fotodoalmoco

[rehauindia]

https://www.rehau.com/in-en/premium-laminates/rauvisio-ace

Fingerprint-resistant laminates for your modular kitchen wardrobes in India. Choose from super matte laminate sheets available in different colors and designs from REHAU.

[navpacknprint-blog]

Print Finishing Techniques for Offset Printing in Jaipur

Why do some brands dominate the market while others don’t? Because they are conscious of its importance and are skilled at representing the brand materials to clients. After the print has dried, the print finishing techniques are what make it worthwhile to buy the paper products.

Print finishing techniques give the product life, protect it, make it strong and attractive, and give the buyers a unique sense of it. Incorporating offset print finishing techniques with the human touch makes it a jack of all trades. As a result, the brand enjoys greater market recognition for its print finishing solutions and succeeds in forging enduring relationships. There are several print finishing solutions available, but choosing the right one for the right purpose can make you win. To make the most of prints, we are providing the finest printing press in jaipur and how you can utilize them in making the brand.

Techniques for Print Finishing

Here we have listed the four main techniques of offset print finishing with their advantages, uses, and types for better understanding. Let’s deep dive into the following print-finishing methods:

Varnishing  

The offset printing material must be kept safe from dust, moisture, color fading, and scratches after printing. For this reason, varnishing—the process of coating a material’s surface with a thin, translucent layer—is necessary. Gloss, matte, and satin are just a few of the varnishing variations.

The advantages of varnishing include:

It improves the way that print media looks.

Durable

Make the texture smooth.

Make sure it looks good.

Lamination  

In that it uses pressure, heat, and adhesive glue to apply a protective coating to the material’s surface, lamination is similar to varnishing. The main benefit of lamination is that it gives the material strength and may be simple to clean. Lamination is necessary to give professionalism to printed products such as business cards, brochures, book covers, and other items.

There are several different kinds of lamination.

A glossy finish

Matte coating

Lamination with a soft touch

Debossing and embossing

Have you seen printed materials with a 3D effect or elevated characters? If the response is “yes,” the technique is referred to as embossing. Registered, blind, and sculptured embossing are the three main varieties.

The following are the primary advantages of embossing finishing on printed materials:

This method makes texts more vivid.

Make the prints pleasing to the eye.

Improve the prints’ quality.

It should be readable.

Cards, stamps, notebooks, gift cups, and many other items are among the items that embossing is most frequently used for.

Debossing  

Characters are raised on the upper side in embossing, but they are pressed inward to give the appearance of being sunken in debossing. To put it another way, embossing is the opposite of debossing. When discussing debossing types, registered and blind debossing are the two options. Debossing is typically done to make a product’s design stand out and look good.

These finishing methods are appreciated and will always be in vogue. So embossing and debossing are the finest techniques to try out if you want to make your product packaging, invitation cards, a catalogue printing company jaipur, and business cards stand out.

Foil Stamping

After embossing and debossing, foil stamping is a popular method of print finishing. By applying pressure and heat to the glossy foil, this stamping operation is carried out on the material’s surface. The finishing that is visible after this foil printing lights up and draws the viewer’s attention. This will support your decision about whether you are printing invitation cards or product packaging. Metallic and pigmented foil printing are the two main forms of accessible foil stamping.

Foil stamping was employed in the product packaging by the perfume company Bella Vita. Therefore, if you want to influence your buyer, pay attention to how the product is finished.

Selecting the Best Print Finishing Method

The best and correct print finishing method has been described above; however, most business owners struggle to select the method that will work best for their projects. For this reason, we are outlining the following elements to take into account while selecting the appropriate print-finishing techniques:

Objective –  

A brand must be very clear about the client’s goals and their own for their own projects as well. Planning for conversions, brand recognition, or attracting users to their platforms The task of finishing it will be simple if you are aware of the objective.

Target market –

The demographics and psychographics of the audience you are trying to reach—whether they are professionals, members of Generation Z, or regular people—will help you decide which print finishing methods to use for your next project.

Money –

To get the most out of any common print finishing method, high maintenance and cutting-edge equipment are required. Prior to making your choice, make sure to plan your budget and select the best print finishing methods that fit both your customers’ needs and your financial constraints.

Prioritize firmness and endurance

Customers always place a higher priority on goods that should be long-lasting and durable. Similarly, brands should choose print finishing methods that are robust and long-lasting. Are you looking for the best offset printing services in Jaipur? Check out the services on our website.

Conclusion  

The first impression is what determines whether a brand will have a positive or negative reputation because it lasts longer. Utilizing print finishing solutions improves the intelligence and authenticity of your goods. This enables the observer to develop a strong desire for the item on the store’s other side. The renowned and effective print finishing methods with the best printers in Jaipur to enhance the look of print materials include varnishing, embossing and debossing, lamination, and foil stamping. Therefore, if you are a business owner and want to alter the perception that people have of your brand’s print materials, try to focus on the post-print techniques.

[thecleverdame]

Caught - Part Two

Sam x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You're arrested and interrogated as an accomplice to the notorious Winchester brothers.

Warning: Talk of past violence, death of parents, murder, rape, torture and domestic abuse/violence.

Words: 2.8k

Beta:  ilikaicalie

Part 3, 4 & 5 are available now on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

-

You’ve had the dreams since you were a kid. They were mostly about small stuff like the weather or the score of a football game. They were vivid dreams, so mundane that you would have deemed them insignificant if it weren’t for the fact that they always came true.

It didn’t end there. Just like the visions, the other things came small and slow as you grew older. You could roll a pencil off the desk without touching it or make the lights go out without getting anywhere near the switch.

Small stuff, bad stuff, that your mother caught you doing when you were fourteen and put the kibosh to your wild imagination.

“No child of mine…” she mumbled, dragging you upstairs by the arm.

She was deeply religious, and couldn't bear the idea of you being part of something she deemed ‘the devil’. In her mind it was all the same, Ouija boards, fortune tellers and pentagrams, it was all worshipping a horned beast.

That was the road to hell and she wasn’t about to let you walk it.

Five Years Ago

Sam holds open the door of Pinkie’s Diner and follows you inside. It sounds ridiculous but he’s so close you can feel the energy coming off him as if he’s vibrating on some frequency you’re attuned to.

The smell of greasy fries and fresh coffee wash over you like a welcomed familiarity. With one hand on your arm, Sam leads the way to a back booth, ensuring that you sit before taking a seat himself. The waitress does a double-take when she gets a good look at your battered face. Her eyes shift to Sam, then his bruised knuckles.

You can only imagine what the two of you must look like. He’s working the whole pissed off hulk vibe and you look like the poster child for the domestic violence hotline.

“You kids alright?” she asks, tapping her pad with the eraser end of a pencil.

Are you alright? No, no you’re not.

“We’re fine,” Sam grunts. “Two coffees please.”

She gives you a look but doesn't say anything else before walking away.

He stares at you for a solid minute before asking the question that’s been eating him up inside.  “How’d you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?” you ask quietly, dropping your head to stare at your hands. You know exactly what he’s talking about.

Sam sits silently but you feel him fixated on you, he might as well be twisting your arm. “I didn’t learn how to do anything, I just…I’ve never done anything like that before. It was always dreams and then today...I don’t know. I just watched you and I knew I could help.”

“I don’t believe you.” Sam’s hostile, imposing his own personal brand of interrogation. He snaps forward in his seat, both hands balled on the table. He looks like a wild animal, poised and at the ready to tear you apart if you so much as breathe the wrong way.

If you hadn’t spent the last twenty-four hours in a car with him you might be scared, but you’re fairly sure you make him just as nervous as he makes you.

“I don’t need you to believe me,” you growl, eyes narrowing. “You show up out of nowhere in the middle of that shit storm, kidnap me, drive me out into the boondocks and now you’re calling me a liar? You’re the one who’s fucked, buddy.”

You slap the table in frustration, the grief rising into your throat. Sam’s watching something behind you and you turn to see the waitress leaning over the counter talking to one of the patrons. They’re both staring at you, whispering to one another.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sam continues, lowering his voice as his eyes flick back to you. “You can’t just get that strong out of nowhere. There’s no way. I worked for a year and Istill needed...help.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” you hiss. You want to be mad but you’re too tired for this shit right now. Hours of unchecked adrenaline have worn off and you’re a shell, numb and drained. Nails dig into your palms as you clench both fists. “I just came home to find-” You have to stop, choking on your own words as tears well up. “I walked into the kitchen and those two guys had my mom pinned to the fucking counter and they were cutting her. I couldn’t even scream I was so scared. The other guy was holding my dad but I knew he was already dead, there was so much blood, no one could survive that. I must have surprised them, but all I remember is being punched in the jaw and everything went black. When I opened my eyes, you were there.”

You’re sobbing quietly, so sleep deprived that you can’t even begin to control your emotions.

“It’s okay.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.” Sam relaxes a little, reaching across the table to pat the back of your hand. “I’m sorry about your parents. I tried to get there in time. I tried to save them.”

The waitress arrives with two cups of coffee, setting them in the middle of the table.

“Anything else I can get for you two?” Indignantly she eyes Sam who looks irked by her unspoken accusation.

“You hungry?” he asks and you nod yes. “Two burgers and fries. To go, please.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger,” you add, wiping tears from your cheek with the sleeve of your shirt.

“You got it, sweetheart.” She offers you a sad little smile and walks away.

“Why don’t you tell me how the hell you did that?” you whisper, staring at him. “You pull some Chuck Norris moves and then black smoke is coming out of people. “

“You helped with that,” he counters, cocking his head.

“It’s not like I knew I could...until I did it.” You drop your head. You’ve always been so desperate to fit in. To be like everyone else. But after the last twenty-four hours, it’s never been more obvious that you couldn’t be less normal. You’re an oddity, but it seems like maybe this guy is too.

“And what exactly is it that you did, Y/N?”

“I don’t know.” You roll your eyes, tipping the back of your head against the booth. You’re exasperated and exhausted. “I just grabbed your hand, closed my eyes and concentrated and bam. Exploding, sizzling black smoke was coming out of people’s mouths.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you've never done anything like that before,” Sam insists, both hands sliding palm down across the table as he leans closer.

“I swear to God, I have no idea what’s going on. I’m scared and hungry. I can’t think anymore. Please, Sam. Just lay off for a little bit, will ya?”

This seems to strike a chord, he nods toward the motel across the parking lot. “We can get a room for a couple of hours. You can sleep if you want.”

“So we’re getting rooms together now?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Y/N,” he shakes his head, at the end of his rope as much as you are. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s his eyes, Sam has kind eyes. But you also watched him kill with the ease and precision of someone trained to do it. He might be trustworthy but he’s also lethal. “Are you going to throw me over your shoulder again if I try to leave?”

“No, I won’t try to stop you,” he confirms. Sitting back in the booth, tucking his arms under the table.

“But?” You swirl your finger in a circle. “Come on. I know there’s big ol’ but coming.”

“You need to stay with me. You’re not safe.”

“Not safe? Not safe from black smoke?”

“Among other things.”

“Wonderful,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.

A fifty dollar room and a cheeseburger later you’re feeling a little less like walking death. You shower, peeling off dirty clothes you’d rather burn than put back on. There are little splatters of blood on everything if you look close enough, even your underwear is a reminder of what happened, little red dots that soaked through your jeans.

“You think there’s a laundromat around here?” you ask, inching out of the musty bathroom with a tiny motel towel wrapped around you.

“Probably, but you can’t go like that and I can’t leave you alone.” He’s careful not to look at you, surprisingly respectful for someone who easily breaks so many other rules.

Sam digs through his things, offering you a wrinkled shirt from his backpack. “It’s clean.”

“Thanks.”

The flannel falls almost to your knees, it’s long enough that you’re willing to brave going to sleep without putting dirty panties back on. You crawl into the bed furthest from the door and watch Sam watch TV until your eyes finally close.

Present Day

“Talk to me about what your life is like?” The psychiatrist sits across the table from you. He’s an unassuming, mousy little man in his late fifties, maybe he’s older but it’s hard to get a read on him.

“Boring,” you huff, picking at the peeling laminate covering the table top.

“I find that hard to believe,” he counters, smiling softly at you. “They found your fingerprints at a break-in. That doesn’t sound boring at all to me.”

“I don’t usually participate in that part of things,” you admit, sitting back in the chair. This is an intricate dance between honesty and a story you need to weave. They already know a lot, there’s no point in denying most of it.

“Tell me then, what is your role in all of this?”

“Laundry,” you shrug, looking him in the eyes. “Cooking, cleaning, moral support.”

“So, Sam and Dean go out and do the dirty work and you what? Keep the home fires burning?”

“Pretty much.”

“That must be hard. Isolating. Do you ever stay in one place for very long?”

Is he fishing for information for the cops? You’re not sure. This could just be him honestly trying to get a handle of what your day-to-day life entails.

If only he knew. The bunker is a full-time job. It’s huge and when you’re not playing doomsday housewife, there are rooms of files to be organized and documents to be scanned and electronically catalogued. There’s always something to be done.

“Sometimes,” you admit. “When it’s safe.”

“And Sam leaves you on your own?”

“Yeah...” you nod, beginning to understand where this is headed.

“He must really trust you...to leave you alone without worrying that you’ll run away.”

“He does,” you respond simply.

“Did you ever try?”

“Try what?” Your eyes narrow, watching him jot down notes on his legal pad. “Did I try to get away from him?”

“Yes,” he confirms, pulling off his glasses to look at you. “Did you ever try to tell someone what happened to you? Or attempt an escape?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.” You smile to yourself thinking about those first months.

“And what happened?”

“The first time the men who killed my parents came for me. Sam had to save my ass yet again from certain death. And the second time he caught me and talked me into staying.”

“That must have been some conversation,” he offers quietly without looking up.

“It was.” Your mouth twitches as those memories flood back. Sam’s earnest declaration of affection and a kiss that said everything else. A sad little motel room with decaying wallpaper and the feeling of his hands on your skin. The stretch of him inside you that first time. You fucked on a squeaky mattress while Dean waited in the car for his brother to convince you to come back. “He made a lot of really good points.”

“Has he ever hurt you?” he asks, tapping the inky tip of the pen on the paper.

This is where things get...delicate.

You need them to keep you here. You’ve been in holding at the local sheriff’s office for two days now. When they do move you, it’ll be to a more secure facility. It doesn’t matter if that’s a psychiatric hospital or the county jail. Both of those places are hard to get out of. You need to stay here, where it’s easy for Sam to get to you. He’ll come for you, it’s only a matter of time. That is if he’s alive, but you have to have faith. It’s all you’ve got anymore.

If you refuse to talk about it, they’ll label you as uncooperative and formally arrest you. After processing you’d be sent to the county jail. If they think you’re nuts, finally broken after years with the Winchesters, you’ll be committed, at least for a while.

This place is best. Security is minimal, but you doubt you’ve got too much longer. They have to know that Sam will try to get you out.

“Y/N,” Dr. Harold repeats himself. “I asked if Sam has ever hurt you.”

If you say no, if you try to explain that the people in the video they have are not you and Sam, he’ll think you’re delusional. You have to admit to at least some of it, despite how sick the very idea makes you feel.

“Not on purpose.”

There. That’s honest.

“I’m going to show you some photos and I want you to tell me what happened.” He opens a folder, pulling the first page. He turns it in your direction sliding it across the table. “You were calling yourself Tabitha Ripley.”

They found your fake IDs. They have more than you realized, every fake name you’ve used over the past five years.

You’re staring at a hospital admission form and three grainy photos from various angles. Your face is beaten and swollen. Two black eyes swelled shut and a broken nose that made your entire face blow up like a balloon. You looked like that for weeks.

And it wasn’t just your face, you’d broken an arm and a collar bone in that fight. It was a vampire that intended to avenge the death of his nest. It followed Sam home and nearly killed you before Dean came back early and saved your bacon. That was the attack that finally spurred Sam to teach you how to defend yourself.

“I, umm,” you gulp, remembering of the weight of the creature on top of you with its arm around your throat. You’d thought that was it, you were going to die on the shag carpet of an abandoned house. “I was mugged.”

“I see.” He makes a mark on his paper. “What about this one? You were calling yourself Holly Costagan, I believe.”

“Shit,” you breathe out. You’ve tried to put this incident out of your mind. Out of all the awful things that have happened to you, this was by far the most traumatic.

They were hunters. Four men who were convinced that Sam was the enemy, that he was going to end the world somehow. When they couldn’t find Sam they took you as their consolation prize and tortured you. The black and blue fingerprints around your wrist, the burn on your forearm, and the remaining scar are a painful reminder of the older man holding your arm over the stove.

There are still several dozen scars on your back from the tiny cuts they made, insistent on asking questions you didn’t have the answers to. They had you for a week before Sam broke down the door and killed all four of them.

Your hands shake as you trace over the hospital photos.

“This wasn’t Sam.” You close your eyes, unable to look at them anymore.

“Another mugging?” The doctor asks, his tone is gentle, he wants you to share. He probably thinks he can help you if he can get you to open up.

“Yeah,” you confirm staring at your hands. “Another mugging.”

“We can help, you know,” he offers. “You’re not the only one. Lots of women don’t leave. You don’t need to worry about what people will think, we’re professionals and we understand what you’ve been through. We have doctors who can help you heal. But we need you to cooperate with the police. I can’t do anything for you if you're in prison.”

This is it, right where you need to be. They think you’re abused but rational. They’ll keep you here for questioning and you can stall, for days if need be. A traumatized victim can ask for breaks, draw out the process long enough for Sam and Dean to come and get you.

“Okay,” you nod, looking at him with a wilted smile. “What do you want to know?”

[theolddarkmachine]

Four Years- Sophomore Year

Settling back into the careful composure of his well worn scowl, Keith lifts his glass in Shiro’s direction.

“I’ll stick with Shirogane, then, thanks,” he says brusquely as he raises the glass to his lips in an attempt to hide behind another swig of beer that he forgets isn’t there until he sees the flash of Shiro’s eyes as they meet his gaze through the emptied bottom of his glass.

Heat sparks in his chest, sending a flare racing up his neck and across the rise of his cheeks at the sound of Shiro’s husking laugh as, in a show of dominance, he tossed back the rest of his own drink.

“Looks like we’re ready for something stronger.”

Part 2 of 5

AO3

Warnings: None for now aside from underage drinking and ridiculous flirting, because this is a slowburn and that’s just how it goes. Will earn an E rating eventually. and by eventually i mean in the next chapter :3c

A/N: Originally I wanted to add lyrics at the start of each chapter from songs I felt encapsulated the feel for the chapter. But then I just couldn’t bring myself to add lyrics from Tupthumping and format them like poetry, but I tried to work that in another way instead. Enjoy.

********************

There were a great many thing things that Keith Kogane had learned by his second year of college. The first, is that being in a fraternity wasn’t actually that bad.

Not that he’d ever admit to Hunk that he was right.

Again.

But it had gotten him out of the hellhole known as dorm living and had even given him and Hunk a usable kitchen that didn’t carry the high risk of tetanus. It had even come with a fridge that was almost always stocked as long as Hunk promised an endless supply of his “Beta Famous Bear Claws.”

Really, everyone won in the end.

The second, is that he was disturbingly good at drinking games. So good, in fact, that he’d earned the title of The Anchor and had been the Beta’s not-so-secret weapon in every drinking competition that they found themselves in.

His only true match, was known as The Champion.

Or rather, Shiro.

Though, how the Alphas decided he should be called that was beyond him when he currently sat with one more win under his belt.

And the only reason Shiro had managed to pull his most recent win from him, was because he’d used his dimple against him.

Keith still maintains that it was an illegal play.

The third, is that fate is a dick.

A dick that had paraded itself into his life in the form of one Professor Slav. A dick that had forced them into a group essay together that totaled half of their overall semester grade.

A dick that had landed him in a slightly sticky booth across from Shiro with two drinks between them and not even the excuse of any games.

We should celebrate, Shiro had said as soon as they’d dropped their fluid mechanics essay off at Slav’s office.

Yeah, that’d be cool, Keith had said, as if the mere mention hadn’t sent his heart crashing into the roof of his mouth along with the acrid taste of bile. It’s an exaggerated reaction, he knows. One that isn’t really warranted given his otherwise calm and cool demeanor towards his classmate and frat rival.

Which brings Keith to the fourth, and final thing he’s learned. It was a revelation that he kept wrapped in all its bits of ominous cashmere, folded and tucked safely between the space of his third and fourth ribs where even he couldn’t touch it.

Because touching it was dangerous.

Acknowledging the softness that lined his insides would be sticking his hand within the garbage disposal of his emotions that would surely cut him to bits and leave him bleeding out on the floor.

Acknowledging it would mean admitting what he had known that exact moment he’d walked into that calculus class his freshman year.

That he’s completely gone for Shiro.

And not in the perfectly acceptable way that could have been rectified by a drunken night and bad decisions. In the a way that left his heart a pale imitation of Atlas holding up the weight of Shiro’s smile.

A smile that is burning a hole through his sternum as he watches the Alpha grab his beer and raise it in salute.

“To surviving Slav,” he says, sliding the words through his grin as he lowers his gaze to Keith’s pint before snapping it back up to his face. Deep within the silver there, he sees the fire of a challenge that stokes the flames within his own chest as he closes his fist around the cool glass and lifts it.

“And to being dumb enough to want to stay in aerospace engineering,” Keith replies before draining half of his beer if only for the excuse of looking away from the blinding glow of Shiro’s look.

“Who’d have thought that we would actually work well together,” Shiro hums thoughtfully as  Keith resurfaces, looking him over as he wipes a lazy line along the condensation thats gathered along his own glass.

“Did we?” He asks dumbly, eyeing what’s left and calculating if he could finish it off in one more go.

The answer? Yes, yes he could.

The real question is, should he?

“I think so,” Shiro says easily, his dimple working its way further into the corner of his mouth as he watches Keith, some secret enjoyment turning his gaze bright. If Keith didn’t know better, he’d think that Shiro knows exactly what he’s thinking.

The very thought paints his cheeks red as he scoffs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

“That makes one of us.”

Regret hits him almost immediately as something a lot like hurt turns Shiro’s gaze downcast, pushing an awkward silence along their booth that’s painfully pointed. If he were being honest, they really had worked well together, but that isn’t really the point, is it?

No matter how well they may have worked together, it didn’t change the fact that Shiro is off limits, painted with a big fat X.

Swallowing down his apology, Keith cuts his gaze to the other bar patrons, mentally cataloguing each face that turns their way. He’ll never hear the end of it if any of the Betas catch him sharing drinks with Public Enemy No. 1.

Sighing loudly, Keith slumps further into the booth, turning his attention back to Shiro only to be met by his unwavering stare.

It’s the kind of stare that carries confidence and nonchalance, as if Shiro doesn’t care who saw them there. Though, now that Keith thinks about it, he supposes that only makes sense.

Sal’s was, for all intents and purposes, sacred ground where all rivalries were checked at the door since it was the one bar in town that didn’t look too closely at IDs. As long as no one made things difficult, they could overlook the differences in the laminated photos. 

That very rule made it the kind of place where even the most vehement of enemies would be able to share a drink side-by-side.

Of course, it was also the kind of place where drunken students would input the same song in the jukebox to play for an hour straight. 

At first, it had been funny. Now, it feels like an ill omen.

The song, a drinking tune made popular thanks to the 90s, kicked in once more as it listed off an obscenely long list of drinks. Keith is pretty sure that if anyone drank all of those, they’d be knocked down and definitely wouldn’t be getting back up again.

Granted, staring down the barrel of Shiro’s gunmetal eyes, he thinks he might just give it a try.

“So tell me about yourself,” Shiro’s voice is a burning ember stoked within the crashing roar of the bar patrons around them as he leans forward, gaze filled with intent as he breaks the awkward silence of their booth. It makes Keith’s heart flip a perfect 10 from the judges within his chest as he opts to throw back the last of his beer if only to buy himself a bit more time.

The smooth IPA washed down his minor panic, leaving nothing but feigned confidence in its wake as he emerged from behind the emptied glass.

“I’m not sure what else you want to know, Shirogane,” he says just as smoothly, leveling him with a careful arch of his brow as he settling back into the booth as he raised a finger with each point he made.

“I’m a Beta, I clearly like the pain of this major, and I’m the one that kicks your ass every weekend in beer pong. What more do you want to know?”

Deep lines crinkle the edges of Shiro’s almond eyes as he pulls his forearm up to rest his chin on his open palm. It makes him look younger, almost wistful.

“Shiro,” he answers, tucking his grin behind a careful sip of his beer.

“What?” Keith’s voice is a flatline as loses his train of thought to the slow drag of Shiro’s tongue along the slick liquid that coated his top lip.

“My friends call me Shiro,” the Alpha bites out, turning his smile predatory as his eyes glow with the dumbly breathless nature of Keith’s voice. Friends, was not the right word at all.

Friends, held a connotation that he never wanted a part in.

Friends, was something he wouldn’t have even wanted to be even if they hadn’t landed themselves in rival fraternities that pitted them against each other every weekend.

What Keith wanted, was something a lot stronger. He wants late nights, secret smiles and names gasped into the darkness of night.

What he wants, are early mornings, soft sunlight with softer kisses and his eggs over easy.

That, however, is a secret that he would take with him right to his grave, because Keith was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a traitor. No matter how enticing Shiro’s crescent smile and starlit eyes are.

Settling back into the careful composure of his well worn scowl, Keith lifts his glass in Shiro’s direction.

“I’ll stick with Shirogane, then, thanks,” he says brusquely as he raises the glass to his lips in an attempt to hide behind another swig of beer that he forgets isn’t there until he sees the flash of Shiro’s eyes as they meet his gaze through the emptied bottom of his glass.

Heat sparks in his chest, sending a flare racing up his neck and across the rise of his cheeks at the sound of Shiro’s husking laugh as, in a show of dominance, he tossed back the rest of his own drink.

“Looks like we’re ready for something stronger.”

The words, accompanied with a wink, carry Shiro away as Keith opened his mouth around a silent protest just seconds too late. A dryness fills his throat as he watches his classmate push through the crowd, ignoring the lingering eyes as he passes until he reached the bar.

From here, Keith gets a front row seat to the snug fit of his jeans, and the way his navy henley pulls across his shoulders, the fabric set just this side of too tight in a way that would make him go weak in the knees if he was standing.

Good thing he wasn’t.

Even from behind, Keith can see the confidence that holds Shiro’s head high as he starts to speak with the bartender. He can imagine the easy smile that would work itself high in the full of his lips, drawing his cupid bow taut and deepening that damned dimple. Something dark curled itself low in his gut as he watched the bartender toss back his head with a laugh, the sound of it snatched away by the sound of Chumbawumba calling out for one Danny Boy. Light flashes off his glasses as he returns his gaze to Shiro, his own mouth split wide as he reaches beneath the bar.

Keith shaking his head as he watches, shaking the blackened thoughts from his head as he turns away, biting down on his lip until he tastes the sharp tang of blood. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the tart taste on the back of his tongue was jealousy.

Good thing he did.

A tray of shots materializes in front of him, their contents sloshing over their sides as they’re dropped unceremoniously with a clatter on the table before him, causing him to jump as Shiro pushes himself back into his side of the booth.

“Are you up for a game?” Shiro asks, the silver of his eyes muted with a dark challenge as he licks across a sharpened canine. It’s a feral move that cracks that pesky space between Keith’s ribs wide with the brambles of sticky, sharp desire. It buries itself deep into his bones, forcing the gaps further and further apart until he isn’t sure he’d be able to keep breathing.

Crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to hold it together, Keith tilts his chin high in defiance.

“I’m always up for kicking your ass, Shirogane,” he growls, pushing the words through his gritted teeth. A storm cloud rumbles across Shiro’s face as a hungry shadow turned it hard in a fleeting moment that makes Keith’s heart race. 

The air thickens between them, catching with the same static that fills the air before a tempest as they hold each others gazes over the tray of sharp smelling alcohol.

It would be something of a perfect moment if only Keith could hear something other than that damned song starting over yet again.

“What’re the rules?” He breathes, shattering the moment as Shiro shakes his head briefly, his gaze returning to their teasing shine as he reaches for the glasses between them.

“Simple,” he says with a shrug as he divvies up the shots until there are an equal amount on either side of the table. Six a piece.

Keith’s stomach turns.  

“I ask a question, if you don’t want to answer, you drink. You ask a question, if I don’t want to answer, I drink.”

It’s said easily, as if it the statement isn’t filled with all the makings of a trap. Shiro was handing Keith the opportunity to make this last as long— or as short— as possible. All he needs to do, is leave all his questions unanswered.

Six shots weren’t that many in the grand scheme of things, after all.

Keith’s certain he’s done more than that before.

Granted, that night had ended in a promise that he’d never drink again.

But hey. He never said he was perfect.

“Easy enough,” he agrees against the better judgement that screamed at him in the form of a strangely Hunk shaped angel on his shoulder. Smiling all teeth, he grabs one of the shot glasses and gathers it between his palms.

He takes a vodka drink, indeed.

“I’m glad we can agree.” A small shiver dances it way down the grooves of his spine as he watched Shiro’s hand fold around his own. “And in a show of good faith, I’ll let you go first.”

Violet catches steel as they eye each other. Lightning gathers along Keith’s skin as he hums lowly in faux thought as he thumbs the lip of his shot glass.

“Why aerospace engineering?” He asks finally, reveling in the way Shiro’s eyes widen at the tameness of the question. It’s a throwaway question meant to test the waters of Shiro’s intent, and Keith is sure he’s found it in the moments of silence that pass before he pulls himself back together to offer a low chuckle as he let’s his head hang with it.

“Would you believe me if I said I just love space?” Shiro asks, open and honest before him, coloring his tone a shimmery shade with a hidden plea to leave it at that. It flushes his system with curiosity as he let’s his eyes openly roam over the Alpha as if he could pull the truth from within his mind before shrugging noncommittally.

“Don’t see why I wouldn’t.” And though he tries to play it off coolly, Keith realizes that he means it. Through the weekly competitions and their short time as essay partners, Shiro had never given him any reason to question his sincerity. It was most of the reason why his heart always seemed to batter itself against the inside of his chest whenever he was near.

Shiro’s fingers rolled the shot glass back and forth within his grasp before he spoke.

“What about you?”

Keith’s reaction is instinctual as his hand twitches around the slick glass. He knows that he should throw it down for the sake of being one shot down and a bit closer to freedom. That would be the smart thing to do.

But there’s a heat pooling in his stomach and licking the inside of his veins and he wants. He wants so badly, that he’s sure he’s going to burn with it.

More importantly, he’s sure he’d enjoy it.

“I want to be free.” The words leave his lips before he can pick them apart. They carry a weight that hangs between them as Shiro nods in understanding that stokes the flames charring his insides.

“There’s something about the idea of making it up there that sounds like the best kind of escape.”

Pausing, he drags his gaze up from the clear liquid in his glass, filling his smile with wickedness  as he winks.

“And I just love space.” It earns him a bright laugh that dances over him as Shiro raises his shot toward him.

“Touché.”

“Why’d you choose the Alphas?” Keith throws out quickly once his laughter has died down, pulling his brow up in question as Shiro swallows down his shot without pause. There’s a sharp click of glass against wood as he drops it on the corner of their table with a hiss.

“Well color me intrigued,” he says with a laugh as Shiro grabs his next victim, shrugging a shoulder as he keeps his eyes down.

“I’d tell you if we were friends but apparently we aren’t.” His smile goes sharp, filled with the same bite as a wolf. It only grows more pointed as his voice dips into nonchalance.

“Which, why don’t you want to be?”

Air seizes in Keith’s throat as panic stings his edges, leaving him buzzing as he tries to swallow it down. Suddenly, the shot warming against his palm feels like bullet as he realizes taking it would only prove he had something to hide.

Though, from the way Shiro’s grin widens, he’s sure he already knows.

“You’re an Alpha,” he tries, ignoring the way his voice sounds strangled even to his own ears. Keith doesn’t even want to imagine what it sounds like to Shiro’s. 

Like the confession he was hoping to avoid, maybe?

The very thought fills his throat with the bitter sting of bile.

Tsking softly, Shiro raises a finger at him and wags it slowly as he falls into mock disapproval, shaking his head in time with each hardened sound.

“That, sounds like a lie, and a lie is two shots,” he says mercilessly as he uses that same shaming finger to push another one of Keith’s shots toward him. It stares up at him, it’s clear stare reveling that of Shiro’s silver as he cuts his glance between the two before he sighs.

At the very least, Shiro is letting it go, and he’ll play by the rules if it meant being able to hide the truth beneath the acrid taste of vodka.

The first shot burns the entire way down.

“Making up rules as we go, are you?” Keith hums, not putting much force behind it as he grabs the second.

It chases the first’s flames with a kamikaze crash.

“Guess you’ll never know.” Shiro’s laugh is kindling to the fire that the vodka has already set, and Keith can feel it snapping and popping as it grows at his core. Mixed with the pleasant buzz of his first beer, there’s a happy kind of tingle that’s making his fingertips feels like lightning clouds as he palms his third shot. It bubbles up within him until he finds himself laughing as well.

He can feel the weight of Shiro’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t care, because in that moment he can pretend that maybe this is something more than two classmates celebrating the end of a partnership neither of them had even asked for.

“Who’s the guy you’re always with?” The next question comes after his laughter has dried up, and it causes him pause as he tilts his head, pulling his brows together in question.

There’s only one person that Shiro could mean, and that’s—

“Hunk?” He asks, though he supposes Shiro wouldn’t actually know. That would make the question moot, though he figures it should be anyway.

Shiro doesn’t have much of a reason to care who his friends are.

“He’s my best friend.”

Silver cuts into him, carving deep grooves into his skin as if he was trying to decide if Keith’s answer is a lie. It tickles his insides and turns his cheeks a light pink as the alcohol makes him warm beneath the stare. Suddenly, Keith wonders if maybe he does have a reason, because something about that look feels exciting.

Feels like maybe Shiro understands the way his fingers are screaming out to touch.

The corner of his mouth twitches up around a smirk as he leans forward on his forearms.

“Why, are you jealous?” He breathes. Shiro holds his gaze as he snatches up his next shot, throwing it back and baring his throat before dropping it in his shot glass graveyard.

A thrill runs through Keith that makes the edges of his vision light as he mirrors his stance and pushes himself forward against the table.

“Do you want me to be?” Shiro returns, barely hiding his smile as Keith opens his throat around another mouthful of vodka. It’s accompanied by the sound of his triumphant laughter mixed with the sweet, dulcet sounds of Tubthumping.

“Why do you want to be my friend so badly?” Keith volleys before the glass hits the wood, not even bothering to drop it by the empties.

The game had gotten interesting, and there was no point in pretense anymore.

Shining steel flicks downward as Shiro considers his words, mulling them over between the teeth he’s running over his bottom lip. And then he’s looking up and painting Keith’s vision a metallic shade as all else falls away. It leaves him feeling light, as if he’s about to float away, and now he remembers why he promised to never do shots again.

“I tried to tell you last year, you’re my type.”

He says it like a summer breeze. As if it were easy. As if it was right. As if it doesn’t set Keith ablaze and fill his lungs with smoke as he shakes his head.

“Lie, take two,” he manages as he tries to smoothly push one of Shiro’s shots toward him. Vodka spills over the side and slicks the table beneath it as he ignores it, instead smearing it along the table top as he pushes the glass further. Everything goes loud around them as Keith finds himself sinking beneath Shiro’s starlight gaze as he searches for something that only he could know.

“My turn,” Shiro’s voice is pitched low as he drops his stare to Keith’s mouth. In a brief moment of clarity, he notices the way it’s gone almost black.

“Kiss me?”

Everything stops and speeds up all at once as Keith finds himself floundering, crushed beneath the question. He should pull away.

He should laugh it off and take his shot.

He should bite back the gasp that has parted his lips.

But this is a game of what he should do, and what he does, and what Keith does, is none of the above.

Instead, he finds himself moving forward, his body propelled by the heat of Absolut and desire until he feels the unyielding pressure of Shiro’s mouth against his. It gathers the glowing heat of a star in his ribcage as they move against each other. Licking into his mouth, Keith steals the moan from Shiro’s tongue as he curls his fingers into the fabric of his shirt to hold him steady.

The new star incinerates his bone and his skin before building him back up and he’s certain he can see new universes glowing against the backs of his eyelids.

It’s too little and all to much as the room starts to burn around him, leaving a single point of clarity in the form of a heated palm against his nape.

That very palm, is the last thing Keith remembers as everything falls away into darkness, leaving nothing but the echo of that god forsaken song in its wake.

You’re never gonna keep me down.

***

Pain slices through Keith’s temple as he’s awakened by the sudden violence of his alarm going off. Eyes flying open as he pushes his way up from his bed, he grabs for the trash just to the side of his bed, managing to get it into his lap before his stomach empties its contents into the bottom of its cheap plastic.

This was it, the big one. The one where he promises to never drink again, and actually means it.

Why was he even taking shots to begin with?

Moments pass as his mind races to catch up with with his pulse that’s racing in his ears before it crashes down around him. Snippets of memory play before his eyes in dark fragments, set to a soundtrack of Chumbawumba.

There had been a strong arm wrapped around his waist that helped him stumble from the bar.

A deep laugh at some bad joke Keith had told.

A steady hand that had pressed into his chest and pushed him into his bed before pulling the covers up to his chin.

There had been the soft brush of lips against his cheek.

Keith’s breath quickens as he presses his fingertips to the crest of his cheek as if to chase the phantom sensation that burns there. Shiro had brought him home.

Shiro had tucked him into bed.

Blanching at the thought, Keith threw his legs over the edge of his bed, ignoring the tug of his blankets as they fall to the floor.

Something bright catches his vision as his eyes are pulled toward a glass on his nightstand. And beside it, two white capsules and a note.

With one hand clutching the trash can to his chest, Keith reaches for the pills, letting his fingers drag over the top of squared letters that sit beneath them. Each blue ink mark is another scar against his ribs as he reads the words.

Take this, and learn how to hold your liquor :)

He’s definitely never drinking again.

Groaning loudly, and wincing at the flare of pain it causes in his temple, Keith tosses the pills into his mouth, ignoring the water as he swallows them down dry to chase after his heart that was still rapidly beating in his throat.

********************

[vicostoness]

The New Angle On Countertops Kitchen Just Released

Our designers and expert stone installers will be with you each step of the way, to realize your project through. No matter your budget or how decor savvy you're, it can be hard to opt for a countertop that is suitable for the way you live. An ugly or outdated kitchen is a huge turnoff for a good deal of buyers. There are a lot of aspects in your kitchen that may be the topic of a renovation undertaking. A kitchen renovation are not only going to drive up the resale value of your house but it is going to also make your home a lot easier to sell, which is an immense plus given the way the housing market has been down in recent decades. Spending money to renovate the kitchen is just one of the highest methods you'll be able to boost the worth of your house.

The Benefits of Countertops Kitchen

Kitchen canisters can be all various shapes and sizes and have a wide variety of price tags. Granite is available in different pattern, textures and colours. Tile also comes in an infinite number of shades and styles.

Countertops Kitchen

Laminate surface will readily scratch and chip. Concrete countertops can get a yellowish tint in the event the suitable epoxy isn't employed. Out of all the material choices, laminate is going to be the most economical. Granite can resist stains and are extremely durable. The grout joints between the tiles also make it challenging to clean out the countertop. Porcelain tile is created from clay dust that's been compressed under very high temperatures. If you like the look of painted cabinets, it may be time to provide blue a try. If you pick a granite construction materials, as an example, you've got to believe twice befor asking a buddy to give you a hand and tackling it as a wekkend undertaking. Either everything is apparently right, or nothing falls into place A kitchen is among the most crucial areas in a house because most of the time nearly every individual in the home is in the kitchen. The countertop waterfall trend is quite powerful right now, therefore it's time we discussed it. After you've nailed down the ideal countertop idea you may be thinking about upgrading those previous cabinets at exactly the same time. Every kind of countertop has specific qualities which you may use in deciding what type of new furnishing to get.

The Fundamentals of Countertops Kitchen Revealed

Faucets There are numerous types and styles of shower faucets to choose from. There are several types of kitchen countertops, and each has its specific advantages and disadvantages, for example, price. An individual can coordinate a wholly one of a kind design concept for a number of surfaces including, but not confined to, countertops for kitchens and kitchen islands, bathrooms, tables, and work places. Patio door window treatments can be challenging, so here are a couple expert suggestions. Working in the kitchen can be a great deal more efficient and pleasurable if you've implemented good organizational strategies. Great kitchen design is dependent on knowing about the most recent trends in kitchen design. Look up Surf through internet catalogues and be sure to get the appropriate fabrication and cost estimation so you can plan your budget ahead and then install kitchen countertops. No job is too large or too small for all of us. When you have tackled the kitchen tiles you need to decide on what faucets to go with, which is normally very easy because an easy trip to your regional hardware store will offer you more than enough kitchen suggestions to work with.

Countertops Kitchen for Dummies

Corian produces a lovely and long-lasting surface that's guaranteed to appeal and add value to your property. After these counter tops are damaged they aren't simple to repair. Would you like to observe the cap of the counter or do you wish to mount your sink below the counter, this is whenever the sink isn't visible. The primer dries to the touch in about thirty minutes, but you have to wait 8 or more hours before you may begin the next step. Additionally, its cool elegant surface is excellent for rolling out pastry dough. Work in three-foot sections so that you keep up a wet edge. Black granite is just one of the priciest and desired countertop surfaces. Granite Worktops Granite is the most frequent kind of stone employed for a countertop. Ceramic tile is easily the most durable. Tile countertops are incredibly versatile. It's tough to estimate the expense of a tile countertop since much is dependent upon the tile chosen and intricacy of the installation. The very best thing about using kitchen granite worktops is that they're very dependable. You'll also have access to many different finishes when installing porcelain kitchen counters. Granite tiles utilize the very same stone, and possess the identical appeal of a good granite countertop, but for the price. Marble is easily the most luxurious countertop you'll be able to choose. It's also stronger than marble and much simpler to wash. Mosaic Tile Bathrooms permit you to redecorate your house by using the exact practices and style utilized by the Greeks and the Romans. Wood countertops are another material which has been steadily trending for the previous few decades. Custom made tiles are a lot more expensive. If your granite slab doesn't fit well, then you have to arrange for a return by means of your vendor. Aesthetically, slate is known to boost the total value of the property on account of the stone's classy texture and visual appeal. FLORIM stone doesn't contain resins, it's hygienic and it's entirely safe in contact with any food. Read the full article

[homeguidedesignsg]

We completed this home interior design and renovation project for a HDB resale flat in Bishan Street 22. This is the letter and testimonial from the client describing the journey from start to finish.

Throughout my lifetime, home has always been an extremely precious place to me. I love spending time at home, it’s a deep sort of affinity that I identify with dearly. For almost all my life, I lived in a 5-room HDB in Bishan, and I especially loved the corner that I slept in – even after I had moved out and my family renovated the place, I would sometimes think about the corner when I spent much of my life awake at night, pondering the meaning of life as I drifted off to dreamland.

After getting married in January 2017, my wife Linh and I looked for a resale HDB, in, to nobody’s surprise, Bishan. As a true lover of the heartland where the yellow and red MRT lines intersected, I often mentally mocked the sorrow of our dear brothers AMK and TPY for whom fate decided not to grant the Circle Line to. So close, yet so far. After securing the place, the search for an interior designer begun. My wife and I were very aligned on the vision for our home. We both loved pandas, and wanted our home to be cosy with slight touch of minimalistic. We also really liked wood, and valued deeply an open and spacious concept. Cosy, open, wood would be the three key words.

Working with Home Guide

I learnt about Home Guide from a good friend of mine – her Dad was the owner of the company. While this was a pull factor, we wanted to choose the best firm for the job, so we searched intensively over a period of 4 months. We contacted over 20 firms and met about 10 from a variety of sources. This took a toll and there were times where we got tired of meeting new IDs and judging them based on their proposals and interactions. Yet we pressed on, because our intent was to live in this home for the rest of our lives (that’s probably another 60 years).

We don’t intend to move or upgrade in future, so we really only had one shot to get this right, thus we were extremely particular about the person we would work with – I think it is safe to say that our eventual designer Wanting must have felt pretty exasperated with us at times because of how demanding our requirements were. We got involved in every single detail possible (some of which mattered little, others more so), things like grouting colour all the way to innovative ways to box up toilet and air conditioning pipes. In most creative work, there is a constant battle between what is functional and what is creative.

Most creative ideas may not be functional or lack usability, whereas most functional ideas tend to be dull and boring. We ignored this rule of thumb and demanded both in our vision. As dreamers, we started off with creative, incredulous ideas, and then demanded that we find out a way to make it functional simultaneously.

A couple of examples would make this apparent. For the design phase, we didn’t work with just Wanting from Home Guide. While I really liked her thoroughness and attention to detail, I valued the creativity from another designer named Gerard from another firm, therefore we engaged both and our design meetings were with two designers providing two differing perspectives. Whereas most other projects typically take a couple of months for the design, we took an arduous 9 months, recycling over 10 layout design ideas and countless others such as reading nooks, secret, hidden doors, arched doorways and replacing walls with full-panel glass.

We would take our floor plan, erase all the walls we could hack down, and re-imagine how we could reconfigure the space altogether. You can imagine this took a lot of patience on Wanting’s part, and at times we would pivot an idea after she had prepared a drawing or 3D rendering, meaning she had to go back and redo the entire piece. I think we overshot the number of reiterations we had for 3D rendering as well.

Through it all, Wanting was patient with us and Jack, the owner, was supportive in journeying with us at critical points of the renovation process. For instance, normally people choose their wardrobe laminate colour and design based on a sample catalogue small enough to carry around in one hand.

However, knowing how painstakingly meticulous we were, Jack and Wanting went the extra mile and invited us down to the actual factory itself to decide based on the massive chunks of laminate so that we could get a more realistic feel of the designs.

The workers were surprised to see us and commented that rarely do customers go to such extents. As such, I am immensely grateful to both Jack and Wanting for adjusting and adapting to our rigorous needs.

This content requires HTML5/CSS3, WebGL, or Adobe Flash Player Version 9 or higher.

if (ggHasHtml5Css3D() || ggHasWebGL()) {if (typeof Wanting_Bishan_pano2vrPlayer != 'undefined') pano2641_2824=new Wanting_Bishan_pano2vrPlayer('container2641_2824');else pano2641_2824=new pano2vrPlayer('container2641_2824');if (typeof Wanting_Bishan_pano2vrSkin != 'undefined') skin2641_2824=new Wanting_Bishan_pano2vrSkin(pano2641_2824, '/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan//');else skin2641_2824=new pano2vrSkin(pano2641_2824, '/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan//');window.addEventListener('load', function() {pano2641_2824.readConfigUrlAsync('/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan/pano.xml');});} else if (swfobject.hasFlashPlayerVersion('10.0.0')) {var flashvars = {};var params = {};function ggXmlReady() { initMap2641_2824(); };flashvars.externalinterface='1';params.quality = 'high';params.bgcolor = '#ffffff';params.allowscriptaccess = 'sameDomain';params.allowfullscreen = 'true';var attributes = {};attributes.id = 'pano2641_2824';attributes.name = 'pano2641_2824';attributes.align = 'middle';flashvars.panoxml= '/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan/pano.xml';flashvars.skinxml= '/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan/skin.xml';params.base='/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan/';swfobject.embedSWF('/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/Wanting_Bishan//pano2vr_player.swf', 'container2641_2824','100%', '621px','10.0.0', '',flashvars, params, attributes);}

Please enable Javascript!

3D Rendering of the proposed final work,

An Impressive Final Product

In our modern culture of Instagram and Facebook, we know that pictures are always edited and re-edited to portray the best image possible, to showcase the person or place in the best light. As such, when the 3D rendering for our home design came out, we were impressed with the artist’s work, but we knew that reality wouldn’t match up to it and lowered our expectations accordingly.

Fast forward several months and our renovation was coming to a close. As you might imagine, we were there every week at the beginning and as the various fittings were put into place and the final touches dusted off the shelves, almost every night after work. If you would ask me the one thing which I am most impressed with the final product, it has got to be the quality of execution.

Imagine my surprise when the built-in wardrobe and wood-frame-laminated glass panels looked almost exactly like the 3D rendering! It was a like-for-like match and I was thoroughly impressed at the quality workmanship and appearance. If you don’t believe, take a look at it yourself. The pictures don’t lie, and this really stood out for Linh and I. A brilliant concept is only as good as the quality of its execution, and oftentimes creative ideas fall short not because of the intent, but the implementation.

Looking Back

In terms of improvement, I can only think of one, which is perhaps specific to our project as well. One of the things I really value is a consistent barrage of innovative ideas to bounce off and discuss, debate, and explore. Creativity without boundaries is easy, but creativity within boundaries such as a 2.6m ceiling is challenging. While many ideas were customised and highly specific, I still felt more could have been done in terms of pushing the limits and peering out for rare insights. This may involve ideas such as creative linkage and integration of futuristic trends such as technology and the Internet of Things into traditional designs.

The journey of renovation was a deeply personal one for my wife Linh and I, involving not just calculations and concepts, but our entire being, heart and passion poured into the project. We left no stone unturned, and expected Home Guide to do the same. After visiting our home, many people ask Linh if she would consider being a designer because she came up with many of the most innovative ideas in our home. She said no, because she didn’t think she could do this again due to the mental and emotional energy required.

We are deeply grateful to Wanting, Jack, Home Guide and our other designer Gerard for journeying with us through this process. There were many moments where we weighed pros and cons, debated or reset ideas completely. It was frustrating and stressful, and I’m sure Wanting probably wanted to pull out her hair at times even though she always put on a calm, professional front. Probably she complains about our project to her colleagues over lunch. Yet not once did we falter or downsize our vision, but kept our eyes fixed on the end goal through it all. And it is a testament to Wanting and Jack for not only their stellar ability to execute, but the fluid adaptability to meet our consistent demands as a couple heavily invested in a project which will last us a lifetime.

Thank You

Thanks be to Wanting, Jack, and all from Home Guide who worked on our home. May it be that years later, when I walk into the master bathroom and turn on the tap to see water droplets streaming into the Villeroy & Boch water basin, that I recall the time we shared together. We richly enjoyed this journey, and we hope you did too.