#painted white shaker doors

[realtweet]

Transitional Powder Room - Bathroom A small transitional powder room with a floor made of different colors of ceramic tile, recessed-panel cabinets, light wood cabinets, a two-piece toilet, white walls, an undermount sink, quartzite countertops, and white countertops is shown in the photo.

[howyaben]

Mudroom in Salt Lake City White walls and a white front door are featured in this medium-sized transitional entryway photograph.

[shagtective]

Kitchen Great Room Small cottage with an open concept kitchen recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, marble countertops, gray backsplash, ceramic backsplash, paneled appliances, and an island are some examples of open concept kitchen designs with dark wood floors.

[foodandboozeme]

Enclosed Seattle Enclosed kitchen - traditional galley enclosed kitchen idea with an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, quartz countertops, beige backsplash, subway tile backsplash and stainless steel appliances

[mimi-sophie]

San Francisco Enclosed Inspiration for a sizable country kitchen remodel with a farmhouse sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, white backsplash, subway tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, and quartzite countertops in a medium tone wood floor and brown floor enclosure.

[zoison]

Transitional Laundry Room in San Francisco Mid-sized transitional single-wall utility room design example with beige flooring, recessed-panel cabinets, white cabinets, and gray walls, as well as a side-by-side washer and dryer and quartz countertops.

[tobiaslovesmydauntlesscake]

Vancouver Basement An expansive transitional underground photograph of a carpeted basement with gray walls, a regular fireplace, and a tile fireplace.

[radleyarts]

Kitchen Dining in Burlington A mid-sized craftsman u-shaped light wood floor eat-in kitchen remodel's inspiration features an undermount sink, shaker cabinets, white cabinets, soapstone countertops, a white backsplash, a stone tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, and an island.

[laylaheartphilia]

New York Bathroom Master Bath

[ripriprippers]

Mudroom in Salt Lake City

[michelepoehler]

Nashville Bathroom Kids

[chairytale]

Bathroom Kids in Nashville

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a lovely, mostly original, 1927 Tudor in Eatonton, GA. However the wisdom of painting the bricks a bright yellow must be questioned. 6bds, 5ba, 4,181 sq ft, $440k.

The entrance foyer with the original stucco walls and flooring.

Freshly painted in a neutral creamy white and the floors have been refinished. The original brick fireplace was painted gray. Curved ceilings- very nice. Double doors open to the dining room.

Another nice fireplace with a fancier mantel.

The other side of the living room opens to this small room that has a door to the outside.

Pantry off the kitchen has a little desk built-in.

The small kitchen is cute and redone with white Shaker cabinetry.

Hallway to the bedrooms.

Tudors typically have small bedrooms, but this one has a nice fireplace.

Check out the original bath. Very cool.

This may be the primary bedroom.

It has access to a lovely sunroom.

Plus another bath with cool original tile. But, they did a sloppy hack job of installing new sinks- look at the exposed pipes.

And, for less than $500k, you get a bonus carriage house.

What a deal- a rental or it could also be used for a business.

Nice yard with a pergola.

0.36 acre lot

Main house.

Carriage house.

https://www.zillow.com/homes/204-S-Jefferson-Ave-Eatonton,-GA-31024_rb/128931681_zpid/?

[elliebyrrdwrites]

The Marriage Law Trope part 4

The little guest house is nestled into the far south corner of the property. There’s a pathway that leads from the front gates, winding around the manor, through the gardens, and past the quidditch pitch. It goes along the pond mother had installed before I was born, filling it with koi fish and lining it with cherry blossoms that are charmed with the perfect temperament year round. Every season, the cherry blossoms bloom. Snow and ice cling to the thing branches and the delicate flowers and even I have to appreciate the sheer beauty of it all. Because the pond freezes over and when my mother was younger and I was just a boy, she’d ice skate and pull me around on a sled tied to a string. I don’t remember it, but she swears I loved it.

The path, it snakes its way through the luxurious estate that I was raised on and it leads to a cottage style home that the earth clings to. The moss grows up the side of the white wood slats of planks and the windows are trimmed with aqua green paint and sweet peas that sprout and bloom along the vines that crawl up the sides of the home.

The guest house has three bedrooms. Only the master bedroom has a bed. I can see mother has been inside. Because, while she does her duty as a good little pureblood wife, what she really wants, is the chance of a grandchild. She wants to see me become a father and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why. Because I’m the worst. I was raised by the worst father in history.

But, she has come into this place and gutted the two spare bedrooms. She’s taken away the opportunity for us to both gravitate toward the only room with comfort to sleep in.

You enter the cottage and you find yourself in the middle of a space of clean, white furniture that opens up to a large kitchen with white countertops, white cabinipetry and aqua green accents hidden throughout. Like the thin little lines of x’s that are pressed into the white subway tiles behind the stove. Or the little salt and pepper shakers, or the jar meant to hold flour.

But it’s all white and clean and I look at the inside of this cottage and I want to see splashes of colors that don’t make you feel clean. I see the inside of this house all whit and blank and empty and I have to fight the urge to cut open my hand and smear blood against the walls or the couch.

Down the hall, there’s several doors. First, there’s a bathroom, all white and black tiled with a little picture hanging over the toilet that is an old advertisement for soap in French.

Across from the bathroom, is a guest room that is barren. Just wooden floors that are meant to look old and worn but really, they are brand new. The wood planks continue throughout the entire house and down the hall is a laundry room, beside that is another guest room that is full of boxes.

But at the end of the hallway is the master bedroom. It’s where the large, king sized bed is. The bed sits in the middle of the east well. Night stands on either side. Everything in this room is warm earth tones because on the west wall is a wall made entirely of glass that over looks the woods crowding the edge of the house. There’s a sliding door that opens up to a wooden deck. On the deck, there’s a table and two chairs. There’s a hammock attached to the two moderately young oak trees.

And this is where we will live.

This is where our story will take place.

Because, for now, this is our home.

Granger must hate this. Her entire life has been ripped apart and broken down. It’s been broken down and stuffed into boxes with labels that don’t tell you anything about what she has done or what she had been through.

Her life has been broken down and stuffed into boxes like an after thought.

Books, kitchen. Photos, more books.

There’s boxes of clothes, and boxes of shoes. There’s boxes of Knick knacks and sports equipment. I didn’t even know Granger liked sports.

But her life is here, compartmentalized into boxes and they’re lining the hallway of our new home and it’s fucking frightening. Because it’s me and it’s Granger and she’s my wife and I feel the need to snoop through her boxes because I know nothing about her.

Yes, she’s the Golden Girl.

Yes, she’s a swot.

Yes, she’s bossy and had big hair.

Yes, her tits are superb and her lips could kill me.

But, I know nothing else.

Since we were forced to get engaged, I’ve seen her cry over the idea of marrying me, only to kiss me on our wedding day like it was a long time coming. She kissed me like she’s been doing it for years. I’ve seen her stand up to my father, as if they have some sort of ancient history of rivalry.

And now she’s stomping into the master bedroom where I’ve been checking for traps or bugs meant for spying and she’s pouting like a child.

“What are you doing?”

Currently, I’m checking the floorboards for any trap doors or hiding places. So, I roll onto my back and I blow out a sigh before folding my arms under my head.

She standing over me in her little cut off denims and her big baggy sweater and she’s chewing on her fat little lip and all I can do is recall the way it felt to have it against my mouth.

“What?” I ask and she rolls her eyes and uncrosses her arms. They fall to her side and her eyes roam over me. The way my plain white shirt rides up, revealing the course hairs that lead from my navel, to below the waistband of my pants. They roam over the tattoo that is branded into my arm. They bounce from my eyes to my cheeks. Theirs sallow and sunken. My skin is pale, my eyes are dark and my lips are almost always chapped. I think, once upon a time, I used to be considered attractive, pretty even. But even the most beautiful sculptures made out of the finest stone can wither away if left out in the elements.

But Grangers eyes are hard to read. They’re always bright and sunny, though something tells me they are dulled, worn down from how they used to be. They’re always guarded.

“I can’t transfigure anything into a bed.”

I suck through my front teeth. “McGonagall would be disappointed.”

“I know how to do it, you arse, but nothing will take.”

I sniff and stare up at her. From here, I can almost see up her shorts. There’s enough of a gap between her skin and the denim that there’s an alluring shadowy space that makes me want to reach my hand out and touch her. It’s enough of a gap and enough shadow to let my imagination go wild. I can imagine a freckle on her inner thigh, oddly shaped like a heart.

Fuck.

I’m not supposed to want to fuck my wife. Not when I was going to marry Astoria and definitely not now that I am married to Granger.

But that kiss.

This witch had cursed me and blessed me. Because despite the never ending attack of ants fueled by anxiety, I feel like I’m alive.

Granger is giving me life and purpose and I hate her for it.

I love it.

It feels good, great even.

She’s looking down at me, expectantly. She’s looking at me like I’m supposed to fix this.

“That,” I prop myself up onto my elbows. “Is most likely due to mother’s meddling.”

“What?” She almost laughs at the idea. Because, yes. Narcissa is a dutiful wife and she does her best to back up her husband but, more than anything, she wants a grandchild.

Something tells me that if I were to have a child, it would somehow give her a chance to do things differently.

Like, shower their child with love and protect them from the patriarchal dictator of a father.

“There is only one bed in this house, for a reason, and something tells me that if one of us was to fall asleep on the couch, it would likely kick us off of it.”

Her lips do that thing, again, where it turns into a little rosebud. She’s staring down at me with unreadable emotions flashing quickly, across her face before she sighs and turns to observe the room. she looks at the wall of windows. She looks at the massive bed. The only bed in the entire house.

“I prefer the side closest to the door.”

Grangers head jerks down and her big golden eyes look down at me with that same unreadable expression. That’s when I realize something.

Granger is occluding. And from what I can tell, it’s only something she’s learned how to do recently.

And I know, I know, it’s because she’s married to me.

And that is when I realize that I’ve been letting my walls down and the longer I’m around her, the harder it is to keep them up.

Trust me, I know.

And now I’m living with this witch. It’s like being behind enemy lines, only the war is over and we have been forced together. We’ve been forced into a new kind of war. One that is all our own and we are the only soldiers, the only collateral and I can’t figure out if there’s even a chance of a winner or a loser.

Granger looks at the bed, the only bed, and I see her swallow as she fights to build those walls back up.

I need to stop her. I need to make this a fair fight. If I cannot keep mine up, then neither can she.

I shift onto one elbow and my other hand lifts to her ankle. My hand wraps around it. Her entire ankle fits inside of my hand. It’s a perfect fit.

And she jerks and her eyes return to me. She takes her eyes and she gives them back to me as I tighten my hold on her.

“This is the chain.” I say, glancing back to my hand. “And me,” I look at her and she’s all wide eyed and her lips are parted as she inhales deeply. “I’m the ball.” I slide my hand up, allowing my fingers to open up as it reachers her calf. “You’re stuck with me.”

I tighten my grip on her calf and she jumps out of my grasp. I grin up at her as she takes a step back and glares down at me.

And before she lifts her chin into the air and stomps away, going back to unpacking her life that has been divided and stuffed into boxes, she almost smirks as she says, “This isn’t going to go the way you think it is, Draco.”

Trust me, I know.

Because she slipped again.

To Granger, I am not Malfoy. To Granger, I am not just the boy who teased her in school.

To Granger, I am something else.

[rea-grimm]

Ghost Desmond Miles

You and your friends decided to do a test of courage on Halloween in an old house at the end of town that was supposed to be haunted. Of course, you wait until dark, because what kind of test of courage would that be in the light?

As soon as it got dark, you went inside with your friends. You went in together and planned to split up there. However, this remained only a plan, as others were afraid to go out on their own.

It was a big old house after all, and you've seen enough horror movies to know that splitting up is always a bad idea.

You all turned on your flashlight and started exploring. There was darkness everywhere, lots of dust and cobwebs. The floor beneath you creaks with every step.

You walked down the main hall and headed up the stairs. You planned to take it systematically from top to bottom. Of course, omit the cellar or only the most daring ones.

As you walked up the stairs, you felt the temperature drop around you and steam left your mouth for a moment. You looked at each other to see if it was really a ghost or what. Immediately, however, the temperature returned to normal.

Here and there you heard the screeching of the floor and walls, but nothing else. It wasn't until you passed the next two rooms that the painting on the wall shook before falling to the ground. Your friend screamed so much at that you thought you went deaf.

As you progressed, objects around you began to move and fall more and more often, and it even happened that the candlestick rose and flew directly at your friend, who missed him by only millimetres.

More screeching noises began to echo through the house as if someone was watching you and whispering around. It felt like someone was there with you.

A light came on in the last room upstairs and a white figure appeared in the doorway. However, the light immediately went out and the figure disappeared with it.

The noise, the movement of the thing and the flashing of the light began to increase in intensity and you took the stairs down almost two at a time.

You immediately headed for the exit when a pale figure appeared in front of you and raised a pitch-black hand towards you. You immediately stopped and headed to the opposite side.

Everything around you was shaking and a male voice carried through the house urging you to leave.

You ran across the living room to the kitchen where the back entrance was supposed to be. You ran through the kitchen as a chill shot through you and you tripped over the raised threshold.

You fell to the ground, but no one noticed in the panic. Maybe also because all the windows and doors were slammed shut.

You scrambled to your feet and noticed that your knees and palms were scraped. You sat on the ground and panted. You didn't expect such an escape. You didn't even notice the white figure appearing next to you.

“You're hurt,” he said, leaning down.

“It's nothing, just a few scratches,” you replied looking at the ghost.

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck before helping you to your feet. He blamed himself for your fall.

“You were amazing. I get the impression they were completely terrified. I was just a little clumsy,” you smiled at him. Even if Desmond was a ghost, he probably wouldn't hurt a fly.

Desmond smiled at you before disappearing, reappearing in a moment with disinfectant and band-aids.

You sat down in the kitchen on a chair and let him treat you. Desmond first applied disinfection to your scrapes and then covered them with plasters. His touch was slightly cold, yet gentle.

"I'll make you your favourite drink for that," he said before walking through the wall into the next room where the old bar was. The alcohol in it was still good though, and Desmond looked after it and kept it kind of clean.

You walked behind him and sat down at the bar. Desmond poured the ingredients into a shaker and started mixing, tossing the shaker around, and it was a bit of a performance. He then poured you a drink and sat across from you.

“My great ghostly bartender,” you said, kissing his cheek. You still wondered a little how it was possible to touch him as a ghost, but neither of you had an answer.

"Just a ghost," he replied dejectedly. You knew he would prefer to be alive again and take you out on a date without any problems.

“It's okay,” you said, smiling at him. You were glad to at least be able to see him, talk to him and touch him. Desmond looked into your eyes and took your hand.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked you hesitantly. You nodded your head in agreement and gave his hand a light squeeze.

Desmond caressed your cheek before leaning in and kissing your lips. It was like a snowflake landed on your lips.

Assassin's Creed Masterlist

[pupcroft]

CONVERSE? NAH IM A YEEZY GIRL — FITZ

Small disclaimer: I usually don’t write your “typical” reader but I felt like it cus fuck it I’m a writer and I can do what I want x

˖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˖

⠀𝖲𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌⠀𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗵⠀𝖺⠀𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽⠀𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕⠀𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 ,

⠀⠀🗝⠀𝗈𝗋⠀𝖺𝗍⠀𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁⠀𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁⠀𝗍𝗈⠀𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹⠀𝗍𝗁𝖾⠀𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 !⠀

˖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ݁ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀˖

<3

NO ONES POV !

y/n was visiting mason and his friends for the first time ever and she was nervous,, she didn’t know how they’d be around her at all.

Admittedly she was nervous I mean hell she was a considerably smaller YouTuber meeting YouTubers with ALOT more subscribers than her,, she knew that mason had talked a lot about her and knowing him he probably painted her as a not like other girls girl.

When In reality she wasn’t in the slightest I mean sure she didn’t like the idea of dresses and skirts but that doesn’t mean she didn’t wear them just not often,, she defaulted to jeans and the likes due to being brought up in geelong she was always running about getting stoned w mason and Koby and all that good stuff.

Slipping on her yeezys she stepped outside the winter Australian breeze hitting her like a basketball to the face,, her off white beanie and offensive hoodie provided some warmth though,, which was good.

Shoving the key into the ignition she turned it and set off to the misfits house,, it was only 20 minutes away so she wasn’t that bothered.

time skip what the hell??

Gently sighing as she stepped out the car hauling her shaker along with her she took a sip from it before walking up the pathway and texting mason a simple “I’m here now you bitch” before slipping it into her pocket waiting for mason to answer the door.

And then,, one of all the crackheads her brother mason came to a skidding halt and swung open the door smiling.

“Heyyyaaa mace” she smiled as he stepped to the side letting her in.

“Heyyya ya cunt” he mused grabbing her wrist and pulling her to the lounge upstairs where none other than the rest of the misfits where sitting.

“Masonnn” she whined as he pulled her up the stairs her yeezys hitting against the glass steps as he sighed.

“Ooo~ who’s this maso?” A girl who you presumed to be Tobi chimed as you sat on the couch

“This is my sister y/n” he answered simply flopping down on the end of the couch.

“I like your style!! Good choice” Toby smiled taking a sip from her shaker noticing yours she smiled.

“awh thanks I don’t know what kinda person masons painted me as probably a proper cunt that’s not like other girls but I can assure you I’m not” you sighed shaking you head as mason propped himself up on the couch before a 6’10 giant came running up the stairs

He stopped in his tracks as he saw his merch,, he usually didn’t react like that but seeing someone as hot as you in HIS merch?? He was a blushing mess