

Letta The Haunted Gypsy Doll

In the early 1970′s, Kerry Walton, a man in his early 20′s, had to return to his home town in Wagga Wagga NSW, in order to attend a funeral. It was at about this time that he recalled a childhood fear he had had growing up about a old abandoned house located down the street which was said to be haunted.

Feeling that now was the perfect time to finally face his childhood terror, Kerry ventured to the house in the middle of the night, in order to explore and settle his nightmares. Finding an opening to the buildings cellar, Kerry lit the gloom with the ull shaft of light emitted from his torch. Thick whirls of powder were present as he kicked up the dust collected after years of disuse.

The building’s supports, brick, stone and timber passed into light and shadow as he made his way through the gloom. Suddenly Kerry was startled to find a set of eyes looking back at him, from what appeared to be a small dead child, sitting on its own.

However, it was not a child at all, but an old and quite grotesque looking marionette. Having been creeped out enough for one night Kerry grabbed the doll and left. when he returned home, he left the doll in the lounge room and went to bed.

Kerry could not stop thinking about the doll and felt a little uncomfortable knowing it was laying not too far away. He got up, placed the doll in a bag and put it under the house.

Soon enough Kerry was offered some money for the doll, and he was more than happy with selling this creepy souvenir from the old abandoned house. He and the doll took a journey to where it was to be sold, but upon arrival Kerry could not bring himself to part with it. He broke the deal and took the doll back home.

With the doll having some sort of hold on him, he wanted to get some information about it. With its old antique look a trip to the museum for some advice on where to get information was decided upon. However the museum was able to give quite a lot of information. The nails used to keep the dolls feet to the legs aged the doll at about 200 years old and the style of it made it almost certain to have come from Eastern Europe.

The dolls hair was also discovered to be real human hair and under the scalp was the likeness of a human brain.

The history of the doll grew when several psychics provided more information about its background. A doll maker had carved this particular doll in the likeness of his young son who had died, drowned at the age of six. Dolls were strongly believed to be able to harbor a human soul after death, providing it with a new worldly home.

The doll, the marionette, still contains this soul. It is not malicious or dark, but rather just that of a child who had drowned over two centuries earlier.

Kerry was also told he will never be able to part with it.

The doll, now named Letta, due to its European Gypsy origins, brought out curious reactions in many that saw it. Dogs would go into hysterics, snapping and barking at the doll, attacking it should they be given the opportunity. People let out a gasp of shock when first laying eyes on it, something about the eyes bringing about strange emotions of fear and sadness.

On more than one occasion women have broken out into weeping, screaming hysterics or just fainting all together.

Letta is also said to be able to move of its own accord, changing positions, or at times pulsing when being held.

The doll still remains in Kerry Walton’s possession.

Although still quite spooky, Kerry has gotten used to Letta and will never let it go for fear of the misfortune that has been predicted by many psychics should he ever do so.