#polished concrete exterior

[makeupasmydrug]

An illustration of a sizable, gray, one-story, shed-roofed home from the 1960s Example of a large 1960s gray one-story stucco exterior home design with a shed roof

[blogport]

EPOXYSHİNE - DRAGON+ (4)

When it comes to innovative interior design, the choice of flooring plays a pivotal role in defining the overall aesthetic and functionality of a space. Among the various options available, metallic floors have emerged as a striking trend, blending style with durability. Their unique finish not only adds a contemporary edge but also reflects light, creating a sense of openness in any room. Meanwhile, alternatives like quartz flooring offer an equally compelling mix of elegance and resilience, perfect for those seeking a natural yet refined look. 

Metallic Floor

Metallic floor have become an exciting trend in modern interior and exterior design, offering a sleek and futuristic aesthetic. This type of flooring is typically made using materials like epoxy, polished concrete, or terrazzo, which can be infused with metallic pigments that reflect light. The unique appearance of a metallic floor allows for a striking look, making a bold statement in any space.

One of the significant advantages of metallic floor finishes is their durability and resistance to wear and tear. Unlike traditional flooring options, metallic surfaces are often resistant to stains, scratches, and impact damage, making them ideal for high-traffic areas such as commercial spaces or homes with pets and children. Additionally, they can be easily cleaned and maintained, preserving their luster and shine over time.

In terms of design versatility, metallic floors can be customized to fit various interior themes, from industrial chic to modern minimalism. Available in a range of colors and finishes, they can seamlessly blend into the environment or stand out as a focal point. Furthermore, incorporating metallic flooring can enhance the overall ambiance of a space, reflecting light and creating an illusion of depth, thus making a room feel larger and more open.

Quartz Flooring

When it comes to choosing a flooring option that combines beauty and durability, Quartz flooring stands out as a premier choice. This type of flooring is composed primarily of natural quartz crystals, which are not only aesthetically pleasing but also incredibly tough. As a result, Quartz flooring is resistant to scratches, stains, and other wear and tear that can occur over time.

Another significant advantage of Quartz flooring is its versatility. It is available in a vast array of colors and patterns, making it a suitable option for any home or office decor. Whether you're looking for a sleek modern look or a more traditional style, Quartz flooring can provide the perfect finish to your space.

Furthermore, Quartz flooring is known for its low maintenance requirements. Unlike other flooring types that may need frequent refinishing or special cleaning products, Quartz flooring can be easily cleaned with mild soap and water. This not only saves time but also makes it an economical choice in the long run.

Concrete Floor

When it comes to flooring options, concrete floor have risen in popularity due to their durability and aesthetic appeal. Unlike traditional flooring materials, concrete can be customized in various finishes and colors, allowing homeowners and businesses to create a unique look that complements their design vision.

In addition to their visual versatility, concrete floors are incredibly strong and resistant to wear and tear. This makes them an ideal choice for high-traffic areas, where traditional flooring may suffer from scratches, dents, and fading over time. Concrete not only stands up to heavy use but is also easy to maintain, requiring only simple cleaning and occasional sealing.

Sustainability is another key advantage of concrete flooring. As a naturally abundant material, concrete has a lower environmental impact compared to other flooring options.

[popamolly]

‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL!’ ALASTOR

summary. You meet an unexpected guest who gives advice that leaves her feeling uneasy and doubtful. After an intimate night with Alastor, you wake up alone in your room with memories of the night lingering. The following morning, your mother brings up the events of the previous night, potentially addressing the aftermath of your choices and feelings.

PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

warnings. human!alastor x fem!reader, dark romance, murder, mention of blood/gore, agegap (you're in your 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s), alastor preys on your innocence, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), not a happy ending, 18+

The tension of the interrogation still hung in the air like a heavy fog, refusing to dissipate even as Alastor made his offer to fetch you a drink. You watched him move through the room, his confident stride belying the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.

As some guests timidly spoke to one another in hushed voices, others—emboldened by a few drinks—had taken to the dance floor, their laughter and the rhythmic music creating a stark contrast to the atmosphere you found herself in. Alone for a few moments, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander, each one like a thread leading back to your suspicions of Alastor.

Your mind drifted to Mr. Ray. He had always been more than just a chauffeur; he was a confidant, a protector, and someone who genuinely had your best interests at heart. His words about the rumors swirling around Alastor echoed in your mind, each syllable weighted with a sense of foreboding.

The timing of the conversation and Mr.Ray's disappearance, sent a shiver down your spine. Was it all just simply a coincidence? Irony? It was as if Mr. Ray's warnings had been a premonition, a stark reminder of how quickly things could unravel.

You recalled his earnest expression, the concern etched in every line of his face as he cautioned you about chasing after someone like Alastor. "He's not what he seems," Mr. Ray had said, his voice a mixture of worry.

Despite your determination to uncover the truth, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that Mr. Ray's words had stirred within you. Was Alastor truly the enigmatic figure he presented himself to be, or was there a darker truth hidden beneath his prince-like facade?

You had no concrete evidence to support your doubts, only a nagging feeling that something was amiss. Alastor had always been charming, his words smooth as silk and his demeanor unflappable. But beneath that polished exterior, you couldn't shake the feeling that there were secrets lurking, waiting to be uncovered.

As you sipped on your drink that Alastor had brought over for you seconds before, your eyes followed Alastor as he engaged in polite conversation with another guest, his smile never falling. It was moments like these that made you question yourself, wondering if you were simply being paranoid.

You love him, and you were sure he returned your feelings so you knew his heart, but his mind? His mind was something else entirely. You rarely noticed before but you realized that ever since the first time you met on that fateful night that his mind was heavily guarded, shrouded in mystery, that made him all the more alluring to you. He was hard to read and for awhile you dismissed it as a simple man protecting himself, but from who? From what? The man you loved was unpredictable and you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Strange, isn't it?" A woman's voice nearly startles you, "How our men can suddenly walk into a sea of sharks without a care in the world."

The woman's sudden appearance caught you off guard but you managed to face her with a polite smile. "Indeed, it is quite strange," you replied, your voice carrying a hint of curiosity. The woman's tall, slender figure and perfect demeanor made her stand out in the crowd.

"It's as if they're oblivious to the dangers lurking beneath the surface," the woman continued, her eyes scanning the room with a knowing look before following your gaze toward Alastor and another man that seemed to be at his side. "But then again, perhaps they enjoy the thrill of suspense, an excitement for navigating treacherous waters."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship with the woman's words, as if you both shared a common understanding of the complexities of human nature, especially when it came to the allure of danger. "Some men do seem drawn to challenges," you admitted, your gaze flickering briefly to your champagne glass, "I take it your husband has met my...companion?"

"It seems," The woman's warm smile remained unchanged, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Enlighten me, would you? Tell me, how do you navigate these treacherous waters, my dear?" She asked, her tone playful yet discerning.

With a thoughtful expression, you replied, "Carefully, I suppose."

The woman nodded. "A wise approach indeed. In a world filled with predators, it's important to know when to tread lightly and when to assert yourself."

"I'm sorry I didn't ask for your name," You tilt your head expectantly, realizing that you haven't seen her at any previous parties before.

"Rosemary," The woman grins from ear to ear, her slender fingers almost cradling the wine glass in her hand, "Though I prefer Rosie."

"(Y/N) Duvalier, though I suppose you already knew that," you said, nodding your head to her in acknowledgment. "A pleasure to meet you, Rosie."

Rosie's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Likewise," she replied, her voice carrying a melodious tone. "I must compliment you, you seem to navigate these waters with grace and poise."

A faint blush touched your cheeks at the compliment. "Thank you. I've had my fair share of practice."

"Ah, experience is a valuable teacher," Rosie remarked, her gaze drifting momentarily toward the dance floor where couples twirled to the music. "It teaches us who to trust and who to watch out for."

The weight of Rosie's words resonated with you, reminding you once again of the cautionary advice Mr. Ray had imparted. "Indeed," you agreed, your thoughts briefly returning to the enigmatic Alastor and the mysteries that surrounded him.

As if sensing the shift in your mood, Rosie offered a reassuring smile. "Well, my dear, I won't keep you any longer," she said, gesturing toward the bustling party around them. "But do be cautious, sometimes the most dangerous sharks wear the most charming smiles."

With a nod of understanding, you replied, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Rosie."

They exchanged a final smile before parting ways, leaving you with a newfound sense of vigilance mingled with curiosity about the woman named Rosie and the wisdom she seemed to possess. As she left to mingle with the guests, your thoughts lingered on their conversation, each word a reminder of the delicate balance between trust and suspicion in a world where appearances could be deceiving.

"Darling?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, and you met his gaze, physically startled by his sudden appearance, a reaction he noticed. "Did I scare you? You seem rather jumpy, my dear."

"No, no," you replied quickly, masking your discomfort with a smile as you took another sip of champagne, hoping it would calm your nerves. "I'm just a bit tense from the police questioning me earlier."

"Understandable," Alastor acknowledged, though he could sense your lie. "It's unsettling to think the Bayou Killer could be near, possibly someone you're close to."

You couldn't pinpoint why you felt uneasy around Alastor now, considering he had seen you at your best and worst, most vulnerable moments. Your heart urged you to trust him with your life and future, yet your head was clouded with doubt and suspicion, fueled by a gut feeling— or intuition.

"You think the killer could be someone I know?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a plausible scenario, isn't it? Reminds me of an enticing thriller novel!" Alastor remarked with a grin.

"It's not a joking matter," you replied, your grip tightening around the glass slightly. "That doesn't ease my mind, Alastor."

"Then perhaps I can ease your mind in other ways, mon chère," Alastor's voice was close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine at the suggestive tone. All worries faded momentarily as his gaze and voice drew you in, like putty in his hands.

"I couldn't possibly…" You averted your gaze, visibly flustered as if it were your first time experiencing such a situation with him, "My mother—"

He had a knack for manipulating you effortlessly, leading you to succumb to your deepest forbidden desires. Doubts that once troubled you seemed to vanish without a trace.

"Is distracted by the delightful guests; we could slip away for an hour… or perhaps two," Alastor's hand lingered just below your waist, aware of his influence over you, knowing that he could entice your mind with intense pleasure, even though he didn't particularly care for sex. If he could divert your attention, perhaps you would forget your concerns altogether. There was a part of him that held genuine interest in you, prompting him to keep you on the edge, "Indulge me, won't you?"

Your body responded instinctively, surrendering to Alastor's advances as soon as you both slipped away from the bustling party to the seclusion of your room. He was right; with your mother preoccupied and the lively band drowning out any potential eavesdroppers, it was an ideal opportunity to indulge in your desires. It was quite embarrassing how you gave into the temptation so easily but at the sensation of Alastor's warm tongue tracing along the sensitive curves of your neck erased any lingering hesitations.

You gasp the moment your back hits the door, fingers tangling themselves in his Alastor's brown hair to tug at the strands as he makes his way lower, and lower until he is on his knees in front of you, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he orders you to, "lift your dress."

Being obedient, you do as your told, not sparing a second before bunching the soft fabric in your hands to pull your dress up, exposing yourself to him completely. Alastor raises an eyebrow at the sight of your bare womanhood, glancing up at you for an explanantion. "No underwear? Did you, perhaps anticipate this?" He teasingly runs his hand up your inner thigh, allowing his fingers to tease at your already wet folds that seemed to drip with arousal, "how naughty of you, my dear."

"You said you were coming to the party.." You flushed under his intense gaze, "I just..." Your words fell flat, embarrassment coursing through you that was clearly washed away with pleasure once you felt Alastor drag the flat of his tongue against your clit. A shiver goes down your spine and Alastor puts one of your legs over his shoulder so you wouldn’t fall.

Your lips were parted as Alastor sucks and teases your clit, alternating between lapping at your folds and giving your clit the much needed attention it deserved.

"Alastor—! Mm!" Your moans were loud and unashamed, bouncing off the walls of the room as you moved your hips in a desperate need to chase your release. Alastor groaned against your cunt, looking up at you to watch your face contort in pleasure as he lets you take control. Not a moment later your hips were stuttering as you came onto his tongue, your upper body slumping forward, “Ah!"

Alastor let you use his tongue to ride out your high before pulling away, a string of his saliva and your arousal still connecting him to your dripping pussy.

In one swift movement he was on you again, this time tossing you onto your bed and forcing you onto you knees in front of him. There was something animalistic in his gaze that you couldn't tear away from as you gripped his thighs, your fingertips fiddling with the hem of his pants, "Can I?"

Alsstor chuckles as he stands before you, his hand slowly unfastening his belt until he was free of it. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his pants and boxers down ever so slightly to free his hard cock from its fabric cage. It sprung out dangerously close to your mouth and you couldn't help but nearly drool at the sight. Never once have you pleasured Alastor in the way he pleasured you and today, tonight, you felt confident in returning the favor to spice things up a bit. Whether it was the drinks you had in your system or a new found confidence, you just wanted nothing more than to make him feel good.

"How good you look on your knees," Alastor comments, twirling a strand of your hair around his index finger with a smile, "you're going to use that pretty mouth of yours on me?"

"Yes," You were breathless, "Please, Alastor, can I?"

"Hmm," He playfully hums the thought as he takes hold of his cock to drag it across your lips, using the wetness to lubricate himself, "Can you?"

You nod.

"Then open your mouth."

You hesitantly opened your mouth, slowly taking his swollen tip into your mouth. Your soft tongue swirling around his slit gingerly before you closed your mouth around it, hallowing your cheeks as you began to suck. Alastor let out a blissful sigh, looking down at you with a smirk that made you unsure if you were doing a good job or not.

"Deeper." Alastor had his hand on the back of your neck to push your head further down his length. His thick cock throbbed inside your mouth as you worked your head up and down, your tongue gliding along the underside of his cock in a way that had Alastor groaning in pleasure, "Good girl."

Alastor locked his fingers in your hair, thrusting forward suddenly to push his cock deeper down your throat. You let out a choking sound, saliva dripping down your chin and onto the mounds of your breast as he continued to fuck your face. The mascara you had on ran down your cheeks, further painting you as the sinful masterpiece you were.

You didn't know how long Alastor was using your mouth as his personal fuck toy but it was truly a sight for sore eyes. The man above you was crumbling, slowly succumbing to the pleasures of your mouth as a string of curses passed his lips. It was so beautiful in a sense— seeing his defenses down ever so slightly to the point where you could finally seem to see through him. You had to rub your thighs together to get some sort of friction happening because you were wet at just the sight of him.

Without warning Alastor's cum filled your mouth and you struggled to swallow his huge load due to your aching jaw. Your lungs were on fire but you braved through it, the semen you didn't swallow ultimately going down your chin and mixing with your own saliva, dripping onto the wooden floor.

"I love you," you gasp, the words tumbling out as you try to catch your breath.

"In heaven and in hell, my dear," Alastor whispers, his hand gently caressing your cheek. "You're mine forever."

The air around you seems to shimmer with the intensity of his words, his love wrapping around you like a warm embrace. In his eyes, you see a depth of devotion that transcends time and space, a promise of eternal connection and unwavering loyalty.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your sleep, reaching out instinctively for Alastor's comforting presence beside you. However, your hand met nothing but cool sheets, sending a jolt of realization through your sleepy haze.

Your eyes fluttered open, searching the room for any sign of him. The bed, once filled with your shared warmth, now felt cold and empty. You remembered the events of the previous night—Alastor's whispered words of love, the tenderness in his touch, and then, his sudden departure in the dead of night.

Heart pounding, you sat up, wrapping the sheets around yourself as you scanned the room, hoping to find him there. But the room was silent, save for the soft rustle of curtains in the morning breeze. Begrudgingly, you swung your legs over the bed to get your day started, rummaging through your closets for something to wear.

A soft knock interrupted your dressing routine, prompting you to don just a simple gown and drape yourself in a feathered robe before answering. "Breakfast is ready, ma'am," a maid's voice called out, followed by the faint sound of her retreating footsteps down the hallway. You let out a sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the inevitable tense morning ahead with your Mother.

Descending the stairs, you entered the small breakfast room where your mother sat. Her gaze remained fixed on the morning newspaper, not bothering to acknowledge your presence as you took a seat and thanked the maid who poured you a cup of hot coffee.

The oppressive silence hung heavy as you ate, the tension palpable. It was evident that your mother was displeased, resorting to the cold shoulder treatment. You felt like you were tiptoeing on thin ice, afraid of triggering her anger with even the slightest misstep. As you nibbled on your toast, her words finally pierced the quiet air.

"’The Duvalier family questioned in the recent disappearance case, are they suspects now’?" she read aloud from the newspaper, her tone chilly as she took a sip of her own coffee.

"They don't waste any time," you quipped lightly, but your attempt at humor fell flat in the icy atmosphere.

"Is this amusing to you?" Her reprimand cut through the tension, devoid of any hint of amusement, "Funny?"

"Not at all," you replied calmly, though the practiced tone belied the turmoil within. "I realize how this affects our reputation, but we need to be looking at the bigger picture. Mr. Ray's disappearance is concerning. I figured you’d be quick in wanting to find an answer, considering Mr.Ray’s years of loyal service to this house."

"And yet suspicion falls on you," your mother retorted sharply, tossing the newspaper onto the table as her gaze met yours with equal intensity. "My own daughter, questioned under my own roof, in front of esteemed guests. How will we recover from this?"

"Is that all you're worried about?" you countered.

"What were you doing with Mr. Ray that night?" Your mother brushed aside your question, her tone demanding.

You let out a bitter laugh. "Do you truly believe I'm capable of something sinister?"

"I believe you're capable of naivety," she replied bluntly. "Now, tell me."

After a moment's hesitation, you relented. There was no use in concealing the truth when there were no secrets left to keep.

"I asked him to accompany me," you murmured, "To find Alastor."

"To find Alastor," your mother echoed with a touch of scorn, the sight of the hickies on your neck making her eye twitch with distaste. "Ever since he entered your life, you seem to attract nothing but trouble."

Your mother's words stung, the weight of her disappointment pressing down on you. "It's not like that," you insisted, the words sounding feeble even to your own ears. "Alastor is… different."

"Different, yes," your mother says, her expression hard. "He's a danger you don't seem to comprehend."

"I know what I'm doing," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"Do you?" Her gaze bore into yours, searching for any sign of wavering resolve.

"Yes," you replied firmly, though uncertainty gnawed at you from within. You loved Alastor, yes, but even still he seems to be so out of reach from you. Out of reach from reality at times.

As your mother received an envelope from a maid on a silver platter, you picked at your food, your thoughts swirling with the weight of the morning's conversation. She opened the white envelope with a butter knife, her expression turning thoughtful as she read the contents of the letter. "It seems we've been invited to witness the final alligator hunt of the season," she remarked, her tone still tinged with the earlier tension. "Your uncle requests our presence in the early afternoon."

"Are you seriously considering going? That doesn't sound very proper," you teased lightly, hoping to ease the lingering strain between you and your mother. Her light laughter was a welcome sound, a fleeting moment of relief amidst the turmoil that had defined your interactions lately. You cherished the rare moments of levity between you two, reminders of the bond you desperately wanted to mend.

"No, it's not particularly ladylike," she admitted with a smile, the remnants of her earlier anger dissipating. "But maybe we all need to shoot something."

You watched as she left the room, her smile fading into a neutral expression. "Dress your best," she called back to you, her words a reminder of the importance of appearances in their social circle. "We must show that we are unaffected by these recent events."

Alone at the table, you released a deep sigh, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily on your shoulders. Between navigating your mother's expectations and the complexities of your relationship with Alastor, you felt like you were standing on shaky ground, unsure if you could find your balance again. Yet, amid the challenges, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could improve, if only you could tread carefully enough.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

── ꒰ ‧˚ author’s note ｡˚ ꒱ don't yell at me ya'll! i know i took a much needed break due to personal matters but i am back on track so i will try my best to update this story every weekend moving forward, if not then know that I will try my best to push out an ACCEPTABLE chapter as soon as i can. i rather take my time with this story instead of rushing to publish a chapter, i hope you all understand. in other words, thank you for the constant love and support, i read ALL your comments and appreciate them!

should i make a separate master list for this story? i feel like the chapters will be easier to find and more organized if I did that, what do you all think?

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[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 14

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2214

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, Crowley being Crowley.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 14

When the SUVs pulled up to what looked like a heavily guarded wrought iron gate, attached to a thick brick or concrete wall, your heart almost felt like it would beat out of your chest. Dean at least still had his arm over your shoulders, holding you close, but your eyes were focused on the things outside. Outside the gates, all you could make out were the tall hedges and trees that had grown past the top of the wall, which you assumed encompassed the property. There were a few different types of vines, but they looked as though they’d been repeatedly cut back.

You wanted to ask where they’d taken you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak at the moment, even after what the judge had said. As the gates began to open, you felt like you were almost holding your breath. The driveway was neatly kept, winding its way through a pedicured landscape of trees, hedges, and flower beds. The mansion of a house where the SUVs stopped took your breath away. It was the most elegant and extravagant home you’d ever seen in person. The agent next to Benny opened the door, stepped out, and then held the door for the three of you. You swore your jaw had hit the pavement as you stepped out, staring up at the mansion before you when that Scottish accent pulled your gaze to the man coming down the steps.

“Oh good, you made it without incident,” Crowley stated, seeming quite pleased.

“What’s going on?” you asked, relieved it was Crowley and not someone from the Vaught family.

“I’ve made arrangements for you to stay here during the course of your case,” he explained. “One of my men will be back with your belongings, and theirs as well. Now, shall we get some brunch?”

You were still fairly confused, but you followed Crowley into his mansion, Dean by your side and Benny bringing up the rear. The interior of Crowley’s mansion was even more impressive than the exterior. As you stepped inside, your eyes were immediately drawn to the high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling and elegant wallpaper, giving the space a sophisticated yet intimidating ambiance.

You walked through a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that curved up to the second floor. The marble floors gleamed underfoot, and you could see various pieces of antique furniture and art tastefully arranged throughout the space. It was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of the courtroom.

Crowley led the way down a long hallway, the rich scent of polished wood and old books filling the air. You passed several rooms, each one more opulent than the last, until you reached a set of double doors. Crowley pushed them open to reveal a lavish dining room.

The dining room was dominated by a long, mahogany table that could easily seat twenty people. The table was already set for a smaller group, with fine china, crystal glasses, and silver cutlery laid out meticulously. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and several large windows allowed natural light to pour in, illuminating the room in a warm glow.

A chef and a few servants were bustling around, preparing the final touches for the meal. The aroma of bacon, cooking meat, and something that was perhaps a fine fish dish wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

“Please, have a seat,” Crowley gestured to the chairs, taking his place at the head of the table. Dean guided you to a seat beside him, and Benny sat across from you, giving you a reassuring nod.

As you settled into the plush chair, Crowley smiled and spoke to the servants, “Begin serving, please.”

The servants moved with practiced efficiency, bringing out a covered plate for each of you, while others had platters with delectable deserts displayed on them. The aromas only made your mouth water further. Another servant set a chilled, open beer on a coaster near your, Dean’s, and even Benny’s plate while another poured Crowley a glass of what looked like fine wine.

Crowley dismissed the servant as he looked at you, his expression more serious now. “You must have many questions,” he said, taking a sip. “Feel free to ask anything you need to understand.”

You wanted to answer him, but the servants set a dish down in front of the three of you, revealing what had smelled so good. Yours and Dean’s contained the most delicious-looking burger you’d ever seen, while Benny got something that was clearly something he hadn’t had in a long time. You were just too focused on your burger at the moment to even ask what it was.

“Figured you lot would prefer something simple,” Crowley told you, seeing you focused on the meal and not his prior statement.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, looking over at him as Dean squeezed your knee in a reassuring way. “Why are you doing this for us?” you asked finally.

Crowley’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something softer behind his usual confident exterior. “Let’s just say, I have a vested interest in seeing justice served. The Vaughts have been playing games for too long, and it’s about time someone put a stop to it.” Dean leaned in slightly, his voice low. “We appreciate your help, Crowley. But what’s the catch?”

Crowley chuckled, setting his glass down. “No catch, Dean. Just a mutual benefit. You get the support you need for this case, and I get the satisfaction of seeing the Vaughts lose for once.” Benny spoke up, his tone serious. “We’ll do whatever it takes to win this. They’ve messed with the wrong people.” Crowley nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Benny. Now, let’s eat. You’re going to need your strength for what lies ahead.” As the meal progressed, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the initial shock of Crowley’s opulent home giving way to a sense of determination. You had allies in the fight, and together, you were going to bring the Vaughts to justice.

Halfway through the meal, the double doors opened, instantly pulling your attention to what looked like a butler. “They’re here, Sir,” he told Crowley.

“Ah, wonderful,” Crowley replied, delighted as a smile played at his lips. “Show them in.”

The butler nodded, and a few moments later, Sam, Ellen, Jodi, Bobby, Mary, and John came into the dining hall. You instantly stood as Ellen made her way to you, tears in both your eyes as you embraced her in a tight hug.

“Oh, honey,” she told you softly, and you heard the sadness and relief in her tone.

“I’m okay, Auntie,” you replied quietly.

Ellen held you at arm’s length, her eyes scanning your face as if reassuring herself that you were truly alright. “We’ve been worried sick about you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean, Sam, and even Benny embraced in hugs before Dean hugged John and Mary. Even Jodi and Bobby hugged the boys, then came over to you, giving you a soft, but relieved smile, embracing you in a hug. 

“We’re here for ya, kid,” John told you with the softest expression you’d ever seen on the man.

Crowley, ever the consummate host, gestured to the empty seats. “Please, join us. There’s plenty of food, and we’ve much to discuss.” As everyone settled around the table, the atmosphere shifted slightly. There was a sense of camaraderie, of a team coming together to face a common enemy. You wished that Jo could be there, as she was more like a sister to you than a cousin. And, oddly enough, even Cas and Garth. Just as you were finally feeling like you were relaxing, your mark began burning, horribly, a pained hiss leaving your lips just as Dean was getting out of his seat.

Crowley snapped his fingers a couple of times while you put your hand over your mark, missing whatever was being said. Moments later, though, Dean was putting cream on your mark. “It’s okay, I’m right here,” he attempted to soothe you as the entire room had gone silent.

“Well, now, this changes things,” Crowley mused from where he sat, leaning back in his chair. “Why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“About what?” you asked, only wincing slightly as you looked at him.

“With that,” he began, gesturing to your mark, “we’ve got a little more leverage.”

You tried to look down at your mark, but with where it was, you couldn’t see it. Frustrated, you looked back at him, “What are you talking about?”

He practically laughed, “Dean, you haven’t told her?” 

All Dean did was glare at him and the others stayed silent, which only annoyed you further. “Tell me what?” you snapped, clenching your hands in your lap.

“I was waiting,” Dean managed through a clenched jaw, clearly annoyed.

“Will someone tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I’m tired of this, of all of you keeping secrets from me,” you snapped at them, looking around the table as your anger finally boiled over. When no one spoke up, you just got up and walked off, practically slamming the dining hall doors. 

Crowley sighed and nodded to one of his servants, who promptly followed you. The servant was a young woman with kind eyes, and she caught up with you just as you were starting to feel lost in the labyrinthine halls of the mansion.

“Miss, please allow me to show you to a room where you can rest. Your bags have already been brought up,” she said softly.

Too tired to argue, you nodded and followed her. She led you up a grand staircase and down a long corridor to a beautifully furnished room. “If you need anything, just ring this bell,” she instructed, indicating a small ornate bell on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” you murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed as she left the room.

Meanwhile, back in the dining hall…

Dean, still fuming, stood up, “We agreed to tell her when her mark came in more.”

Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, although he wasn’t pleased about his secrecy, “It slipped my mind. Besides, she has a right to know.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t helping. How did she not notice one of the letters came in all the way?”

Dean sighed and sat back down, “She never looked in the mirror at it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her to.”

“Son, she’s gonna be more hurt if you wait much longer,” John told him sincerely.

“Does she have at least an idea of how you’re connected to all this?” Crowley asked, although clearly frustrated, but needing further information.

“Not completely,” Dean reluctantly answered.

“Benny, did she even pay attention when Dean testified?” Sam asked, fairly puzzled how you wouldn’t have found out.

Benny sighed, “No. I was talkin’ to her. Tryin’ to help er’ relax a little.”

Crowley was usually a calm, collected man, but this frustrated him: "What does she know?”

Dean grabbed his beer, taking a sip before he answered, staring at the label, “I told her I know she’s my soul mate, part of the thing with Lisa, and that she’s an empath.”

“That’s it?” Bobby exclaimed in annoyance and frustration.

“That explains why she knows we’re hiding something,” Mary sighed, looking back at the closed dining hall doors.

“I didn’t want to make it harder on her,” Dean mumbled quietly.

“Dean, she has to be told, before her birthday, or it’s gonna hurt her more, and not just emotionally,” Sam told him, his tone soft but firm. “I know what I told you before, but she’s quickly running out of time.”

Dean’s attention went to the doors, his mind on only you and what you were feeling. He’d hated not telling, not letting himself get closer to you than you’d let him. He’d felt everything from the moment he’d seen you that first day at the bar, and it was tearing him up inside that you still doubted him. Sam had warned him of the risks of waiting too long, but he just hadn’t been able to find the right time and he didn’t want to do it once you two had gotten stuck in that bunker. “Dean, are you even listened?” Crowley asked him, frustrated and now leaning forward in his seat, pulling Dean from his thoughts.

“Yeah, I mean, no. I wasn’t listening,” he grumbled.

An annoyed sound left Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Her birthday is in two days. Either you tell her tomorrow, or I’ll have to make sure the doctor is here.” His tone was of concern for you more than for Dean.

Dean looked down at his beer, “She’s gonna hate me, but… I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Son, she’s gonna be mad at all of us, but she’s not going to hate us, especially not you,” John tried to reassure him, feeling bad for what not only his son had to go through, but also what you have had to endure.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

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[honorarysimp]

Chapter 2: None the Wiser

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You navigate your motorcycle down a quiet suburban street, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon.

The houses lining the street all have a sense of tranquility about them, each one seemingly occupied by a picture-perfect family.

Eventually, you come to the correct address, the number nailed to the mailbox in front of the home. You kill the engine of your motorcycle, the silence that envelopes you as it dies almost soothing.

A frown tugs at your lips as you remove your helmet, your fingers running idly through your hair.

The sight of the house Lorraine calls home surprises you, the image of the "American Dream" lifestyle seeming at odds with the person you knew her to be. The white picket fence, meticulously kept lawn, and cozy abode all seem too perfect, too generic.

But then again, five years can change a lot.

You kick down the kickstand, the sound of the metal connecting with the concrete almost too loud in the still air. You swing your leg over and slip off the bike, the metal still warm from the overbearing sun of the afternoon.

With your helmet still in your hand, you nervously fidget with it, the metal of the strap cool against your fingers.

Taking a deep breath, then hooking your helmet on your handlebar, you approach the fence surrounding the home with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.

You reach the gate, its white paint unblemished and gleaming beneath the fading sunlight. Hesitantly, you grip the latch and pushes open the gate, the hinges creaking slightly. You carefully step through just as a shrill caw cuts through the air, boots thumping against the manicured lawn.

The house stands in front of you, its pristine exterior almost unnaturally perfect. The windows sparkle, the white paint of the siding gleams, and there's a manicured rosebush that borders the front walkway that has been neatly trimmed into a small ball. A stone walkway leads to the front door, its brass knocker polished and gleaming.

You raise your fist, ready to knock, when a sense of wrongness suddenly washes over you. Something about this house doesn’t sit right with you, though you can’t quite place your finger on what it is.

Just as you’re about to shake off the feeling and knock, the door suddenly swings open.

Your brain processes the sight in front of you in an instant. The perfectly styled blonde hair, the picture-perfect smile, the air of false politeness.

Oh, no now this makes more sense.

You feel none the wiser with exactly who would greet you at the door, and you should’ve known better than to think this was Lorraine’s residency.

Bobby-Lynn, prior captain of the cheer squad back when you were all in high school, stands before you. Her blue eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

You barely manage to mutter a disbelieving "you've gotta be fucking kidding me" before she envelopes you in a fierce hug.

The scent of her perfume fills your nostrils, the sickly-sweet scent almost suffocating. You stand there awkwardly, your arms remaining stiff at your sides as she grips you tightly.

“Oh my gosh! Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Lorraine said you were comin’ but to be honest, I didn’t believe her-“

Lorraine? Oh. Oh, that little shit. She’s got some explaining to do.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally releases you, her perfectly manicured hands remaining on your arms as she steps back, her smile still plastered on her face. "I haven't seen you in years!" she exclaims, her voice dripping with false enthusiasm.

You forcing a smile, the gesture feeling more like a grimace than anything else. You take a step back, putting distance between yourself and her sticky sweetness. With a bluntness that masks your discomfort, you reply, "that was sorta the point”.

Her smile falters for a brief moment, not expecting your blunt response. Her gaze flickers for a moment, her eyes studying you closely, before that false smile returns, wider than before. "You never change, do you?" she quips, her voice dripping with artificial affection.

You ignore her question, the memories of high school and her presence causing your stomach to twist with unease. You glance over her shoulder, scanning the interior of the tidy living room for any sign of Lorraine. "Is Lorraine here or not?" you ask, your tone bordering on curt.

Bobby-Lynn’s false smile dips once more, but she quickly recovers, maintaining her sweet demeanor. "She’s in the kitchen, helping cook dinner as usual," she replies, her voice annoyingly cheerful.

You can’t help but make a face, your thoughts racing as you prepare to ask about Lorraine. You're about to speak, but before you can even ask, she links her arm through yours, the action nearly making you stumble.

“A lot has changed since high school, Rooks. Wipe that look off your face,” she says with a faux-chiding tone, her voice grating on your nerves.

You find yourself being pulled into the house, the door shutting behind you with an ominous finality. You cast a glance over your shoulder at the closed door, a frown tugging at your lips.

But before you can dwell on it, Bobby-Lynn guides you into the living room, her arm still linked through yours. As you look around, the space feels more like a lion's den than a comfortable living area. Every inch is meticulously arranged, the decor designed for maximum aesthetic appeal, yet everything feels cold and sterile.

Before you can even process your surroundings, the sight of Jackson — the once-star quarterback and now serving your country last you’d heard — standing to greet you catches you off guard.

His broad frame stands tall, his face a bit more weathered than when you last saw him in high school. But his greeting is what's most surprising, his face lit with an enthusiasm you've never witnessed him direct at you before.

“Rooks! You came!”

Jackson steps forward, his arms outstretched, and pulls you into a firm hug. You can smell a hint of his aftershave as he clasps you tightly, his broad chest pressing against yours. He pulls back slightly just as you register what’s going on, his hands remaining on your shoulders, and offers his condolences for your Pop.

"I'm real sorry for your loss," he says, his voice sincere as he gives your back a firm pat, your frame going rigid under his touch “best goddamn Mayor this town ever had”.

You remain still, your body taut as a bowstring, the forced embrace and pat on the back causing your skin to prickle with discomfort. You offer a nod of acknowledgment, but your expression remains stoic beneath his gaze.

Just as Jackson releases you fully, another voice intercedes, a familiar tone that causes your stomach to sink further. "Is that Rooks? Well, I'll be goddamn," the voice echoes, their tone filled with a mixture of surprise and a hint of mockery.

You turn, eyes landing on the source of the voice, and nearly laugh aloud at the sight of the man who stands before you. It's Wayne, his familiar face now sporting a hint of stubble and a few new lines around his eyes. But it's the woman who stands behind him that shocks you even more—Maxine, her red hair still as vibrant as your memories serve you.

Wayne continues speaking, his smooth voice layered with sarcasm and wit. "Well, look who decided to grace us with their presence again. Rooks, back from the dead. Never thought I'd see the day," he quips, a smirk on his lips.

Meanwhile, Maxine stands silently beside him, her gaze fixed on you. Her eyes study you intently, that vixen look you remember from high school still present beneath her lashes.

Bobby-Lynn's voice cuts in, admonishing Wayne. "Wayne, that's not funny. The poor thing’s Pop just passed. Show some respect," she says, her words laced with a hint of irritation.

Wayne's smirk falters slightly, and he offers a half-hearted apology, "sorry, Rooks. Didn’t mean to ruffle feathers”.

Your irritation mounts at Wayne's sly remark, and you respond curtly, your eyes narrowing.

"Clever," you mutter dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. The sound of them using your old nickname only further adds to your annoyance.

You’ve never been fond of it, the name representing a part of your past you've been trying to leave behind.

Which gets brought to attention as Wayne sidles up to you, slinging his arm around your shoulders with a familiarity that sets your teeth on edge. He grins as he says, "I gotta ask, do you still see ‘em? Or did you finally grow out of that?"

His words sting, reminding you of the countless times he teased and belittle you for your ‘hallucinations’ way back when. A part of you wants to shrug off his arm, but you remain still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

You push past your discomfort, your words filled with bitterness and sharp with anger. "I haven't been 'seeing things,' Wayne. That was just your and everyone else's bullshit way of making my life a living hell" you snap, your voice dripping with venom.

His arm drops from your shoulders as you step away, creating distance between you and the unwelcome touch.

Wayne raises his hands in a mock surrender, a smirk still on his lips “whoa, relax, Rooks. I was just messing around," he says, his voice dripping with false innocence. His apology is insincere, the sarcastic tone he uses making it clear he hasn't changed one bit.

Just as you're about to lose your temper, the front door opens and Lorraine appears from around the corner, her presence making you feel even more on edge.

Your eyes flicker to Bobby-Lynn, a sense of betrayal washing over you as you realize she lied to you. You shoot her an accusatory look, your expression giving away your anger.

Lorraine steps into the room, her sweet and timid demeanor immediately defusing the tension in the air. Her voice echoes through the room, asking with gentle concern, "everythin’ alright?"

The sound of her voice instantly has a calming effect on you, even though you're still seething on the inside.

Maxine, whose gaze has been studying you almost hungrily, finally pipes in, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Oh, we was just catchin’ up," she says, her gaze unabashedly raking over your form.

Yeah, definitely still the same manipulative snake she was in high school.

You turn your gaze to Lorraine, preparing to ask her about why she made you come here, only for your words to die in your throat as you spot another familiar figure behind her. Your heart drops as you recognize the face of the man you thought would rather be caught dead than be around this crowd.

It's RJ, a scrawny band geek from high school. He was the epitome of ‘weird’ back then, always lingering on the outskirts of social groups. Oddly enough, he stands right behind Lorraine now, his presence here seeming completely out of place.

As your eyes roam over his figure, the last person you would've expected to see in this gathering, you can't help but feel a mix of surprise and old memories resurfacing. After all, you were just as much a ‘freak’ to everyone in the room at one point in time.

The sudden appearance of RJ toting up and showing off two bottles of wine awkwardly, stuns you into silence, your mind struggling to catch up with the unfolding situation. Everyone else, seemingly used to RJ's odd behavior, voices their approval with enthusiasm.

Everyone except Lorraine, who remains unnervingly silent, observing you intently as her eyes studying your every reaction.

You're still trying to wrap your head around RJ's appearance at this gathering when Wayne pipes up from beside you, putting his hand on your shoulder once again, this time his touch slightly less mocking. He speaks with a more sincere tone, his voice lacking the previous sarcasm.

"I'm sorry, Rooks. I was just tryna cut the tension a bit. I didn't mean to come off so harsh," he offers apologetically, his eyes locking onto yours.

You take a moment, trying to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings swirling in your mind. As you stand there, RJ leads the others with a surprising confidence into the kitchen, leaving you feeling lost in a sea of unexpected emotions.

You remain frozen, your mind struggling to process the flood of emotions coursing through you. Wayne's hand drops from your shoulder as he follows the rest of the group into the kitchen, leaving you standing alone in the living room.

Too much. Too much. Where do you even start?

Lorraine silently approaches, her gentle presence having an unexpected calming effect on your tumultuous emotions. She looks at you intently, observing your expression and demeanor with a careful eye. For a brief moment, the two of you simply stand there, the silence filling the air as she waits for you to speak.

Your voice is tight, almost strained, as you whisper to Lorraine, "are you fucking kidding me? Them? Of all people?" Your body is tense, your chest feeling like a coiled spring as you take in the situation at hand.

The sight of all those who tormented you both from your past all gathered in one place, is overwhelming, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

Lorraine's voice is soft and earnest as she whispers to you, her gaze never leaving yours. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, her tone conveying a sense of understanding. "I know it must be overwhelming seeing them all here, but they've changed. You'll see”.

Her words cause a ripple of uncertainty to cross your features, but she adds a final thought, her tone gentle “you need people right now, and you wouldn't have agreed otherwise."

You clench your jaw, struggling to keep your emotions in check. A mixture of anger and disbelief washes over you as you glance towards the kitchen, where the sounds of boisterous laughter and conversation fill the air.

It's almost surreal to think that these people, who use to verbally crucify you on the daily, are now considered Lorraine's friends. Your anger and frustration bubble just beneath the surface, a bitter taste settling in your mouth.

Lorraine's gentle voice breaks through your thoughts, her soft "hey" drawing your attention back to her. Her eyes, wide and innocent, bring an unexpected sense of reassurance, grounding you for a moment.

"I'd never lead you astray," she says, her words filled with conviction. Looking into her earnest eyes, you can't help but believe her.

Your heart is racing, torn between anger, disbelief, and the unexpected comfort Lorraine manages to bring. You stand there, feeling the inner turmoil that threatens to spill over.

As Lorraine walks past you, her eyes never leaving yours until the last second, she offers a knowing look, as if she understands the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

With that, she continues on towards the kitchen, joining the others, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You stand there for a moment, undecided. This is the point where you'd normally leave, walking away from the people who caused you so much pain. You don't owe them anything, including Lorraine.

The words echo in your mind as you think about the decision you're facing. Why on earth would you stay in this situation, surrounded by people who had made your life miserable in the past? But then you think of her.

It's Lorraine, for Christ sake.

She has never been anything but kind and true to you. She's the only one you consider anywhere close to a friend, the only one you could ever… is trust the right word?

You feel a strange pull, as if some invisible force is urging you to stay, to give it a chance. Your mind races, trying to evaluate the situation and reason with yourself. Despite your reservations, you can't help but wonder — what exactly do you have to lose?

You take a deep breath, running your tongue along your teeth and clicking it against the roof of your mouth. You shake your head, sighing in frustration.

But Lorraine's words echo in your head, and as much as you hate to admit it, you can't deny that you do need people right now.

You may have despised your Pop, but he was still your father. Besides, it’s either this or return to that goddamn house of horrors.

With a clenched jaw and stiff movements, you slowly pivot on your heels, forcing yourself to move forward towards the kitchen.

Your reluctance and trepidation are evident in every step, but you push yourself onward, accepting the reality of your situation.

As you get closer to the kitchen, laughter and chatter grow louder in your ears, and you mentally brace yourself for what lies ahead.

You must be out of your goddamn mind, that has to be the explanation. This town, this fucking town.

Internally, you pray this won’t be a mistake.

____________________________________________

Over the past two hours, you've silently observed and taken mental notes on this odd group of friends, your inner investigator at work. You've noticed the subtle changes in their personalities, the unexpected friendships, and the hints of something lurking beneath the surface.

It's clear that time and circumstances have altered these people, and they're not the same ones you remember from high school.

But then again, they are. It’s strange.

Through your observations, you've noticed that Bobby-Lynn and Jackson are a couple, which isn't surprising given their past. However, the revelation that Wayne and Maxine are together comes as a surprise.

But what truly shocks you is the revelation that RJ and Lorraine are a couple now. You never saw that one coming.

You've noticed how RJ tries so hard, but it seems like an uphill battle. His overzealous and awkward enthusiasm clashes with Lorraine's quiet and soft-spoken nature. It's like watching a fish and a bird try to dance together, it just doesn't quite fit.

You observe the group from the sidelines, sipping on the same half-filled glass of red wine you've been nursing for what feels like days, always the outsider looking in.

Your eyes roam over the scene in front of you — the raucous laughter and the growing tipsiness of your old classmates. The familiar feeling of being the quiet onlooker takes hold, keeping you firmly on the fringes.

While observing the group, you’ve noticed the subtle glances exchanged between Bobby-Lynn and Maxine, each silently communicating something unknown.

It disturbs you, how its sole focus seems to consistently shift to Lorraine, who has also been sipping the same glass of wine since the first bottle was opened. There's a strange energy in the air between all three women, and you almost want to assume there's something deeper going on beneath the surface.

You don’t trust Maxine nor Bobby-Lynn as far as you could throw them, and that’s not saying much considering you don’t even trust them at arms length.

Lorraine's fingers toy with the stem of her glass, her eyes darting between Bobby-Lynn and Maxine. The air is thick with something, and you can almost feel the undercurrents of unspoken words that linger in the air.

The way Lorraine glances back and forth between the two women, her gaze never quite settling, leaves you with a sense of unease. There's something going on here, but you can't quite figure out what it is.

You’ve also been observing RJ's behavior with Lorraine; he's being more touchy than necessary, and every time Lorraine responds with a forced smile, one you recognize as her plastering on a facade.

It makes you uncomfortable, you don’t like it.

Suddenly, your eyes inadvertently meet hers, gazes locking for a moment almost as if she’s finally begun to feel the weight of your attention.

You quickly look away, feeling like you've stumbled into something you weren't supposed to see, something more complicated and strained than it should be.

You find yourself looking back at Lorraine, your eyes drawn to her against your will, like a magnet pull. To your surprise, she's still looking at you.

When your eyes meet, she shakes her head subtly. A clear message telling you to drop it, then looks away herself. But for some reason, you can't seem to break the magnetic pull, your gaze remaining locked on her for a moment longer than it should.

You mindlessly fidget with the stem of your wine glass, your eyes darting around the room. Finally, they land on Maxine, who is watching you with a calculating gaze.

As soon as your eyes meet hers, she takes a sip from her own glass, her knowing look making you feel like she can read your thoughts. You quickly look away, trying to seem casual, as conversation continues around you.

You excuse yourself, citing the need to use the bathroom. Bobby-Lynn motions down the hall, informing you where it’s located before leaning back against Jackson, who’s engaged in a boisterous banter with Wayne.

You refuse to look at Lorraine and RJ, avoiding the sight of his possessive hold on her. You tell yourself that it’s their business, not yours, and yet the fact that it’s continuing to bother you makes you angrier than ever.

It’s maddening, this irrational sense of anger and protectiveness towards Lorraine, over a relationship that should mean nothing to you.

As you make your way down the hallway, you involuntarily stop just short of passing a bedroom. A strange feeling, almost like a tug on your awareness, makes you pause, as if something is drawing your attention.

Something about the room beyond the half-open door tugs at the back of your mind, an ominous undercurrent that raises the hairs on your arms. You stand there, staring at the door, feeling an intense sense of unease. Your heart races, the air almost heavy with a feeling of foreboding.

Something feels amiss, something that fills you with a sense of impending danger or revelation. Every instinct screams at you to turn away and keep walking, but you can’t, your feet rooted to the spot.

Against your own better judgment, you find yourself moving towards the room like a puppet on strings, your body acting on its own accord despite your logical mind protesting.

This unnerving sensation, the feeling of being tugged by something other than your own volition, is becoming a disturbingly familiar occurrence for you more and more these days.

You slowly step inside the dimly lit room, your eyes darting around the surroundings. There's a faint hint of burning sage in the air, mixed with the scent of herbs. As you tentatively walk around, your gaze lands on a small, worn velvet pouch resting on the bedside table.

It looks innocuous, but there's something about it that catches your attention. You walk over to it, almost in a trance, and pick it up. Feeling the weight of the contents shifting around inside.

Your eyes flit towards the open door, a brief moment of indecision passing over your face. Every instinct tells you that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it’s wrong, but your curiosity and strange compulsion propel you forward. With a sense of both trepidation and determination, you ignore the nagging guilt and pour the content of the pouch out and into your free hand.

As the contents of the pouch spill out into your palm, you're taken aback for a moment.

The first thing you notice are several strands of hair, clearly someone's locks collected and tied together with a thin strip of leather.

Then there's a collection of small bones, which range in size and shape, some from small animals and some human-looking, like phalanges. There are also a few dried and crushed herbs mixed in, the unmistakable scent of sage among them.

Your eyebrows furrow and your mind whirls, searching for a reasonable explanation.

What on earth would snooty, picture-perfect Bobby-Lynn have an assortment of witchcraft material on her nightstand for?

It doesn’t make sense, it all clashes with the image you have of her in your mind. Sure, she’s a snobby bitch, but this?

You hastily put the components back into the velvet pouch, taking care to place it back exactly as you had found it.

Your mind is a tangle of thoughts and conclusions, but you shake your head, refusing to let your thoughts jump to conclusions based on such limited evidence.

You take a deep breath and exit the room, cracking the door just a hair behind you, being mindful to leave everything as undisturbed as possible.

Yeah, no, fuck this. Time to go.

You feign nonchalance, forcing a yawn as you reenter the room. Upon rejoining them, you quickly offer up an excuse to leave, "I think I'm gonna head out," you announce, avoiding eye contact with no one in particular.

Liar.

The protests come all at once, a chorus of voices blending together as everyone tries to persuade you to stay. Amidst it all, the sound of RJ’s drunken voice stands out, loud and slurred. Your gaze drifts to Lorraine, who looks obviously disappointed.

Your better judgment tells you to stay silent and mind your own business, but you find yourself gesturing towards RJ and locking eyes with Lorraine. In a soft but resolute tone, you ask her, "did he drive you here?"

RJ, already a bit disheveled, attempts to defend himself, but he’s clearly inebriated. "I’m not that drunk-" he slurs, attempting to justify himself.

However, you cut him off and shut him down. "You're not driving anywhere tonight," you say resolutely, your tone brooking no argument.

A tension fills the air as Lorraine begins to speak, her voice soft and resigned. "It's fine, I'll drive us home," she says, attempting to brush off the situation.

It’s logical, because she’s a grown woman who can handle herself. Yet, it doesn’t sit right with you, the image of her driving home with a clearly intoxicated RJ in tow sends a jolt of unease through you.

You can’t help but blurt out a reason why it’s a bad idea, your concern for Lorraine’s safety overriding your usual reserve. "That’s not a good idea," you say, your voice firm “RJ’s in no condition to be a reasonable passenger, considering how he can’t keep his fucking hands to himself. It’s not safe for either of you or the people on the road”.

Your own outburst catches you off guard, and a wave of embarrassment should wash over you. But you find yourself surprisingly unbothered, too invested in the situation at hand to care about your lack of filter. The room goes silent as everyone looks at you, a bit taken aback by your vehemence.

Maxine mutters under her breath, just barely loud enough for you to hear, "loose cannon”.

Bobby-Lynn gives her a disapproving shush, which only has her roll her eyes. Wayne then speaks up, a sensible solution in his voice, "hows about I drive RJ home? It's on my way anyhow”.

The tension in the room rises as RJ puffs up his chest in protest, his inebriated state making him more volatile. But before even he can respond, Lorraine steps away from him and starts gathering her belongings with a steady and firm resolve.

RJ, still puffed up and tipsy, begins to ask "what are you—“ only for Lorraine to cut him off with a firm "stop, don’t even with me right now."

Her gaze then flicks to you, her expression unreadable, almost guarded. Without another word, she swiftly exits the kitchen, shaking her head in what appears to be frustration or disappointment.

RJ, still agitated, tries to follow Lorraine — shouting her name in anger. However, your actions are almost instinctively protective. You step in his path, creating a barrier between him and Lorraine as she exits the kitchen.

In his inebriated state, RJ becomes brutally honest, spitting the words in your face as he says "you don't get to just show up back here and think you have a place with us."

His words are harsh, fueled by a combination of alcohol and resentment. The sting of his words momentarily catches you off guard, but you recover quickly, hitting back with a truth of your own.

"That's rich coming from you," you reply, "considering I watched Wayne shove you into a locker Sophomore year”, your blunt response is delivered with a hint of bitterness, a reminder of old grievances and past tensions.

The others in the room murmur, no one is surprised by this revelation, simply watching with growing intrigue. RJ’s face colors with embarrassment, clearly not expecting his own past to be brought up like this. Wayne, uncharacteristically avoids your gaze, a flicker of guilt on his face.

As the tension in the room continues to mount, a soft touch on your arm brings a moment of clarity. Your head turns, and your gaze meets Lorraine's dark brown eyes. Her steady presence instantly has a calming effect on you, making you feel grounded and less on edge.

Her eyes remain locked with yours, a silent understanding passing between you. Lorraine’s gentle tug on your sleeve, accompanied by her simple request, "take me home?", is enough to make you snap out of the tense exchange.

You quickly nod your agreement, the thought of leaving Lorraine alone with RJ in his current state and driving off with him not the ideal situation. You know she needs a safe ride home. Without another word, you turn away from RJ and the others in the room, guiding Lorraine towards the exit.

As Lorraine and you make your way towards the front door, RJ clumsily tries to follow, stumbling and calling after Lorraine in his drunken state.

However, Jackson steps in this time, stopping him from tagging along. Sensing RJ’s aggression, you cast a sharp glare their way, not keen on having any further confrontations.

You and Lorraine silently descend into the front yard, the sound of the gate creaking quietly as you pass through it. The night air is crisp and quiet, a stark contrast to the tension and noise of the house you've just left behind.

Before you can mount your motorcycle, Lorraine gently catches your arm, drawing your attention back to her. You turn completely to face her, your motorbike momentarily forgotten.

The streetlamp across the road casts a soft, warm glow on Lorraine, illuminating her delicate features. Her usually stoic eyes are softened, and in the dim twilight, they almost seem to sparkle.

In this moment, with the gentle light playing across her face, she looks truly beautiful. Your thoughts are momentarily muddled, caught in the spell her gaze seems to cast on you.

With a hint of frustration and genuine curiosity, Lorraine asks, "what the hell was that? Huh? It's been five years, haven't you changed any? Or did you just leave for nothin’?" Her voice is firm, a hint of irritation behind her words. She's not looking for a fight, but she wants to know what drove you to such a display back there.

You find yourself opening your mouth to provide an explanation, but the words get stuck in your throat. You feel like a teenager again, flustered and unsure how to articulate your thoughts.

Your mind races, but nothing coherent comes out, leaving you just staring at her, your mouth hanging open uselessly.

Lorraine's expression softens, her doe eyes studying yours intensely. A sigh escapes her lips, and she turns away from you, but casts a look over her shoulder at you.

She then murmurs a soft request, "I don't live far, could you walk me?" her voice is quieter now, the annoyance replaced by a hint of vulnerability.

There's a sense of frustration and confusion swirling through you as you struggle to make sense of your emotions and actions. You feel unsteady, off-balanced, as if walking on shifting sand.

It would mean walking there and then all the way back here for your bike.

Yet, at Lorraine’s request, you step up next to her without hesitation, falling into familiar steps beside her, just as you used to. The silence between you is both comfortable and strangely tense.

You walk together, the only sounds being the soft crunch of gravel under your feet and the occasional bird call in the distance.

But you ignore it, you always ignore it when they call to you.

After a few more minutes of silence, Lorraine finally breaks it, clearing her throat and adjusting her bag on her shoulder. She looks at you with a sincere expression, her voice soft and slightly apologetic. "I'm... real sorry about that," she says, her voice sincere.

"I do mean it when I say they've changed. They're good people, y’know?” she speaks genuinely, trying to reassure you that the people you just left behind are decent, despite tonight's display saying otherwise.

Your mind drifts back to the odd bag you discovered in Bobby-Lynn's bedroom, filled with items that made your hairs stand on end. You haven’t had much a chance to process it, what it could be, what it means.

These thoughts spark a question to your tongue, which leads you to ask Lorraine, "how long have you been hangin’ around with them now?" your voice lacks accusation, yet hints at curiosity and maybe even a slightly protective tone.

Lorraine lets out a soft laugh, the sound echoing down the dark street. Her laughter prompts a reluctant smile to tug at the corners of your lips.

With a knowing look in her eyes, she replies, "long enough now that you ain't got nothin' to get your ass in a twist over” her response is playful yet resolute, asserting that she can take care of herself.

You hum and nod, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, trying to appear nonchalant.

Then in a feigned casual tone that doesn't quite hide your curiosity, "and RJ?" you question, laced with subtle care as it falls from your lips despite knowing it's none of your business.

Perhaps you ask because despite the fact it’s been five years, you do care, more than you're willing to admit.

Dare you say, you always did care? Never.

Lorraine gives you a playfully chastising look before turning her gaze forward along with you. Her response, typical of her, is short and to the point.

She simply shrugs and says, "it’s good," her voice carrying a hint of resignation and perhaps a bit of frustration.

The ambiguity of her answer leaves you wondering if she really means it's ‘good’ or if she's just trying to downplay any issues.

Seeking to bring a bit of humor to the moment, you give her a lighthearted tease. "Good? Lorraine, that's about as vague as a politician's promise. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're holdin’ back on me," you say, your voice filled with a touch of playful banter.

Your words seem to hit the mark, as Lorraine lets out a soft, amused scoff, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Oh, shut up," she responds, but her tone is lighter now, less guarded. There's a sliver of familiarity in her reaction, a flicker of the old spark between you.

Maybe your friendship did somewhat survive the wreckage you left in your wake before you abandoned the ship that is this sinking town five years ago.

As you continue walking side by side, a comfortable silence envelops the two of you. After a moment, conversation begins to flow effortlessly. It feels natural.

You catch up on the past five years, sharing stories, news, and everything in between. The conversation is light, filled with laughter and genuine connection. Despite the years of separation, it's as if no time has passed at all.

The easy banter and familiarity between you make it clear that some things, like your bond, never change. It was rare for you two to talk like this back then, but now?

It’s nice.

As the conversation continues, you realize that you've reached the heart of the town, having slowed your pace without realizing it. You look around, taking in the familiar surroundings, trying to figure out your exact location. The realization hits that you must have arrived at Lorraine's place.

Your curiosity prompts you to ask, "you live around here? In town?”

Lorraine nods her head in affirmation, gesturing upward towards the upper part of the small town library.

"Yeah, I got the loft up there, all to myself," she replies. The revelation gives you a mix of surprise and a sense of familiarity. It feels strange yet fitting that Lorraine would live above the library.

As Lorraine reveals her living situation, you let a playful smile tug at your lips, unable to resist a little teasing. "Livin’ in the library, huh? It's like you were meant to be a resident bibliophile," you jest, a hint of friendly mockery in your voice.

Lorraine instinctively swats at your arm, a gesture that is unexpected but also far too familiar, making the both of you laugh.

As the laughter slowly dies down, you find yourself taking in Lorraine's smile, watching how her brown eyes glimmer in the soft light. In this moment, you realize that you've never fully noticed just how pretty she is.

Has she always been, and you just never noticed?

The realization catches you off-guard, and you question why this thought is suddenly so prominent in your mind. Confused, you wonder what's wrong with you, why you're suddenly so focused on her beauty.

“Thank you,” her voice softer now as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Before you can respond, she continues, her voice filled with gratitude.

"It's nice havin’ someone around that makes me feel normal again," she says, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability "I… feel like I can breathe”.

The honesty in her confession reaches you, and you can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the years you've been away. The implication that she hasn't felt normal all this time sits heavily on your shoulders.

You recall her isolation on her family farm, the strained relationship between her parents, and the weight of the unreachable expectations she faced from them both.

The realization hits you how deeply this town has affected her too, how it's left a lasting impact on her psyche as much as it did you.

That wasn’t your fault, you were drowning, you did what you had to do.

But this is Lorraine, you may not have been close but… maybe you were. More than you want to admit, and to admit that to yourself? That might shatter you.

You meet her eyes, your heart heavy with remorse "I'm sorry, Lorraine," you say, your voice sincere and filled with empathy. "I never meant to leave you here alone, dealin’ with all of... this... on your own” your words hang between you, the weight of your absence evident in the air.

There's a moment of silence as Lorraine looks away, her gaze drifting to the side as her thoughts race. The energy between you feels off, strained and awkward. You can't quite put your finger on what's causing this sudden shift, but the tension is palpable.

The words escape your lips before you can even think about it, “you should come by the manor whenever” you blurt out, the words leaving you like they have a mind of their own.

"I'll be there, gettin’ things together the next couple days. I wouldn't mind your company” you stumble over the words as they leave your mouth, surprised by your own impulsiveness.

Surprise flashes across Lorraine's face, but she quickly softens her expression into a small smile.

Concern fills her voice as she asks you, "are you doing okay? Bein’ there after everything?" Her eyes search yours, looking for some kind of confirmation that you're truly alright.

You start to open your mouth, intending to reassure her that you're fine. You're about to brush off her concern, even though you spent the night sleeping on a park bench with your backpack as a makeshift pillow. But something stops you. Instead of speaking, you remain silent, closing your mouth without a word.

Old habits die hard, you suppose.

After a moment of studying you, Lorraine gives you a small smile and reassures you, “I’ll stop by” her voice is gentle and sincere. She then follows it up with another “thank you”.

The weight of her words hangs in the air, and her gratitude seems to go beyond this conversation. It feels deeper somehow, as if there’s a hidden understanding between you.

As Lorraine turns to head up the stairs to the library, you find yourself lost in thought. The understanding you have between the two of you has always been there, but you never quite had the words to define it.

Perhaps it was a connection born from shared experiences, a bond that defied explanation.

As you consider this, you realize that even now after all this time, you still can't find the words to describe it.

And when she turns to give you one small departing wave before slipping inside, you find yourself forgetting what you were worried about in the first place.

previous, next

————————————————————————

Tag List: @thatshyboy1998

if you’d like to be added just let me know!

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 13a

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

(Note: I'm not sure whether there'll be another chapter split before the actual fight. If not, then a Warden interlude will go before this chapter. But I'm not sure yet.)

*****

The sustainable pace of oxen and the eyesight of elves being what they respectively are, they can see the surface exterior of the Crucible for two days before actually getting there.

—"They" being the elves in the group. Peredhel eyesight isn't so sharp; dwarven eyesight isn't calibrated for long distances; orc eyesight is at least better than peredhel except trying to look at Sunlit things doesn't work so well and there's not enough light at night.

—Though if Alphsîr and Alphlîn want a better look they can just turn into swans.

In all their palantír-viewing they never tried to take a look at the Crucible from ground level, only bird's-eye. It's… interesting.

It might look like buildings?

Risyind has seen a drawing of vaguely similar buildings — big featureless stone things. According to the Stonefoot dwarf architect who shared it, it's how Ironfist dwarves build when the ground is no good for delving. Gimli is dubious.

Maglor says it looks like Númenórean colony buildings from that one period where they'd just figured out concrete-based construction and hadn't yet decided it was ugly and probably beneath them. Celeborn is the only other person to have seen any of these buildings (most of those not destroyed by the locals succumbed to time); he is forced to agree with Maglor.

Glorfindel says that while the vibes and color are different it looks a little bit like the products of what he was told was a brief Vanyarin architectural fad. He didn't ask.

As they get even closer, the orcs besides Sharlinnu agree that they can also now feel the Crucible ahead of them.

The elves don't start feeling it for a little while after that. It's actually very impressive suppression of bad vibes. Not really a surprise, though — if it could be felt from far away someone would have found it before.

They set up camp near a spring several hours away at oxcart speed. It's significantly less than that for a running elf, and they're going to want the clean water.

****

It seems likely the wall (crust?) of the Crucible is not of uniform thickness, and logically they want to attack a thin point if possible. Investigating this requires getting a lot more up close and personal with the creepy Crucible rock than anyone is happy with — bare hands, ear-to-the-ground close.

The bad vibes are intense.

It's a long, tense afternoon and evening of climbing up and down rock walls, pressing ears to the creepy, creepy ground, and trying not to be too disturbed by withered plants, unscavenged animal skeletons, and other signs that the natural world is not welcome here.

Dyn gets so anxious she has to go back to the carts.

Celeborn starts to develop a rash where he's been touching the rocks. No one else is getting it. His only guess is that everyone who's more sensitive than him (Glorfindel, Maglor, both pairs of twins) also has stronger innate defenses, and everyone more vulnerable than him (everyone else) is more desensitized.

Legolas watches the sky so intensely he almost walks off a small cliff.

After about an hour in close proximity, Sharlinnu starts having trouble hearing anyone speak over the noise. She has to go out beyond the outermost circumference before it starts coming back.

Turgon doesn't realize he's started compulsively scratching his arms until he's drawn blood. He discreetly bandages them, but then scratches the bandages off.

Maglor is singing bits and pieces of things half-under his breath, in a distressed way. (Exactly what the differences between the distressed way and the pensive way or the nervous way or the creative way are no one can quite spell out, but no one argues with the description.)

Asfaloth, apparently, disapproves of Glorfindel venturing into this without him, and follows along as well as he's able at ground level. He starts neighing insistently if Glorfindel is out of his sight for too long. This is itself not a relaxing noise.

Khitwê asks Elladan how bad an idea it would be to take some of the chalk they brought and graffiti the exterior of the Crucible of the Souls with insults towards the Dark Lord(s). Elladan isn't sure.

They eventually decide their best bet is probably the circular plateau in the center of the shape. This is not ideal in terms of how far they're going to have to hand-carry the clay-crates, but they can do it.

Gimli cautions that he's not sure they're going to break through the crust in one round of detonations, even with Wizard's Clay rather than blasting powder. He's not sure they won't, either, but it's not a thin crust. It partly depends on how deep they can bore.

Dyn asks if there's any risk of boring too deep and breaking into the actual Crucible. Gimli thinks it's very unlikely.

The next two days are full of boring holes, carrying crates, and laying fuses. It is labor-intensive and very boring except for how they are crawling all over the bad vibe rock to do it, and are also now covered in bad-vibe-rock shards and gravel. Gimli, the orcs, and the Hirnedhrim are the only ones who don't need to sluice off at least twice a day. (No one else is getting a rash, but it feels bad enough they might as well be.)

[clovercrafted]

🌺🌿 the flowering azalea tavern 🌿🌺

In terms of interior there is no interior. But the exterior is pretty and it came out exactly how I wanted it too! Was not expecting to use dark prismarine for this, the original plan was gonna be green concrete but then I thought it’d be too similar to my last build, ah well!

Tag list ☘️ (ask to be +/-): @gronglegrowth @flyingfish1234 @absintheaftershock @pumpkinicing @adairctedgibbgirl @tend-rmeat @lesbianpercyblofis @yourfriendphoenix @entomolodee @grymmdark @polnareffsbrows @podcasts-on-the-brain @sculkgrowths @berieecraft @asynchronouscommunication

blocks used below v

Walls: granite, polished granite, bricks, terracotta, dark prismarine

Roof: oxidised copper, oxidised cut copper stairs, oxidised cut copper slab, prismarine stairs, prismarine slab, light blue concrete powder, warped wart block, warped planks, warped plank slab, warped plank stairs, prismarine bricks, prismarine brick slab, prismarine brick stairs, dark prismarine, dark prismarine stairs, dark prismarine slab Frame and Windows: oak log, oak planks, oak slab, oak stairs, oak trapdoors, white stained glass panes, light blue stained glass panes

Extra Decor: flowering azalea, flowering azalea leaves, azalea leaves, plantpot, jungle trapdoor, spruce trapdoor, moss, hanging roots, allium, peony, vines, glow lichen, grass, long grass, barrels, jungle fence, jungle gates, brick wall, granite wall, lanterns, glow berries, brick slab, granite slab, polished granite slab Path: moss, green wool, moss carpet, mossy cobblestone, stone button, ferns

[blueberri-chee]

[▮▮▮] 1

Hiromi Higuruma tightened the knot of his precisely aligned tie as he surveyed the chaotic construction site from his parked car. His reputation as a defense attorney who thrived on precision and logic preceded him. To Hiromi, myths and superstitions were distractions, born of fear and ignorance. Yet, something about this case had unsettled him from the start. Perhaps it was the lack of concrete answers in the reports or the strange expressions on the faces of the workers he’d briefly observed.

“Every delay has a reason,” he muttered, stepping onto the site. His polished shoes sank slightly into the damp ground, and the faint tang of disturbed earth reached his nose. He scanned the half-finished tower rising into the fog and suppressed a twinge of unease. “And none of them involve ghosts.”

Across the site, the head of the Gojo clan stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Her tailored coat shielded her from the chill, but it did little to quell the simmering frustration beneath her composed exterior. She had watched the land change over the months with an almost visceral ache, each new beam and slab of concrete a scar across a place that once pulsed with spiritual harmony. To her, this wasn’t just an ambitious skyscraper—it was a monument to human arrogance.

Hiromi’s first steps onto the site caught her attention. He carried himself with a confidence, his sharp suit and measured movements clashing with the chaotic, grimy backdrop of the construction zone. As he emerged from the site office, engrossed in a stack of legal documents, their eyes met for the first time.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with the detached curiosity of someone piecing together a puzzle. There was an intensity in her gaze that made Hiromi pause mid-step, as though she could see straight through his polished exterior.

“They seemed to have hired a attorney.. how interesting” She remarked, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, yet it carried an undertone of quiet authority, "do you believe the complains hold some truth? the ghosts?"

Hiromi raised an eyebrow, startled by her sudden approach. “they don't exist…" he replied, recovering quickly. “why? do you?”

“Merely curious.” Her faint smile gave away nothing, but her words carried weight, as if she knew far more than she let on.

He hesitated for a moment, then folded his arms. “Curiosity doesn’t usually bring people to construction sites.”

“Neither does skepticism,” she countered smoothly.

Hiromi found himself smirking despite the odd tension in the air. “Touché.” He studied her briefly, taking in the sharpness of her features and the quiet resolve in her stance. Whoever she was, she wasn’t here on a whim.

“If you’re here to unravel a mystery, you won’t find much. Just rumors and faulty equipment.”

“Rumors often hold a grain of truth,” She replied, her gaze unwavering. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Higuruma?”

Hiromi’s expression shifted subtly at her use of his name, for a moment, the air between them was charged, a silent exchange of unspoken intentions. He masked his surprise quickly. “You’ve done your homework.”

“I prefer to be prepared,” she said simply.

"And who might you be to come prepared?"

"We'll be seeing a lot of each other, Mr. Higuruma. so let's keep the introductions for the second time." With a nod, she turned and began walking away, leaving Hiromi with more questions than answers.

As he watched her retreating figure, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. Perhaps this case wasn’t as straightforward as he’d assumed.

Start of something new or.....

[flipperdipper10]

Memes on the Isles Chapter 3!

I have no clue if I even mentioned chapters 1 or 2 on this website. but you're getting 3. because 3 is a funny number.

In case I didn't, this is a crossover story about Mario accidentally finding his way onto the Boiling Isles from the Owl House, meeting Empress Peach, and getting conscripted as her secret spy to find out if the local schools are following the coven protocol or not.

Snippet and link to the fic below!

Mario didn't know what to expect when the carriage exited Bonesborough and made its way to Hexside. He expected something similar to his old school, a concrete prison with carpet floors and teachers with rulers that knew damn well how to use them. 

Hexside was a castle compared to where he went to school. 

Multiple stories, white shining exteriors with blue roof pieces capping off large pillars, no teeth, polished and cut red grass...

He was going to get spaghetti over everything here. And if this fancy pants school didn't have spaghetti, he was going to invent it with whatever crazy magic they were teaching here.

...Oh, and maybe actually do the thing he got asked to do while he was here, that was also important.

Read it here!

[marfiltiles]

How To Use Full Body Vitrified Tiles For Wall Cladding

Full body vitrified tiles are a popular choice for wall cladding due to their high durability, low maintenance, and aesthetic appeal. Unlike regular ceramic tiles, full body vitrified tiles are made from a single body of material, meaning the color and pattern extend throughout the tile, making them ideal for high-traffic areas and exterior cladding. If you’re considering using full body vitrified tiles for wall cladding, here's a step-by-step guide on how to use them effectively.

1. Prepare the Surface

Before installing full body vitrified tiles, it’s essential to prepare the surface properly. Start by cleaning the wall to remove any dust, grease, or debris. If you’re cladding an existing wall, ensure the surface is smooth, dry, and free from cracks. Any uneven areas should be patched with filler and sanded down. For external wall cladding, ensure that the wall is waterproof and capable of supporting the weight of the tiles.

2. Choose the Right Tile Size and Design

Full body vitrified tiles come in various sizes and finishes, including polished, matte, and textured options. Consider the design and size of the tiles based on the aesthetic you want to achieve. Larger tiles can create a seamless look, while smaller tiles may allow for more intricate designs. Additionally, full body vitrified tiles come in a wide variety of colors and patterns. Choose a style that complements the existing decor of the space, or opt for bold designs to create a striking feature wall.

3. Use the Right Adhesive

Selecting the correct adhesive is crucial for ensuring the tiles bond securely to the wall. For full body vitrified tiles, use a high-quality tile adhesive that’s suitable for heavy-duty applications. Ensure the adhesive is compatible with the surface you are tiling over, whether it's concrete, plaster, or any other material. Apply the adhesive evenly using a notched trowel, ensuring a strong bond.

4. Tile Layout and Cutting

Start laying the tiles from the center of the wall or from a reference line to ensure a symmetrical and professional finish. Use spacers to maintain consistent gaps between the tiles. If necessary, measure and cut tiles to fit around corners or edges using a tile cutter or a wet saw. Full body vitrified tiles can be tough to cut, so it’s important to use the correct tools to avoid chipping.

5. Grouting the Tiles

Once the tiles are laid, it’s time to apply grout. Choose a grout color that complements the tiles, ensuring a seamless look. Apply the grout between the tiles using a rubber float, pressing it into the gaps and removing any excess grout. Be sure to wipe away any grout residue from the tile surface with a damp sponge before it hardens.

6. Sealing the Tiles

For enhanced protection and longevity, consider applying a sealant to the tiles. This is especially important for exterior wall cladding or areas exposed to moisture. A sealant will protect the tiles from stains, dirt, and water penetration, ensuring that the wall cladding remains in pristine condition for years to come.

7. Maintenance and Cleaning

One of the major advantages of full body vitrified tiles is their low maintenance. To clean the cladding, simply wipe the tiles with a damp cloth or a mild detergent. Avoid using harsh chemicals or abrasive scrubbers, as these can damage the surface. Full body vitrified tiles are resistant to stains and fading, making them ideal for high-traffic areas or exterior walls exposed to weather conditions.

Conclusion

Using full body vitrified tiles for wall cladding offers numerous benefits, from their aesthetic appeal to their low maintenance and durability. By properly preparing the surface, selecting the right tile size and adhesive, and carefully installing the tiles, you can create a stunning and long-lasting feature in any space. Whether for interior or exterior use, full body vitrified tiles are an excellent choice for wall cladding that combines both functionality and beauty.

[nwbeerguide]

The Seattle Mariners, along with Hatback Bar & Grille and Steelheads Alley, welcome you to Victory Hall.

image of Victory Hall, courtesy the Seattle Mariners

Located just minutes from the T-Mobile Park, Hatchback Bar & Grille and Steelheads Alley invite you to visit Victory Hall. Opening on Opening Day celebrating the start of the Seattle Mariners’ 2023 season, Victory Hall is your launchpad or home base for Seattle sports.

Opening at 3 pm, March 30th, fans and visitors will be nourished by two full-service bars, with 20 beers on draft all from the comfort of a 21 and over, exclusive indoor beer garden. During your visit, you’ll be serenaded by Deejay Hershe with the backdrop of baseball (or other sporting events) projected against a 20’ x 11’ TV. Course, for those who wish to roam you’ll catch up on the game, teams around the country, from five 100-inch flat screens throughout the space. 

Whether you're transcending between the indoor beer garden or the 1,200 square-foot outdoor patio, a breathtaking folding glass door greets you.

For those assuming this space is exclusive for the Seattle Mariners, the managers and staff have confirmed this will be an official bar for the Seahawks, Sounder, along with the Mariners. But like any sports watching destination, the televised games will change each day, with schedules posted on the Victory Hall website.

For those looking for an early start on Opening Day, look to the adjacent Hatback Bar & Grille and Steelheads Alley, which will be open at 11am.

While you’re there, check out Opening Day food trucks, Paella House and Isidro’s Authentic Mexican Food.

Reaching out to Victory Bar regarding the construction and what made this building so unique they shared the following. 

Victory Hall is housed in a historical railroad warehouse that dates back to 1914. The 9,500-square-foot space features 18-foot ceilings, preserved fir tree columns, historically preserved wooden ceiling beams, the original exposed brick walls, and the remains of a painted mural that is believed to have been the exterior facade of the 1914 warehouse.  

Luxurious polished concrete floors are surrounded by blackened wood walls stained to mirror the bar counters made by Pioneer Millwork using the Shou Sugi Ban method, a Japanese technique used to industrially char wood.  The space boasts 10 industrial chic steel chandeliers custom designed and fabricated by Resolute. The cut-out motif of the lighting is inspired by baseball stitching and a nod to the Mariners.

Besides food, drinks, audio-visual entertainment, and two locations for socializing, Victory Hall has partnered with Apicii, with its best-in-class catering, for those wishing to host events at Victory Hill. 

Besides this, the Mariners are opening The Boxyard which will feature an indoor beer garden, during Mariners, Sounders, or Seahawks home games, as well as concerts. All of this including Hatback Bar & Grille, Steelheads Alley, and the upcoming baseball and softball training center, await everyone. Reflecting on the progress towards creating an entertainment destination for Seattle sports fans, Seattle Mariners Executive Vice President Fred Rivera shared this. 

We’re excited for our fans to be able to experience Victory Hall on Opening Day and continue to see The Boxyard grow. Our expansion in the Sodo neighborhood is part of our larger goal to invest in our community and help bring more economic opportunities to the place we call home.

Victory Hall is at 12011st Ave South in Seattle, Washington, next to Hatback Bar & Grille and Steelheads Alley. For more information including games, events, and hours, visit www.mariners.com/victoryhall.

About Apicii 

Apicii is a New York City based hospitality company that has developed and operates a collection of acclaimed restaurants, bars, membership clubs and private event spaces across the country. Apicii is led by Tom Dillon, who has an unparalleled, 30-year track record in hospitality, having created, developed, or operated leading global brands, including 5 of the 100 top grossing restaurants in America. Tom has operated venues which have been covered extensively in the press and been awarded Best New Restaurant in America, as well as several Michelin starred venues. To learn more, visit www.apicii.com.

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/3zgZHI6

[youngbloodwcs]

Custom Patio Ideas to Achieve with the Best Concrete Contractor

A well-designed patio can transform your outdoor space into a relaxing haven. Concrete is one of the best materials for patios, offering durability, versatility, and style. Working with the best concrete contractor in Denver can help you accomplish unique patio designs that reflect your style. Let's explore some custom concrete patio ideas you can bring to life.

1. Stamped Concrete for a Unique Look

Stamped concrete is an excellent option if you want your patio to resemble natural stone, brick, or wood. The best concrete contractor can create patterns and textures using stamps to mimic these materials. This technique offers the look of high-end materials without the hefty price tag. You can choose various patterns and colors to complement your home's exterior.

2. Colored Concrete for a Vibrant Patio

Gone are the days of dull gray concrete. Today, you can opt for colored concrete to vibrate your outdoor space. Concrete contractors use dyes or pigments to mix color into the concrete, giving you options that range from earthy tones to bold hues. A colored patio can make your outdoor area more inviting and visually appealing.

3. Exposed Aggregate for a Textured Finish

If you want something textured and slip-resistant, exposed aggregate is a fantastic choice. This design involves revealing the stones or pebbles embedded in the concrete, creating a natural and decorative look. It's ideal for patios in areas with frequent rain or near pools, providing excellent grip.

4. Concrete Overlays for a New Look

Consider a concrete overlay if you already have a concrete patio but want to refresh its look. The best concrete contractor can apply a thin layer of concrete over your existing patio and add decorative finishes such as stamping or staining. This is a cost-effective way to rejuvenate an old patio without tearing it out.

5. Geometric Concrete Slabs for a Modern Touch

Geometric concrete slabs are a great option for a sleek and modern patio design. Contractors can create square, rectangular, or hexagonal slabs and arrange them in eye-catching patterns. Pair these slabs with gravel or grass in between for a minimalist yet striking look.

6. Engraved Concrete for Custom Designs

Engraving is another way to add personality to your patio. The best concrete contractor can carve designs, logos, or patterns into the concrete surface to create a one-of-a-kind feature. This technique works well for homeowners who want a patio that feels entirely custom.

7. Concrete Fire Pit Patio for Cozy Evenings

Add warmth and functionality to your patio by integrating a concrete fire pit. A skilled contractor can build a seamless fire pit into your concrete patio, creating the perfect gathering spot for family and friends. Surround it with built-in seating for a cohesive and cozy design.

8. Decorative Borders and Inlays

Add decorative borders or inlays to make your patio stand out. Contractors can use different colors, patterns, or materials like brick or tile to frame your patio or create intricate designs. This technique adds elegance and sophistication to any patio space.

9. Polished Concrete for a Sleek Finish

Consider a polished concrete patio for a high-end, polished look. This design involves grinding and sealing the surface to create a smooth, glossy finish. Polished concrete is low-maintenance and ideal for homeowners who prefer a modern aesthetic.

10. Multi-Level Concrete Patios for Dimension

A multi-level concrete patio is a creative solution if your yard has uneven terrain. Contractors can design different levels connected by steps or ramps to maximize outdoor space. You can use each level for other purposes, such as dining, lounging, or gardening.

Why Hire the Best Concrete Contractor?

Achieving a flawless custom patio requires the expertise of the best concrete contractor. Here's why hiring the best contractor is essential:

Experience: Skilled contractors know how to execute complex designs.

Quality Materials: They use high-quality concrete and finishes for durability.

Attention to Detail: Professionals ensure every detail is perfect, from the layout to the finish.

Customization: They work with you to create a patio that matches your vision and budget.

Conclusion

A custom concrete patio is a fantastic way to enhance your outdoor living space. From stamped and colored concrete to engraved and multi-level designs, there are countless options. Partnering with a top-notch concrete contractor ensures your patio is beautiful and built to last. Take the first step toward your dream patio by consulting with an experienced contractor today. Transform your backyard into the perfect space for relaxation, entertaining, and making memories. If you're looking for the best concrete contractor in Denver, always trust Youngblood Waterproofing & Concrete Services.

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Commercial Painting Services is an Industrial / Commercial Painting Contractor in Fort Wayne, Indiana. We offer a host of Professional Industrial / Commercial Painting Services including, but not limited to Concrete Floor Polishing, Interior / Exterior Commercial Painting, Epoxy Flooring, Elastomeric Liquid Roof Coating, Metal Roof Leaks, and much, much more.

[jadanblog]

How to Build a Strong Parapet Wall: Best Practices for Construction

Did you know that a poorly constructed parapet wall can collapse under extreme weather conditions, causing serious damage and safety hazards? Whether you’re building a new structure or reinforcing an existing one, constructing a durable and reliable parapet is crucial for both aesthetics and safety. In Nepal, where weather conditions can be unpredictable, proper construction techniques ensure longevity and resilience. This guide will walk you through the best practices for building a strong parapet wall, even if you have no prior construction experience.

Purpose of a Parapet Wall

Before diving into construction techniques, it’s important to know why parapet walls are essential. These walls serve multiple functions, such as:

Safety Barrier: Preventing accidental falls from rooftops and balconies.

Protection Against Weather: Shielding the roof from wind, rain, and snow.

Structural Support: Enhancing the overall strength and durability of the building.

Aesthetic Appeal: Adding architectural charm and a polished look to buildings.

Choosing the Right Materials for Durability

The durability of a parapet wall heavily depends on the materials used in construction. Some of the best choices include:

Bricks: The most commonly used material due to affordability and strength.

Concrete Blocks: Ideal for added durability and weather resistance.

Stone or RCC (Reinforced Cement Concrete): Suitable for high-rise buildings and modern structures.

When selecting materials, consult with a best construction company to ensure high-quality, locally available options that suit your budget.

Proper Foundation and Reinforcement

Even though a parapet wall is a vertical extension of the roof, it still needs a strong foundation to withstand environmental factors.

Key Best Practices:

Ensure the parapet wall is anchored properly to the roof slab.

Use steel reinforcement bars (rebars) for added structural strength.

Maintain a minimum wall thickness of 9 inches for brickwork to prevent instability.

Apply waterproofing solutions to avoid moisture damage and cracks over time.

By reinforcing your wall with proper foundation techniques, you can prevent premature wear and tear.

Ideal Height and Thickness for Stability

The height and thickness of a parapet wall play a significant role in its stability.

Recommended Guidelines:

Standard Height: 2.5 to 3.5 feet (optimal for safety and aesthetics).

Thickness: Minimum of 4.5 inches for a single brick wall, and 9 inches for added durability.

Wind Load Consideration: In high-wind areas, adding reinforcement is necessary to prevent toppling.

Consulting with a construction expert ensures that the height and thickness are appropriate for your specific location and structure type.

Waterproofing to Prevent Leaks and Damage

Parapet walls are highly exposed to rain and moisture, which can cause cracks and leaks if not properly treated.

Waterproofing Solutions:

Apply a cement-based waterproof coating to protect against moisture.

Use bituminous sheets or polymer coatings for extra durability.

Ensure proper drainage outlets to prevent water accumulation at the base of the parapet.

Taking these precautions will extend the lifespan of your parapet and reduce maintenance costs over time.

Finishing Touches: Plastering and Paint for Longevity

The final step in building a strong parapet wall is to ensure proper finishing to enhance durability and visual appeal.

Best Practices:

Plastering: Use a cement-sand mixture with waterproof additives to create a smooth and durable surface.

Painting: Opt for weather-resistant exterior paints to protect against UV rays and rain damage.

Decorative Options: Add design elements like cornices or moldings to improve aesthetics.

A well-finished parapet not only looks appealing but also adds to the overall protection of your building.

Conclusion

Building a strong parapet wall doesn’t have to be complicated. By following these best practices—choosing quality materials, ensuring proper reinforcement, maintaining the right height, and applying waterproofing—you can construct a durable and stylish parapet that enhances both safety and aesthetics.

If you’re unsure about the right materials or techniques, consulting with the best construction company in Nepal can provide expert guidance and top-notch craftsmanship.