#plastic straw rug

[sophialushambience]

Hello there, Rug Lovers! After decorating your outdoor retreat with a stylish plastic straw rug. you may be wondering, "How do I make this beauty last?" We are going to take a simple journey, so don't worry. We're giving you some straight-forward advice in this tutorial to make sure your plastic straw rug looks great for years to come without giving you any difficulties.

[princessleechan]

“Choi Seungcheol must die” Chapter 37 + Written Chapter

Masterlist

����chapter tags: SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, written chapter (3.9K w.c), THE TRUTH FINALLY COMES OUT, some more closure and lots of it, some revenge that doesn’t have to do with seungcheol, tenderness, kissing, and who knows???????

taglist: @silvsie @christinewithluv @stayinhellevator @aiforyuu @2youngsworld @justcruisingalonguntilbamkpop @asyre @simpxxstan @anzellll @hipsdofangirl @plskillme22 @lirtha97 @lixiel0ver @notevenheretbh1 @leah-rose03 @woozarts @expensive-idiot @doveblackboat @the-boy-meets-evil @tamakis-bbyy @freshdetectivenight @mrsdacherry @smilechannie @alltheshineofthestars-blog @ocyeanicc @horanghaezone @wonuqrtz @leewonkyeom @horangboosadan @kkooongie @myghobi @wonunuwoo @wonwootakemyheart @shuasunshine @dinonuguaegi @ckline35 @miriamxsworld @itsokaytobedumb00 @seokgyuu @nishloves @bmkgemz @conwunder @kawaiimusiccollection @humankimbap @ashes23 @writingbarnes @strawberryya

Nestled at a table in the café where you once plied your trade, you relish a refreshing vanilla cold brew,  your contemplative thoughts weaving a delicate tapestry as you anticipate his arrival. Your fingers trace patterns on the table, and a deep exhale signals your nervous anticipation.

The entrance chimes echo through the space as he enters, concealed beneath a dark hoodie. A subtle smile plays on his lips as he allows the door to close behind him. You offer a wave, inviting him to join you.

His steps, obscured beneath the loose ends of his dark hoodie, carried him to the table. "Good to see you didn't back out, Seungcheol," you greet, observing a hint of vulnerability in his lowered gaze.

The hood is removed, revealing his face, complexion tired but still unbearably attractive as always—if not more with the rugged 5 o’clock shadow kicking in. "You want to talk; let's talk," he responds, a mixture of determination and uncertainty in his tone, taking a seat.

You push his pre-ordered drink towards him, the Cherry Chocolate Chip Frappuccino. Tapping against the plastic cap, you remark, "Your usual, right?" He accepts it with shaky hands, the tip of the straw meeting his lips as he consumes the drink. A small sigh escapes him, and you can see relief washing over him, as if the concoction holds the solace he needs for the day.

"Fuck, I haven’t had one of these in a while."

Your fingers tap rhythmically against the worn wooden surface of the table, creating a subtle percussion that echoes your internal restlessness as you look expectantly in his direction. The soft hum of conversations around the café becomes a distant backdrop to the tension building between you.

Seungcheol sighs, a heavy exhalation that seems to carry the weight of unspoken emotions. He sets his drink aside, the condensation forming a small pool beneath it, out of view. His gaze fixates on you, and there's a subtle darkness in his eyes, a shadow that lingers, hinting at a mix of disappointment and distaste that you could only discern through the piercing intensity of his stare. The unspoken words seem to hang in the air, adding an extra layer of complexity to the already charged atmosphere.

"You moved on really quickly," he finally utters, the words landing with a weight that hints at a sea of emotions beneath the surface. The air thickens as the unspoken history between you both comes to the forefront, and the café's ambiance seems to fade, giving space to the brewing confrontation.

Softly scoffing, you take a sip. "As far as you know, I did."

"You made me look like an idiot.”

You nod, a subtle smile on your face and a glint of mischief in your eyes. "That I did."

"Sounds like it was on purpose? Was it?" he questions, leaning in slightly.

"Yes. That’s what I fully intended," you reply with unwavering confidence, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Why? What did I do to you?"

"It didn’t matter what you did to me," you assert, a spark of defiance in your eyes. Leaning forward, you continue, "It’s what you’ve done to probably hundreds of girls on campus and off. You treated them like they were disposable. You made them feel like shit."

As your words spill forth, your fingers assertively drum a rhythmic beat on the table, accentuating the gravity of your confession. The air between you crackles with tension, a deafening silence that reverberates through the intimate space, subtly underscored by the muted notes of the mood music playing in the background. 

He eases into the weight of your words, a subtle surrender reflected in the tightening of his grip. Each word you've uttered sinking into the space between you two and festering in to his flustered heat. Finally, his physical response becomes a silent acknowledgment, expelling a light sigh.

"So I was made to make you feel like shit,” you conclude. “Looks like it worked."

He nods briefly, his demeanor now carrying a hint of despondency. "So. You banded with a bunch of heartbroken girls to humiliate me?"

"No, but I did band up with some of their brothers and friends." You lean in, your expression carrying a mix of resolve and an edge of warning. "You're lucky you ended up this way; they wanted to beat the shit out of you."

"Fair enough…" He leans back, a subtle admission of defeat. "What were you supposed to get out of this?"

"...Not the point. What matters is that you got a taste of your own medicine."

"Okay, let me know this. At any point, did you ever have feelings for me? Even for a second?"

You chuckle, a cynical smile playing on your lips. "Maybe a second...then I came to my senses." The air thickens with the weight of unspoken emotions as you hold his gaze, a silent challenge in your eyes.

The corners of his mouth curl into a smile, carrying a hint of pride. "I knew I still had it in me."

You roll your eyes, a dismissive gesture, as you were crossing your arms. "For the briefest second, until I learned about Haru."

Seungcheol's eyebrows furrow as he leans forward, a quizzical expression on his face. "You knew about Haru?"

"You broke her heart, gave her false hope just to get her in bed again, all while trying to get with me."

"Wait, while pursuing you? My eyes were only on you the entire time we've known each other.”

The look in your eyes shifts, a subtle skepticism emerging, as you tighten your arm cross. "Sure. And I should believe that why?"

He scoffs proudly and retrieves his phone, fingers tapping on the screen to bring up undeniable proof. The dates of his last contact with Haru unfold before you, and a puzzled expression crosses your face realizing the validity of his words. The timeline presented predates the commencement of this scheme, each dating back to a time before you’ve ever came across one another, solidifying his case.

You scoff, leaning back into your chair. "Alright, I'll give you that, but it doesn't erase what you did. Not just to Haru."

"Okay, so I'm a piece of shit that doesn't deserve happiness, is that it?"

A wry smile plays on your lips. "You said it, not me."

He slouches in his seat, tucking his phone back in his pocket, while a weariness settling into his posture. Bringing a hand over his eyes, he shields them from the harsh café lighting. "Okay, I can accept a loss," he concedes, the words laced with a touch of vulnerability. 

He asserts his attention back to you, determination oozing out of his eyes. "It won't change the fact that I developed feelings for you. That I've liked you since the first time I met you," he admits, speaking, with almost with what almost sounds like a lump in his throat, "or the fact that you had this chokehold on me.”

The admission hangs in the air, a raw and unguarded glimpse into his subconscious and pity seeps out of you. It takes you a few moments to realize behind this overly confident man is a person filled with hope, simply blinded with the luxury of option, now taking it upon himself to take upon his own hands—not the offers of the world—to forge his own path, using sheer audacity.

“Oh, Seungcheol…that wasn’t me,” you say blatantly. “That girl didn’t exist. She was a fake with the only purpose to fool you. I wasn't anybody before this. Just any average college student,” you shrug. “Sorry to break it to you but you fell for a facade. It’s time to let that go and get a move on with your life.”

"But she did exist,” he insists, disbelieving your dismissal, “that girl was you. Everything you told me to make me fall for you all came from your mouth, your attitude, your cadence. It was all you. If that wasn't you, it was a version of you.”

“Because I played a part. I was seducing you to hurt you,” you emphasize.

“And it worked! You could get anyone you want if you tried. That's what's similar about us.”

His words take you by surprise, settling in your system like a big pill, hard to swallow.

“But,” he adds noticing your disgusted expression, “I guess instead of being someone like me, use the influence on the person you really want. I may be just some big dumb jock to you, but I can’t deny my feelings no matter how hurt I felt. I was only hurt like that because it came from you, someone I wanted to earn respect from. So, if you can help it, make it possible with whoever it is you have in mind.”

For the first time, a nuanced vulnerability graces his demeanor, and your defenses yield to this subtle unveiling of humanity beneath his big ego. Your gaze, now keenly observant, reflects a tempered curiosity as you pose the question, "Why aren’t you like this with anyone else?”

He smiles warmly, cheesingly tucking his bed hair behind his ears. "Because I haven't felt for anyone else the way I felt for you...or maybe I'm saying all this because that's how badly I want—"

"Shut up." you rudely interrupt with an underlying chuckle. “I already know what you’re about to do. Nice try.”

He lets out a hearty laugh, undeterred. "Fine. At least I got my closure. Just…do what’s right for you, even if it's my brother."

"Your brother?"

"You know. Chan."

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming."

"Chan, you dick!" The words burst out, and you toss your tote bag in his direction. He catches it effortlessly, eyes as big as saucers, startled like a deer in headlights. "Woah, what did I do?"

"Um, I don't know," you say, exaggeratedly shrugging, a touch of sarcasm in your tone, "maybe keep something as big as 'YOU'RE SEUNGCHEOL'S BROTHER' a secret?"

Chan blinks, a flicker of realization crossing his face. "You found out. Well, shit."

"Well, Chan, you owe me an explanation." Crossing your arms, you tap your feet impatiently.

Chan lets the door shut behind him, his approach measured and expression unamused. He prepares himself for the rehearsed spiel, his narrative he's recited too many times to count whenever someone does happen to find out the so-called thing that should be trivial. "We're half-brothers. It all started when his mom married my dad. It was after a messy divorce, but being too young to understand things, Seungcheol followed his mom everywhere, and then I was born—"

"Skip to the present,” you said waving your hands before he could finish his tangent. “Please. How could you not tell me that he was your brother–did they all know? Was I—"

"No. No one knows," Chan's eyes dim as he walks away, claiming a spot on the couch, "except Haru, now you." The revelation hangs in the air, casting a somber tone over the room.

You follow suit, occupying the space beside him. Your eyes lock onto his, a subtle hint of betrayal in your gaze. "But you kept it from everyone. Even me?"

"Especially you." He meets your gaze, responding before glancing away briefly. His fingers fidget with a loose thread on hisshirt, a physical manifestation of the internal turmoil. "It's like throwing fire on fire."

"Fuel to the fire."

"Not the point."

"But so utterly wrong." You inject a hint of wry humor into the words, a subtle acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. The room, previously heavy with tension, lightens momentarily in your comedic timing.

"No one needed to know. I liked it that way. I wouldn’t have to follow under my big brother's shadow all the time—the athlete, the scholarship guy, the golden child. We were already plotting our revenge against him. I wanted to get back at him just as much as you guys. I didn't need you all walking on eggshells around me just because we're related."

You plant a palm against your chest. "I wouldn't have. I would've wanted to understand you. And the girlfriend, that's supposed to be Haru, isn't it?"

He laughs bitterly, wallowing in self pity. "One of the few things many people were wrong about. I get it, though. I pretty much followed her everywhere like a puppy. Easy to misunderstand."

"…And you still like her?"

He grins. "Liked, yeah. It broke my heart when I found out they got together, but she seemed happy. I only ever wanted to make her happy, and if that meant my brother, then okay. At least I'd still get to see her…When she found out about the cheating, she distanced herself, and it was harder to see her.” He speaks solemnly, reliving the memories as if they were yesterday. “Even if we look nothing alike, I'm sure I reminded her of him."

A pause hangs in the air, and you seize the moment to gather your thoughts. "You are so much more than your brother," you assert, your gaze unwavering and resolute.

"I know that now," he says, his fingers intertwining with yours, caressing over your knuckles. The touch is gentle, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort in your presence. "You helped with that. And I couldn't be more grateful."

You laid your other hand over his. "I'm glad you're better. Genuinely."

His eyes trace over your face, gently admiring your features, particularly your sincere smile that never fails to flatter you. A sense of happiness washes over him as he realizes how fortunate he is to have met someone like you. "I know you are.”

Pulling you into a warm embrace—the kind that conveys unspoken sentiments/-your hair nuzzles against his warm cheeks. "Which is why you deserve the best right now. Especially with what you're about to have on your plate."

Your brow furrows, not taking away from your return of the gesture. "What is that supposed to mean?"

“Nothing.” He chuckles, the rich sound resonating against your ear like a subtle melody. He pulls away form the embrace to direct you to the door, but not without your resistance against the tiles. “God, go before I can't take it anymore. Leave before I kiss you, please."

"Haha. Very funny. You haven't kissed me in what–a week? You think you’ll—"

Before you can finish, he interrupts your words with a spoken promise and you succumb, melting on the spot. Moving against you like fresh water down a stream, his hand cradles your cheek, teeth grazing the bottom of your lip. It's a moment reminiscent of everything you've experienced together for the first time yet distinctly different, a silent acknowledgment that this would be the last time he’s be able to kiss you like this. Warmth, care, a profound sense of gratitude—layers upon layers melded into the union of your lips, forming a rich mosaic of emotions that only the two of you could truly comprehend in this singular moment.

Finally, he releases you, gently guiding you towards the exit. Leaning against the door frame, his eyes sweep over you, a sly grin playing on his lips. He teasingly sinks his teeth into the cushion of his kiss-swollen lips. "Yeah, I do. Now go."

Rolling your eyes, the playful banter still dances in the air, leaving you slightly light-headed from the lingering effects of the earlier liplock. "Fine. I'll see you next week."

He nods, finally letting you go.

The door closes with a soft click, its resonance fading into the room, leaving behind an atmosphere charged with a delicate blend of ease and contentment. As it seals shut, Chan discerns your gentle withdrawal, the remnants of the tender moment clinging to him like a poignant tableau preserved within the confines of a closed locket, a crystalline portrayal of shared emotions eternally sealed in the cavities of his memory.

"This is good, Chan," he murmurs to himself in reassurance. The room, now a haven of quiet contemplation, bears the lingerance of your history of your warm–and at times scorching–alliance, each detail etched into the fabric of furniture or plastered against these thin walls. “We did the right thing.”

Chan's declaration gains further clarity as you peruse your unread messages, deciphering the unspoken messages buried between the lines of the texts from the remnants of your former scheming team. Uncertain of how to navigate through their words, you can't help but notice the eerily close timing of their delivery, how impeccable they were.

Despite the initial confusion, you manage to piece it together, promptly responding to each message before making your way home.

As the appointed meeting time looms nearer, you meticulously dress, each step carrying a weighted sense, your nerves palpable in the charged atmosphere. The ticking of the clock becomes an almost rhythmic backdrop, a constant reminder of the impending event. Repeatedly checking the time transforms into a subconscious coping mechanism, each glance at the clock inching you forward in anticipation of the approaching footsteps that will soon reach the door, setting the stage for your path to the designated seat. Each second feels like an eternity, the quiet room amplifying the subtle sounds of your anticipation.

Finally, the door swings open, the subtle creaking sound echoing in the room as it reveals a solitary pair of approaching steps before came another, their distinct resonance filling the space. Seokmin and Mingyu exchange glances filled with a mix of confusion and bewilderment, their expressions mirroring the unspoken curiosity lingering in the air. Their gazes then gravitate toward you, and in that brief moment, the weight of anticipation is clear as crystal. Without hesitation, both Seokmin and Mingyu swiftly traverse the distance to your side, their movements synchronized like a carefully choreographed dance. The atmosphere thickens with the unspoken tension and anticipation, creating a moment suspended in time.

"Y/n?" Seokmin begins, a questioning note in his voice. "What's going on?"

"Yeah. I thought it'd just be the two of us," Mingyu interjects, "Like we planned?"

"Okay," you declare, clapping your hands together. "Clearly, something is going on that both of you are feuding over, and I'm here to settle it in person, right in front of both of you."

Seokmin awkwardly smiles. "Are we that obvious?"

"I'm sure she figured it out when you decided to go P-E-to the-T-T-Y on me."

"Do not use a catchy song to attack me."

"Shush," you interrupt them with a stern gesture, like a kindergarten teacher silencing unruly children. Your gaze pierces through the air, demanding attention. "Okay, fess up. Why are you both attempting to bribe me with these elaborate outings? What do you both want?"

Mingyu blinks. "Uh, Y/n?"

"Mingyu, don't act all confused," you assert, "I will not be caught in the middle again. This time I will mediate. Literally, what's up? What are you guys even trying—"

"Y/n," Seokmin intervenes cautiously, closing the distance between you. "We like you. We both have feelings for you."

"…what?”

They both chuckle, savoring the utter shock on your face. Mingyu nods, a subtle agreement in his eyes. "That's why we both called you out, to talk this out with you to see if you felt the same for either one of us."

"…So, you're telling me you want to send me into cardiac arrest?"

They both are taken aback, displaying grand gestures of defense. "No, no," Seokmin assures, his voice calming. "Take your time; we can wait. I'm sure this is a lot."

"We just thought to lay it out there, thought it was better than keeping it from you."

You suck in your breath. "You guys know this timing is insane, right?"

"We noticed," they answer simultaneously, guilt washing over them.

"But I can just give my answer right? Like right now?"

They're both pleasantly surprised and equally concerned by your response, observing how swiftly you adapt to the dual professions of interest. "I mean if you want—"

"—But there's no pressure."

You rapidly blink, assimilating into the unexpected situation thrust upon you. "Oh, but I do. So, uh. I guess—"

[steviewashere]

3, 7, 14, 20, 29 Numbers for the Drabble! Can I get really angsty here with like Eddie being depressed and almost dying and Steve saving him?!

Okay, I don't know if I went the route you were thinking, but I tried. Also, I definitely think I went a different way with the 'saving' thing, but here we go. This also got way longer than a drabble.

3: "Please, don’t leave.”, 7: "I almost lost you.", 14: "Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.”, 20: "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”, and 29: "I thought you were dead.”

CW: Implied/Referenced Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Eddie's Sacrifice Being Referred to as a Suicide Attempt

Established Steddie, Pre-Season Four Relationship

——— A voice low and raspy floats through his head. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you,” it says. There’s a pressure to Eddie’s hand. The firm squeeze of somebody else. Somebody who doesn’t remind him of his uncle. He can’t pinpoint who it is exactly, but it’s somebody familiar. A person who knows him, most likely. A person who’s willing to talk to him in the in-between of somewhere and nowhere.

Though, it’s not the first time he comes to hear this phrase. Uttered to him day in and day out. A constant reminder that he’s not gone, but he’s not there. Not with this person. This somebody that seems to care about him. And he should know, because their voice is familiar. Strong and urgent and pleading and soft, all at once. It’s the burn of a mid-winter fire in his backyard, tossing butt-ends of cigarettes into its mix, drinking spiked eggnog until he can’t sense the numbness of his cheeks and is lost in the glorious laughter between him and his uncle. It’s the push come to shove.

The shove that he needs to wake up. And wake up he does. Startled and groggy, too. Choking in the back of his throat. Jump the wire with hands out in front of him, clawing at his mouth, at the contraption stuffed down his throat. Then, in a blur of motion and noise and light, it’s gone.

He can breathe. He can blink. He can smack his dry lips and suck down on the plastic straw offered out to him. Offered to him by a shaky hand that doesn’t have the same rugged, aged quality to them that his uncle’s do. He can see, so he looks. Up the person’s arm and to this stranger’s face.

Yet, he’s not a stranger. No, not at all. It’s Steve.

Steve Harrington, the guy he’d been kissing back at his trailer nearly every night before the bullshit came to bulldoze him. The guy he’d held on the couch when he had concussions number one and two. The guy that makes him cry.

The cup and straw is set aside hastily. Outstretched hand to his uninjured cheek. And a thumb, steady and warm wiping at his tears. “I gotcha, baby,” Steve murmurs. Leans tight and close, pressed warm against Eddie’s side. And kisses at his overheating skin, at the tear tracks, and his hiccuping chest. “I gotcha,” he coos again. “I almost lost you, but I have you. I have you.”

Days move like that. Nearly like that. Eddie wakes up sobbing and choking, too warm and agitated. And Steve holds his face, kisses his cheeks, and brushes back his hair.

It works until it doesn’t.

When he’s discharged, he moves into a drab apartment. Too far from his childhood home. Away from a room that was brimming with him and his love for all the people and all the things he’s ever known. He’s lost everything. Lost tattoos, patches of smooth skin, books with margin notes, tapes and records, poster and banners, clothes and old stuffed animals. It’s all gone from him. Anything he’s saved from his and Steve’s time together, that’s all away from him, too.

Even as he unpacks the boxes of things that replace that of which he’s lost, it doesn’t soothe him. Nothing does. He had expected to never see the daylight again. To have left everything behind, with Wayne and Steve and the other people he’s come to know. That he wouldn’t have to see it again, but even if he had to, it would still be there. But nothing is. Then, he doesn’t graduate. Doesn’t even want to try again; just tells everybody, “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll get my GED or something, y’know? Maybe just go to trade school.”

Though, he knows that’s a lie, too.

Because he’s ten times worse off than he was before. Nothing to stick to his name. A distance that stretches between him and everything he’s ever had. It’s noticeable in the way he’s prone to lash out more. Prone to laying in bed, tight under his blanket, not doing anything. How quiet and how unnerving he’s become. Staring off at nothing, caught in flashbacks and blinking lights, holding to himself tightly as if he can will the normal to creep back into his body. He figured if he had died, sure there would be a bad taste to his name, but at least he wouldn��t have to keep making up for things he didn’t do. He wouldn’t have to justify who he is. Or find a way to hide in broad sunlight.

Everything he’s ever known is twisted backwards and shoved up where the sun doesn’t shine. He tries to do the things he loved, but all that it reminds him of is playing a demented concert, creatures come to life, bites and scars and blood and screaming. And death. Sometimes, he wonders why he didn’t just die down there. How he survived.

So, he asks. He asks because it’s his story, too. He deserves to know, right?

It’s during a stay-in date night at his new apartment that he asks. “Hey, Steve?” And part of him grimaces at the last time he used those words, in that exact progression, in the moment that should’ve been his last.

Steve startles on the couch. Untucks himself from under Eddie’s arm. And full body faces him. Wide eyes, tight mouth, and wrinkled brow.

“Nobody’s told me how I…how I managed to survive. Will you tell me?” He asks quietly. Even his voice is as tired as his brain is. He used to be good at masking this. The waves of discontent that flood from his body every once in a while. It was manageable because it was just about his parents, or his living situation, or the bullies at school. But now it’s just him. It’s him as a whole, as a person who shouldn’t have lived. How nobody’s written Zombie Boy on the side of his van, he isn’t sure. He isn’t sure about a damn thing anymore.

But instead of answering, Steve just shakes his head. Tries to tuck back in close.

Eddie won’t have it. He scoots farther away. More distance. Why is there more distance? His emotions are haywire, he knows that. Something sparking red inside his chest, ready to light up in bright shades of orange through his mouth. “Why not?” He questions, though it falls flat and bitter. “Tell me,” he demands. Has practically skipped over the pleading stages, he’s done begging.

“I—“ And something in Steve’s eyes harden. Jaw setting with an unsubtle twitch. “I can’t tell you, Eddie,” he bites.

“You won’t tell me,” he accuses. “Which, I don’t get why you won’t. It’s something I want to know, don’t make me go to Dustin. Or Robin. They’ll fucking tell me.” The words fall from his mouth dark and slow. Dripping from him like the hot churn of tar. And he should regret how sour his tone has already gone, based on the hurt creeping into Steve’s face.

“Eddie,” Steve sighs. “Please don’t make me fight you on this right now. I—I literally can’t bring myself to say it. It’s…I shouldn’t even have to explain this to you, but it was one of the worst moments of my life. Is that not enough of a reason for you?” He could take this all back, really should, but Eddie just shakes his head stubbornly. Furrows his eyebrows and wags his hand as if to gesture for Steve to keep going. Instead, Steve stands from the couch and makes way to the door, hand stretched out for his sneakers. “I’m not fighting with you,” he states calmly. “I know that you’ve been curious or…or that you’ve been trying to come back to yourself or whatever, but it’s not something I’m willing to share. And it’s certainly not something I want to argue with you about.”

“Whatever,” Eddie scoffs. “It’s probably bullshit anyway.” The fight leaves him all at once. As he leans into the couch, head at his lap, picking at his sweatpants. He sniffs, an attempt to rescind the tears that want to fall down his face.

But instead of leaving, Steve stays by the door and sighs. “Why do you want to know so bad?” He asks. Before Eddie can give him the same response, Steve quickly adds, “Don’t tell me that it’s ‘part of your story’ or whatever. I know it is. It’s just…Something’s different about this.”

He used to be unreadable. Unfathomable. Jumping between all kinds of things, unable to pinpoint him in a single way. But he shrugs. Goes quiet again. And mutters, “Just go, Steve. It doesn’t matter.” Even if he wants to say something about how he was supposed to die, or how he should’ve. Even if he wants to show all his cards: I’m lost, I’m different and everybody can tell, I’m falling apart, I’m close to death anyway. 

Steve still doesn’t move.

“Go, Steve. I said that it doesn’t matter,” Eddie snaps. He raises his head. And for some reason, Steve is still there. Concerned and confused and sad all at once. He hates it. “I’m not gonna make you talk about it! Why are you still standing there?! You can go! I’ll find out one of these days, so stop looking at me like that!” He shouts. And he hates that, too. But he lets himself loud and angry, red faced and harsh lines. Because why won’t Steve just—

“You’re being a real dickhead, you know that?” Steve asks rhetorically. “I’m trying to save myself the fucking heartache I went through, and you—What, you think bullying words out of me is going to get you an answer?! I just don’t get why you’re so curious about what I saw! You’ve never pushed before, y’know, back during Starcourt or after Billy or whatever, but now it’s—“

Eddie groans and stands. Interrupting with his own words, “I’m not forcing you anymore, so let’s just drop it!”

“—Why does it matter in the first place?! You know what you did! It’s nothing different from—“

“Nothing different?! God, do you hear yourself?!”

“—Seriously, why does this matter so bad?! I don’t get it—“

“Because…Because I—“

“I thought you were dead!” Steve screams, just as Eddie shouts back:

“I wanted to die down there!”

And then the room fills with suffocating silence. As they stand merely four feet apart from each other. Wide eyed, red in the face, shaking. Immediately, Eddie looks down to the floor as Steve stops closer. Stepping back when he thinks they get too close to touching.

He doesn’t say anything about wanting to die, even now. Doesn’t say how even when Steve is doting on him, massaging his scars with lotion, taking care of him all sweet like—Eddie still wants to crawl outside of his skin and bury himself under the ground. Won’t say something about how he thought about all the ways in which he should’ve died, or could’ve died, or could still die now. Won’t.

Now, he understands why Steve can’t talk. Because he’s realizing he can’t talk either.

Steve’s voice is wet and heartbreaking when he asks, “What? Baby, why would you…”

Eddie just shakes his head. Heaves his own little wet thing. A sigh or a sob, it’s hard to tell. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I’m sorry,” he says first. “Please…Please go, Steve. I think I should lay down.”

“Hey, wait—No, Eds,” Steve calls out, his hand brushing briefly with Eddie’s wrist. But he can’t grasp. Not with how Eddie turns away, down the hallway, and slams his bedroom door behind him.

They don’t see each other for a week after that.

Eddie stays closed up and silent in his bedroom. Under his comforter. Unmoving. Briefly gets up to go to the bathroom. In which he tries to avoid how his uncle stares at him. Doesn’t want to eat, can’t bring himself to eat. Not with the guilt that fills his stomach anyway. Steve shouldn’t have heard that. Shouldn’t know that that part exists inside of Eddie, but it does. And it festers. 

Festers uncaring that Eddie doesn’t want to feel this way. Just lingers heavy on his shoulders, tight in his belly, grumbling in his chest. It, that desire, tingles in his fingertips. As he takes his medications, holding onto the plastic bottles longer than he needs to. When he carries a cigarette between his two fingers, eyeing the embers sparking over his bare skin. It’s in the haunting images in his nightmares, where he lays bloody and exhausted and finally in solitude. But he wakes up sobbing anyway. Grasping to his elbows, rocking back and forth in his bed, biting down on his comforter or his blanket as to not wake up Wayne.

It’s still there when he sees Steve next.

A knock to his bedroom door, hesitant and small. Then, the bustle of movement clambering through. His shadow standing over the end of Eddie’s bed. “Eds?” Steve’s voice is low and cautious, standing on eggshells. “Baby? I—uh—I got a call from Wayne saying you were…That you weren’t feeling good. Just wanted to check on you.” Eddie pulls his head out from under his blanket and just blinks at Steve. He takes that as some sort of cue, though, and comes closer. Hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed. He lays his right hand over Eddie’s forehead and frowns. “You don’t feel warm or anything. How aren’t you feeling good?” He asks. And his face is all too soft. A little smile. The creases at the corners of his eyes. How his body language is still so sweet and caring and…It just doesn’t make sense with how Eddie treated him last.

So, without a response to give, Eddie allows himself to weep. A quiet thing at first, but that bubbles and pops and explodes from out of him in the next moment. Tumbling from him admits blubbering, apologies and terrible explanations and how he didn’t mean to push. Steve startles lightly, pulls his hand away, but doesn’t get very far. Eddie plunges his hand out from under the blanket, grabs to Steve’s retreating hand, and holds on firmly. “Please, don’t go,” he pleads, “Don’t go, Steve. I don’t—I can’t—“

Carefully, Steve burrows himself into Eddie’s blanket. Flush against Eddie’s torso. Arms wrapping around his shaking shoulders. Lips to his forehead, murmuring, “Hey, hey, Eds. You’re okay. I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.” And when Eddie’s crying only gets louder, Steve squeezes impossibly tighter. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always, Eds. I’m right here with you,” he attempts to placate.

When the crying gets hoarse and Steve’s words are just sticky kisses to Eddie’s forehead, does he calm down. Sniffing loud, burrowing in close to Steve’s warmth, scratching his chin with his wild and unwashed hair. “I didn’t mean to say it that way,” he mumbles, “It’s true, but I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

Steve lets out a carefully measured breath. “I just hope that you don’t think like that now,” he murmurs. A tinge of sadness at the edges of his voice.

He swallows past the lump in his throat and the scream in his chest. The quiver in his palms and the thoughts in his head, he tries to steady. Of course this isn’t easy. “I do, sometimes. I don’t like it, though. And I’d never…But I thought my life was over at that point, you have to understand that, Steve,” he begins to explain. “And like—My life now, I may have some things. I may have you still and Uncle Wayne. I have Dustin and Mike and Lucas, our game and whatnot. But I can’t…Things that used to matter to me, they don’t mean anything at all. They just make me think of that place. It’s just…My life feels drastically different now and like there’s nothing to fix it.”

Above him, where Steve’s chin rests on the top of his head, he hears and feels the hum Steve emanates. He swipes one hand down the center of Eddie’s back. The other holding tight to the back of his head. “I think fix is the wrong word. Maybe just…You just need to be guided. But I don’t think I’m the right person to do that.”

“I know,” Eddie mutters. “I’ll have to find something because I��m not putting the people around me through—I’m not going to let you lose me,” he states determinedly. “Just please don’t go. And know that I really am sorry, that I am grateful for what you’ve done for me, but I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“It sucked,” Steve admits. “But I’m right here with you. By your side through the thick of it. And I forgive you, as long as you stick by me.”

All Eddie can do is burrow in closer, nod, and let himself succumb to Steve’s warmth. To be saved from near death is one thing, but to be held away from it is another. And Steve has done that for him. He kisses Steve’s chest, where his heart is, and makes a silent promise that he will find a better tomorrow for himself.

[welcomingdisaster]

??? sentence, yes sunday!!

catching up on my tag games! i was tagged by @searchingforserendipity25 and @thelordofgifs to share something from a wip!

here is me playing around in @polutrope's sandbox. i read their fic, Seen, which is excellent and very funny and deserving of a lot more comments than it has, and got the irresistible urge to play around in that setting (with their permission!). in the fic, maglor has made it to the modern day and is a music school teacher. here is... a whole scene. i have no self control.

It was six-forty-eight and already dark. Outside the wind howled and post-work traffic rumbled as great waves, interrupted occasionally by sudden cacophonies of car horns, dulled by the walls of the little studio into whale-song.  Pinel plucked at her harp, picking away at the last notes of Blue Wizard’s Return. Her eyes were tired and her wrist ached.  “You need to relax your hand,” Mr. Goldsmith said, “close your fingers and thumb into your palm between the notes. It’ll prevent a lot of carpal tunnel down the line.”  He held out his own hand to show her, though she knew. Her eyes caught instead on his fingerless gloves, fine black lace in the shape of pretty flowers and spiky leaves. His long pale fingers were scarred, raised and puckered red along the the fingertips, paper-rough white on the edges of his fingers. That was why he couldn’t play for long, he said.  That and how his hands shook.  “Yeah,” she said, shaking out her hand, “sorry.”  Mr. Goldsmith’s face softened, his faded grey eyes flicking back to her, losing their focus on the craft. He had a funny face, Mr. Goldsmith, all sharp angles, something kinda mean and kinda pretty to him at the same time, though oftentimes it went away when he smiled. Pinel always thought he looked a little bit elfin, though he said he wasn’t. He wouldn’t tell her how old he was, though. When they lived in Minas Tirith her old harp teacher was a college student and she thought he was older than that, though maybe just because didn’t have any zits.  “What are you sorry to me for?” he asked. “They’re your hands.”  She almost said sorry again, but didn’t.  Mr. Goldsmith glanced at his watch and the corner of his mouth twitched downwards, just a little. “Would you like to take it from the top again, kid?”  She didn’t really. “Mom’s gonna be here soon,” she said. Mom was supposed to be here eighteen minutes ago at six-thirty. “And I’m really tired.”  “You can hang out while I clean up, then,” Mr. Goldsmith said, standing, “would you like to sit in my spinny chair?”  She did. She sat in his spinny chair, which also had wheels that slid a little bit too much on the linoleum floors on the studio, and watched as he wiped down the blackboards and took out the trash and vacuumed the front rug. It was six fifty-seven by the time he was done, which meant it only took him nine minutes.  “In three months I’ll be ten and then I can ride the bus on my own,” she said, “to get home.”  Mr. Goldsmith turned on his coffeemaker, which lived on the back counter away from the instruments, and waved her off. “Hot chocolate?”  “Yes please.”  Mr. Goldsmith never turned on the overhead lights of the studio, and now even with the warm yellow lamps it looked dim. She watched him run the hot water through the coffeemaker and mix hot cocoa mix with a plastic straw. Then he popped in a pod of coffee for himself, shifting from foot to foot while it brewed, and dumped another packet of cocoa into that, too.  Then he gave her the cup to hold and sat down on his desk, legs crossed under him. Sheet music fell down on the linoleum floor.  “Mr. Goldsmith?” she asked, “how did you hurt your hands?”   “Oh,” Mr. Goldsmith said, smoothly and easily as though he had expected the question, “fell down in a vat of industrial chemicals. Horrible mess.”  That wasn't true. “Nuh-uh!”  “Uh-huh. They were green and glowed.”  Pinel mulled that over for a bit, trying her drink to see if it was too hot. Okay. “Who pushed you?”  Mr. Goldmith laughed. He had a very musical laugh, like those bells they hung outside of coffee shops for All King’s Day.  “My brother, I suppose,” he said, “if anyone did. He didn’t really mean to.”  For a little bit they sat and drank their drinks and watched the cars outside. Pinel was tired enough she didn’t really want to do anything else, and her cocoa was sweet.  “Were there really chemicals?” she asked.  But the bell on the door rang, and Mom was here. 

gonna tag @polutrope @eilinelsghost @outofangband @starvels @meadowlarkx @jouissants @mirkwood-hr-department @melestasflight & @grey-gazania & anyone else who wants to share something! no pressure either way

[stingslikeabee]

3)  our muses take a shower together to wash blood off each other. // just a getting clean after a killin'.

smut prompts with plot . accepting

It was clear to anyone who visited the countess' estate that Melissa was an art collector; the ample building was tastefully decorated with beautiful tableaus, rare porcelain sets, a number of well-maintained musical instruments and exquisite rugs from abroad. It expanded into her own closet, too - jewelry, shoes, limited edition items released by fashion brands that the woman enjoyed and perfume bottles made up for another sizeable (and very private) collection.

Not all of that had been sourced through legal means, however - Melissa had her own contacts who would come to her first for a chance to peruse and acquire what they had procured, either through certain black market channels or simply by opening up a private viewing before bidding began. Such was the nature of a very profitable partnership with an auction house in Baltimore - the gentleman in charge of running the place had come to the countess very often, knowing she was generous in terms of offerings. Perhaps unfortunately for the general public, many beautiful items never saw the light of day away from the Forteguerri manor.

But the trusted alliance that Melissa had with the prior manager dissolved when he notified the lady of his retirement, moving away with his family to a small farm in Indiana. The replacement was a man named Jeremiah Williams, his junior by a few decades, and someone that the countess immediately disliked.

Jeremiah had the trademark signs of an ambitious young man who thought himself too clever - and it didn't take Melissa long to realize that the deal that existed before (and which had been so mutually beneficial) was now just a façade for a newcomer to use her art knowledge to test the value of his findings. He would visit the brunette, discuss prices and then leave - never to make contact again or to just vaguely mention they had been sold to someone else if there was a follow up call.

That happened a few times, which was enough to frustrate Melissa - but when Jeremiah did it to one of Robert Lecter's paintings (which the woman was now keenly watching for on behalf of Hannibal, of course), that had been the last straw. As someone who had done her fair share of questionable things, the countess could excuse certain things - but not taking her for a fool in addition to blatant rudeness.

It was one of the first times that Melissa selected the victim and planned for mostly of the setting - Hannibal provided input and assistance, of course, but he was happy to let his companion take charge for that occasion. The countess was careful to create a different scenario for a potential 'assessment' - all communication was done through non-official means and burner phones, there was no paper trail associated to the meeting (considering that the painting Jeremiah had this time was stolen property - so no police could be made aware or be involved) and the location was not her home but a more removed storehouse used by the Melissa for shipments from Europe.

Jeremiah suspected nothing up to the point where he was forcefully hit from behind, losing consciousness and then coming around half an hour later while being securely tied to a chair. Melissa was dressed as she normally did underneath the protective suit made of plastic, a creation from the man standing right at her side and equally prepared for the next steps of the countess' plans. It was just the beginning: first, the woman questioned their victim for the name of the person who acquired the Lecter painting, smiling pleasantly when it was yielded among tears and pleas for mercy.

Then, the true lesson of that evening began - and Hannibal carefully tutored his partner to execute her vision perfectly. Melissa had wanted to leave behind a scene that alluded to theft, treason and shifted the blame to the organized crime lords who had been laundering money through Jeremiah's side hustle - so cutting his hands off seemed like a very historical reference to the ancient punishment applied to those who engaged into similar activities.

It was far from a perfect attempt - not being a surgeon herself meant that Melissa's abilities in dismembering someone were somewhat lacking, not to mention more painful for the victim. Hannibal was nonetheless a patient teacher, helping her get the severed limbs as desired and then moving to the next part where they strangled the man to death. It was a joint effort - the countess made a point of being a part to it, looking at the lifeless body later with nothing short of satisfaction.

Now Jeremiah would no longer be rude to either one of them, including Robert Lecter's legacy.

Over the next hours, they dragged the corpse to someplace else entirely and with no connection to the Forteguerri, hanging him from a tree after the deed was done and placing the severed hands around his neck for dramatic purposes. Hannibal had provided valuable assistance in that regard, sewing them to the rope in order to create the visuals of a man who had brought it upon himself and no one else to blame for the tragic fate.

But it was not all - a large chunk of skin was removed from his chest too, opening the way for certain organs to be harvested by Hannibal for later (a shame to let a good heart and liver go to waste, after all). There was a final touch from Melissa, which Hannibal also helped with - making the right incisions needed to leave 30 pieces of silver inside his stomach, adding a touch of religious symbolism.

By the time they had cleaned the scene and returned to Hannibal's home (simply because no servants meant no questions asked), they had managed to properly store the newly acquired meat, plant the false evidence tying the execution to an aggravated mobster who lost money with Jeremiah's dealings and then get to a long, pleasing bath. Melissa poured them some wine and brought it into the bathroom while they made sure to remove all traces of blood from one another, even if the plastic suits had kept most of it off their skin.

Still, the countess was not complaining - she trailed hands over her partner's body slowly and carefully, leaving a soft path of kisses once the flesh was properly cleansed. Between the soft music playing from the bedroom, the candles around the tub and the sips from the lightly chilled bordeaux, it had been a perfect evening out - and it showed in how Melissa sighed contently while leaning against Hannibal's chest, resting inside the tub with him.

After the washing was done, they just sat in the warm water to enjoy each other's company - and among the commentary for the particular performance of the orchestra that was playing or the food that would have paired well with their drink, Hannibal's left hand moved over Melissa's wet skin. At first it seemed to have no purpose - but he slowly worked with her like clay on his lap, obtaining access to the neck for a light scraping done with teeth (which quickly turned into a smile when a moan was offered in reply).

"How do you feel, my dear?"

"Elated," the word came easy enough, carrying a distinct dream-like edge to it; it did not stop Hannibal from humming in acknowledgement, allowing his hand to travel further, finding a breast and idly massaging it while he spoke against Melissa's flesh.

"Anything else?"

"Hungry," the woman added like an afterthought, stirring in his grip and pressing herself back into the taut muscles of Hannibal's chest. Melissa's legs stretched into the open space of the tub before bending knees and bringing them up, over the water - and it allowed the pair to grow more aware of the subtle changes to their own bodies in relation to the teasing touches and topic of conversation.

"And what are you in the mood for?" the doctor queried again, although the answer was painfully obvious. It was true that Melissa genuinely worked up an appetite after their killings (something that had surprised and amused the lady herself); but Hannibal's fingers continued south, sliding further inward over the closest thigh before reaching for the middle of her legs, probing lightly before making a definitive move.

"You, of course," the countess replied with a breathy laugh, head falling backwards to his shoulder and shedding any notion of self-protection. Melissa was a willing offering, taking the first curious digit in with a delighted sigh and enjoying very much the building pressure against her back - the material evidence of their foreplay affecting not just the woman, but Hannibal as well, "Nothing else is as divine as you are, carissimo."

[topoet]

Pink Power

Some pink power for Pride month lol traffic cones straw hat plastic things shag rug pink crown pink hair tennis, anyone Barbie’s airplane Hey! You can give me $$$ to defray cost of blog fees sweet, eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

[waterbottlexsblog]

Staying Hydrated in Style: The Modern Traveler's Essential Companion

In today's fast-paced world, hydration isn't just about drinking water—it's about how you drink it. The modern traveler understands that a great drink container is more than just a vessel; it's a lifestyle statement, a sustainability commitment, and a personal performance enhancer.

The Evolution of Travel Drinkware

Gone are the days when travelers would settle for generic plastic bottles that compromise drink quality and environmental integrity. The contemporary hydration landscape has transformed, driven by innovative design, technological advancements, and a growing consciousness about personal health and ecological responsibility.

Why Your Choice of Drinkware Matters

Think about your daily routine. Whether you're a digital nomad working from different cafes, an outdoor enthusiast exploring mountain trails, or a busy professional navigating urban landscapes, your drink container is your constant companion. It's not just about quenching thirst—it's about maintaining optimal hydration, preserving drink temperature, and reflecting your personal style.

Key Considerations for Modern Travelers

Temperature Preservation The hallmark of a premium drink bottle is its ability to maintain your beverage's temperature. Whether you're craving an ice-cold water during a summer hike or a warm coffee during a chilly morning commute, advanced thermal technology ensures your drink remains at the perfect temperature for hours.

Durability and Lifestyle Compatibility Modern travelers need drinkware that can withstand diverse environments. From rugged outdoor adventures to sleek professional settings, your drink container should be versatile enough to transition seamlessly between different scenarios.

Sustainability Factor Environmental consciousness is no longer a trend—it's a necessity. Choosing a reusable, high-quality drink container significantly reduces single-use plastic waste and demonstrates your commitment to sustainable living.

Understanding Advanced Drinkware Technologies

When exploring hydration accessories, several innovative technologies stand out:

Insulation Techniques Double-wall construction has revolutionized drink preservation. By creating an air vacuum between two walls, these containers minimize heat transfer, keeping cold drinks cold and hot drinks hot for extended periods.

Material Innovations Stainless steel has emerged as the premier material for premium drink bottles. Its non-reactive nature ensures that your beverage's taste remains unaltered, while its robust construction guarantees long-lasting performance.

Design Considerations for the Modern Traveler

A truly exceptional drink container balances functionality with aesthetic appeal. Look for features like:

Ergonomic designs that fit comfortably in your hand

Leak-proof mechanisms

Easy-to-clean surfaces

Compact sizes suitable for various carrying options

The Rise of Multi-Functional Drinkware

Today's best drink bottles aren't single-purpose tools. Many now incorporate additional features like:

Built-in straws

Integrated filtration systems

Measurement markings

Connectivity with mobile apps for hydration tracking

Practical Tips for Choosing Your Perfect Travel Companion

Assess Your Lifestyle Consider your typical daily activities and choose a drink container that complements them.

Prioritize Quality Over Price Investing in a high-quality drink bottle pays dividends in durability, performance, and long-term cost-effectiveness.

Consider Maintenance Choose containers with smooth interiors and minimal complex parts for easier cleaning and maintenance.

Environmental and Personal Health Benefits

By selecting a premium travel water bottle, you're not just making a personal choice—you're participating in a global movement towards sustainable consumption. Each refill represents a small victory against single-use plastic waste.

Maintenance and Care

To maximize your drink container's lifespan:

Clean thoroughly after each use

Avoid using harsh chemicals

Store in a cool, dry place

Inspect seals and mechanisms periodically

Emerging Trends in Hydration Accessories

The future of travel drinkware looks exciting, with trends pointing towards:

Smart technology integration

Enhanced thermal capabilities

More sustainable manufacturing processes

Personalization options

Conclusion: Your Hydration, Your Statement

Choosing the right travel water bottle is more than a purchase—it's a statement about who you are. It reflects your commitment to personal health, environmental sustainability, and modern lifestyle standards.

Whether you're drawn to a sleek double wall tumbler or an advanced insulated stainless steel water bottle, remember that your choice goes beyond mere hydration. It's about embracing a lifestyle that values quality, performance, and conscious living.

[cruesuffix]

Yes a lot the residents sued that company including vince however a couple of years he filed the lawsuit his case got dropped because his lawyer botched the case by not bringing the correct documents or something

And yes these plant and companies are still dumping toxic waste in the environment today as well as poisoning our food making us sick

I’m glad more people are waking up to this because none of this should be swept under the rug anymore

i knew i was right about the residents suing them! too bad vinces lawyer was so incompetent or else he would have won that suit big time.

also it’s so many companies polluting the earth and getting away with it, but we have to deal with no plastic straws…make it make sense. they’re always telling regular citizens to make a difference but the only way in doing any significant change is to get rid of the factories and companies completely destroying the earth right in front of us and getting away with it. maybe we should all just sue these companies into oblivion…or we can just deal with the paper straws and inevitable demise of our planet.

(im just saying, why should we suffer the consequences of capitalism when these big corporations have the power to heal the world and simply won’t do so? so many people in that residence had to get sick/die just for something to be done about that company…only for other companies around the country to continue to do the same thing and make other people suffer as well. it’s truly a never ending cycle.)

[hatabhomedecor]

"How I Turned My Small Balcony into a Cozy Outdoor Retreat"

10 Creative Ideas for Small Balcony Design

Friday , July,05/ 2024

Your balcony, no matter how small, is a precious outdoor oasis that holds the potential to become your personal retreat.With a little creativity and smart design, you can transform your compact balcony into a stylish and inviting space where you can relax, entertain, and connect with nature.

In this blog post, we'll explore 10 creative ideas for small balcony design that will help you maximize space and create a beautiful outdoor sanctuary.

Vertical Gardens

~Vertical gardens~ are a great way to add lush greenery to your small balcony without taking up valuable floor space. Install vertical planters or hanging baskets to create a living wall of plants.

You can grow herbs, flowers, or even small vegetables vertically, adding beauty and freshness to your outdoor space.

2. Cozy Seating Arrangements

Invest in comfortable seating options that are scaled to fit your small balcony.

Choose ~compact chairs~ or a ~loveseat~ that can provide cozy seating without overwhelming the space.

Add ~soft cushions~ and ~throw pillows~ for extra comfort, creating a relaxing retreat where you can unwind after a long day.

3. Outdoor Rug

~Outdoor Rug~ Waterproof for Patio ,Foldable Reversible Plastic Straw Area Rugs Mat with String Light, Led Carpet for Camper, picnic beach

4. Compact Furniture Solutions

Opt for multi-functional furniture pieces that are designed specifically for small spaces. Look for folding ~Outdoor Patio Furniture Set with Fire Pit Table, & Coffee Table~, or Vine Lights for Fence Wall stackable stools ~stackable stools~ creating various aesthetic atmospheres. For a dynamic effect, we recommend watching the accompanying video of the solar light with foliage

Choose pieces made from lightweight materials like rattan or aluminum to keep your balcony feeling open and airy.

5. Lighting Magic

Set the mood on your balcony with creative lighting solutions. Hang ~string lights~ or ~fairy lights~ to add a soft, ambient glow to your outdoor space.

Consider installing ~solar-powered lanterns~ or ~LED Solar Decks~ for a cozy and eco-friendly lighting option.

Lighting can transform your balcony into a magical retreat, perfect for evening relaxation or intimate gatherings.

6. DIY Pallet Projects

Get creative with DIY pallet projects to add a unique touch to your balcony design.

Use pallets to create vertical planters, outdoor seating, or even a mini bar.

Upcycling pallets not only adds character to your balcony but also helps reduce waste and environmental impact.

7. Privacy Screens

Create a sense of privacy and seclusion on your balcony with stylish privacy screens.

Choose screens made from ~bamboo~, ~wood~, or ~fabric~ that can be easily installed and removed as needed.

Privacy screens not only provide a sense of enclosure but also help block out unwanted views and distractions.

8. Mini Herb Garden

Grow your own herbs on your balcony for fresh flavors at your fingertips. Create a mini herb garden using ~hanging planters~, ~window boxes~, or ~LED Battery Operated~.

Choose herbs like basil, mint, and rosemary that thrive in containers and can be easily incorporated into your cooking.

9. Stylish Rug Accents

Define your outdoor space and add warmth with stylish rug accents.

Choose outdoor rugs made from durable materials like ~Woven Area Rug, Natural, Solid Farmhouse~ or ~sisal~  that can withstand the elements.

Opt for bold patterns or bright colors to add personality and style to your balcony design.

10. Bistro Dining Set

Transform your balcony into a charming outdoor dining area with a ~bistro dining set~.

Choose a compact table and chairs set that fits comfortably on your balcony, allowing you to enjoy al fresco meals with family and friends.

Add a ~colorful umbrella~ for shade and style, creating a cozy and inviting outdoor dining experience.

With these 10 creative ideas for small balcony design, you can transform your outdoor space into a stylish and inviting retreat that you'll love spending time in.

Whether you're maximizing greenery with vertical gardens, creating a cozy seating area with hanging plants, or adding ambiance with creative lighting, there are endless possibilities for making the most of your small balcony.

So go ahead, get inspired, and start designing your dream outdoor oasis today!Home Decor

Hatab Home Decor Small Balcony Design, Home Improvement, DIY Projects, Outdoor Decor, Balcony Ideas, Vertical Gardens, Compact Furniture, Cozy Seating, Outdoor Lighting, Privacy Screens, Herb Garden, Outdoor Rugs, Bistro Dining Set

This post may contain affiliate links, which means we may receive a commission for purchases made through the links, at no extra cost to you. For more information, please read our 

[sophialushambience]

Suitable to use indoors and outdoors, this tropical outdoor rug is produce to meet the demand for a multi-purpose, easy-care, stain-resistant and reversible rug. It is soft underfoot, mold, and mildew resistant which means it will stay fresher for a more extended period of time.

This beautiful rug is produce in the state-of-the-art manufacturing unit. The edges of the rugs are hand finished. Our rugs are the gold standard for style and functionality.

[bestshopuniverse]

IRON °FLASK Nomad Tumbler - 2 Lids (Straw/Flip), Vacuum Insulated Stainl...

Hey Reddit hydration enthusiasts! Are you tired of disposable bottles that leave your drinks lukewarm or sweating with condensation? It's time to upgrade your hydration game with the IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler—a sleek, durable, and eco-friendly solution designed to keep your beverages at the perfect temperature, wherever your adventures take you!

Why Choose the IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler

Advanced Insulation: Say goodbye to tepid drinks and hello to refreshment that lasts! The IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler is equipped with double-wall vacuum insulation that keeps your cold beverages chilled for up to 24 hours and your hot drinks piping hot for up to 12 hours. Whether you're hitting the trails, sweating it out at the gym, or powering through a busy workday, your drink will stay at the perfect temperature from start to finish.

Durable Design: Built to withstand the rigors of everyday life, the IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler is crafted from premium-grade stainless steel that's both rugged and lightweight. Its sweat-proof exterior prevents condensation, ensuring that your hands stay dry and comfortable no matter how hot or cold your drink gets.

Leak-Proof Lid: Tired of spills and leaks ruining your day? The IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler features a BPA-free, leak-proof lid with a secure locking mechanism that prevents accidental spills and ensures peace of mind on the go. Whether you're tossing it in your bag or throwing it in your car cupholder, you can trust that your drink will stay put until you're ready to enjoy it.

Easy to Clean: Cleaning your water bottle shouldn't be a hassle! The IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler is designed with convenience in mind, featuring a wide mouth opening that allows for easy filling, pouring, and cleaning. Simply pop it in the dishwasher or hand wash with soap and water for quick and effortless maintenance.

Eco-Friendly: By investing in a reusable water bottle like the IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler, you're not only reducing single-use plastic waste but also saving money in the long run. Plus, with its stylish and durable design, it's a sustainable choice that's built to last for years to come.

Ready to upgrade your hydration game and join the IRON FLASK revolution? Don't miss out on the Nomad Tumbler—the ultimate stainless steel bottle for all your hydration needs!

Stay Hydrated with IRON FLASK Nomad Tumbler!

#IRONFLASK #NomadTumbler #HydrationSolution #EcoFriendlyLiving

[top-looks]

Stanley Quencher H2.0

👉click now see your product

About this item

YOUR DREAM TUMBLER: Whichever way your day flows, the H2.0 FlowState tumbler keeps you refreshed with fewer refills. Double wall vacuum insulation means drinks stay cold, iced or hot for hours. Choose between our 14oz, 20oz, 30oz,40oz and 64oz options depending on your hydration needs. The narrow base on all sizes (except 64oz) fits just about any car cup holder, keeping it right by your side.

ADVANCED LID CONSTRUCTION: Whether you prefer small sips or maximum thirst quenching, Stanley has developed an advanced FlowState lid, featuring a rotating cover with three positions: a straw opening designed to resist splashes with a seal that holds the reusable straw in place, a drink opening, and a full-cover top for added leak resistance. We’ve also included an ergonomic, comfort-grip handle, so you can easily carry your ice-cold water to work, meetings, the gym or trips out of town.

EARTH-FRIENDLY DURABILITY: Constructed of 90% recycled BPA free stainless steel for sustainable sipping, the Stanley Quencher H2.0 has the durability to stand up to a lifetime of use. Eliminate the use of single-use plastic bottles and straws with a travel tumbler built with sustainability in mind.

DISHWASHER SAFE: Spend less time hunched over the sink and more time doing the things you love. Cleaning your tumbler and lid couldn't be easier, just pop them into the dishwasher. Unlike plastic bottles that retain stains & smells, this metallic beauty comes out pristine

LIFETIME WARRANTY: Since 1913 we’ve promised to provide rugged, capable gear for food and drink - accessories built to last a lifetime. It’s a promise we still keep. Stanley products purchased from Stanley Resellers come with a lifetime warranty. Rest easy knowing we’ve got your back through it all.

[handbagfashionexpert]

How To Choose Perfect Beach Bag For Every Type of Traveler?

When it comes to a day at the beach, having the right bag can make all the difference in ensuring a smooth and enjoyable experience. Whether you're a minimalist traveler or someone who likes to be prepared for every situation, there's a perfect beach bag out there for you. Here's how to choose the ideal beach bag for every type of traveler.

The Minimalist Traveler: For those who prefer to travel light, a minimalist beach bag is the way to go. Look for a compact tote or backpack made from lightweight and durable materials like canvas or nylon. Opt for a simple design with just enough space to hold your essentials, such as sunscreen, water bottle, towel, and sunglasses. Choose a bag with adjustable straps for easy carrying and minimal fuss.

The Fashionista: If style is your top priority, opt for a beach bag that not only serves a practical purpose but also makes a fashion statement. Look for trendy options like straw totes, woven baskets, or colorful patterned bags that reflect your style. Consider features like embellishments, tassels, or fringe for added flair. Don't forget to choose a bag that's spacious enough to hold all your beach essentials while still looking chic.

The Family Traveler: Traveling to the beach with kids in tow requires a beach bag that's both practical and functional. Look for a large tote or backpack with multiple compartments to keep everyone's belongings organized. Choose a bag with durable, water-resistant materials that can withstand the rigors of family beach outings. Consider features like insulated pockets for snacks, built-in sand-proof compartments, and even a detachable mesh bag for wet swimsuits and towels.

The Adventure Seeker: For the adventurous traveler who likes to explore off-the-beaten-path beaches, a rugged and versatile beach bag is essential. Look for a backpack-style bag made from durable and water-resistant materials like nylon or polyester. Opt for features like reinforced seams, padded straps, and multiple pockets for storing essentials like sunscreen, water, snacks, and even a small first aid kit. Choose a bag that's lightweight and compact enough to carry comfortably on long hikes to secluded beaches.

The Tech-Savvy Traveler: If you can't bear to be without your electronic devices, choose a beach bag with built-in tech features to keep your gadgets safe and secure. Look for bags with padded compartments or sleeves specifically designed to protect laptops, tablets, and smartphones from sand, water, and sun damage. Consider options with built-in power banks or solar chargers to keep your devices powered up while you soak up the sun.

The Eco-Conscious Traveler: For travelers who prioritize sustainability, choose an eco-friendly beach bag made from natural or recycled materials. Look for options like organic cotton, hemp, or recycled plastic bottles. Avoid bags made from PVC or other harmful plastics that can leach toxins into the environment. Opt for bags with eco-friendly features like biodegradable or compostable materials, non-toxic dyes, and minimal packaging.

No matter what type of traveler you are, there's a perfect travel beach bag out there to suit your needs and preferences. Whether you're a minimalist, a fashionista, a family traveler, an adventure seeker, a tech-savvy traveler, or an eco-conscious traveler, choose a bag that reflects your unique style and makes your beach experience enjoyable and hassle-free.

[bonzatrading]

Upgrade your sports and travel experience with our cutting-edge 24oz Insulated Stainless Steel Water Bottle, featuring a convenient straw for hassle-free sipping on the go.

✅ Stay Refreshed Anywhere:Whether you're hitting the gym, trekking the trails, or jet-setting across the globe, Iced Breeze keeps your favorite beverages icy cold, ensuring you stay refreshed in style.

✨ Sleek Design, Superior Performance: Crafted with precision, our BPA-free water bottle combines elegance with functionality. The sleek design not only turns heads but also keeps your drinks at the perfect temperature, giving you the ultimate hydration experience.

🚫 No More Plastic Waste: Make an eco-friendly choice with Iced Breeze. Ditch single-use plastics and embrace the reusable revolution. This stainless steel bottle is not only durable but also contributes to reducing environmental impact.

🔒 Leak-Proof & Durable: Tired of spills in your bag? Iced Breeze has you covered with its leak-proof design. Plus, its rugged stainless steel construction ensures durability, making it your trusty companion for all your adventures.

🌈 Variety of Colors:Express your style with our range of vibrant colors. From classic silver to bold hues, Iced Breeze lets you make a statement while staying hydrated.

No matter where you are, Iced Breeze is ready to reach you. We offer fast and reliable worldwide shipping to ensure you get your hands on this game-changing water bottle.

Don't miss out on the revolution in hydration – Order your Iced Breeze Stainless Steel Water Bottle today and make every sip a refreshing experience! 💦

Learn more

https://amzn.to/47zf6Cq

[sspacegodd]

SATANIC RUGS

I once shared some photos of what Amazon was advertising as "glass straws." They were actually meth pipes.

No moral lecture, just something I found amusing.

Here's another item I stumbled over while browsing Amazon:

In case you're wondering about the aesthetics: it's decorative enough.

And it's got a plastic backing. So spill what you wilt, under love.

[driptrip0]

Choosing the Perfect Gym Water Bottle: Hydration Made Easy

Introduction

When it comes to your workout routine, staying hydrated is essential. A gym water bottle is a vital accessory for fitness enthusiasts, ensuring you have easy access to the hydration you need during your training sessions. But with so many options available on the market, how do you choose the perfect gym water bottle for your needs? In this article, we'll guide you through the essential factors to consider when selecting the ideal gym water bottle.

Material Matters

One of the first things to consider when choosing a gym water bottle is the material. The most common options are plastic, stainless steel, and glass. Each has its advantages and disadvantages:

Plastic Bottles: These are lightweight and affordable, making them a popular choice. However, they may not be as durable as other options, and some people are concerned about potential chemicals leaching from the plastic.

Stainless Steel Bottles: Stainless steel bottles are known for their durability, resistance to odors and stains, and heat/cold retention capabilities. They are often a bit heavier but can keep your water at the desired temperature for longer.

Glass Bottles: Glass bottles are a great choice for those who want a clean, non-plastic option. They won't retain odors or flavors, and they're easy to clean. However, they are more fragile and heavier than plastic or stainless steel.

Size and Capacity

Consider how much water you'll need during your workouts. Smaller bottles, around 16-24 ounces (473-710 ml), are great for short sessions, while larger ones, 32 ounces (946 ml) or more, are ideal for longer workouts. Think about how often you'll have access to refilling your bottle too, as this can influence your choice.

Lid Style

The lid style of your gym water bottle can greatly affect your convenience. Here are some common options:

Screw-On Lid: This type provides a secure seal but may take longer to open and close.

Flip-Top Lid: These are easy to operate with one hand, making them convenient during workouts.

Straw Lid: Straw lids allow for quick sips without needing to tip the bottle, perfect for avoiding interruptions during your workout.

Hydration Pack: If you're an avid runner or cyclist, consider a bottle with a hydration pack, which allows for hands-free sipping.

Insulation

If you prefer your beverages at a specific temperature, look for an insulated gym water bottle. Insulated bottles can keep your drinks cold or hot for several hours, which is particularly useful during long workouts or in extreme weather conditions.

BPA-Free

It's crucial to ensure that your chosen water bottle is BPA-free. BPA (Bisphenol A) is a potentially harmful chemical found in some plastics. BPA-free bottles are safer for your health and the environment.

Easy to Clean

A gym water bottle that's easy to clean is essential. Look for bottles with a wide mouth or a design that allows for thorough cleaning. Some bottles are even dishwasher-safe for added convenience.

Durability

Consider the overall durability of the bottle. You don't want to be constantly replacing it. Stainless steel and high-quality plastic bottles tend to be more rugged and resistant to dents and dings.

Conclusion

Your gym water bottle is an essential companion for your fitness journey, ensuring you stay properly hydrated during your workouts. Choosing the right one depends on your personal preferences and needs, considering factors like material, size, lid style, insulation, BPA-free materials, ease of cleaning, and durability. Take your time to select the perfect gym water bottle that matches your lifestyle, and you'll have a reliable hydration partner for many workouts to come. Stay fit and stay hydrated!