#timber bookshelves

[urbantraps]

Large minimalist built-in desk carpeted study room photo with white walls Photo of a spacious, minimalist study space with a built-in desk and carpet and white walls

[awjoffrey]

Large minimalist built-in desk carpeted study room photo with white walls Photo of a spacious, minimalist study space with a built-in desk and carpet and white walls

[arc-hus]

House in Kyodo, Tokyo - Go Hasegawa

[emmagibney]

Living Room Library Mid-sized trendy enclosed light wood floor and brown floor living room library photo with white walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Okay, let's get a little spooky with the early 18th century Wingfield House, Wingfield, Wiltshire, UK. The 4bd, 3ba home underwent significant expansion in the late 19th century when there was a demand for additional entertaining rooms and separate wings for bachelors and children. During WWI, the manor was used as a military hospital. In the 1940s, the property was divided into four separate dwellings. £1.250M / $1.530M

The newer portion of the house was done in Gothic Revival style, while the original is Georgian.

The home is accessed via an enclosed communal courtyard and a Gothic revival doorway. This opens to a double-height entrance hall paved with York flagstones.

The impressive ballroom off the main hall features a timber barrel-vaulted ceiling.

Tudor-arched fireplace has the Caillard family arms (owners that renovated the home after WWI) above the arch, along with a French motto on top of the fireplace. Note the large Inglenook and window openings in the fireplace itself.

39 ft library hall, (and the oldest part of the house), with six floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves, giving both open and closed storage options.

 

Drawing room with early Georgian plaster is finished in a vibrant shade of turquoise and has a white marble fireplace dating back to 1760 that came from the Circus building in Bath.

Large kitchen and dining area with cream-painted cabinetry. Wide, stripped timber flooring and an original limestone fireplace create focal points in the room.

Ascending to the first floor via a fine early Georgian staircase with waist-high paneling and a delicate domed skylight above is the remarkable primary bedroom suite set in the corner.

This space was meticulously crafted by the current owners including Gothic-inspired doors and built-in seating in a contemporary oriel window inspired by the Pre-Raphaelite movement. 

A modern marble shower room cleverly concealed behind double wardrobe doors. That's how ya do it- this is a great idea.

Secondary bedroom adjacent to the primary has a beautiful built-in closet and window seats.

On the floor above is a bedroom under the eaves with thick original beams.

What a magnificent home- look at the architecture. Lovely pond on the property, too.

Horticulturist's delight is a modern greenhouse on the property.

There's a plethora of different plant and tree species on the property, all meticulously maintained.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

I can't wait for the next part of the trio saving werewolf!reader it was so good!

Ask: I can't wait for the next part of the trio saving werewolf!reader it was so good! 

Ask: Hi! Just read part one of what is hopefully a mini-series of the trio x werewolf reader, and I can’t wait to see what happens next. If you like some suggestions on how to continue: maybe part two could be about the Reader learning how to be free, or perhaps the Trio helping reader recover enough to be able to shift back to being a human? Either way, can’t wait to see what else you have planned. Thank you so much!

[Combining the two asks here.]

A/N: My toxic trait? Answering asks for Part 2s of something I wrote over a year ago and then promptly abandoned lol. (To Read Part 1 to refresh your memory, like I had to do, click here [x].)

✥ ✥ ✥

“Do you think they’ll ever be able to turn back?” Sypha asked from where she stood, in one of the many rows of bookshelves lining the Belmont hold. 

Several levels below her, Trevor grunted as he hauled large pieces of shattered support beams to the base of the main staircase. “It’s impressive how sentient they are now, being a were-creature and all.” 

“Yes, but they don’t want to stay a creature for the rest of their lives.” 

“Well, life isn’t always fucking fair,” Trevor cursed, half-out of breath, as he began lugging the large beam up the stairs. 

“I’m fairly certain she knows that,” Alucard intervened, entering the main chamber, having just arrived fresh off the newly built lift he installed. “Speakers see far more suffering than most people, seeing as they believe it is their duty to help the less fortunate.” 

“How’s the lift?” Sypha asked, coming over to the railing. “Does it work? Were the calculations correct?” 

Alucard nodded. “I needed to modify a few measurements, considering the potential excess weight load-”

“We’re not that heavy,” Trevor interrupted. “Or do you plan to start bringing villagers in by the dozen and give tours?” 

Alucard narrowed his eyes at Trevor. “I was considering the repairs that need to be done for all the damage the night creatures inflicted. Unless of course, you’d prefer to drag that thing up yet another hundred feet.” 

Trevor huffed, refusing to show his fatigue. “What? This old thing?” He locked his knees to keep them from buckling. “Can barely feel it.” 

Sypha rolled her eyes. “Could the two of you stop competing for one second?! We’re supposed to be looking for ways to help our friend!” 

Admitting defeat, Trevor dropped the large piece of timber at the next landing. “Sypha, we’ve been at it for months. Every book says the same thing: only the shapeshifter can cause a shift at will. Outside of whoever cursed them with the affliction undoing it themselves. Or killing the shapeshifter and using death magic to alter their form post-mortem, there’s nothing any of us can do.” 

Accepting her friend had a point, Sypha took one of the adjoining bridges, healing toward Trevor as he stopped to catch his breath. 

“I could freeze that beam and toss it out you know,” she gestured to where Alucard currently stood. 

“The last time you did that, we ended up with a giant hole in the ground.” 

“That wasn’t me, that was the night creatures.” 

“But you did break the castle,” Alucard countered. “All of the gears were melted.”

“I did not! I do not break things. I am a Speaker, I fix things!” 

Alucard chuckled, sharing a knowing look with Trevor. For as knowledgeable as she was, she certainly had a hard time admitting when she was wrong. 

“In either case, it will take years to repair, even with my vampiric speed and strength. Dracula engineered those cogs and wheels over several centuries, often hiring the best blacksmiths around.” 

The trio boarded the lift together, Trevor having decided to leave the broken beam behind for another day. 

“They worked here? With him?” Sypha asked. 

“The castle’s forge is quite extensive. And no matter their level of skill, I doubt any local blacksmith’s forge would be large enough to mold such immense gears. They could only manage such creation within the walls of the castle.” 

Trevor scoffed. “Did they know who they were working for?” 

“I’m certain they had suspicions, but I doubt my Fath-, Dracula ever told them the truth.” 

“That’s-” Trevor started.

“Sad,” Sypha finished for him. “To be alone all that time. To not be able to tell anyone who you are.” 

The ingenious pulley system lift finally came to a stop as it became level with the forest ground outside the Belmont hold. 

“Is that why you wish to help them so badly?” Alucard asked, referring to their new werewolf companion. “You feel they’re lonely?” 

“Well they were lonely, back in that cage, in that life,” Sypha reminded her friends, as Alucard locked the lift in place.

“They seem better now,” Trevor remarked, being the first to disembark. “After all, you keep bugging them every day, they’re hardly lonely.” 

Sypha elbowed him, lovingly. “I do not bug them. They enjoy my company.” 

“You keep forgetting Speakers are used to traveling in large groups,” Alucard reminded Belmont, once again, as the trio made their way back toward the entrance of the castle. “It’s shocking how much you've forgotten, the two of you being companions and all.” 

“The three of us being companions,” Sypha placed a reassuring hand on Alucard’s shoulder. 

The dhampir gave a soft smile at the Speaker’s action before averting his eyes. Stepping out of her embrace, he started to ascend the many stone steps at the front of the castle. 

“It’s about time for dinner. Let me see what I can cook up.” 

✥

It had been a few months since the trio and their newfound companion arrived back home at Castlevania. Most of that time was spent with Sypha and Trevor bickering over how best to treat their new friend, while Alucard dedicated his time in between assessing the broken mechanisms of the castle to reading all of the tomes his father had collected on shapeshifting. Unfortunately, all roads pointed in the same direction: it was up to their friend to shift themselves back. 

At the present moment their werewolf friend, or Wynn, as they liked to be called, was resting in one of the many castle bedrooms. Their furry body was sprawled out over the entire length of the mattress, as they lazily tracked falling specks of dust around with their big puppy-dog eyes. 

Despite spending so much time resting, they felt exhausted this evening. It was as if the last few months of recovery meant nothing! 

‘I don’t know why I’m so tired,’ they thought, shifting to curl up in a tighter ball. 

Finally shutting their eyes, they made one final wish before drifting off to sleep, the same wish they had been making every night for god knows how long. 

‘Please let me be human when I wake up, please.’ 

✥

The sun had barely peaked over the horizon. Trevor and Alucard had woken up early to finally start clearing the major debris from the Belmont hold using the newly designed lift. So far Alucard had cleared twelve large beams while Trevor had managed to remove seven. Not that it was a competition or anything. It was at this point that Sypha had come to join them. 

“Well if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty, finally come to grace us humble footmen with her presence,” Trevor ribbed. 

“Nice pile,” Sypha gestured to Trevor’s lesser stack laid out next to Alucard’s. 

Trevor snorted. “Nice comeback.” 

Sypha crossed her arms. “I had a very long night last night. Which was entirely your fault by the way.” 

“My fault?” Trevor guffawed. “No no, I believe that last round was your fault.” 

Alucard, who had been watching amusedly from the sides, chose this moment to step in. “No, she’s right, I recall you were the one enticing us into that last round.” 

“Well, it’s not my fault if- hey,” Trevor suddenly straightened his back, and pointed to something in the distance. “Who’s that?” 

Both Alucard and Sypha turned around to see who Trevor was referring to. Almost immediately, Sypha clasped her hands together happily and began running over to meet this ‘stranger’. 

“Looks like Sypha wasn’t the last one to wake up,” Alucard nudged Trevor to come along. 

“No, but seriously, who the hell is that?” Trevor asked Alucard, keeping his wits about him. 

“You’re joking.” 

“I’ve never seen that person before in my life.” 

“That’s because you’ve never seen them before as a human.” 

Sypha, having finally reached Wynn where they stood, proudly and excitedly in their human form, pulled them in for a big hug. Clasping each other in a tight embrace, the two companion’s eyes began to water. 

“It’s so good to finally see you, my friend!” Sypha laughed, hugging Wynn closer. 

“It’s so good to be seen!” Wynn answered back, clearly overjoyed. 

After a good long moment, Sypha finally let go, turning around to face the boys. “Look who it is!” 

Wynn gave a polite wave, suddenly overcome by shyness under the focus of all three of their friends. “Um, hi? It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

Alucard stuck his hand out for a handshake, which Wynn eagerly accepted. “Likewise.” 

Sensing Trevor’s hesitation, Wynn outstretched their hand to Trevor. 

Shaking his head, Trevor grasped Wynn’s hand and pulled them in for a hug, nearly knocking them off their feet. 

Speechless and touched by Trevor’s gesture, Sypha shot a knowing look at Alucard. 

Despite being their gruff, sarcastic, and sometimes slower friend, Trevor really was like a teddy bear deep, deep underneath that jaded exterior. Sure, very few would ever come to know it unless they were close to him, but that made the trio’s relationship all the more special. And it was a very telling sign that Trevor was able to let his guard down for the sake of their new friend. 

It was as if at that very moment, the trio had become a quartet. And Wynn couldn’t be happier to finally be a part of it. 

[landrysg]

"This table is only one of many projects on display at the student showcase for the American College of Building Arts (ACBA). The range of projects is remarkable. Students are showing off timber framed buildings, bookshelves, plaster columns with volutes in Corinthian style, stone carved statues, wrought iron chandeliers. Everywhere you turn there is skill on display and the craftsmen behind them sharing their strategies and journeys of creation."

[grim-faux]

3 _ 43 _ The Biggest Adventure

First - An Echo Rebounds Through the Silent City

It was dark and stuffy when he snapped back into awareness. Foremost, he listened for the sounds. Anything from a misplaced creak to a thunder of erratic weight, or a stray draft, meant danger lurked. It was never obvious, and he had hard wired himself to be extra perceptive if for pick out disturbances creeping around. A stray sniffle from him was enough to turn heavy steps into an explosion of crashing and shrieking. A bigger concern was the sluggish recognition that he had no idea where he was.

Rags. Not wrapped in them but layered under and onto of him. He listened, but no sound seeped through the fiber. Very carefully, he moved. He searched for an opening and freedom, prodding and sniffing for cold air. It was very warm.

With care, he grabbed for open space beyond the layer of rags. Then he poked his head out.

A room. Nothing unexpected about that. A window in one wall, the glass barred swirling thick fog and clouds from creeping into the already chilled space. The walls up and down carried the usual rot that made the timber dangle in fibrous patches, the wallpaper worn in long strips. Along the walls stood bookshelves and other furniture, the large pieces he would always hide under. Or rest under. That's where he should be.

Jolting up, he gawked down at the floor and the furniture. The floor was so far away, and he was lying among the layers of rags.

Mono sprang out from the cloth and plopped onto the floor. He waisted not a second when he touched down and scooted back up under the mattress, clambering into the shadows where he would be hidden from anything that might’ve heard his faint Thump. With clearer eyes he roved over the tattered carpet, taking tally of all the spaces he might cram himself into. That was important for flee. For escape. For anything unexpected.

Everything was strange. He didn’t know where he was or how he got here. He couldn’t remember what was going on last. He was running, and something else happened? It made his head hurt to think. His head always hurt when strange things happened, or he used his powers too much.

Only after waiting for some time did he have the feel that it was clear to move. Nothing about the room changed, and he heard nothing but the faint crinkling of the walls. Against the window fell the soft spray of rain it glittery dots. It was pretty. Most important, sounds didn't scramble in haste to find him.

On light feet Mono crept along the wall to the only door left wedge within the frame and slipped out into the dim corridor. He remained on high alert as he explored along an upper floor, one side of the grim space of the hall led to a descending stairway – that he would check eventually. He focused on the other rooms, making his usual scout of the furnishing and fixtures inside. The rooms on the upper level didn’t have much to show, the walls fitted with cabinets or dressers, all the stuff he took interest in. In the distance the broken rambling of the television crowed as voices cheered, but he didn't know where that might be and he didn't care. One room was a bathroom. He was accustomed to the same stuff, but it was vital for flee to know which doors opened and what rooms had dark spaces.

He went back to the bathroom, first assuring nothing hid behind the scummy shower curtain and the tub wasn't home to some gilled monster, with ropey appendages. He climbed onto the sink and turned one of the faucets, for the water. Following a refreshing (and metallic) drink, he scrubbed off his coat sleeves and left.

The stairs were bent and some of the railing was missing, but it was faithful and quiet. Light pilfered through the dust of the rooms on the lower floor, there was a lot more dark pockets to hide in and more windows that glimpsed the drizzly skies. It was… something, he didn’t know what. Something about standing by the wall and watching the rain gloss over the glass made something in his chest flutter. The ugly weather was outside, but where Mono stood inside the walls, it smelled like smoke and the air was dry. Even his sleeves began to air quickly with all his wandering and scouting. He felt good.

Through a short but eerie passage – almost too eerie and familiar he nearly retreated from it – Mono sprinted to the end, but stopped beside the walls edge.

This room shed no particulars on his searching mind. The crinkling of paper startled him, but only into freezing and making himself a small blemish on the walls corner. A desk sat on one side of the room, opposite of that was a cabinet he could hide in if the lower doors could open. To one side stood a tall lamp, peering at an open newspaper. The fanned paper hid a recliner and the lithe figure seated there, the only evidence of the presence indicated by the long-long legs. In time, the paper crinkled again.

Mono tucked his arms into his coat and curled down, satisfied to perch and wait. Watching was fun. So was waiting. Inevitably though, it would happen. He only had to be patient.

At last! The newspaper sagged down, and a face peered over the edge. The hat unmistakable, as with the wearied face beneath it, and the flashing eyes.

“Aha. There he is,” rumbled the man in the hat. He folded up the wilting papers and settled them over the armrest. “Finally up, sleepy head.”

Mono tucked his head in close beside the doorframe. He was a bit confused and twice conflicted.

“Are we ready for some food?” The Thin Man stood up and glitched across the floor. “C’mon. Let’s see what the kitchen has.”

The gaze and directness threw Mono off, and he stumbled back when he tried to stand up too fast. The Thin Man stepped beside him and beckoned.

“This is no time for dawdling. A very busy day awaits us.” Then he passed into the corridor glitching and teleporting ever few steps, his shimmering shoulders melting into the gloom.

Once Mono was better orientated, he hurried after the lazy strides and buzzing crackle. The Thin Man departed the short hall and stepped into a smaller room, then with a pop and crackle he arrived into the kitchen. Shortly behind the sputtering outline was Mono, always two steps behind.

Mono always knew kitchens by all the cabinets. If there were no cabinets, then there would be a sink, if no sink, there always had to be a cold box, or a large metal box with a window in the folding door. Usually. This furniture stuff was always in a kitchen. And of course, food boxes.

And a table.

While the Thin Man went to some sort of small contraption on the counter, Mono went to work climbing onto the table. He pulled out a chair to make his leap from the seat to the tables edge easier. By the time he was on the tables surface, the Thin Man was already at the metal box fitted among the lower cabinets. He had one of the heavy pans that monsters sometimes threw at children. Except this time, the Thin Man had it on the stove and was putting stuff on it. Or in it. Nothing was going on the floor. The pans and a few other pots cracked and hummed as the Thin man did some sort of new trick, a good trick. He was so busy.

The Thin Man put a spoon into the pan and stirred it around. He took bottles and things, and tossed dust stuff into the pan. It made the sizzling sounds howl, nearly as loud as the static, but not as great. When the sizzling was done, the Thin Man scooped stuff out of the pans and pots and set it on a plate. He made the busy plates like the Viewers stacked by the couches or recliners. The only difference, he set a plate before Mono. Mono was given a plate of his very own.

“Careful. It’s hot.”

Then set another plate across from Mono. Then the Thin Man did something really bizarre. The Thin Man sat at the table behind the other plate. With one of the forks, the Thin Man scooped some of the stuff off the plate and put it in his mouth. After the second bite he stalled, fork still in his mouth, and blinked at Mono.

“You’re quite right, I nearly forgot.” The chair scuffed the floor as the Thin Man stood. In a glittering flash, he returned to the counter and the odd contraption there. He poured black slug into a mug. Not just black slug, but he got some other stuff from the cabinet and the cold box and put that into the mug. He stirred it, and sipped it.

All of this was blowing Mono’s mind. He looked up from the plate and then to the Thin Man, totally lost.

“I didn’t forget you.” He poured some of the mug into a ‘slightly’ smaller mug, and set it beside Mono. “Now we can enjoy.”

Mono watched the swirling lines in the mug. He went ahead and tasted it. Since it didn’t make him retch so it must be okay. He did peer at the Thin Man suspiciously, as he sipped the thick liquid of his own mug. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t water either. It wasn’t mud either. He liked it though. Mostly because the Thin Man had his own mug.

The entire time the rain splattered the door window on the far side of the kitchen, the fork clinked on the dishware the way it did when Viewers ate, only the Thin Man did softer tinkling noises. It wasn't hushed enough to not make Mono wince every time, and he couldn’t move his eyes off the Thin Man. Mono didn’t know if it was his instincts warning him of danger, or just how strange it was to witness the Thin Man EAT AT LAST! How did Mono manage this? WHEN?

Sharing food was the biggest in kid packs. Share food with friends, and have food shared back. And EATING TOGETHER. THE TOGETHER!

He nearly choked a few times as he shoveled food into his face. He was too transfixed by this mysterious happening to pay attention to his own plate.

“Slow down. It’s not going to run away.” But the Thin Man smiled and chuckled.

It was a lot of food, but Mono was still hungry. So, he snuck over to the Thin Man’s side of the table and tentatively snuck little pieces off the plate. The Thin Man always pretended not to notice. Even though he was cutting pieces off and scooting them Mono’s way.

“Today, we will need to visit the store,” the Thin Man was saying. He gripped his mug, so Mono wouldn’t tip it over as he leaned over the lip to drink the last of his beverage. Whatever it was. Mono liked the one the Thin Man had more than the one he gave Mono. Even though they were from the same cup. “But before that, how about we visit the new park that opened? Boy?”

It wasn’t too surprising the Thin Man didn’t lick his plate. Mono did. It was all juice and crumbs. He looked up at the Thin Man as he licked the stuff off his fingers. Stuff on plates was always the best, but always the riskiest food. The Viewers hated when anything made the plates clink.

“Mmm,” Mono hummed. When the Thin Man plucked him up, he squirmed halfheartedly.

“Mmm,” echoed the Thin Man. He took Mono to the sink and took up a rag. With the water running, he scrubbed away all the goop Mono couldn’t clean off himself. Including from Mono’s coat sleeves and hair – he dipped his face a little too much into the cup. “I’m sure there will be lots of other children there. You’ve been excited to check it out. I am too. It’s so rare we see new things put in.”

That didn’t make a lot of sense, but it probably didn’t mean much. Mono fussed and growled the whole time, until the Thin Man relinquished his mission.

“Go play for a bit while I clean up here.” The Thin Man gave his back a light push, guiding him to the doorway of the kitchen.

The room attached to the kitchen place had a couch and a side table with a lamp, where Mono liked to hide. The side table and couch reminded him of something from another time, he couldn’t remember much aside from how much he did like to hide behind a leg of the table. It made him feel better to have the sheltered spaces for hide, even if the Thin Man was always around checking the rooms for him.

“For safe?” he always asked the Thin Man.

The Thin Man would kneel down and pat him on his head, or set a new hat on his head. “It’s safe. What have you been doing?”

On top of the side table awaited crayons and papers, along with some of his unfinished story work. It was all important to tell the stories of everything he did, and the adventures he had with the Thin Man.

He took a bit of color and finished scrawling lines, and then scratched in some colors. The buildings came into shape like he always knew them, the figures poised on the roof gazed skyward. He tossed aside the page before scribbling in that Tower.

A lot of pictures had the city landscape, but he never finished the Tower in the distance. He didn’t know why he kept thinking about the Tower. He didn’t want to. It was second nature just like sneak and hide. The Tower stayed somewhere in his head and he thought about it, even when he felt happy. And if he didn’t have enough to do, the Tower would emerge in his thoughts as something terrible.

'It calls to me.'

“Are you ready?”

Bolting away from among the crumpled pages, Mono looked up to the Thin Man leaning over to look at him. “Hey.”

“What have you been working on?” The Thin Man prodded at the sheets Mono was crouched on.

“No.” Mono slipped off the table and hurried closer to the Thin Man’s leg. He tugged on his pant leg. Don’t look at that. He didn’t want the Thin Man making speek and asking his questions. “No. Mono. Go?”

Sighing, the man in the hat detached his interest from the tabletop and shifted his shining eyes to Mono. “No time to dawdle, eh?” he rumbled and chuckled. “Then let’s get a move on. I’m eager to get out for a while. Go for a stroll?”

Mono bounced on his toes. “Yeh. Go. Am ready.” The Thin Man walked, and Mono partook in his favorite activity of chase the Thin Man.

They departed through the entry door, checking first the scenery and the mood of the storm. The rain drizzled ongoing the way it always did, the open streets and sidewalks hovered in the mist vacant and oppressive. The city was usually a quiet place. The building the Thin Man keeps was folded in among the other buildings, and faced one of the city streets. A set of stairs sagged to the sidewalk, which the Thin Man did his usual glittering and teleport to bypass the cumbersome obstacle. It never ceased to impress Mono how effortless he always did that. Somehow, with a lot of work and busy, Mono would get to be as great.

For now, Mono stumbled down the steps and joined the Thin Man on the sidewalk. The Thin Man glitched over beside a small alcove by the stairs and made a flash with his hand. This compelled the wagon out of hiding. Mono grabbed the wall and hoisted himself up, but the Thin Man gently set his fingers beneath his heels and lifted him the remained of the way. In an awkward somersault, Mono tumbled into the carriage of the wagon with his legs spiraling above his head.

“Oof. You alright?”

Mono launched up with his arms high. “Mmm. Go.”

A soft snicker escaped the Thin Man. “Very well. Sit down.”

Mono followed the suggestion and sat in the wagons back. The rain swirled around his knees as he drew them up. He dug around in his coat and pulled out one of his hats. It was the same as the Thin Man’s, but smaller. It always felt comfy and warm on his head.

Turning away, the man in the hat began to walk. He lifted one hand casually behind the low of his back and beckoned with his fingers. The faithful wagon lurched a bit on its corroded wheels but followed all the same, as the Thin Man walked along the sidewalk, the comforting click of his steps clattered over the soft strikes of rainfall.

Sometimes when they went for a stroll, the Thin Man liked to play games or he did speek for Mono. The speek was always questions or he asked for Mono to tell him stories, or he wanted Mono to make speek about where they would go. How about, what Mono wanted to find at store.

“Food.”

“That’s what you always say.” He looked back and smiled at Mono.

“Go store for.”

The Thin Man nodded. “The store will have other items and trinkets. How about a new hat?”

Mono plucked at a hangnail on his toe. “Mm.” He wasn’t excited about new hats. He had a collection back in his room. Why he didn’t keep them in his coat they way he usually did, that was strange. Everything was strange. The strange made Mono go quiet. The creaking of the wagon became suffocating, like waking up between lays of rags. He couldn’t remember getting tucked into the rags, but it was important for hide.

“Here we are,” the man in the hat announced. “Take a look.”

The walls of the wagon were high when Mono was seated, he couldn’t see much unless he leaned up a bit from his seat. Peering just above the edge, he was meat with the drab landscape and one of the obstacle things built with metal and stuff to climb. Some large tunnels snaked from the floor and leaned onto high platforms, or pipes bent from the floor and ended at the platforms. Some of the platforms had a pyramid shaped roof, shielding the obstacle construction from the rain. Despite the thickness of the relentless drizzle, he could make out all the children climbing and running around the shapes. There were so many kids scampering around, some faces he recognized, some he’s not sure about. Maybe children he met for a brief time, but they ran away. They always ran away.

If he went over there, they would run away. Just like the girl standing beside a tunnel curving downward to a patch of gravel. The clever coat was unmistakable, it contrasted the gray of everything. She was watching him. Mono couldn't see Her face within the dark hood, but he knew it to be so. She would never trust him.

He would never avert his gaze, even when careful hands reached into the wagon and lifted him out. His focus was unbreakable, it was important he never look away.

“There you are. Go find someone to jump on.”

Mono backed away from the open field and gripped the side of the Thin Man’s pant leg. Clutching the dry fabric, he gave his shadowed eyes to the Thin Man and shook his head. For a lone and tense moment, the man and his hat said nothing. The shadowed face watched him, much the same way he stared up at him – the Thin Man was disappointed. He was always disappointed when Mono couldn’t do things.

“We’re not in a hurry,” the voice crackled. “Go see if you can find some familiar faces.”

The droplets pattered against Mono’s hat. His lip quivered, and he smushed his face against the Thin Man’s shin. “Mm-uh. Mhh.” He couldn’t hide the sniffling. He would not. The Thin Man always had children, he liked to go and see them all. Mono didn’t want to share his Thin Man. He just wanted company for a little longer.

“No,” was his muffled verdict. He winced at the fingers wrapping around his shoulders, and he tried to cling tighter to the Thin Man’s shin when he was pried away. “No!” he rasped, as quietly as he could without alerting danger. “No.”

But his fears were unfounded. His runny nose was pressed to the crisp white collar of the Thin Man’s dress shirt. “Oh child. Shh. There-there.” The voice rustled through his ears, drowning out the terrible and chilly rain. The grasp was warm, it blotted out the breeze. “If you’re not ready to cause chaos around the other children, then that is fine. Settle down. No more tears. Maybe when we come back, you’ll feel ready.”

Mono didn’t settle down. He didn’t know why. The Thin Man always made wonderful speek, and his grip kept his body from shaking into fitful ravels. The dry collar soaked up his tears and he liked that smokey smell that he knew was his Thin Man. It was always dry and warm. And then when his silly whimpering faded enough, he was lowered back into the wagon where the four walls blotted the world out. But not the rain.

While the wagon rolled on following the tall-tall silhouette guiding it, Mono laid in the base and watched the rain clouds swirl and churn above.

Not too longer later, or it didn’t seem that long, the Thin Man titled out of sight. The wagon bumped somewhat as it dragged across the threshold and passed under into a scenery different from the constant rain and dreary canopy.

Feeling somewhat uneased, Mono rolled over and quietly sat up on his knees to peek from the wagon. The Thin Man kept the small carriage close as he wandered along the aisles, checking the shelves and mark speek. The man and his hat always paid close attention to the panels with the marks – Mono recognized the shapes, though he knew nothing of their meaning.

Beyond the aisles and cross sections of the floor, Mono watched the Viewers mingle around. None of them came around where the Thin Man was, which always confused Mono. The Viewers only pushed the metal carts around, and they put boxes or other things into the metal baskets. He saw them do this before, but not this often, and he didn’t usually see so many meandering around. It reminded him of something he saw somewhere, but he couldn’t place where. It might've been a book he read about something. It wasn't as important as observing all the different creatures.

The Thin Man didn’t use a cart. He had no need for those things. Instead, he put boxes and stuff into the wagon with Mono.

“Keep an eye on them.”

Mono nodded. “Mm-hmm.” He would not let any monster touch the stuff the Thin Man collected. However, he did poke at one of the bags.

A hand nudged Mono away. “Ah-ah. Not until we get ǝɯoɥ.”

The speek the Thin Man used was strange. He didn’t know the sound of it. He did relent from his curiosity, and left the package be. He stayed crouched by the back wall of the wagon and set his chin on the edge, so he could watch the creatures wander around. Oblivious to him and the Thin Man. He missed having space to lay down, but he didn’t mind all the stuff the Thin Man collected or it encroaching on his space. His work was important, he needed to keep the boxes safe!

One of the last things the Thin Man handed down was a plush toy with a bow on its neck and a hat. Mono very nearly crushed the stuffing out of it.

“You are very mighty, child.”

After wandering the rows of aisles one last time, the Thin Man departed the store and out into the drizzling rain they wandered. The light mist sprayed the boxes, but neither the man or his hat and not even Mono cared. Mono was busy clutching his new gift, and wondering if the Thin Man was thinking of leaving him.

Inevitably though, the wagon did stop as before.

“Look. The park is not so crowded now.”

Mono constricted his plush thing as the Thin Man lifted him from the wagon and set him on the edge of the sidewalk. He wanted Mono to leave. He needed Mono to be anywhere, but near him.

“Go look for someone important.” As ever when the Thin Man greatly desired Mono to do something, he used his hand to push him away.

‘Go use your powers.’

‘Make that wall move.’

‘Channel energy into that lightbulb.’

A gravelly sigh. ‘What did I even expect?’

Mono chucked the plush away and dived past the Thin Man’s outstretched hand. He rushed to the wagon and hid beside the wheel. “No. No. Mono not.” The Thin Man’s steps clicked across the sidewalk to find him.

“There is nothing to fear. You need to run around and make friends.” The Thin Man pulled him away from the wheel and set him before the edge of the drab field. “It looks like everyone is having fun.” He tried to push the toy back into Mono’s hands, but Mono kept his arms locked at his side. Rigid. “Show them your new friend. He has a hat, very much like you. Boy?”

Mono wrenched away and looped his arms around the Thin Man’s wrist. “Leave.”

Another disapproving sigh. “You cannot just cling to me forever, boy. You need friends your own age. Don’t you think?”

He would not leave his Thin Man. He needed Mono! “Y’leave. No. Frr'Mono.” He could feel the Thin Man’s shining eyes stare right into him. Out of desperation, he tightened his grip around the cufflink. And bit. He only let go, when the Thin Man simply pinched his elbow and pulled him away. He lifted Mono on his palm and set him into the wagon.

“One day I will have to leave you.” And he settled the plush toy next to Mono.

Same as before, the wagon began plowing along as it followed the invisible tether to the Thin Man. Mono sat in the wagon with his arms coiled around the neck of his toy, he crushed it so tightly that the head was barely tethered by a few threads.

With his mysterious power, the Thin Man relocated the wagon into the kitchen. The Thin Man could do anything. A spray of rain followed the wagon and man in the hat and misted the linoleum floor. Sweeping his arm above the mess, the Thin Man did away with the dampness on the floor and cabinet fronts.

Mono threw the toy out of the wagon before he climbed out himself. When he found the plush on the floor, he discovered that all the clinginess it suffered tore the head from the body.

“I will fix that for you later.” The Thin Man collected up the bits and scraps of the sad creature, then set them high on the countertop. As before, he pushed Mono towards the doorway of the kitchen. “Go find something for you to do, and I will bring you a treat.”

And same as before, Mono rushed back to his leg and clung to his shin. “Am keep’oo.”

“You can keep me later,” the voice rumbled. “I have to be busy for a while. The sǝᴉɹǝɔoɹƃ will not put themselves away.”

Thwarted once more, Mono departed from the kitchen and went through the other room. He thought about adding to his stories, but he was not in the mood. Scouting was a task of urgency, thus he began roaming through the rooms carefully searching for anything amiss.

In the background chimed the usual sing-tunes of a televisions, but he never figured where it was. Aside from the creaking walls and the occasional lash of rain on the windows, no other noises alerted Mono to skulking hazards. He always entered each room with a light step and a perceptive ear, in case he missed the rancid draft of a breath.

This was the most important job for Mono. While the Thin Man worked downstairs doing his busy, Mono wandered up the stairs and searched through the other rooms there. It was danger to be careless. He went to the room where he spent his time, then he went to the room where the Thin Man sometimes had alone and quiet. It was all as he had left it, everything the way it should be. Furniture in its places beside the walls, plenty of shadow patches to curl up into. Sometimes he needed breaks from the scout, and he would bundle himself up in the gloom and listen for a while, for if something was missed but all the same waiting for a careless child to blunder into a snare. Resting was almost as important as search and see. Mono always wanted a clear mind and break to soothe his muscles from too much everything doing.

After all that wandering around, he made sure the Thin Man was safe. The tol man in the hat was still in the kitchen being his busy, so Mono didn’t bother him with a whisper. He was angry the Thin Man wanted to leave him.

He went down the short corridor into the spare room, where the Thin Man liked to hide away. The lamp always was on, so Mono climbed onto the recliners seat and curled up in the corner beside the arm rest. He shut his eyes and before he knew it, he was in the quiet black and the sounds faded far away. He shouldn’t sleep so deep in the empty nothing, even if he felt secure with his scout. He couldn’t help it.

The next when he awoke, it was to that sound of crinkling pages. He was blanketed in the gloom cast by the very tol man and his hat. The Thin Man held a book up and starred at the marks across the pages. The pages crinkled gently with each flick of his thumb, and the hum of static bristled through Mono’s skin. Mono wanted to stay tucked into his warm cocoon, but his shoulder was crammed into the arm of the chair and buzzed uncomfortably.

He rolled over and stretched out the kinks in his legs. Sitting up, he searched the book for what in the marks the Thin Man was fascinated by, but he remained groggy from his nap.

“At last, he is awake.”

“Hmm. Mono.” He set his chin on the Thin Man’s leg and yawned. “Safe?” He winced when the Thin Man touched his back.

“Yes. I looked around just for you.”

He probably lied. Nothing frightened the Thin Man. He didn’t care about dangers that might steal him or eat Mono. Mono had to do everything.

A sappy gurgle slipped out of him as the Thin Man rubbed the spot between his shoulder blades. That made his angry thoughts fade. The Thin Man was doing company with him and making speek, it was all the stuff Mono enjoyed. He did not like getting plucked up and set down on the cold floor.

“Your food should be ready.” He gave Mono’s back a gentle pat, before straightening up and walking.

Along the way to the kitchen, Mono played another great game of pounce at the Thin Man’s heels. If Mono was able to snag the back of his shoe, he usually got knocked off when the Thin Man took a step. He preferred to chase the Thin Man anyway. This was fun, since the challenge was so big. And tol.

When the reached the kitchen doorway, the Thin Man looked down at Mono between his shoes. “Haven’t we done some speek about being underfoot?”

Mono tugged on his pant leg. “Catch you. Keep.” He put his arms up when the Thin Man bowed forward.

“You can catch me later.” The man in the hat set him on the table. “After you have eaten.” And then he poked Mono on the nose.

On the stove sat a pot with a steaming lid. It’s appearance made Mono nervous, and he watched it cautiously as the Thin Man went to the cupboards. The Thin Man took out a bowl and cup, before returning to the pot. A plume of steam swept from the pot when the lid was moved aside, and a large spoon plunged in. To Mono’s relief, it wasn’t anything but slop spooned into the bowl.

The Thin Man set the steaming bowl before Mono. “Careful. It might be a little hot still.”

When the Thin Man turned away, Mono plunged his arms into the mush and searched for anything suspicious. It was all paste meal, like bread goop. He liked bread goop, it was the best after a long time without food stuff. It was warm, so he scooped out a handful and slurped it.

“Is it that good?”

Mono swallowed a few mouthfuls before lifting his head and nodding. “S’food.”

The Thin Man set his own bowl down at his usual place and reached across the table. “I’m sure it is.” He set a cup down for beside Mono's bowl. “Don’t go swimming in it.”

Mono was too busy working on the meal. He only paused to sip from the cup and then went back to scraping out the bowl. When he got everything out of the bottom, he followed with the usual routine and went across the table to sip out of the Thin Man’s bowl.

“Done already?”

It looked the same as Mono’s, but he did stick his arm in to make sure. The Thin Man never complained when he messed with his plate or bowls or cups. “Same?”

“Hmm,” the static buzzed. “Very same.” He scooped up a spoonful and let Mono try. “And we will play a game after we finish up. What game would you like to play?”

He didn’t care about games right now. Or anything, but having his Thin Man. It suited Mono to be near him and make sure he was safe. That was important.

“Are happy?”

The Thin Man sighed, and gave him another spoonful. “Very happy. Are you happy?”

Mono smiled. This was the best speek. “Have you.” Another smile was his.

“Of course you do.” The Thin Man ruffled his hair, then collected the spare bowl and cup.

This time, the Thin Man let him help clean up the bowls. He didn’t know why the Thin Man cleaned bowls when they were supposed to be crusted with food. Maybe it was in one of the books the Thin Man liked to look at.

To clean the bowls and cups, water went into the sink. Mono mostly leaned over the side and slapped at the water streaming from the faucet. The Thin Man didn’t have too much stuff to do, and soon the plates went into the cupboards. That was the boring part, so Mono did a racing game while he waited. on one of his passes across the countertop, his wet feet slipped and he went skiing toward the edge.

The Thin Man barred his sudden plunge with his arm. “That would’ve been a nasty fall. You need to be careful.”

“Uh-huh.” The Thin Man set him on the floor after that. He looked up, as the Thin Man bent low to look down at him.

“How about this? A seek game?” He gestured to the kitchen doorway. “I will hide away, and you will come find me? You’re good at puzzles.”

Mono titled his head. “Y’flee?”

“I will hide. And you can catch me.” He extended his long arm and gave Mono a poke on the nose. “Give me a head start. Got it?”

A buzzing tickled Mono’s nose. He gave his face a rub, and when he looked back, the man and his hat were gone!

Not under the table, or in the dark corner of the room. Where did his Thin Man go? Mono searched all through the kitchen, and then hurried into the next room.

“Psst?” he cooed. “Hey.” The lamp on the table beside the couch flashed, but he saw no other indication that the man or his hat might be here. “Hey. Am Mono. You… ya’wait.”

Not through the corridor or in the room with the recliner. He thought for certain the man and his hat would come here and be waiting. Mono did search some of the other rooms on the lower floor, but he could not sense anywhere the soft humming that he knew was his Thin Man. So, then he scrambled up the steps, to the upper floor. He called for the Thin Man.

“Hey. Where? Mono here.”

“Very close.” A distant and scratchy voice called.

Mono raced into the room with the furniture and shelves, but there was no sign of the Thin Man. The bulb in the ceiling did flicker. He must have been here. And gone!

“No.” Mono spun around, searching the corners in case he missed the towering shadow.

“You are very close, boy.”

Mono charged from the room and again, he spun around in an effort to determine where the voice came from. It was crackling, the way when the man and his hat sniggered. He had to be somewhere up here. Mono wasn’t fast enough!

The room where the Thin Man went for quiet and alone was open, but it was dim and Mono couldn’t sense the buzzing. He charged up and down the corridor a few times, before sneaking into the room where he woke up in earlier. No Thin Man. Of course.

What if Mono wasn’t thorough with his scout? What if some creature snuck into the rooms and snagged his Thin Man? What if he crawled into the television and got trapped? What if… what if… he always did this! Him Gone!

Mono went into the room with the lamp and desk and searched that one. He climbed onto the chair, poked the corners. He was breathing hard from all the running back and forth, all of it finding nothing. His effort was not enough. He was never enough for the Thin Man. The fear that the man and his hat got lost was growing. He got lost on purpose, and Mono was to be in alone. Mono didn’t want to think he was doing what he always did when he worried about his Thin Man, all while the Thin Man was somewhere else. Not even in the rooms Mono decided he should be in. The man and his hat always found places Mono couldn't follow.

Then! When he slipped out of a closet, he caught sight of the tallest silhouette at the end of the corridor.

“Got. Am got.” He rushed at the flickering figure. Until the lights doused, and when the bulbs flashed back with brilliant light… the man and his hat had vanished.

“So close boy.”

Mono padding footfalls slowed until he was alone, standing in the tingling presence of where the shadow once stood. He spun around, tilting his head back in case he missed anything. “Where?”

“Close.”

No. The man and his hat went nowhere. He had to look for his children and see them all. It was hard for Mono to keep his Thin Man. He always ran away and hid from Mono. Sometimes, Mono was too much.

He wandered back to the room where the Thin Man had alone and quiet, knowing good and well why the Thin Man would never come here. This room was important.

It had the chair Mono always dreamed about. Just the chair. It stood in the center of the room, waiting. Nothing else, and the room was such a contrast to the other rooms. No places to hide, dark and grim. The chair was always waiting. It was nice to think that somewhere out there, someone was waiting for him.

Without warning, a pair of hands scooped him up. Mono thrashed and bit, but with practiced ease the grasp settled him against a crisp and blinding white collar.

“Not for you,” the Thin Man rumbled. He lowered one hand to draw the door and shut it. “Not yet.”

Mono knotted his fingers into the fiber of the shirt collar. “Caught. Am have.”

“And I have you,” the Thin Man’s voice rattled through him. “You were spectacular Mono.”

“Mono. Can keep.”

“If you speek so.” The sharp click of his steps fell into their comforting rhythmic stride. “I had a fantastic game. You were so clever.”

Mono snuggled into his collar. His Thin Man came back. He left Mono for such a long time, but he came back. Someday, he would leave Mono and that will be it. But he liked to have the Thin Man right now.

There were a few other things the Thin Man liked to do with Mono in the room. The man in the hat brought out the blocks with symbols on them, and he showed Mono how to build walls or a building. With a little window. The building had a small space, where Mono could fit inside. He liked to poke his head up, and look at his Thin Man. There was another puzzle kit Mono could put together, and this time, he showed the Thin Man how the pieces fit and what they made. He built a plane. It went tol. And after that, the Thin Man showed him how to fix the soft toy by sewing the head back on. Mono had no idea plush creatures could be put back together. Nonetheless, he ripped the eyes out, and the Thin Man smiled at that.

Eventually, Mono began to yawn more and more. The Thin Man began collecting all the things they were looking at, then divided them across the shelves of the bookcase.

“It appears to be someone’s pǝqǝɯᴉʇ.”

Mono didn’t understand the sound, but he didn’t agree with the Thin Man either. He didn’t flail when the hands swooped under him and carried him over to the bed. “No…” he murmured.

“How about we have some company?” The Thin Man crossed the room to select a book from a stack on the floor, then came back to the bed. He reclined partially against the wall beside Mono, with his long gangly legs dangling off the side. “You wanted me to read this one, hmm?”

Mono didn’t know what any of the marks meant on the cover meant, but he nodded anyway. He clambered up onto the Thin Man's chest and settled his head on a pocket, to incline his gaze enough to see the book. The Thin Man pulled up a rag and draped it over Mono, then opened the book. None of the symbols put onto the pages meant anything to Mono, but there was picture speek as well. He didn’t understand the noises the Thin Man made, but he liked that they could have company. The book was mysterious, it was full of marks pieces and the pictures. Usually, the Thin Man didn’t like picture speek. But he did different things when it made Mono happy.

“Am happy,” he reminded his Thin Man.

“And I am happy too.” The Thin Man smiled down at him. “Now listen.” And the Thin Man resumed, his voice soft and scratchy. It rustled through Mono’s head.

Another yawn found its way out of Mono, and he nestled in closer to his Thin Man. They had so many things to do, later, Mono would do his scout. He would remind the Thin Man how important he was, and the Thin Man would tuck him close and tell Mono how great he was.

“Am keep,” he burbled.

“Yes Mono.” A gentle hand settled on his head and smoothed his hair down. “You can keep me.” The slow and steady crackle of the Thin Man’s speek carried, the silky warbling thrummed through his body. Even if it was all lost on him, the company with his Thin Man was the best. Warmth. Keep. Pack. Everything. The wonderful hum followed him into the dark emptiness of his thoughts, where no dream haunts or angry thumping would traipse the wonderful sensations of all the important. He drifted, reminding himself how to keep his Thin Man and make him happy.

And next time when he woke up, he would go downstairs and find his Thin Man. Waiting, like always. The man and his hat was always up somewhere to greet Mono, and ask how he slept. Or what they might do next. They had many adventures together, and the Thin Man always smiled.

Very slowly, Mono pried his eyes open.

__

The pale light slipped through the base boards, mixed with the lazy dust molts swirling. Out there, the distant chatter of tunes spun from a television. He didn’t know where it was, only that it was not where he was. He listened carefully under the choppy ramble of the broken noises, none of the scratchy rambling he could make sense of. The cacophony was not enough to drown out the steady creak of the walls, or the steady prattle of rain on a window. Somewhere. The storms always raged and threw their disembodied might against the looming buildings.

No tromping boots and no horrible shrieking above, in the airless space. Just a stale and empty room, which he pulled most of his nest materials from. He even found a dead bird that came from somewhere and ransacked that of feathers. The soft down made the perfect lining for his nest, once he had the rags and other stuff matted down. It kept him so warm since he dragged himself out of the rain. This nest was so good, it fooled him into strange dreams. That was so funny.

Mono rolled over and drew his knees up into the wonderful coat. His shoulder tingled after he had laid on it too long, but that would go away. He chanced a large yawn, and turned his face away from the glaring haze above. More rest was needed. He lost so much energy from the things he did.

As the dream melted away, he recollected what happened and where he was now. The dismal fog still swirled heavy in his battered mind, but crystalline fragments surfaced of the recent events. Most of which he thought about, but didn't explore too much into. It all made his head ache.

Gone. Her. Nowhere when he awoke, his face a bloody mess (he must've looked stopped) and body haggard to threads. Everything in his head was such a confusing mess, he didn’t care where She was. Her. It was a struggle to get his head in order, gather enough of his senses that he could get his balance and at the minimum, crawl across the dusty floor. And where was he? That was furthest from his thoughts. He didn’t have anything to really go on from, except that She was there at one point. He barely remembered he was Mono.

He followed a trail of footprints in the sandy floor, and beneath the dim glow of a high window lingered one of the glitchy children. At first, he thought it was Her, he hoped it was Six, but it wasn’t. Just the shadowy glimmer of a child shape.

Touching it made him feel better. Not when he reached it, but afterwards he could get up onto his feet. After a long amount of searching and being very lost, at his wits with his wretched memories betraying and mocking, he did find his way out of that dark pit. A ladder built by travelers before him led to a broken window, and he was able to get back out and onto the street. Then, he found his way into another building, which he was sure he could get out of again easily enough if something plundered the stale space. He didn’t know if there was any food, but he was in no condition to sneak around or hide. All he could do was rest. Lay down and be still, until he recovered.

So he made a nice nest under the floorboards, and tucked it full of rags and feathers. It was everything he needed right now. Just rest. After he found some food and stuffed his pockets, he would go find his Thin Man. He was always so busy. A little smirk touched Mono’s face.

If the Thin Man knew what he was dreaming about, it would make him so grumpy. Mono would make a story out of it. Maybe. Soft dreams always slipped away. They didn’t help. The dust made hiss eyes water, so he rubbed off the flaking blood and buried down into his nest. He needed to get as much rest as he was allowed now, otherwise, he might not catch it later.

Next

[legendsofmyriad]

Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 6: Blood Ties - Part 2

Chapter 5 | Chapter 7

Arc One Masterlist

-- -- -- -- --

Wooden timbers creaked under Bertram’s feet and flecks of what he assumed was decade-old cobwebs swam in front of his face. Swiping at the specks, he lurched on the grimy steps and almost lost his balance. The neglected ladders wracked, and he clung to the sides until they stopped swinging.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d ventured this high into the manor. There was nothing of importance in the attic anymore, but persistent memories called to him. After weeks of wrestling with his conscience, he was determined to decide on a course of action before it drove him to frustration. 

Clambering through the hatch and scraping along the angled wall, he groaned to himself about overdue renovations and flipped the switch. The hanging bulb crackled. He hissed at the immediate influx of murky yellow light, surprised more than anything that it still worked. 

Grungy powder covered the furniture like a stubborn snow, suspending the bedroom in time. Striped wallpaper peeled and stretched for the floorboards, and discoloured splotches of mould dappled the draped fabric dangling from the four poster bed. Banners and paintings fastened to the faded brick above the desk crinkled at their edges. Everywhere Bertram looked, Francesca stared back at him and presented him with the wreckage of their bond, crushed beyond reparation. 

When she’d first arrived into his care, Francesca ran from everything. The slightest noise or unfamiliar face terrified her, and in every instance she fled, soundless and scared. Bertram always found her in the attic, knees to her chest as she sought to make herself as small as possible. Despite being provided with a luxurious suite in the apartment wing, she never settled, and resolved to help her adjust to life in the clan, he had devoted months to converting the topmost room into a safe retreat.

As he turned on the spot, reminiscing the hours she’d spent in there painting pictures, learning to play instruments, studying, quarrelling with him in her unruly teenage years, and forging her future, droplets trickled down his ashen cheeks. For almost twenty-four years, Francesca had been their starlight. Everybody adored her for her kindness and her patience. And now she was gone, and he’d been robbed of the opportunity to apologise and say goodbye because of his own arrogance. 

He scrunched his nose up and scrubbed the wet paths, coughing against the knot in his throat and wandering further into the room. Shards of a music box lay scattered by the maple bookshelves, and he carefully cleaned up each fragment. A piece of crumpled paper stuck out, and he plucked it from the debris. Unfolding it and brushing away the dust, little Francesca beamed at him, her arms curled around him and a teddy bear gripped tight in her grasp. Behind them, festival pavilions and bunting created endless strings of colour, but none of it outshone the elated smile lighting up her features. 

“I’m so sorry,” Bertram sobbed, the reminders of her brightness overwhelming his long-decayed heart. There was no evading his part to play in the animosity between them. No amount of tears, or apologies, or wishing would fix the past.

For years, he’d blamed the monster she dedicated her love to for coming between them, for poisoning her against him, but he hadn’t helped matters. He could have done more. Should have done more. He had been charged with her protection, and after the furious row that drove them apart, he refused to fight to preserve that precious bond. He’d let her go. Back to that beast. Back to a life no decent person should be forced to lead. 

He couldn’t even begin to imagine the fear she endured after falling pregnant and facing motherhood on her own. If he hadn’t already been undead, the guilt of her feeling unable to call upon him in so dire a situation would have killed him stone dead. 

“You deserved so much better,” he confided to the photograph. “You deserved a world of love and happiness. And I disowned you when you needed me most.” In fits of sobs, he brought the picture to his chest, trying to feel some warmth amidst his misery. But the dusk of his mistakes devoured him, shadowing every perfect memory of her until all that remained were fractured images. 

In time, his mind stopped racing, and the howls of grief allayed. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been up there, but he collected himself enough to lumber to his feet and crammed the picture into his top pocket. Francesca may have passed, but she left behind a lost soul. Even if it were only the once, he owed it to her to meet her son and see how he might help him.

* * *

Bertram swayed on his heels and swept the flecks of lint from his jacket, tutting at the persistent bits that refused to move until he picked them off with his nails. Rusted hinges creaked, and the weather-beaten entrance opened a fraction, sunken eyes inspecting him over scratched spectacles. 

“Lord Demaret,” a broad-shouldered woman greeted, swinging the door open wide. She gave his hand a fervent shake and urged him inside out of the mist. “Come in. Come in.”

“Apologies for my lateness,” Bertram said, shuffling through the entryway. “I got held up.” 

“Not to worry. Just through here.” The matron ushered him through the lobby and into a spacious room. Within, little feet darted about on rainbow coloured rugs in pursuit of their friends. Others sat at tables, scribbling on blank pages and colouring pictures. 

Before arriving at the orphanage, he imagined it to be a bleak place of misery where youthful dreams were sent to perish into early graves, but he didn’t think he’d seen so much vibrancy in all of Lucarian. The abandoned souls seemed content enough, and none of them appeared neglected or saddened by their circumstance. 

“Lysander is over there,” the matron said, pointing to the corner where a young boy knelt by a low desk, setting up a card game. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a child accept their situation as quickly as he has. You know, when he arrived here, he declared he would be more than happy to help with the chores to earn his keep.” She chuckled to herself and grinned. “Would you like a cup of tea or some refreshments?” 

“No, thank you,” Bertram replied. “I’m not staying long.” 

“In that case, I will ensure the children don’t disturb you. If you need anything, I won’t be far.” 

The matron tended to the infants in her care and left him to meander around the scattered toys and stacks of building blocks. As he approached, Lysander’s golden gaze lifted from the cards, searching him before returning to his game. 

“Hello, Lysander,” the lord said softly, seating himself on the floor opposite him. “I’m Bertram. I… um… I came to bring you this.” He took a miniature teddy from his pocket. The bear dangled between them unclaimed, and he set it on the table. “I also wanted to offer you my condolences. Your mother was a good woman.” 

“I was at your house the night she died,” Lysander said. “Saw you through the window. Mister Bailey told me we’re related.” 

“I’m your great great something uncle,” Bertram explained, his brow creasing as he counted the generations until he couldn’t remember. “Jasper visited to tell me the news.”

“He said you were going to adopt me, but he must have been wrong because after we’d been to your house, I was brought here.”

In that moment, the remorseful lord would rather have taken a thousand knives to his body than face that gut-punching realisation. Silently, he cursed the lawyer, and swallowed down the strangling shame. “How is it here?” he asked. “Are you being treated well?”

“I get three meals a day and I have a room to myself,” Lysander replied. “The other children don’t seem to want to talk to me, but I’m okay on my own.” 

He couldn’t have been more like Francesca if the fates had intervened. Bertram saw the same fair hair, the same wrinkle in his nose when he concentrated, and the same meticulous perception she’d had. But it was in those burning golden eyes the vicious man who had fathered him shone, the monster who had snatched the lives of thousands of innocents. 

“I understand why you didn’t want to take me in.” Lysander moved a card along the line and frowned at the emerging patterns, shuffling a few more into the mix before he realised the solution. “I don’t blame you.”

Bertram stilled. Did he know? Was he aware of his parentage? Of his father’s crimes and what became of him?

“It’s because I’m a stranger. I suppose if you’d have known me for a while, things may have been different.”

“Your mother had that same kindness and understanding of people,” Bertram said. “Wouldn’t ask anybody to do anything she wasn’t willing to do herself.”

Lysander’s complexion paled. Instead of reaching for another card, he took the teddy bear from the edge of the table and smoothed its fuzzy ears. “Thank you for the gift. And for taking the time to visit me.” 

“It’s all right, kid,” the lord assured him, watching a placid smile cross the boy’s face as he corrected the bear’s bow tie and perched it down beside him like a new friend. “Just passing on my condolences.”

* * *

The day’s fog dismantled once the galloping night drew in, and gradually the cloud line softened. A few silver flickers heralded the darker hours and painted their rays within the inky expanse, guiding the moon into its throne. 

Bertram pressed at the gate and grimaced at the high-pitched squeaks of the corroding mechanism. Every time he returned, he vowed he’d get it fixed, but he never did, overlooking his duties in favour of sauntering back to a crimson bottle to douse his sorrows. 

Crossing the courtyard, he rested himself on the ledge of the fountain beside Alaric. On the field, the children and their tutors played. Alaric’s son and heir paused at the centre of the scattering, squeezing his eyes shut and reaching towards the voices that called for him to seek them. With pinpoint accuracy, he found them, and basked in his triumph.

“Are you sure your kid doesn’t have hunter blood in him?” Bertram jested. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone locate noise like he can, even powerful vampyres.” 

The first lord of the clan chortled. “He practices a lot, and while he has that determination, I’m not going to stop him.” At his side, his oldest friend twiddled one of his many rings, spinning the jewellery around neglected grey skin. “Did you go to see Francesca’s child?” 

“As promised.”

“And it went well?”

Jangles trilled and scurrying feet made their way over to the fountain. Bouncing blond curls halted in front of them. 

“Found it,” Lysander said, wielding a pack of playing cards. “It was wedged between the cushion and the seatbelt clip.”

“I knew it would be there somewhere.” Untangling the straps, Bertram helped him removed the bag and hoisted it from his shoulders, heaving it onto the bench and nodding towards the bearded lord seated beside him. “This is Lord Alaric Volkar. He is the head of our first seat. If you ever have any problems and you can’t find me, you’re to go to him, okay?”

Crouching down, Alaric greeted him with a handshake. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lysander. Welcome to the Clan of the Phoenix.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” the boy replied. He peered around the courtyard and hesitated at the giant bird statue fluttering over the fountain. 

Lord Volkar rose from the cobblestone and called over a midnight-haired child playing on the grass. “Demetrius, this is Lysander Davenport. He’s going to be joining us, so I want you to introduce him to the other children and teach him about the clan.” After a quick bow to his father, Demetrius waved for Lysander to follow him and ran them both to the group.

“Stars above, he looks just like Francesca when she was his age,” Alaric said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she cloned herself.”

“I thought that when I first saw him,” Bertram chuckled, sagging against the railing. “Even the way he talks is similar.” 

“You used to call her little prim, if I recall correctly.”

“I did. She hated it.” A loose thread snagged on a button and in an attempt to loosen it, Bertram ended up fraying the edges. Just something else he needed to mend. But this time, he would do it. Lysander deserved a proper role model to instruct him, to support him through his grief and to inspire him to be the best he could be. He may have failed Francesca, but he was resolved to ensure her child got the future she never had. 

“I know it can’t have been an easy choice to make,” Alaric told him, “but I’m proud of you for doing it.”

“After meeting the kid, it was the easiest decision I’ve ever made,” Bertram admitted. He leaned forward to watch Lysander being introduced to his peers, each of the children welcoming him with a hug and a cordial smile. “The simple fact is he needs a home, and regardless of what happened with his mother, he doesn’t deserve to endure that resentment. Wasn’t exactly his fault. He deserves a good life, and now he has a chance at one.”

-- -- -- -- --

If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider reblogging. Reblogging helps to get work out there and seen.

[stairbalustrades]

Designing a Custom Staircase: Unique Ideas for Your Home’s Interior

Introduction

A staircase is more than just a functional element in your home; it’s an architectural focal point that can elevate your interior design. A custom staircase allows you to infuse your personal style into your space while ensuring it meets the practical needs of your household. Whether you prefer a modern, minimalist aesthetic or a grand, traditional design, a bespoke staircase can transform the overall look and feel of your home.

In this article, we’ll explore creative ideas for designing a custom staircase and the key considerations to keep in mind during the process.

The Benefits of a Custom Staircase

Opting for a custom staircase offers several advantages over standard designs.

Tailored to Your Space:Custom staircases are designed to fit seamlessly into your home’s layout, making the most of available space. Whether you have a compact apartment or a spacious mansion, a bespoke design ensures functionality and harmony.

Personalised Aesthetics:A custom design allows you to choose every detail, from materials to finishes, ensuring your staircase reflects your unique taste.

Added Property Value:A beautifully designed staircase can significantly enhance your home’s value, appealing to potential buyers if you ever decide to sell.

Unique Design Ideas for Custom Staircases

The possibilities for a custom staircase are endless. Here are some creative ideas to inspire your design:

Floating Stairs:Perfect for modern interiors, floating stairs create an illusion of weightlessness, adding a sleek and contemporary touch.

Spiral Staircases:A timeless option, spiral staircases save space while creating a striking visual impact.

Integrated Storage:Maximise functionality by incorporating storage beneath or within the staircase, such as bookshelves or hidden cabinets.

Mixed Materials:Combine materials like wood, glass, and metal to create a unique and dynamic look. For example, a wooden staircase with glass balustrades can strike the perfect balance between traditional and modern styles.

Key Considerations for Designing Your Staircase

When planning a custom staircase, keep the following factors in mind:

Safety Regulations:Ensure your design complies with building codes, including handrail height, step dimensions, and load-bearing capacity.

Material Selection:Choose materials that align with your home’s overall design while ensuring durability. Popular options include timber, steel, and reinforced glass.

Lighting:Incorporate lighting into your design for both functionality and ambience. LED strips along the steps or spotlights can add a dramatic effect.

Hiring the Right Professional

A successful custom staircase requires collaboration with experienced professionals. Look for an architect, designer, or contractor with a portfolio showcasing innovative staircase designs. Clear communication about your vision, budget, and timeline is key to achieving your desired outcome.

Conclusion

A custom staircase is an opportunity to make a bold design statement while improving the functionality of your home. By exploring unique styles, carefully selecting materials, and collaborating with skilled professionals, you can create a staircase that not only serves as a practical feature but also a stunning centrepiece. Let your staircase reflect your personal style and elevate the character of your living space.

[procutcabinets]

The Expertise of Cabinet Makers in Melbourne: Transforming Spaces with Precision and Style.

When it comes to designing functional and stylish interiors, cabinet makers in Melbourne play an essential role. Whether you’re renovating your kitchen, updating your bathroom, or enhancing your living spaces, a professional cabinet maker can bring your vision to life with precision craftsmanship. From custom storage solutions to elegant design elements, cabinet makers are the key to achieving both beauty and functionality in your home.

Custom Cabinetry: Tailored Solutions for Your Home

One of the main benefits of working with cabinet makers in Melbourne is their ability to create custom cabinetry that suits your specific needs. Unlike mass-produced furniture, custom cabinets are designed to fit perfectly into your space, offering tailored storage solutions that complement your home's layout and aesthetic. Whether you require extra pantry space in the kitchen, bespoke wardrobes in the bedroom, or innovative storage units for the living room, cabinet makers can craft solutions that blend style and practicality.

Quality Materials and Craftsmanship

Melbourne cabinet makers take pride in using high-quality materials to ensure the longevity and durability of your cabinets. Whether it’s solid timber, engineered wood, or high-grade laminate, these professionals source materials that stand the test of time. The craftsmanship involved in designing and constructing cabinets is a skill that requires years of experience. Cabinet makers pay attention to every detail, from seamless joints to smooth finishes, ensuring that each piece is not only visually appealing but also structurally sound.

Cabinet Makers for Kitchen Renovations

The kitchen is often the heart of the home, and its design can significantly impact both the functionality and overall aesthetic of your space. A skilled cabinet maker can design custom kitchen cabinets that maximize space and suit your cooking and storage needs. Whether you're looking for sleek, modern designs or something more traditional, Melbourne’s cabinet makers can help you achieve the kitchen of your dreams.

Cabinet makers work closely with you to select finishes, colors, and hardware that align with your style preferences. From minimalist designs with clean lines to intricate details that add character, custom kitchen cabinets can enhance the appeal and efficiency of your kitchen.

Bathroom Cabinets: Combining Functionality and Elegance

In addition to kitchen renovations, cabinet makers in Melbourne are also well-versed in creating bathroom cabinetry that combines functionality with elegance. Bathroom spaces often have limited room, making it essential to optimize every inch. Custom bathroom cabinets can provide the necessary storage while maintaining a sleek, clutter-free look. Whether you need a vanity unit, linen closet, or built-in shelving, a cabinet maker can tailor these features to fit seamlessly into your bathroom design.

Innovative Storage Solutions for Living Areas

Beyond kitchens and bathrooms, cabinet makers in Melbourne also specialize in designing innovative storage solutions for living spaces, home offices, and bedrooms. Custom bookshelves, entertainment units, and home office cabinetry can help you create organized, clutter-free spaces that reflect your personal style. With an emphasis on both form and function, these storage solutions not only keep your home tidy but also serve as beautiful design elements that enhance your interiors.

Why Choose Local Cabinet Makers in Melbourne?

Choosing a local cabinet maker in Melbourne has numerous advantages. Local professionals are familiar with the trends, styles, and demands specific to Melbourne homes. They also offer personalized services, working closely with clients to ensure their needs and preferences are met. Supporting local businesses means you can rely on efficient communication, quicker turnaround times, and expert knowledge tailored to your area.

Additionally, local cabinet makers are likely to offer a more flexible approach, accommodating unique design requests and adjustments during the project. This collaborative process ensures that the final product aligns with your vision, while also enhancing the overall value and appeal of your home.

Conclusion

Cabinet makers in Melbourne offer an exceptional blend of craftsmanship, creativity, and practical design expertise. Whether you're transforming your kitchen, bathroom, or living spaces, their attention to detail and commitment to quality ensure that every project is a success. By choosing a skilled cabinet maker, you can enhance your home with beautifully designed, functional cabinetry that reflects your unique style and meets your specific needs.

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[customdesignfurniture4]

Distinctive Timbers & Furniture

Website: https://www.customdesignfurniture.com.au

Phone: 03 6424 8202

Email: distinctivetimbers@gmail.com

Address: 41 Formby Road, Devonport TAS 7310

Distinctive Timbers & Furniture believe beautiful furniture is not just built; it is crafted. It is a culmination of time, dedication, and the inherent beauty of Tasmanian timbers. Their timbers, much like a fine wine, require expertise. They take years to mature, then undergo a meticulous drying and resting process before ever reaching their workshop. This ensures exceptional stability and allows the wood’s natural character to shine on every piece they create.

Furniture Services

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[sienna-cael2041]

idea for assignment??!??!?!!?

i want to record noises i hear around the house and I feel like it will have interesting acoustics because my house is large but low key has no furniture! and this is because my house is currently in an extended period of transition where my parents are planning to move out to separate places, while preparing to sell our house.

for the past 2 or 3 years, we've been getting ready to sell the house, and i've been planning to live with my mum, and my dad is probably going to be alone. about a year and a half ago, we stripped all our photos off the walls, and painted them all white. a year ago, we packaged a lot of our stuff in boxes, put our couches, bookshelves, tables, chairs and rugs in storage, and redid the timber flooring and carpet. so now my house is both cluttered and empty at the same time.

there's a room full of boxes that have been there for months gathering dust, and a large, empty main area with a tall ceiling that echos. there's another big, dark and empty room downstairs that's also gathering dust. there's a glass shelf full of my mum's parent's glassware that we haven't packed away yet, and almost a third of all the glasses have dead cicadas, dragonflies and spiders inside.

there is a long, dark hallway, and at the end is my mum's room, which is meant to be a master bedroom. there's a huge, semi-newly renovated ensuite bathroom that has a double shower for couples. when she showers she sings and the sound exits the bathroom window and enters through my bedroom window. my dad's room is a small study that has been there since the beginning, and used to be my sister's room before she moved out. it smells like slightly damp laundry in there. and his bedside table has a medically prescribed weed pen, a shot glass holding nail clippers, and often an empty glass containing a metal straw that had been drunk from the night before.

my bedroom is probably the most furnished room in the house, still containing my desk, bed, chair and bookshelf. i think that there's mould growing inside my cupboard, but i don't use it, since most of my clothes stay in laundry baskets. there's newly installed central heating in my house and the machine is right outside my window, providing me with a hum of white noise at almost all times.

my brother's room, (now empty) used to have the heating underneath it, and it would make these awful, loud shuddering noise. my brother also used to complain about it having a high pitched noise at all times but i could never hear it.

my house is usually pretty quiet. and it's kind of always been like that, unless it's dinner, or people are having an altercation or something. it's only in the past year or so i've felt comfortable actually making noise and taking up space in my own home. i used to walk around; literally almost tiptoeing, avoiding talking to anyone. i would be afraid to take showers because of the volume of it or even play music without headphones. i never called anyone and if i did, i'd go outside, not wanting to cause a disturbance. the only sound in the house would be the click-clack of my dog's paws walking around.

but lately i've just stopped caring. because so have my parents. they've randomly, in the past 2 years, really eased up, especially my mum who i had an extremely strained relationship with in my adolescence. like, now i just play music in my room, in the shower, i call my friends and laugh so so loud. i put a cd player in the kitchen and have been building my collection of 90s albums with artists/bands like hole, the cranberries, nirvana, rem, radiohead and portishead.

i feel like it sounds like i'm complaining about my home life but honestly, i'm happy with it. i'm lucky to live in such a nice house in a nice area, i'm happy that my relationship with my parents has improved drastically in the past few years, but i'm excited to move out with my mum because i know that staying here is holding her back. and i also realise that this post is called "idea for assignment" yet i still haven't actually said what my idea is.

what i'm saying with all of this is that i feel me, and my house, are in a state of limbo. we haven't moved out yet because of all these council requirements, yet basically all our stuff is either packed up or already in storage somewhere. i don't feel like a kid anymore, but i definitely don't feel like much of an adult. it's hard to explain without sounding really cringe but i just feel like i'm in between my childhood and my adulthood, my mum's in between two major stages in her life - being with my dad, and then finally not having to live with him. and i feel like usually these things happen kind of fast, maybe.. but we've been sitting in a near empty house for over a year now. but i'm excited for the future. i can't wait to live with my mum, and have all my friends over, and to hang out with her and her boyfriend and watch them play their guitars, and actually have furniture and couches. i miss my couches so bad! and FINALLY what i want to do with this assignment is document all the sounds of my house right now.

i want to record all these familiar sounds, like when at night it's nearly dead silent aside from the steady hum of the heater and the clinking of the metal straw against my dad's glass of vodka + orange juice (he's not an alcoholic he just really loves that combination for some reason and drinks it like every night.) and also he has these coughing fits that my brother and i laugh about because that's when you know he's hitting the penjamin (legally). and sometimes i can faintly here my mum practicing the most basic songs ever on the ukulele, like "amazing grace" and stuff. i also hear my dog (his name is Hutch) shuffling around, and the sound that his collar tag makes against his metal bowl. and the sound of the washing machine, and the fridge beeping because someone (probably dad) left it open. and side note, once i heard the fridge beeping, so i went to go close it, but then i realised it was already closed and it was my neighbour's fire alarm. and then i looked out the window and it was just a huge wall of orange outside.

okay anyway, i don't know how i am talking SO MUCH right now. i don't know if i want to make a soundscape or abstract it honestly, because i feel like making it abstract would sound so cool but a soundscape kind of fits the vibe more. or i could do a mix of both somehow??? i'll think about it.....

[jrbespokedesigns]

How to Design Your Dream Home with Custom Timber Furniture?

Designing your dream home is an exciting journey that allows you to create a space tailored to your personal tastes and lifestyle. One of the most impactful ways to add character and warmth to your home is through custom timber furniture Sydney. 

Timber furniture offers a timeless appeal and versatility that can complement any design style, from rustic to contemporary. Here’s a comprehensive guide on how to design your dream home with custom timber furniture Melbourne.

Understanding the Appeal of Timber Furniture

Timber furniture brings a natural elegance and durability that few other materials can match. Each piece of timber has its own unique grain patterns and colours, making every item one-of-a-kind. 

The organic textures and tones of timber add warmth to a space, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere. Moreover, timber furniture is incredibly durable, ensuring that your investment will last for many years.

Steps to Designing Your Home with Custom Timber Furniture

1. Define Your Style

Before you start selecting furniture, it’s crucial to have a clear vision of your desired style. Timber furniture can be crafted to suit various aesthetics:

- Rustic: Emphasizes natural beauty with rugged textures and raw edges.

- Modern: Features clean lines and minimalistic designs with smooth finishes.

- Traditional: Includes classic shapes and intricate details.

- Scandinavian: Combines simplicity with functionality, often using light-coloured woods.

Browse design magazines, websites, and social media platforms like Pinterest to gather inspiration and identify the elements that resonate with you.

2. Plan Your Space

Consider the layout and dimensions of each room where you intend to place timber furniture. Measure the space to ensure that the furniture will fit comfortably without overcrowding the room. Think about the function of each piece and how it will be used in daily life. For example, a large dining table might be the centrepiece of your dining room, while a sturdy coffee table could anchor your living space.

3. Choose the Right Timber

Different types of timber offer various looks and properties. Here are some popular options:

- Oak: Known for its strength and classic appeal.

- Walnut: Features rich, dark tones and a luxurious feel.

- Pine: Offers a lighter, more casual look and is often more affordable.

- Teak: Highly durable and resistant to moisture, making it ideal for both indoor and outdoor use.

Discuss with your furniture maker about the best type of timber for your needs, considering factors such as durability, maintenance, and aesthetics.

4. Customisation and Craftsmanship

One of the major advantages of custom timber furniture Melbourne is the ability to tailor each piece to your exact specifications. Work with a skilled craftsman who can bring your vision to life. Consider details like:

- Size and Proportions: Ensure the furniture fits your space and serves its intended purpose.

- Design Details: Incorporate unique features such as carved elements, inlays, or mixed materials.

- Finish: Decide whether you prefer a natural finish that highlights the wood’s grain or a stained finish that enhances its colour.

5. Sustainability and Ethical Considerations

With increasing awareness of environmental impact, it’s important to choose sustainable and ethically sourced timber. Look for furniture makers who use certified sustainable wood and eco-friendly finishes. This not only helps protect the environment but also ensures that your furniture is made with care and responsibility.

Integrating Timber Furniture into Your Home

1. Living Room

The living room is often the heart of the home, making it an ideal place to showcase beautiful timber furniture. Consider a solid timber coffee table, custom-built bookshelves, or a unique entertainment unit. Timber accents such as picture frames and lamp bases can also tie the room together.

2. Dining Room

A custom timber dining table can serve as a stunning centrepiece. Complement it with matching chairs or benches. Sideboards and cabinets in timber can provide additional storage and display space.

3. Bedroom

Create a serene and inviting bedroom with a custom timber bed frame, nightstands, and dressers. The natural warmth of wood promotes relaxation and comfort. Consider adding a timber bench at the foot of the bed for added functionality and style.

4. Home Office

Design a productive and stylish workspace with a custom timber desk and shelves. Timber’s durability makes it ideal for a desk that will see daily use, and its natural beauty can inspire creativity and focus.

Conclusion

Designing your dream home with custom timber furniture Melbourne is a rewarding process that results in a space filled with unique, high-quality pieces. 

By defining your style, planning your space, choosing the right timber, and focusing on customisation and sustainability, you can create a home that truly reflects your personality and values. Timber furniture not only adds aesthetic appeal but also brings a sense of warmth and durability, making your home a cherished sanctuary for years to come.

Source by - https://shorturl.at/umfLp 

[lenbryant]

(LongPost) The Folger Library Wants to Reintroduce You to Shakespeare

After an $80 million expansion, the Folger Shakespeare Library is reopening with a more welcoming approach — and all 82 of its First Folios on view.

By Jennifer Schuessler

Jennifer Schuessler has reported frequently on Shakespeare, including following a First Folio to South Dakota.

Social media is awash with pictures of jaw-dropping libraries, elaborately styled home bookshelves and all manner of drool-worthy Library Porn. But for understated dazzle, it’s hard to compete with a wall in the new basement galleries of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C.

For decades, the library’s 82 copies of Shakespeare’s First Folio — the largest collection in the world — were locked away in a vault, with access granted only to select scholars. But now, anyone can enter the public galleries and see them displayed in a special wall case, laid flat with spines out.

The Folio — a collection of 36 of Shakespeare’s plays, published by his friends in 1623, seven years after his death — is “the ultimate message in a bottle.”

“And the miracle is that every generation opens up the bottle and it turns out the plays, the message, was addressed to them,” Witmore said.

That language may be high-flown, but the goal of the renovation is anything but. Opened on Capitol Hill in 1932 by the collectors Henry and Emily Folger as a gift to the American people, the library has long been a destination for scholars, who come to use what is considered the world’s premier research collection relating to Shakespeare and his times.

The renovation, by the Philadelphia-based architecture firm KieranTimberlake, creates the library’s first permanent exhibit, nestled in new galleries tucked underneath the existing Tudor-style Great Hall, timbered theater and atmospheric reading room (where the Folgers’ ashes are interred behind a plaque). The desire to place the Folios at the heart of the new galleries grew out of the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death in 2016.

That year, the library sent a copy of the Folio to every U.S. state and territory, where host institutions built elaborate programming around it. Roughly 750,000 people showed up, and some reactions were intense.

“We had people breaking down in tears in front of it, or proposing marriage,” Witmore said. “That was a strong indication to us that the book has a certain charisma.”

Before the renovation, the Folger welcomed 60,000 to 70,000 visitors a year — a pittance compared with the roughly two million who visit the (much larger) Library of Congress just next door. Many come on school field trips, and never return.

Surveys showed that people in the surrounding neighborhoods found it forbidding, or confusing. (Was it a private club? A bank?) But Shakespeare himself was not a deal breaker.

The building needed “a different handshake,” said Witmore (who is retiring at the end of this month after 13 years at the helm). Previously, visitors entered by climbing the steps to the marble facade, inscribed with soaring quotes from Ben Jonson and other long-dead writers. Now, they follow the descending garden path ringed with a poem by Rita Dove, which exhorts visitors to “clear your calendars, pocket your notes.”

Inside, the first wall panel reads, in big letters, “Shakespeare?” And then below: “He was then and there and he is here and now. Discoveries await!”

Behind it, in a small anteroom, visitors catch a glimpse of part of an intricate black mirror by the African American artist Fred Wilson, who represented the United States at the 2003 Venice Biennale. Opposite it, first seen reflected in its surface, is George Gower’s famous 1579 portrait of Elizabeth I, in milky white lead makeup.

Hung nearby are archival materials relating to Ira Aldridge, most likely the first Black actor to play “Othello,” in 1825. Before that, the role was played by white actors in blackface.

The question of whom Shakespeare “belongs” to is also addressed pointedly in the main exhibit, which pivots quickly from a brief sketch of Shakespeare’s biography to the British colonization of North America, which began in the very years Shakespeare was writing.

The Folger itself is part of that history. In 1938, the library’s director, Joseph Quincy Adams, denied a request by Benjamin Brawley, a professor at Howard University, for tickets to the annual Shakespeare Birthday Lecture. While Black scholars could use the reading room, Adams decided that their mingling with white attendees at an “intimate social function” would be “distasteful to a majority of our guests.”

Brawley came anyway. “He single-handedly integrated the social functions of the Folger,” Witmore said.

(Witmore’s successor as director, Farah Karim-Cooper, is the former director of education at Shakespeare’s Globe in London and the author of “The Great White Bard: How to Love Shakespeare While Talking About Race.”)

Some artifacts highlight the weirder ways that Shakespeare has saturated the culture. There’s a poster from an 1853 production of “The Taming of the Shrew” performed on an icebound ship in the Arctic. A 1984 board game called The Twelfth Night Murder is spread out in one case, as if ready to play.

The exhibition also seeks to bring the First Folio down to earth. Today, it may be the ultimate literary fetish object. (In 2020, a copy sold at auction for nearly $10 million.) But it’s also just a book, made by human hands, and sometimes messed up by them.

In front of the Folio display, there’s a working replica of a 17th-century press, where staff members do demonstrations. As the printers worked on the Folio, they corrected mistakes, piling up corrected pages along with faulty ones. When it came time to assemble the roughly 750 original copies of the book, the pages were bound together in varying combinations. One of the oddities of this most famous of books is that no two copies have exactly the same text.

Touch screens allow visitors to explore traces left in the Folger copies over the centuries by human hands, including annotations and doodles. One of the two copies currently displayed open (they will rotate periodically) is the so-called “eyeglass copy” — named for the faint rust-colored stain from a pair of spectacles left too long on a page.

Greg Prickman, the library’s director of collections, said that showing so many Folios together underlined the value not just of any single Folio, but of a library that gathers many of them together, along with thousands of other books.

“It opens up not just what that book is, and what that book means, but what it means to have a collection,” he said.

[plywoodsinchennai]

Explore How Plywood Can Be Used in Home Renovation Projects

Plywood, a versatile material made from thin layers of wood veneer glued together, has become a staple in the realm of home renovation. From flooring to cabinetry, its applications are diverse and its benefits manifold. In this article, we'll delve into the various ways plywood can be utilized in home renovation projects, exploring its advantages, types, applications, and considerations.

Elevate Your Flooring with Plywood Elegance

Say goodbye to mundane flooring options and hello to plywood elegance. The durability and affordability of plywood make it an excellent choice for creating stylish and modern floors. Whether you’re aiming for a sleek, polished look or a rustic charm, plywood can be customized to match your aesthetic preferences.

Plywood Accent Walls: Make a Bold Statement

Transform a dull room into a captivating space by incorporating plywood accent walls. This design trend adds texture and character, turning any ordinary wall into a focal point. Experiment with different finishes, from natural wood to painted surfaces, to achieve the desired ambiance.

Trendy Plywood Cabinets for a Chic Kitchen

Upgrade your kitchen with the warmth and sophistication of plywood cabinets. Plywood’s structural stability ensures longevity, while its smooth surface provides the perfect canvas for various finishes. Create a chic and modern kitchen that is both functional and visually appealing.

Space-Saving Plywood Shelves: Practical and Stylish

In small spaces, every inch counts. Plywood shelves offer a practical and stylish solution for maximizing storage without compromising aesthetics. Customize the design to suit your needs, and watch as functionality meets flair.

Plywood Furniture: A Contemporary Twist

Infuse a contemporary twist into your home with Plywood Furniture. From coffee tables to bookshelves, plywood’s versatility allows for the creation of sleek and modern pieces that can easily become the focal point of any room.

Plywood Backsplash: Unconventional and Striking

Give your kitchen or bathroom a touch of the extraordinary by opting for a plywood backsplash. This unconventional choice not only adds warmth but also serves as a unique design element that sets your space apart.

Plywood Ceilings: Embrace the Fifth Wall

Don’t neglect the fifth wall – the ceiling. Plywood ceilings offer a fresh and modern alternative to traditional options. Experiment with patterns, textures, and finishes to create a visually stunning overhead masterpiece.

Plywood Headboard: Personalize Your Bedroom

Revitalize your bedroom with a plywood headboard. This cost-effective project allows you to personalize your space and add a touch to your unique style. Experiment with shapes, patterns and finishes for a one-of-a-kind focal point.

Outdoor Oasis with Plywood Decking

Extend your living space outdoors with plywood decking. Its durability and resistance to the elements make it an ideal choice for creating a stylish and functional outdoor oasis. Enjoy the beauty of nature from the comfort of your plywood-enhanced deck.

These are just a few ideas for using plywood in your home renovation projects. With a little creativity, you can use plywood to create a unique and stylish look that will last for years to come.

Here are a few additional tips for using plywood in your home renovation projects:

Choose the right grade of plywood for your project. There are different grades of plywood, each with its strengths and weaknesses.

Seal the plywood if it is exposed to moisture. Plywood is not naturally Water-Resistant, so it is important to seal it if it is used in a bathroom, kitchen, or outdoor area.

Paint or stain the plywood to match your décor. Plywood can be easily painted or stained to match any décor.

Use your imagination. There are endless possibilities for using plywood in your home renovation projects. With a little creativity, you can create truly unique and stylish pieces.

Conclusion

Lakshmi Timbers and Plywood stands out as the best plywood supplier in Chennai, thanks to its unwavering commitment to quality, customer service, and sustainability. With a diverse range of high-quality products, exceptional customer service, and a focus on environmental responsibility, Lakshmi Timbers and Plywood sets the standard for excellence in the industry.

FAQs

Is plywood suitable for all areas of the home? Plywood can be used in various areas of the home, including floors, walls, ceilings, cabinetry, and furniture. However, its suitability depends on factors such as the specific application, environmental conditions, and desired aesthetic.

How does plywood compare to other materials like solid wood or engineered wood? Plywood offers several advantages over solid wood, including increased stability, resistance to warping and cracking, and cost-effectiveness. Compared to engineered wood, plywood tends to be more durable and versatile in terms of applications.

What are some maintenance tips for plywood surfaces? To maintain plywood surfaces, regularly clean them with a mild detergent and water solution, avoiding harsh chemicals that may damage the finish. Additionally, inspect for any signs of wear or damage and address them promptly to prevent further deterioration.

Can plywood be used in outdoor renovation projects? Yes, certain types of plywood, such as exterior and marine plywood, are specifically designed for outdoor applications. These types of plywood are treated to withstand moisture, humidity, and other outdoor elements, making them suitable for projects such as decking, siding, and outdoor furniture.

Is plywood environmentally friendly? Plywood can be considered environmentally friendly when sourced from sustainable forests and certified by organizations like the Forest Stewardship Council (FSC). Additionally, opting for alternatives like bamboo plywood or reclaimed wood can further reduce environmental impact.