#white woodwork trim

[eyecessorize]

San Diego Contemporary Kitchen An illustration of a mid-sized, modern, single-wall kitchen with raised panels, medium-tone wood cabinets, a beige backsplash, a ceramic backsplash, and no island.

[bonestrouslingbones]

btw big shoutout to that woodworking class i took in my final semester of high school for allowing me to 1. not constantly sound like i'm talking entirely out of my ass and 2. hide some very niche secrets because of the like 2 full months of paperwork & osha training before i got to actually build anything

[amaxantys]

ppl who paint over the trim and wood detailing in american craftsman style homes please id like to have a word with you

[retaliationgraphics]

Kitchen Bridgeport A farmhouse sink, flat-panel cabinets, stainless steel cabinets, quartzite countertops, stainless steel appliances, an island, and white countertops can be seen in this large transitional medium tone wood floor enclosed kitchen photo.

[catbui]

New York Traditional Living Room

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Finally, a colorful New Orleans, Louisiana home. Built in 1853, 2bds, 2ba, no crazy renovations, and $598K. Already has an offer pending.

The only thing they did was paint the woodwork white, but it's original. The hall and stairs are untouched and painted a lively turquoise.

Loving the sunny yellow living room, original fireplace and how the doors open to the porch.

A large opening with pocket doors opens to this sizeable room with another original exposed brick fireplace.

Next is a dining room. Would have liked if they didn't paint the wood trim blue and black, but the room opens to a porch and the kitchen with a service window.

Liking the simple vintage kitchen redo. The subway tile with darker grout gives it a bit of an industrial look, the vintage sink & stove are perfect, and the attractive exhaust hood is a focal point.

On the 2nd floor there's a very large landing and hallway, plus a trap door to the attic in the ceiling.

Check out the vintage bath. I would redo the colors, but the built-ins are wonderful, and look at the double doors to the terrace.

Spacious primary bedroom with a fireplace and terrace.

Next to the primary is the other bedroom, which is also spacious, has double doors to the terrace, plus a little door to a secret room. How cool is that?

Spacious, airy hall.

The 2nd fl. terrace is wonderful.

But, look at the larger one in the back. And, they made the coolest bar out of old balusters.

Love this. Note the 2nd bath on the right, plus laundry.

Not the tile I would've chose, b/c it looks jail cell-like, but okay.

Beautiful big porch on the back, but the yard needs work, like the removal of this old cement patio. But, it will be lovely when it's redone.

[maggyme13]

Moving above the Underworld (3/?)

Ellie just moved into a new flat. Introducing herself to her downstairs neighbor with a cake she did not realize what the future held for her and him. And what had an asshole coworker to do with it?

AN: Part 3 :) Ready for the first climbs into Sys world?

Don´t like-> Don´t Read Minors DNI

Warning: misogynic men, cursing

Wordcount: Around 3k

Masterlist

Series-Masterlist

Part 2

„Today Mr. Silver´s men will come and get everything, so make sure it is ALL cushioned and complete!“, her boss stated for the tenth time that day. “Yes, Boss. We checked everything at least four times today already.”, Sasha, one of the two coworkers she liked working with replied. “Then check again. We don´t want something to get lost just because it is that time of the month.”, he sneered back, and once again did Ellie question why she was still working for him. “Mr. Jolly? Mr Silver sends us.”, a deep male voice called out from the entrance of the workshop before anyone could answer their boss. “We have been awaiting you, gentlemen. Everything should be ready and packed. Do you need any help?”, the man in question greeted overly nicely. It was so fake the young woodworker had to suppress a gag. “No. We are enough, Thank you. Just tell us what belongs together so we can unpack accordingly at the location.”, the man denied. “Sasha will help you. Everyone else is back to work.”, and with these words, her boss left together with his friend. “Have fun. If you need help let me know. I´ll be trimming the white ash for the cupboard that is due at the end of the month.”, Ellie told him. “Could you trim my Rosewood for the chess table I have to build? The fields have to be forty by forty at the end. I already put it on the trolley next to the saw.” “Yeah, You good with forty-five by forty-five? Or should I trim it to fifty by fifty?”, she shrugged. She did not mind helping those who helped her too. “Forty-five is good. Thanks.” “No Prob. Call if you need help with anything.”, she jokingly saluted and went to get her work done. Ellie had just finished preparing her wood when Sasha came over from where he helped the men pack the truck. “What´s up?”, she questioned upon seeing the slightly stressed look on the man's face. “Mr. I-am-the-best did not wrap the pedestals for the cabinet properly and one slipped when they loaded it.”, he sighed. “What's the verdict?”, Ellie almost growled. The last three weeks they had worked mandatory overtime and everyone was tired and a bit raw. “We need to redo it. It cracked in a way we can´t fix that easily. Do we have leftovers with the right grain?” “Yeah. Tell the men we will prepare everything and take it with us tomorrow. It needs to be trimmed properly, sanded, and oiled. I´ll get to it. There goes the hope that I could get some sleep tonight.”, Ellie groaned. “Thank you. Breakfast tomorrow is on me. My wife would kill me if I am late home on her birthday.” “It´s fine. Greet her from me and get some good bagels.” “Will do. Will do. You are a lifesaver.”, Sasha smiled, though his eyes showed pity. .--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--.--..--.

“You can park the cars over there. They will be searched and your tools will be checked. Every one of you will be stripped and searched as well.”, a gorilla of a man with two long beard braids declared, “Lady, you´ll be last. Everybody else hurry up.” One after the other went through the entrance and disappeared into the villa until only Ellie was left alone with the Viking. Because that was the only way she could describe the vibe he was giving. He had said nothing else after the first declarations, only stared them down, mustering every one of them with his eyes staying on her the longest. Ellie noticed the contemplation working behind his eyes and she gulped a few times nervously when they were alone. “You´re up next. Step through the door and get into the room on the right. Someone will be waiting there for you.”, he suddenly said and she saw the smirk on his face when she jerked together in surprise. Why had he suddenly decided to speak again? Shocked and shy Ellie simply nodded once and did as she was told. The entrance door was huge and looked like an old oaken castle door at first sight, but when she stepped through she noticed the steel that was enforcing it. Quickly finding the door she hoped a woman would be standing behind, she slowly stepped through it. “Excuse me, I was told I should get in here?”, she announced her appearance in case she had accidentally chosen the wrong door only to stop dead in her tracks. No woman was waiting for her to undress but a man. But not just any man, no, her neighbor stood there, arms crossed over his chest. “H-Hi. How far do I have to strip? Can I keep my underwear on?”, she asked shy, praying mentally for him to say yes. It would have been embarrassing enough to strip before a stranger, but now it would be her neighbor whom she meets almost every day.

Instead of an answer, he stares her down, his eyes roaming over her body in calculation and with a small smirk on his face. Ellie wanted to disappear into the ground. “Do you have any weapons or recording devices with you?”, he rumbled in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. “A-apart of my cutter knife on my belt, no.”, she answered with a gulp. “I see.”, he stated, stepping almost uncomfortably close and pulling slightly on her shirt, only enough for it to look like it had been taken off “Go through that door. Your Colleagues should be waiting on the other side.” Her neighbor followed her through the door, almost as uncomfortable close as he stood before, causing her to step away in discomfort caused by her coworker's looks. “I will show you to the rooms you will be staying in as well as the areas you are permitted to enter.”, he declared with a coldness in his voice that she had never heard before, “Ms. Miller, you will be staying in this room. The three of you will share the one on the right. Each has an en-suite and closets. You will be responsible for your Breakfast and Lunch. Ingredients will be provided. Dinner will be served each day at 6 pm. The Kitchen provides it cooked and hot in this room.”, he motioned to the next room a few doors down the Hallway. Water and other drinks will be provided in that room as well. Any questions?” “Why do we have to share and she gets her own.”, Solomon ´Asshole´Creed mumbled in a way that was obvious that it wasn´t meant to be heard by anyone else. “Because we have not been informed that Ms Miller would be with you. It was planned that each room would be shared by two. There was no time to arrange other housing in this short amount of time.”, her neighbor stated without even looking at him. Ellie knew that was a lie. She had informed him about her planned absence a few days prior in case anything happened at their house while being on this work trip. “Now follow me to the office and area you can use for your machinery.” The room itself was bigger than it had looked on the blueprints they had seen in the plans during the building process. “Thank you, Sir, we would like to start working now.”, Sasha smiled. “Good.”, and with these words her neighbor left them to their work. “So what did you do to get that room? I would suggest a Quicky, but then who would want to fuck a woman that thinks she's a man?”, Solomon cornered Ellie as soon as the door had closed with a hiss, “You were in there Longer than any of us after all.” “Nothing. Can we start now? I don´t fancy any more Overtime if not necessary.”, she mumbled back. Used to her coworker's antics she had decided long ago not to play into his shenanigans. “As we have discussed earlier. Ellie and I will cut the boards to length and do any special cutouts. The two of you glue it.”, Daniel the other coworker Ellie liked to work with declared. “Don´t make any mistakes Missy. The floorboards were imported and expensive.”, Solomon spat readying his tools. ­-..--..--..--..--..--..--.

Despite the fact they worked with only two short 15-minute breaks they were only finished around 8 pm, which means another three hours of overtime. Entering their break room, as they had declared it, they ate dinner – Chicken Curry with rice was served- before each of them returned to their room. After taking a quick shower, where she tried to get rid of the varnish that had found its way onto her skin, Ellie got dressed in her sleepwear and laid down to fall asleep. The next morning they eat an almost lavish breakfast. The kitchen had placed fresh bread buns, a lot of toppings, fruit, as well as tea, coffee, and different kinds of egg dishes in the room for them to eat. They started with assembling the large inbuilt cabinet that the office table would stand before. It will consist of four cabinets (two on each side) for folders with push-to-open doors. Next to them is one shelf with hotspot lighting and bloodwood inlays, for expensive booze bottles and other stuff the customer wishes to show off. Then in the middle three cupboards with four drawers each would stand. Each drawer front had bloodwood and maple inlays that, once everything came together, would form an intricate but simple honeycomb pattern only visible from a certain distance. The cupboards in the middle would be covered by a black matted glass sheet for protection. Planned was that they finish the wall system that day. Unfortunately, it took longer than anticipated to reach that goal and when 6 PM came around they had not been able to secure the cabinets to the wall. It should have been an easy task to finish in time, but someone (the Asshole of the group) had managed to build two of the four cabinets out of angle and so aligning them had been a pain in the ass and took three times the usual amount of time. It did not help that a certain someone also took at least one smoke/ toilet break every forty minutes or so. “How unfit for a job can someone be? Aligning should not take that long.”, Solomon growled, “We are on overtime again.” “Then go get off the clock. I can finish this on my own.”, Ellie almost bit back, she had enough of his bickering and was in dire need of some quiet and alone time.

“Make sure to clean up. That should be your specialty as a woman

after all.”, he huffed before disappearing. “Bastard. We can help you with that.”, Sasha offered, even though he looked as tired as every one of them felt. “No. I can do it with some quiet right now. Just save me some food. Shouldn´t take longer than an hour.” “Of course, we save you some. We will place a note for them to know you will eat a bit later because you need to finish something. Don´t overwork yourself.”, Daniel agreed and the two men left her alone. As it is usual, it took almost twice as long as she had believed it would and so she was starving when she stepped into the break-room ready for some nice cooked food. Only to find nothing was left. It seemed the kitchen staff had taken it away. “Guess Apples it is.”, she sighed eyeing the fruits in the middle of the table, “Better than nothing.” -..--..--..--..--..--..--..--..--. “Damn, you look like shit. How long did you take to finish up yesterday?”, one of her coworkers breathed the second he saw her bleary-eyed face. Not in the mood to talk, Ellie simply held up two fingers while piling food on her plate. She had not slept well the night prior. Her stomach had cramped out of hunger almost the whole time. “Did you at least do your job properly this time and we can assemble the table today?”, her asshole coworker piped up. Again she only held up a thumb instead of a verbal answer. They just started their task for that day when it became apparent some important things were missing. Ten Screws. Ellie knew she had packed them even though they were now gone. “I knew you should not be allowed to help pack.”, Solomon mocked her, “Now fix this mess before I call the Boss.” Leaving to search for someone who could help her, she wanders the halls they were allowed to and finds a housemaid. She told her they needed someone at the office because of a small problem they came across. “I will see if I can find someone.”, she smiled and Ellie thanked her. “What's the problem?”, her neighbor asked not half an hour later only for Solomon to answer, “Missy messed up and forgot to pack shit we need.” “That means?” “There was a bag with ten screws for the table. It is not with the stuff your guys had taken. We need them to finish building the table. If it can´t be found in the truck, someone needs to return to the workshop and get new ones.”, Ellie stated, not daring to look her neighbor in the eyes. He had sounded and looked pissed when he entered. “I´ll make a few calls. Continue working.”, he answers and they do as they were told. Assembling parts of the Table they were able to. Another half an hour later her neighbor showed up again. “Ms. Miller. You are coming with me.”, he rumbled, looking so pissed she was sure he was about to execute her and dump the body in a ditch. In silence, they drove back to the workshop where, luckily no Mr Jolly was to be seen. Looking around the workshop she finally found the screws on her worktable. To her confusion. Ellie could swear she had packed them and checked multiple times before leaving that they had left nothing behind by accident. “I swear they were not here when we left.”, she mumbled almost like an apology. Without a word he notions for her to get back into the car. His silence disturbed her and she started thinking about finding a new place to stay. The whole trip took two hours. That meant another day of overtime and less sleep for her or else they would not be able to finish in time. Despite everything they had managed to assemble the table by the end of their workday but did not manage to get to their goal, starting assembling the conference area. Again over time. “That´s all your fault, Missy.”

“Oh eat me.”, she grumbles back, not in the mood for another doubt of bullying by her ´favorite´ coworker. “Would love to show you where your real place should be.”, he bit back, disgustingly licking his lips, “someone should fill you up, and make you a damn stay-at-home mom like it should be. No more playing man.” “You're disgusting. I am done. Finish this shit on your own. Sorry Sasha, Daniel, but I can´t do this anymore today.”, she stood up and packed away her tools. “Go. We can finish this in no time on our own. You already did enough OT yesterday. Rest and tomorrow we start fresh.”, Daniel assured, though Ellie barely acknowledged him, already on the way out of the door. Only to nearly stumble into Alejandro. “Sorry.”, she mumbled with a forced smile and disappeared towards the dining room not noticing the confused and slightly worried look following her. Pasta arrabbiata was served. With a full stomach, and after a quick shower, Ellie went to bed on time for the first time in weeks. The next day they finished assembling a small conference area with only the hidden bar left to install. It would take another whole day. It was planned to fit into an alcove on the right side of the room, opposite to the small conference area. The front was made to look like the surrounding wall. Inside was an expensive cooler with a glass door that could be set to four different temperatures and was meant for wine. A small ice-cube machine able to do spherical cubes was hidden behind two double doors made of maple. An intricate cupboard for hanging glasses upside down was situated just at a height that made it comfortable to reach. The Lighting was indirect and would dim itself regarding how well the rest of the office was lit. At the end of the day, they had installed the innards of the bar, which left only the fronts and cleaning for the last day. The four of them were done just in time, leaving them with only the task of adding one last layer of varnish on the floor before leaving. With the instructions to not enter the room for 24 Hours, but to leave the AC on so the room is well-aired. Leaving cleaning the work van for the upcoming Monday, all of them left to enjoy their well-earned weekend. For three weeks Ellie did not cross paths with her neighbor causing her to worry she had crossed a line while being on that job. All the while Solomon was meaner than before. Pissed she had managed the assembly that well and that the customer had nothing but praise for her and the other men. He even lied to their boss that she had damaged some of the furniture and had unprofessionally tried to cover it up. It was so bad she got an official reprimand, even though their customer was more than satisfied with the work they had done. Her other coworkers tried to speak in her name and get the boss to overthink his decision, but her boss, being friends with Solomon, would rather listen to him and not anyone else. The side remarks and workload became so bad that she thought of resigning and finding a new job.

Part 4 AN: Thank you all for reading:)

Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated:)

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@kingliam2019 @identity2212

[blue-cordial]

DUTY AND HONOR - RAFE CAMERON X READER

The sun hung low over the sprawling plantation of Cameron Hall, casting long shadows across the meticulously trimmed gardens and the grand manor house that stood as a beacon of Southern opulence. Rafe Cameron, the heir to this estate, cut a striking figure as he strode through the corridors of his ancestral home. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a gaze as piercing as the edge of a blade, he commanded respect and admiration from all who crossed his path.

You, however, were an outsider to this world of privilege and legacy. A distant relation from a neighboring plantation fallen on hard times, your arrival at Cameron Hall was not of your choosing but rather a strategic alliance forged by necessity and tradition. Dressed in a gown of ivory silk, you stepped into the grand chapel where the ceremony that would bind you to Rafe was to take place.

The air was heavy with the scent of magnolias and the murmurs of guests who whispered behind delicate lace fans. Rafe stood at the altar, a vision in black tailcoat and starched white cravat, his expression unreadable as he awaited your approach. His first wife, Sofia, stood beside him, her demeanor as cold and distant as the marble statues that adorned the chapel walls.

The vows were spoken with solemn reverence, each word carrying the weight of centuries of tradition and obligation. Rafe's voice was steady as he pledged to honor and protect you, though the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes did not escape your notice. For a moment, as the ring was slipped onto your finger, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability beneath his stoic facade.

The early days of your marriage were a delicate dance of etiquette and expectation. Cameron Hall became your new world, its sprawling grounds and elegant parlors a labyrinth of unwritten rules and silent judgments. Rafe, though distant at first, proved to be a patient and attentive husband, guiding you through the intricacies of managing a household of such grandeur.

Nights were spent in the vast chamber that now belonged to both of you, where the flicker of candlelight cast shadows across the intricate woodwork and the heavy drapes billowed softly in the evening breeze. It was here, in the quiet moments before sleep claimed you, that Rafe's touch became more than a duty. His hands, calloused from years spent tending to the land, held a gentleness that spoke of a depth of feeling he dared not reveal openly.

"I hope you understand, my lady," he murmured one night, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "This marriage was not of my choosing, but I will honor my obligations."

His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken truths and hidden desires. You knew the weight of duty pressed upon him, the expectations of an heir to carry on the Cameron name. Yet, beneath the surface, a flicker of something more fragile than duty began to stir.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as you settled into your role as the second wife of Rafe Cameron. Sofia's presence remained a constant reminder of the obligations that bound you all, her once vibrant spirit now dulled by bitterness and resentment. She moved through Cameron Hall with a grace that belied the turmoil within, her every glance a silent accusation aimed at the bond growing between you and her husband.

"You will never replace me," she hissed one evening, her voice a venomous whisper that echoed through the empty corridors. "He chose you out of necessity, not love."

Her words stung, yet you refused to let them poison the fragile hope that had begun to bloom within your heart. For amidst the demands of duty and the expectations of society, there were moments of unexpected tenderness that spoke of a deeper connection between you and Rafe.

It was during one such moment, on a balmy evening beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak tree, that Rafe's resolve began to waver. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of cicadas as he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"I cannot imagine my life without you," he confessed, his voice hoarse with emotion as he reached for your hand. "To touch another woman... it would feel like a betrayal."

His admission hung between you like the delicate strands of a spider's web, fragile yet unbreakable. In that moment, beneath the canopy of stars that stretched across the Southern sky, you knew that something irrevocable had shifted between you and Rafe.

Months passed in a haze of whispered conversations and stolen glances, each one deepening the bond that had grown between you and your husband. Sofia's attempts at sabotage grew more desperate as she sought to reclaim what she believed was rightfully hers, yet Rafe remained steadfast in his newfound loyalty to you.

"You have brought light back into this house," he murmured one night, his voice a soft murmur against your ear as he held you close. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you."

His words were a balm to the insecurities that had plagued you since the day you arrived at Cameron Hall. In the quiet hours before dawn, as the world outside slumbered beneath a blanket of stars, you found solace in the arms of a man who had once been a stranger but had become your confidant, your protector, and your unexpected love.

The arrival of a son, born amidst the jasmine-scented breezes of early summer, marked a turning point in your journey together. Rafe's transformation from a man bound by duty to a father filled with tenderness was a testament to the power of love's quiet triumph. Sofia, once the mistress of Cameron Hall, faded into the background as time passed, her bitterness tempered by the passage of years.

And so, as you stood beside Rafe on the veranda that overlooked the sprawling acres of Cameron Hall, his hand warm in yours, you knew that the love you had found was a rare gift, one that had weathered the storms of duty and desire to blossom into something timeless and enduring.

"I never believed such happiness could exist," Rafe murmured, his voice a whisper against the evening breeze. "You have given me more than I ever dared to dream."

In that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to twinkle in the velvet sky, you knew that the legacy of the Camerons would endure. For in the heart of the South, amidst the echoes of a bygone era, two souls had found each other against all odds, bound together by a love that had blossomed amidst the trials of duty and desire.

[curiosofthechasm]

Doors.

Doors across the realms awoken.

Entryways once abandoned suddenly opened onto dark interiors. Quiet doors, never in busy places but neither hidden away. These unassuming gateways now all shared the same destination.

The interior is dim, illuminated only by candles and the odd glow of the unimaginable trinkets and oddities that decorate the walls and shelves. Curious music plays from some dark corner of the establishment… a strumming sitar, wood blocks and a brass drum. The old wood floor is arranged with tables and chairs and a raised area for entertainment. Ornate woodwork decorates a large bar top lined with stools with brass and nickel trim. Behind the bar, a bronzework of unimaginable complexity that seems to coalesce into a dozen mysterious spouts. This structure too is adorn with heirlooms and artifacts of curious origin.

Yet most curious of all is the bartender currently presiding over the glassware. A perfectly poignant woman of ruby red locks and wide, circular spectacles, buttoned up in a pleated white blouse. She smiles with a spiny grin that somehow manages to be equal parts inviting and hideous. Her demeanor, however, is nothing if not welcoming.

“Welcome to the Curios of the Chasm” she said kindly as the rim of her spectacles caught the light. “What can I get you?”

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter 5

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond  (established OFC. Although you can just read this one and know what’s going on)

Warnings: profanity, smut, NSFW (you’ve been warned)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @muchadoaboutcj @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @residentdormouse @starryeyes2000 @asirensrage @munstysmind @themaradaniels @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag​ @occommunity​

My tag list is OPEN. Please just ask to be added if you want :D

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/113863714

THREE MONTHS LATER

“You sure you don’t want to tag along?” Tyler asks, as he emerges from the bathroom;  scrubbing aggressively at his hair with the towel slung around his neck.   “There’s bound to be something at the new place you can tackle.”

“As much as I’d love to go and get a jump on plotting out my gardens, I really need to stay behind.  We move in a week!  Seven days! And I feel like I’ve barely put a dent in the packing.  Like…”  Settling her hands on her hips,  Esme blows her bangs out of her eyes and stares down the mess of cardboard boxes littering the shack.  “...it’s only been ten months! Since we moved in together.  How did two people who came into this relationship with nothing end up with so much…stuff?”

They’d stumbled upon the place online during a late-night search when sleeplessness had gotten the better of them. A small, two bedroom, plus den starter home on a half acre of land in Broome; freshly painted slate gray clapboard with crisp white trim around the windows and mustard yellow front and garage doors.  A spacious backyard in dire need of landscaping;  spacious enough for a couple of gardens, a small pond, and a section that could eventually be used as a play area for children.  The inside proudly boasting some of its original woodwork and charm;  crown moulding decorating every ceiling and wainscotting taking up residence on the living room and dining room walls.  A quaint, comfortable place that still needed a few essential updates; a new roof, central air, and some minor foundation work.

 When approached about a cash advance needed for a healthy downpayment, Nik had graciously offered the money- no strings attached- instead. Declaring it was what Tyler was rightfully owed; Mahajan had short-changed them in Dhaka after all, and Tyler had more than earned the full sum of his fees.  And perhaps she’d been spurred on by lingering guilt of her own; haunted by the choice to leave him and Esme behind on the bridge and the decision to not return for them.  It had been her own brother that had gone against her ruling;  deciding on his own -after retrieving Ovi and ensuring his safety- that he was going back for them.  Even if it meant losing his own life in the process.

“I’m not being blamed for it.”  Tyler tosses the damp towel in the direction that takes up residence on the couch. “ You’re the one that owns twenty pairs of Uggs and only wears the same two all the time.”

“They’re my favourites,” she reasons, and tosses a roll of packing tape in his direction.  “And I refuse to take criticism from a man that owns nearly thirty pairs of board shorts, yet lives nowhere near the water.”

“Hey, we’re in Australia. Board shorts are perfectly acceptable everyday attire. And besides…”   Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he presses a kiss to the side of her head. .  “...in a week, we’ll be a lot closer to the beach.  All those board shorts will come in handy.”

“Guess I’m going to step up my game, huh?  Get a few new bathing suits.  Cute. But sexy at the same time.”

“Only if I get to come along on this shopping spree.  You know, so I can get invited into the dressing room.”

She casts a scowl over her shoulder.

“So I can put my two cents in, Esme. Get your mind out of the gutter. What is it with you?  Sex, sex, sex. That’s all you think about.”

“Pot meet kettle! You’re like a perpetually horny teenager!  I can’t even bend over to scrub the bathtub without giving you a woody.  That is not normal. Not at your age.”

“Well maybe if you didn’t bend over to scrub the bathtub in just one of my t-shirts…”

“Your t-shirts are huge on me. They cover everything. Like wearing a dress.”

“They WOULD be huge on you. If you didn’t tie them in a knot around your waist. And then you’ve got the nerve to walk around here like that.  With your bare ass hanging out.”

“I like to clean in minimal attire.  If things are really dirty, I don’t want  all these extra clothes getting  grubby.”

“Yeah… sure…”  Playfully tugging on her ponytail, he plants a noisy kiss on her cheek. “Likely story. We both know you’re full of shit. That you do it just to get me riled up.”

“I will neither admit nor deny that claim.  I can’t help it that you’ve got hair-trigger hormones.  That you just have to get the tiniest peek of a butt cheek and you’re ready to go.   Hell, half the time, even a stiff breeze in the room is enough to awaken the beast.”

“The beast, huh?”  Grinning, he rubs the scruff of his beard against her cheek;  his hold on her tightening when she squeals and squirms against him. Meeting no resistance when he slips a hand up the front of her tank top; feeling her entire body shudder when calloused fingertips glide across her stomach.   “You realize calling him names doesn’t upset him, yeah?  That all it does is feed his ego?”

“His ego or yours?”

“Well,  it IS a confidence boost when your dick is called ‘the beast’.”

“Would you rather I call it Mini Tyler? Tiny Tyler? Baby…OW!” She jabs her elbow into his stomach when he pinches one of her nipples.  “Fucker! That hurt!” 

“Normally you can take more than that.  Much more. Normally you’re ASKING for it.”

“They’re sore,” she pouts. “I swear I’m stuck in some endless loop of PMS.   It’s been five weeks!  Headaches and crazy mood swings and night sweats and now my poor boobs!  But nothing. Absolutely nothing.  It still hasn’t come.  No period in sight.”

“Maybe…”  His palm slides down to her stomach.  “....the test you took was wrong.”

“I took three of them.  Two were quite clearly negative, one was on the fence.  More a ‘no’ than a ‘yes’.  And you heard what the doctor said.  It’s likely stress. Anxiety.  We’re taking a  big step.  Owning a house…together… is huge.  We’re starting a whole new life.    I’d worry if it didn’t cause some kind of emotional upset.”

“Maybe just take one more.  Can’t hurt, right?”

“It’s only going to say the same thing, Tyler. There is no baby Rake on board.  Not yet, anyway. And it’s not like we’re trying.  We’re not planning on being parents, right? Not this soon. It would have had to have been an ‘ooops’.  I mean, we’ve been careful.”

“There’s been a few times we weren’t as careful as we could have been. But things happen, yeah?”  Affectionately patting her stomach, he heads for the kitchen and snags a clean mug from the drainboard by the sink. Pouring himself a cup of coffee before leaning back against the stove.  “It’s not like it would be a horrible thing.  If we had an ‘oops’.”

“Can we even afford an ‘oops’?”

“We’re not exactly poor.  I’ll be going back to work soon.  Bringing in a somewhat steady income.  And I’ve got that interview with the fire department next month.  If that goes well and I pass all the physical stuff…”

“You shouldn’t have a problem there. Doctor says you’re ‘good to go’.   In better shape than you were before Dhaka. Even with your wonky lung.  It’s kinda hot, you know.”

“My wonky lung?”

“You as a firefighter.  Women love men in uniform.  The thought of you in all that gear and all hot and sweaty?  It paints a very nice picture in my mind.  And does funny things to my insides. Fireman Tyler.  You’re going to have to bring all your stuff home  and do a strip tease for me. Really get the blood flowing in my nether regions.”

“I have to go to all that work?  Whatever happened to just looking at you a certain way?  That much has changed in just eight months?”

Rolling her eyes,  Esme folds down the flaps on the cardboard box in front of her;  frowning as she pats down the pockets of her jeans and fails to find the marker she’d been previously using.

“You’re losing it,” he teases, and snags the object in question off the kitchen table.  “You put it there. Ten minutes ago.”

“My brain is mush!”  she  laments, and catches the marker as it’s tossed toward her.  “And you’re not helping by walking around like that.”  

“Like….”

“Like that!” She waves a hand in his direction; gesturing toward his lack of attire; his long, athletic frame clad in nothing but a pair of faded and tattered jeans that sit  -still unbuttoned- extremely low on his hips.  The hair at his temples and the nape of his neck still damp from his shower;  a mixture of both sweat and water droplets glistening on smooth tanned skin. “All buff and beautiful and hot and shit.”

Grinning, he takes a swallow of coffee. “And you say I get worked up easily.”

Sighing, she hastily scribbles both contents, and what room they belong in on the cardboard box. “My hormones are totally out of control.  More so than usual.  Which is another reason it’s better if I stay behind. You’ll get your shit done, I’ll get my shit done.  We spend the weekend in the same house? No one is getting a damn thing accomplished.”

“So pretty much like every other weekend we spend together.  Or weekday, for that matter.”

“Well if you weren’t so hot…”

“Maybe you should have hooked up with someone uglier.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have seduced me,” she counters, and playfully sticks her tongue out at him.

“Still playing that game, huh? Are you still going to be lying about that when we’re in our eighties and the great-grandkids are asking how we met?”

“Who are you trying to kid? By the time we reach that age, neither of us will remember that shit.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m not the one whose brain is already mush.”

With a dramatic grunt, she sets the box on the floor by the couch and then grabs her empty tea mug from the coffee table and joins him in the kitchen. Filling and plugging in the kettle before journeying towards him.  “You’re a shithead, you know that?”

“I do. But like you always say, I’m YOUR shithead.”

“Yeah, I supposed I’ve laid my claim to you. And momma didn’t raise a quitter so…”   Standing in front of him, she places her hands on his hips; concern furrowing her brow as she looks up at him.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I’m just hanging out, saying dumb shit to see what kind of reaction I can get from ya. You’re predictable.   It’s like taking candy from a baby.”

“You just seem a little…I don’t know…off.   You haven’t really been yourself the last couple of days. You’ve been quiet and…”

“I’m ALWAYS quiet.”

“More than usual.   And you’ve just seemed kind of…I don’t know…disconnected.   Is everything alright? Are you feeling okay?  I know you’ve been sleeping a lot better, but I can’t exactly read minds so I don’t know what’s going on in yours and…”

“I’m fine.  I feel good.  Better than I have in a long time.  Why are you…?”

“Is it us?  Is there something not quite right?  Did I say something wrong? DO something wrong? Did I…?”

“There’s nothing wrong.  Not with me, not with us. Everything is fine.  Believe me, I’d tell you if it wasn’t. If there was something wrong, you’d be the first to know. Why are you being so paranoid?”

“Hello? Have we met?  It’s who I am.  It’s what I specialize in.  Paranoia.”

He knows it’s much more than that;  yet another side effect from the years she’d spent with Mark. The constant walking on eggshells; plagued by the worry of doing or saying something wrong that would incur his wrath.  And while she knows he’s nothing like that and would never, ever, raise a hand to her, the fear still very much lives very much inside of her.

If her trauma has taught him anything, it’s the true meaning of love and acceptance and patience.   The abuse that she’d been put through filling him with the need to prove that not all men are the same;  ready, willing, and able to be in the leg work that will not only help her heal,  but strengthen the bond that already exists between them.   And he’s determined to right the wrongs of another man;   wanting nothing more than to erase those bad memories with happy and beautiful ones of their own. 

“Esme…”  Laying his hands on her shoulders, he gives them a light, reassuring squeeze.  “... there is nothing wrong.  Things are good. Things are VERY  good.   I’ve just got a lot of shit going on in my head.  And none of it’s bad, I promise.”

“Things like…”

“Like how much I’m looking forward to getting this part of our lives over and done with.   Starting  fresh.  This is the REAL start to things.  To a life together.  Guess  I’m just anxious to get it going.   I’m excited. Maybe even a little spooked.”

“There’s some pretty big changes happening all at once.  We bought a house, I’m going back to school in the New Year,  you’re totally changing careers…”

“Not totally.  I’m still gonna catch jobs here and there from Nik  And this firefighter gig isn’t a sure thing. If I don’t pass the intake interview and the physical stuff…”

“You’ll pass.  With flying colours.  And then I’ll be able to brag about my hot ass firefighter boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I imagine it’s not easy to brag about a hot ass MERCENARY boyfriend.”

“For your information, I happily brag about you regardless of your line of work.”

“I know for a fact you don’t tell people I’m a hired killer.  And I don’t blame you. That’s not exactly the kind of guy you bring home to mum.”

“Eventually the whole truth will come out.  It’s going to have to at some point.  It’s getting harder and harder to lie to them; they’re starting to ask more and more questions and I’m starting to have a rough time keeping my stories straight.”

“Well, maybe when we go there in the new year, we’ll tell them how things really went down.  IF that’s what you want to do.”

“It’s a hard thing to bring up, you know? It’s not like I was truthful about the work I was doing in New York City.  They don’t know what kind of world I was caught up in.   I had convinced them that I was in business.  Handling difficult clients from all parts of the globe.  When they find out what I was doing and how we really met…”

“Is it really going to matter? How they react?   It’s not like you’re tight with them. And we don’t live close by; they can’t just show up on our doorstep and cause all kinds of shit.   We tell them and however they take it? That’s on them. Not on us.”

“I just want to go there and drop the bomb and that’s it.  And I want to tell them about the house and us starting a new life here.  I just want them to get their thick heads that I am NOT coming back.  That’s not my home anymore.  It hasn’t been in a long time.”

“They’ll deal, Esme.  They’re all adults.  If they can’t handle what you’re doing with your life and who you’re doing it with, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

Sighing, she curls both arms around his waist and settles her head against his chest. “You’re always so wise and diplomatic.”

“I don’t know about that.”  Rubbing affectionately at her shoulders, he drops a kiss on the top of her head and then wraps both arms around her tiny frame; hands locking together at the middle of her back.  “What I do know is that if they start their shit, I’m squaring up. Your mother so as much looks at you in the wrong way…”

“My knight in slightly tarnished armour,” she gushes, and reaches down to squeeze his butt.  “If anything, Christmas dinner will be very interesting this year.  Just promise me that if you get the urge to throw someone through a table, it’ll be after dessert. Because if I don’t get at least one slice of nonna’s pecan pie…”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Party pooper.” Her eyes close as she leans her entire body against his;  enjoying the  familiar scent and the warmth of soft, tanned skin, and the way a calloused palm repeatedly moves in circles against her back. 

“I should stay home.  Move things to next weekend. I don’t like the idea of you being all alone, out in the middle of nowhere, when you’re feeling this rough.”

She glances up at him, pouting dramatically. “I’m not feeling rough. I’m feeling needy.”

“Good enough reason to stick around, if you ask me. It’s not that big of a deal; putting things off for another few days.  Won’t hurt to stay home and wait on you hand and foot until you’re better.”

“The only thing that will make me feel better is getting everything done.   Once all the packaging is finished and the house is totally move-in ready and we actually get in there?  I’ll be back to normal in no time.  It’s stress.  I’m just anxious to close this chapter and start on a new one.  That’s all.”

He stares down at her pointedly.

“I’ll tell you what. IF I’m still feeling out of sorts after we move,  I’ll take another test. As many as you want me to.   But I am telling you, it’s NOT what you think.  I am NOT pregnant.  I know my body, Tyler. I know how screwed up things get when I’m anxious or stressed.  This isn’t the first time this has happened;  skipping periods and feeling like shit.”

“I still think I should stay home.  Just to be on the safe side.  The thought of being a few hours away while you’re here by yourself…”

“You’re just being paranoid.  I’ll be fine.   I am more than capable of taking care of myself. And besides, I won’t be totally alone.  Lucy’s here.  She’s great company.  And a pretty damn good snuggler.  In a pinch.”

“I just don’t feel right.  Leaving you here.  By yourself. If something happens…”

“Tyler…”  She squeezes his hips.  “...we talked about this.  With the therapist.  The first time you went away with Koen. For that fishing weekend. When you were practically making yourself sick with worry.  You started getting nauseous and dizzy and panicky…”

“ It’s not like we’re living someplace where help is right around the corner.  Or even half an hour away. If I’m not here and something goes wrong…”

“I know you worry about me.   And you know that I appreciate it and love that about you; the fact you want to keep me safe and sound.  But remember what we talked about? At counselling? About how sometimes you go a little overboard?  Get a little overbearing?”

“This isn’t the PTSD.   I’m not in the middle of a flare-up.  Or whatever the hell the doctor likes to call it.  I just got a bad feeling. That I can’t shake. If there’s one thing I’ve always been able to rely on, it’s my gut.  And my gut is telling me that something is NOT right.”

“I think you’re just nervous.  There’s so much going on. We bought a house and we’re getting ready to move soon,  you’ve got your intake interview and your physical coming up for the fire department. Not to mention you’ve got this whole baby thing stuck in your brain.  You’ve got a lot going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

“If you’re going to fight me about staying home, then at least come to Broome.  So I can keep an eye on you. Just in case.”

“In case of what?  Babe, I’m fine.  There’s nothing wrong with me.  It’s just the stress and being anxious to get things finished.  I’m just a little battle of nerves. Mostly good ones. Excited ones.  There is nothing for you to be worried about, I promise.”

He nods slowly, considering her words. Fully aware of his propensity to be overprotective and suffocating; driven by a powerful need to protect her against anyone and anything.  Even in Dhaka, he’d been prepared to sacrifice his safety—his life—for hers; a woman who’d wandered unexpectedly into his life and immediately made a huge impact upon it. Months later,  that desire to keep her safe and sound still exists; more powerful and consuming than ever.   And it HAS  been talked about in therapy;  twice monthly sessions together at a trauma counsellor in Broome.  His experience in Bangladesh coupled with his second chance at life and love…REAL LOVE…causing his worry and paranoia to constantly simmer.  

Perhaps she’s right.  Maybe his concerns over leaving her alone are nothing more than a byproduct of his trauma.  His near death experience and the scar on his neck both serving as constant reminders of how close they’d come to never getting a chance to take things further than that dirty hotel room.

 “You’ll call me?  If anything goes wrong? Or if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary?”

“Of course I will.   But what’s going to go wrong? I’ve been alone here before.  For a couple of days at a  time. This is just one day extra.  I’ve got a lot to keep me busy, you’re leaving me the truck I need to get into town or just want to leave the house.  I’ll be fine, Tae.  You have nothing to worry about.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.  “Tae?”

“Well, you came up with a really cute nickname for me and turn around IS fair play.  What? You don’t like it? It’s stupid?”

“Not stupid at all. It’s just…I don’t know…different. It's the first time…in a hell of a long time….that anyone’s called me anything but my full name.”

“Your ex never used sappy terms of endearment for you?  You were never ‘babe’ or ‘baby’ or ‘honey’ or anything like that?”

“You’re the first to ever utter those words.”

“Now that’s just not right.  It’s all part of being a couple.  Part of being in love.  Indulging in cute shit like that.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the ‘cute’ type.”

“Oh please, I know you’re Mister Big, Bad, Mercenary Man, but you have your moments. Where you’re damn cute.”

Smirking, he pushes a hand through her hair; long, dark tresses slipping through his fingers.  “You know, if that secret ever gets out…”

“Don’t worry. It’s safe with me.  I’ll take it to the grave.  So you’re okay? Me calling you that? Tae?  I was going to go with Ty, but…”

“That would not have been a good move.” His father called him that. Mostly to mock him while he cried over the death of his mother and how much he missed her. Sometimes even while  he was beating him senseless before  locking him in the shed for days on end as punishment; left with nothing more than cardboard to sleep and a bucket to piss and shit in.

“So Tae it is.  And it suits you.  It’s cute but it’s got a bit of an edge and…”

“A BIT of an edge, huh? Man the insults are just rolling out today.”

Rolling her eyes, she smiles up at him.  “I’m going to be okay.  While you’re gone.”

“I know.   I just worry.  I can’t help it.  It’s just who I am. Just the thought of leaving you here…out in the middle of nowhere….”

“As much as I love you for always protecting me, I can take care of myself.  And it’ll give us both a chance to get shit done.  Sooner all of this is taken care of? Sooner we can start on our new life.  And it’s going to be amazing.”

Cradling her face in his palms, he leans down to kiss her..  Long and languid; the slow movements of closed mouth upon closed mouth.  “You know…”  Leaning back against the countertop, his hands find her hips and pull her into him “...I was thinking.  About this whole you going to nursing school thing.”

“What about it? You changed your mind?  You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“You kidding? I think it's a great idea. You’ll make an amazing nurse. What I was thinking about is how you’ll be wearing those scrubs all the time whenever you’re not home.  So maybe….”  His hands slip from her hips and down onto her ass;  palming it gently before tightly squeezing.  “...I should get you something to wear behind closed doors. You know, some kind of sexy little nurse’s outfit.”

“So that’s why you were so agreeable when it came to me going back to school,” she chides.  “Why you were so excited I picked nursing.  You’ve got some freaky little fetish.”

“I didn’t say that. Did I say that?”

“ Admit it, you’ve got a thing for pretty little nurses.  You love the idea of them waiting on you hand and foot,  poking and prodding at you, giving you sponge baths.”

“No. I love the idea of you being a pretty little nurse and doing all of that for me.  Especially the sponge baths.”

“Yeah, I seem to recall those being quite popular. Weird how you never enjoyed getting them from the nurses or PSWs in the hospital. How you didn’t even want them touching you. How it always had to be me.”

“That’s because your sponge baths were the best. You were really good at giving them.”

She arches a brow.

“And because yours usually came with ‘extras’.  And happy endings. Very happy endings.”

Scowling, she attempts to wriggle out of his embrace; laughing when his hands clamp down on her ass and pull her even tighter against him. “You’re a pig.”

“Maybe. But you enable me, so what does that say about you?”

“That I have sketchy taste in men?” She lets loose a squeal when he pinches her butt. “If I’m totally honest, it is because I have absolutely no self-control.  Not when it comes to tall, ripped, tatted up Australian men.” 

“That is a much better answer.”  

He kisses her once more and she eagerly responds;  their lips and tongues hungry and forceful   despite the activities that had kept them busy and in bed for the better part of the morning.  A beautiful mixture of desperate and aggressive sex and attentive and languid lovemaking; a testament to the intense sexual attraction that has always existed between them and she hoped always would. And she shivers when calloused fingertips glide across the small of her back; his large, strong hands disappearing under her shirt and sliding up her sides.

She giggles when he pulls out of the kiss and his teeth nip at her bottom lip,  then tries to step away when his fingertips brush against the underside of one her breasts.  “Alright…enough. There is no time for that.”

“There is always time for that.”

“Keon will be here soon! You’re not even dressed. You’re barely HALF dressed!”

“Why put on clothes when I was just planning on taking them off again?”

“I knew it.  You had planned to seduce from the second you got out of the shower.”

“Way before that.” (Hands on her hips as he pushes her backwards across the kitchen, meeting no resistance) “Before I even stepped in the shower.”

“You really are a six foot three, two hundred pound ball of walking hormones.” 

“I know that’s not a complaint coming out of your mouth.  And it definitely wasn’t complaints coming out of you earlier.”

“Far from complaining.” Her ass collides with the edge of the table, and she laughs when uses an arm to sweep everything off the top. A mixture of old newspapers and magazines and  dirty breakfast dishes all tumbling to the floor. “Eager, are we?”

“Like you said, Koen will be showing up.”  Effortlessly hoisting her up onto the table,  he kisses her; his mouth devouring her own as he uses his body weight to push her down onto her back. “Better to get things started sooner than later, yeah?”

“What if he gets here while we’re in the middle of things?  He won’t think twice about just walking in.  What if he sees me? In all my naked glory?”

“Who says you’re going to be totally naked?”

“You are so fucking dirty, you know that.”

“In all the ways you like the best, baby.”  

Aggressively pushing her legs apart, he stands between them; lifting the bottom of her shirt and pushing down the waist of her pants to reveal a bare stretch of skin.   Lowering his head, he presses soft, moist kisses just above her pubic bone; slowly travelling from hip to hip.   Her entire body shuddering when the tip of his tongue traces a circle around her navel;  her hands burrowing in his hair when he pulls the piercing between his teeth.  Her  back arching off the table when he laps at the intent of her belly button; gasping loudly when he pulls back to blow a stream of cool, steady air on the moistened area.

“We’re really taking a risk,” she muses, lifting her hips off the table in order to aid him in removing her pants;  his lips feasting on every inch of bare skin he uncovers.  

“That’s what makes it so fucking hot.  Or, hotter than usual.”

“Is it possible to even get any hotter?” she chides,  as he yanks her pants down her legs and tosses them onto the nearest chair. “ I think our sex life is already pretty damn hot.  And extremely healthy.”

“I’d normally say you can’t improve on greatness.  But we can try, yeah?”

“I guess there’s always some room for improvement. But…fuck….”  Her eyes flutter closed as he sucks and nibbles at the inside of one thigh.  “....you and that mouth.”

“If it’s not the accent coming out of it, it’s what it can do.”

“Mix the two together and I practically self-combust.  Jesus…”   She bites down on her bottom lip as his teeth nip at some of her flesh.   

“Not even he can help you now.”

“Speaking of that mouth…”  Reaching down, she aggressively yanks at his hair. “...you’re running it an awful lot for someone working on borrowed time.”

“No foreplay?”

She shakes.

 “That’s a first.”

“Sometimes a girl just wants to get railed.  Fuck everyone else.  Sometimes you just gotta get right to it.  So let’s go. Pitter-patter, let’s get at ‘er.”

Smirking, he stands and hurriedly drops his jeans, impatiently kicking them aside.  “Baby, you really know to set the mood,”

“What would you rather I say? Bust out something from a cheesy smut novel?  Something from one of those granny favourite bodice ripper books? About your big cock and wanting it in my love tunnel and…”  

The remaining words are cut off when he grabs hold of her hips and flips her onto her stomach; fingers biting into the flesh as he pulls her towards him.   Not giving her a chance to react as he pushes inside of her;  groaning when he buries himself to the hilt.  And she whimpers when he pulls out completely and then slams back in; the brutality of the thrust causing her to cry out and her nails to claw at the tabletop.   

It’s hard and fast from there on out. His thrusts punishing as one hand tightly grips her hair and keeps her head pressed against the table; the other slipping between her and the wood in order to find her clit.   Rubbing vigorously at the sensitive, aching nub until he feels her tighten around him;  screaming his name as her orgasm hits strong and fast.   The clenching of those inner muscles sending him hurtling towards the edge;eyes closing, chin dropping to his chest, and fingers biting into the flesh of her hip as he cums deep inside of her.   Waiting until their trembling bodies settle before pulling out and stepping away; pressing kisses across the small of her back before running his palms over the curves of her hips and ass.  And he bends down to pull up his jeans; the denim at the back of his knees when he hears the telltale creak of the shack’s loose floorboards, followed by Koen’s deep voice.

“Jesus Christ! My eyes! My fucking eyes!”

Esme gives a startled, embarrassed shriek and reaches over the edge of the table; frantically searching for her pants.

Smirking Tyler continues pulling up his jeans; turning to his friend as he buttons and zips them).  “We used to piss standing beside each other in Afghanistan.  You’ve seen my bare ass before.”

“And I wish I never had! No one needs to see that! At least not sober! Of all the times to walk in, why couldn’t have been her bare ass hanging out?”

“Because I’d have to kill you, that’s why. Turn around, you drongo. So the lady can get dressed.  There’s nothing here for you to see.”

“Why didn’t you knock?!” Esme accepts Tyler’s hand as he helps her off the table,  then snatches her pants out of his hand.

Koen gestures towards the exit. “The door was wide open!”

“ We live in the middle of nowhere,” she reminds him. “We always leave the door open!”

“That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem!”

“You must have heard what was going on! We weren’t exactly being quiet! Why didn’t you just wait on the porch?  Or text us and tell us you were out there?!”

“I wasn’t expecting the two of you to be going at it!  I didn’t think I’d wander in and get greeted by his bare ass!  I’m traumatized.  I’m going to have nightmares!  You’re going to have to pay for my therapy!”

“Like seeing Tyler’s ass is the most horrible thing in the world.  He happens to have a very nice ass.  You should consider yourself lucky.  Blessed, even.   You’re privileged to see it in its natural state.”

“You’re disturbing!”  Koen tugs at her ponytail as she leaves the kitchen; straightening her pants and smoothing down the front of her t-shirt as she goes.   “You know what would make me feel better? What would make everything right in the world again? If you dropped your pants and showed me your ass.”

“You wish! In your wildest and wettest!”

“I won’t lie, I’ve had a couple of those.”  He shoots her a flirty wink, then chuckles and jumps out of the way when Tyler scowls and attempts to slap him upside the head. “Wait a minute…wait a minute…hold on a second…”  Snatching her by the neck of her t-shirt, he pulls her into him and then slings an arm across her slender shoulders.   “I need to ask you a very serious question. One that’s been keeping me at night. For quite a while.”

“And that would be?”

“Why the hell does such a pretty,  sweet thing like you hang around with the likes of this guy?  What has the world come to?  A cute little Sheila willingly putting up with a drongo like him?”

“It’s simple.  He knows how to find the clit.  Each and every time.  Even that first night.” 

“So do I!”

“Unfortunately, I guess I’ll never know if you’re telling the truth or not.   I’ll never be able to find out firsthand.”

“I mean, if you want to find out, I’m game. I’m sure the big man wouldn’t mind if I stepped in just once.”

“Actually…”  Snagging a belt that’s draped across the back of the couch, Tyler slips it through the loops of his jeans. “...the big man DOES mind. He minds very much.”

“He never learned the golden rule,” Esme chides. “That sharing is caring.”

“I’ll share my food and my money.  My girl? Off limits.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Koen grumbles. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do.  In some warped and twisted brotherly kind of way.  But her? I love her more.”

“He loves me,”  Esme singsongs as she wanders towards the sleeping area;  grabbing the t-shirt he’d laid out earlier off the top of the dresser.   “He thinks I’m pretty. He wants to kiss me.  He wants to put his babies in me. Grow old and grey and miserable with me.”

Smirking, Tyler catches the garment she tosses in his direction. “Don’t push it, Munchkin.”

“Don’t listen to him,” she addresses Koen, as she smacks a palm against Tyler’s ass.  “It’s all true.  He does think I’m pretty. He does like kissing me. And he most certainly wants to put his babies in me. He has a breeding kink.”

Koen grimaces. “There are some things I do not need to know.  And that’s at the top of the list! What is wrong with you two?!  Always smiling at one another, touching each other, making out and shit. One day I’m going to find you out front and I’m going to have to turn the hose on you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Esme scoffs, then steps back as the two men begin gathering the necessities for the four days in Broome;  various sizes of tool kits and duffle bags and two of the extra pillows from the bed. 

She follows as they leave the shack;  the wood of the front porch and then the sand blazing hot against the bottom of her bare feet.   It remains a struggle;  getting used to the suffocating heat of the summer months. Still underestimating the power of the sun’s rays;  dehydrating quickly and routinely burning herself on the metal of her seat belt  Yet not once has she missed the cooler temperatures that growing up in Colorado had provided her with;  the fresh, crisp breezes that would roll in from the snow-capped mountains.   It had stopped being home a long time ago; her father’s death in her late teens robbing her of a safe and secure life under the watchful eye of someone who loved her.   

And though her time in New York City had been wonderful and she’d once vowed to make it her forever home,  she doesn’t find herself reminiscing about those days.   The old Esme dying on the bridge in Bangladesh that day ten months ago;  replaced by someone much more confident and courageous who hadn’t thought twice about making a  brand new life for herself.  Far away from the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple and even further removed from her family. Somehow -in the midst of chaos, danger and fear- finding that companionship and love that others had always waxed poetic about.  Yet she questioned the true validity of.  

“You’re sure you don’t want to tag along?” Tyler asks,  as he drops the last of the duffle bags in the bed of Koen’s pickup truck and turns to face her.  “Still time to change your mind.”

“I think it’s better if I stay behind.   Just go balls to the wall and put a real dent in the packing. Maybe even get it done. THAT would be nice.”

“Don’t kill yourself trying to finish up. We’ve still got a few days once I get back.   No sense making yourself feel worse trying to look like Superwoman.”

“That’s Wonderwoman to you,” she chides, and flexes her biceps.  

“I was thinking more Mighty Mouse, but okay…”

“Jerk,” Esme grumbles,  and playfully swats at his chest.  “Always with the short people jokes.”

“Everything I say, I say with love.”  Smoothing wayward strands of hair away from her face, he cradles her cheeks in his palms.  “You sure you’ll be alright?”

“I’ll be just fine.  I’ve got lots to keep me busy. And Lucy to keep me company.   Try not to worry too much, okay?”

“Isn’t that what I usually  say to you?”

“Usually. I’ll be alright, Tyler. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.  I was doing it long before you came along. Although I have to admit, I’m glad you did. Come around.”

“Things didn’t turn out so bad, huh?  I think we’ve done pretty good.”

Smiling, she affectionately pats his butt. “We’ve done very good.  You guys drive safe.”

“I’ll call when I get there.” 

When he presses a long, soft, slow kiss to her lips and pulls her into a hug, she melts into the embrace;  her eyes closing as her arms circle his waist, and her cheek rests against his chest. And she holds on for longer than usual;  hands gripping the back of his t-shirt as she relishes the feeling of hard muscle and the warmth that radiates from his body and his familiar scent. Smiling when his lips meet her temple and  he whispers:  “I love you.”

“I love you, too.   Be good. I don’t want to have to come and bail you out of jail.”

“My drunken bar brawl days are long behind me.” Running a fingertip down her nose,  he lightly taps the tip. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah, you will.” 

She reaches for his hand when he steps away;  briefly squeezing before their fingers glide along each other and eventually lose all contact.  And she steps back and offers a wave as he slides into the passenger seat; her arms crossing over her chest as she stands in the dirt,  watching them pull away.

*****

He’s been gone for three days and she’s been miserable the entire time;  feeling empty and lonely despite the mountains of work that she submerses herself in.   Filling the void by randomly texting throughout the day; keeping each other updated on the progress at both houses, and then always speaking before settling down for the night. And it hasn’t been an easy adjustment for either of them; sleeping in separate beds and being under separate roofs when they’ve been practically inseparable for ten months.  

Things at the new house are going smoothly;  the two men busying themselves with laying down the new flooring,  painting the kitchen and master bedroom,  and expanding the front porch and the back deck.   Even plotting out areas for her to turn into gardens in the rear yard;  Esme determined to nurture her ‘green thumb’ by growing various fruits and vegetables and brightening the landscape with colourful flowers.

After their morning ‘check-in’ with one other, she takes Lucy into town with her.  The border collie happily riding alongside of her in the passenger seat of Tyler’s old beat truck,  then treated to breakfast at the only restaurant in town. Esme spoiling the dog with her own plate of bacon and scrapes from her breakfast;   routinely dropping pieces of toast and eggs onto the concrete floor of the patio.  Afterwards, they pick up more plastic tote boxes and cleaning supplies and then wander the small downtown core;  gazing through shop windows and pausing for each child that requests to give Lucy a ‘pat and a cuddle’.

It feels good to return home; still plagued by the health issues that have been nagging at her for weeks.   Random bouts of nausea and persistent headaches;  near crippling fatigue accompanied by horrible cramps, but no actual period.   Instead of returning to work, she elects to nap instead;  slipping into one of Tyler’s hoodies and a pair of warm, comfy sweats before curling up with Lucy in the middle of the bed.  

She’s disoriented when she wakes;  her limbs feeling impossibly heavy and her head swimming as she makes herself a cup of tea before tackling more of the packing.  And she stands at the kitchen sink and looks out into the backyard;  repeatedly dipping a tea bag into a mug of boiling water as her eyes survey the land.  The parched earth and the withered bushes,  the barren trees and the range of mountains that loom in the distance.  While not a  picturesque view by any stretch of the imagination it had still become familiar and welcoming; the sights and the sounds that accompanied not only the beginning of their life together, but the modest and simple home they’d manage to create together.   Not much by society standards;  a little shack that had seen better days. But it had been under that rusted tin roof that they’d truly come to know and understand and know one another. And grow together.   

It’s when she goes to turn away from the window that she hears it; the crunching of tires upon dirt and gravel.  And her movement stills as she listens;  feeling the hair on her arms and the nape of her neck pricking at the sound of a car door slamming.   And she reaches for the handle on the drawer closest to the sink when she hears footfalls -light and rhythmical- on the front porch; Lucy lifting her head from her afternoon meal and letting loose a low, concerned growl.  Visitors are extremely  uncommon in the middle of the outback and usually a cause for concern;  there are no other houses for miles,  and no mail and package delivery to the door.  And no one in their circle of friends and colleagues would ever show up unannounced.  

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”   

The voice from the doorway commands attention.  And respect.  Calm and collected.  Dripping with the confidence that comes with power;  the ability to control every person and every situation without even so much as a flicker or fear. 

“Believe me when I say it isn’t in your best interest to react badly to my visit.  It won’t end well. It never does. For anyone.”

 Fingertips brush against the handle of the loaded Glock kept for safety in the drawer, Esme bites back a defeated sigh as she slides it closed and turns to face her company.  Tall and slender and dressed inappropriately for the sweltering Australian weather;  a sleek,  black pantsuit and silk blouse covered by a charcoal gray trench coat;  balanced upon their shoulders like a cape.  Their dark hair cropped close to their scalp and a tattoo -done in cursive- decorating the left side of their neck; expression emotionless as chestnut eyes scan the humble accommodations. 

“Esme Drummond.   It wasn’t easy.  Finding you.  One of the harder challenges I’ve faced. When you ran away,  you certainly ran as far as you possibly could.”

She fights to control the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.  Nervousness. Fear.  Forcing herself to remain calm, cool and collected;  recalling those days she’d come face to face with evil and had lived to tell about it. “I never ran away.  I had no reason to.  I was spared.  Given a second chance.  And I took it.  This is just where it led me to.”

“A second chance you didn’t earn or deserve.  A grand injustice occurred. And I’m here to fix it.  I’m an adjudicator.  Sent by the High Table. I…”

“I know who you are.”

“Then I assume you know why I’m here.”

“I was cut loose.  Excommunicated.  I haven’t been back to The Continental,  I haven’t done any work for anyone associated with them.  I’ve kept my distance. Like I was told to.  I found other employment. I never…”

“I’m not here because of something you did or didn’t do. I’m here because you never deserved the second chance you were given.”

“I went before the High Table.  I defended my case.  I had people speak on my behalf. John Wick and Winston…”

“Never should have been allowed their time before the High Table in the first place. It was an erroneous decision. Allowing them to come to your defence. Many others have broken High Table rules and have paid the price. They weren’t given the same treatment you were.   It is a stain on the High Table. One they are desperate to wipe out.”

“It’s been three years.  Why…?”

“We had a lot of seats open up.  Meaning we have many new members.  Powerful ones.   Who aren’t as understanding or forgiving as their predecessors.   And with new faces comes new business.”

“And that has to do with me because…?

“One of the first orders of business was to review prior decisions. Regarding those who had broken High Table rules.   People who had been given reprieve instead of punishment.  And your file just happened to be on the list.  Although to be honest, you likely would have continued to fly under the radar. Had you not resurfaced…quite spectacularly…in Dhaka.”

Esme frowns) “Dhaka? What does Dhaka have to do with this? What…?” 

“Word gets around. Especially in our circle.  The defeat of someone like Amir Asif is something to be praised.  Celebrated,  even.  And it wasn’t exactly subdued was it?  The way everything went down.  It certainly was an attention grabber.”

“Admittedly, things didn’t go exactly as planned. They got a little…messy.”

“To say the least.  You practically shot up and  burned the entire city down.”

“To be fair, I had help.  And I didn’t really do the dirty work.”

“That’s right. You had a partner.  An accomplice.   Someone watching over you.  Keeping you safe.   That means you were, what?  Aiding and abetting?  You can take the girl out of the criminal underworld but you can’t…”

“Do we really have to take a trip down memory lane? It’s not exactly my favourite thing to relive.  Dhaka isn’t going to be on any highlight reel of mine.”

“It really wasn’t ALL bad, was it?  Those stories have been passed around as well.  About you and the mercenary.  You were never known as someone who mixed business with pleasure.  All part of ‘turning over a new leaf’, I presume?  Unless…”

Her eyes narrow.  “Unless WHAT?”

“Unless it was part of the game. Maybe you knew latching onto him would be the only way you’d get out of there alive.  You had to find a way to guarantee safe passage out of Dhaka, so you decided to do whatever it took.  Even if it meant keeping his body AND his bed warm.   It’s clever.  You’re even more devious than I originally thought.  I admire it.”

“That’s not what happened.  Not even close.”

“I highly doubt that your behaviour was genuine.  That it was love at first sight.  You knew the danger you were going into and you knew you had to do whatever it took to secure your survival.  Isn’t that what you do? Con people?  Have them believe everything you say is true? For your own benefit?”

“It’s what I DID,” she stresses.  “I’m not in that life anymore.  I gave it up.   Back on that bridge.  I left the old Esme behind. I’m not her anymore.”

“So you’re admitting it. You used him.  Fooled him. In the same way you did so many others.”

“What happened between Tyler and I was real.  Everything I felt, everything I said, everything I did, was genuine.  There was no pretending. No lying. No manipulating.  It was all real.   And I don’t care what you or anyone thinks.”

“You do realize that Dhaka was a mess for many reasons, don’t you?  You killed one of ours.  Someone that was in very good standing with the High Table.  Who had made allegiances with the likes of Amir Asi in order to benefit everyone involved.  And things were going so smoothly until you showed up there.  And stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.”

It suddenly makes so much sense. Nik’s reluctance to call Gaspar;  arguing with Tyler that it wasn’t a good idea that they call his old friend and colleague for help.  “Gaspar was in the circle?  I thought he retired. Walked away from the game.  I thought…”

“He walked away from the private sector.  Got into something more lucrative.   And then you came along and put a few bullets into him.  You just can’t keep out of trouble when it comes to us, can you?”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“So the mercenary did.”

“I never said that.”

“Well considering there were only two of you capable of pulling off such a feat….”  The adjudicator’s eyes widen; a smirk tugging at their lips. “Unless it was the boy.”

“What happened that night has no bearing on what’s going on right now.  I’m not telling you a thing. Not about what went down at Gaspar’s house. Not about Dhaka in general. I know what happened. WHY it happened. In the same way I know that everything that I felt for Tyler…everything we talked about and experienced together…was real. You can’t take that away from me. No matter how hard you try. No one can.”

“While Gaspar’s untimely and bloody demise may not play a direct part in why I’m here, it holds relevance.   You were there when it happened, you did nothing to stop it, and you refuse to say who was directly responsible.  Therefore, it adds to the reasons you should be punished. And you will be. Punished.”

“And you came all the way here to tell me this?  It couldn’t have been handled through a phone call? An email even?”

Their face hardens.  Eyes darkening. “Believe me when I tell you that when it comes to this matter, snark is not in your best interest.”

“And what is?  What are my options?”

“You have none.   At least none that will save you from your punishment.  You have forty-eight hours. To get your affairs in order.  I highly suggest you use that time wisely.  If you fail to check in to The Continental in New York City by noon Monday, I will return.  And I won’t be alone.  If you run, we will follow.   There is no place you can hide where we won’t find you.   Am I making myself clear?”

“And if I don’t show up? In New York City?”

“You will be physically escorted there.  Or you will be handled right where you stand.”

“Eliminated, you mean.”

“Along with anyone that dares to help you.  If anyone gets in our way, they will be handled as well.  So if you know what’s good for you and for HIM, I suggest you tell the mercenary that he stands down.  If he even tries to challenge us or stop us,  we will ensure his ending is as horrific as possible.  And I’m sure that’s the last thing you want.   You have the blood of many men on your hands. I’m certain you don’t want to add his to it.”

“You’re right. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Forty-eight hours,”  The Adjudicator stresses.   “Don’t be foolish enough to think we won’t follow through.  That if you don’t comply,  we won’t come back here.   I suggest you get your affairs in order.  And do exactly as you're told.”

“If I show up, I want a guarantee.  That nothing will happen to Tyler.  If I do as I’m told, you have to promise me that nothing will happen to him.   He doesn’t deserve it; to suffer because of my mistakes. He’s a good person.  A good MAN.  And he doesn’t need to pay the price for something I did.”

“I underestimated you.  Perhaps you weren’t just doing a job.   There’s something in your eyes.  In your voice. When you talk about him.   And I can tell you’re scared;  terrified of the thought of something happening to him.  Love?  Is that what it is?”

Esme nods.  “Do we have a deal? That if I turn myself in, he’ll be left alone?”

“I will handle that end of things when I report to the High Table.  But you have my word;  you show up, he remains safe.   But if he even tries to defend you or get in our way…”

“He won’t.   He won’t be an issue. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Fair enough.”  The Adjudicator turns on their heel and strides across the kitchen. “Forty-eight hours.  Or we WILL come for you.”

“Is that a threat or a warning?”

They pause in the doorway. “Neither. It’s a promise.”

[sarahowritesostucky]

wud u ever consider showing like a sneak peaks of the ebook? Just thinking since u posted the character info. Thanks! 😽

YES! Oh my god I cannot tell you what a massive smile this put on my face! Yes yes a 1000x yes.

I will totally share sneak peaks. I will go full nerd with my omc's and ofc for this book, I will sing you sweet lullabies of meta, I will tell you tales from the annals of their lives. Let's DO THIS.

Name: Verne Dearbourne - (Neé Thibodeaux)

Age: 42

Birthplace: Dorcheat Bayou, LA

Height: 6' 2"

Weight: 220 lbs

Hair: black

Eyes: yellow-tinged iris, hyper-contracted pupils

Scent: clean sweat, coffee, sawdust

Heritage: Mixed race - 3/4 white, 1/4 black. Louisiana Creole. Both parents shifters in the Dorcheat Bayou Reservation Pack.

Wolf: dark grey and black, lighter muzzle.

Body type: "built like a friggin' bear," sturdy and thick rather than lean, kinda hairy, bronzed skin, "surprisingly elegant feet." A girthy 7" that's "a lot to handle" 😉

Distinguishing marks: prominent facial scarring, shifter registration tattoo, eyes deformed/half-shifted, speaks with a noticeable Louisiana accent.

Interests: living that #hermit life, woodworking, homesteading, reading, chess

Personality: guarded and distrustful, hard working, quiet and introverted, possessive of things he loves, creative, industrious, loyal.

Excerpts:

"Verne was a hulking six-foot-two, two-hundred twenty pound alpha werewolf. He was what Lucas liked to call "stupid big," with some pretty gnarly scars that slashed from cheek to hairline on one side of his face."

"The big lug wouldn’t hesitate to hunt down a deer in the forest and mercilessly rip out its throat, but give him a little barnyard piglet to slaughter and suddenly Verne would start reconsidering the importance of bacon. He was a big old softie inside, covered with an outer shell so thick, he might as well be calcified."

Name: Lucas Dearbourne

Age: 33

Birthplace: Tulsa, OK

Height: 6'

Weight: 185 lbs

Hair: Light brown, wavy, shoulder-length, highlights leftover from the summer.

Eyes: Green and foxlike, slanted with a coy quality

Scent: Juniper, Vanilla, pine tree sap

Heritage: Middle American "white boy." Both parents shifters in the Tulsa Free Pack.

Wolf: Russet-grey, large.

Body type: built like a swimmer, strong and lean, more chiseled and less bulky than Verne. A respectable 6" 😉

Distinguishing marks: bite scar on neck from Verne.

Interests: writing, cheering up grumpy husband, bee keeping, cooking, chess

Personality: Creative, positive, playful, social, adventurous.

Excerpts:

"As an alpha himself, Lucas was supposed to be wired to hate being dominated by anyone. And usually he did. But with Verne it was different. With Verne, his wires were crossed. Always had been, always would be."

"He had wide shoulders and a trim waist. When he pulled his shirt overhead, it made all the muscles in his back ripple and move. And his front side was just as nice. His facial features were rather delicate for a man, with blond lashes framing upturned eyes, nice lips, and an elegantly sloped nose. His body balanced him out some, kept him from looking too boyish, but he was definitely the sort of guy you called 'pretty' before you ever thought to call him 'handsome.'"

[woodcraftersedge]

Woodwork Designers In Southern USA woodcraftersedge USA

Distressed Finished Fireplace Mantel, Fireplace Mantel, Mantel, Mantle, Rustic Mantel, Crown Molding Mantel, Farmhouse Mantel

This is an authentically Distressed White fireplace mantel. The only way for this mantel shelf to be more beautiful is for it to be in your home highlighting your fireplace!

Don’t have a fireplace? Not a problem! It looks just as fabulous as a floating wall shelf in any room. It complements a variety of home decor styles including Boho, country, farmhouse, French Country, Cottage Chic, rustic and eclectic. The style is simplistic with crown molding adorning the top box/body of the wood mantel. This gorgeous fireplace mantle is sure to be the perfect finishing touch. There is wood-carved trim along the bottom of the box/body of the mantel shelf which is handcrafted in the United States. We are perfectionists. We pay close attention to detail, and this is where we are set apart from others. While this customary mantel showcases itself with grace and beauty, it is well-made with 100% real wood and extremely sturdy; it will last for years to come. Weight Limitation: **The mantel shelf(s) should be able to hold from 40-50 lbs., approximately if attached to a wall stud. We do not recommend using wall anchors. Wall anchors are not provided with this product. *All measurements are within 1/8-inch = handcrafted **Protected with a Clear Wax which dries to a hard protective surface Please check the link below for color samples which may be helpful when choosing your perfect color: Color Samples, Color Swatches, Color Selections, Color Hues. MEASURING FIREPLACE MANTELS FOR CORRECT FIT: ALL MANTLES ARE MEASURED USING THE TOP SHELF PART OF THE MANTEL; NOT the body/box of the mantel. The body/box of the mantel is approximately 4-6 inches smaller than the overall length of the mantel (top shelf part of the mantel).

[tayo-na]

Project Updates~

Okay, so I have so many different projects going all at once right now because I was diagnosed with Cool Guy Syndrome, so now I take something similar to Adderall.  Anyway!  I’m going to split this into three groups: started, need to start, and planning to in the future.

Started:

The cross stitch I’ve been working for forever on for my Grandma.  I’m so nearing the end, like, I can almost taste the finish line.  Alls I have left to do is the opposite stitch for the sky part of it.  Oh, and fill in the yellow roses.  But there aren’t all that many of those, so essentially it’s just the sky I have to focus on.

Sanding down my night side table.  The goal is to sand it and re-stain it because I’ve tried to do it before, but I had not the patience for it as a young teenager.  It’s amazing how hard it is to change old habits, because I’m also finding the patience for this hard.  However, I eventually want to take a stab at woodworking, so I need to develop the patience for it now.

I started a patch quilt with old sweatshirts from high school, an old set of winter pajamas (of which the fabric is quite fuzzy, so it’s flaking off everywhere it touches, unfortunately for me), and another old pair of plaid pajama pants.  I had some smaller blocks of, like, that kind of felt fabric, the one you’d use to make those knotted blankets with.  Sos I also trimmed those down, and added them to the bunch.  The individual square sizes I’m making are 2″x2″, and I’m assuming when they’re all sewn together, an individual square will be 1.5″x1.5″ or 1.75″x1.75″.  It all depends on how these shake out when I’m done cutting them up.

I started a crochet ombre dark blue beanie for one of my close friends, and I ideally would like to send it to her before October rolls around.  I’m probably, like, 3/4 of the way done.  I just get so bored sometimes with the monotony of the same thing over and over again, so doing the rounds to finish it off is killing me softly.

I had, a couple years ago, started a crochet blanket made with that Bernat fluffy yarn but I still have a ways a ways to go on it.  The plan was to have it in three sections: off-white, this grey and like cream color, and then off-white again.  But I still have yet to even get to the grey and cream color.

I also had, a couple years ago, started a scarf made of the smaller balls of yarn I had and couldn’t think of a use for.  I have, since then, completely unraveled it and started from the top again due to yarn size discrepancies which made my scarf look like a wobbly river.  I actually do like knitting, but I’ve only recently learned how to… purl?  I’m not sure if that’s exactly the stitch I’m doing, but the way it comes out makes the piece ribbed when I do the backwards of the regular knit stitch.  So I’ll take it.

Need to Start:

Embroidery of Gayle Waters-Waters from GAYLE.  It’s a miniseries on YouTube done by Chris Fleming.  The episodes last no longer than ten minutes, and are usually below that anyways.  I want to do an embroidery of Gayle’s Iconic Expression with the phrase “What Would Gayle Waters-Waters Do?” around it.  It’s a very insanely belated Christmas gift for one of my IRL best friends, and is now also a belated birthday gift for her.

Cross-stitch for one of my other IRL best friends.  A similar gift situation as above.  She was a psych major before she graduated, and also took a horseback riding course in her penultimate semester.  My idea is to have a pillow that says “Only Freudian horsegirls get it.”  And in the negative space have a pair of horseshoes and a tobacco pipe there.  She’ll hate it, and I can’t wait!

Another birthday embroidery gift for an IRL friend, but his birthday has yet to pass.  He unfortunately shares a birthday with a notorious date in September, so my goal is to finish it before then.  I call him “Thornbird”, so I’ve got an idea regarding a sort-of blobby Loggerhead Shrike sitting on a branch. Under the branch is a thistle flower, and crawling up the sides are thistle leaves.  His favorite plant and a bird, just like my Grandma’s gift, lmao.

I promised my family socks this past Christmas.  My goal is to also get them done before October so we can have a chance to enjoy them, potentially.  I have super cute sock yarn for them and everything.

Planning to Start:

About a year ago, while I was moving from one state to another, I had taken apart one of my old dresses that I had gotten from Old Navy God knows how long ago.  My idea was to make it a two-piece set.  The top is a crop top and the bottom stays a skirt.  I plan on using denim as the hem for the crop top and the waist for the skirt.  It’s rather ambitious for me, since the most I’ve done regarding clothes is patching holes and light embroidery.  But I’m determined to do it because I did love that dress a lot.

I had a set of penguin pajamas when I was a teenager that I no longer fit into, but I love the pattern so much.  So, I want to turn it into a skirt.  This one is the really ambitious idea because it involves pleats, pockets, and the pleats are ideally two-toned, with the outside facing bit the penguins, and the inside is this dark blue with small white dots cotton that I don’t even remember where I picked it up from.  But I think it’d be super cute if I can manage to figure it out.  I’m planning on doing a mock-up of it for Reginald, the bunny I made at Build-a-Bear on a whim because I saw that there were DC costumes for the stuffed animals.  I originally wanted him to wear the Flash’s outfit, but the store I went to didn’t have it, so I substituted for Batman.  Long tangent, but I’ll probably do a little one with spare fabric to see how it’d work and if I’d be able to actually pull it off.  It’d sure be cool if I could.

I feel like there are other things I want to do/am currently doing, but my brain is tired.  And given that it’s almost five in the morning, I’m not overly surprised.  But yeah!  These are the current works for me right now  :D

[newcastleframeandtrussau]

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Choosing timeless color schemes is crucial to coming up with a harmonious and cogent design that can adapt to shifting fashions and tastes. While adding a feeling of calm and refinement to the room, neutral colors like soft whites, warm beiges, and light grays act as a timeless backdrop that lets other design elements take centre stage. 

Maintaining visual coherence and classic elegance across the property is ensured by utilizing classic hues for both external and interior design elements, such as trim, accents, and walls. Further allowing for flexibility and customization without sacrificing the overall classic look is the use of colorful accent pieces such as furniture, artwork, and accessories.  

Furthermore, Timber Roof Trusses Newcastle helps choosing premium paints and finishes that have a long lifespan reduces the need for regular updates or restorations by guaranteeing that the property’s color scheme will stay lively and current for many years to come.  

CLASSIC FURNISHINGS AND DÉCOR:  

Timeless style can be incorporated into interior spaces through the careful selection of traditional furnishings and décor components. Timeless furniture styles radiate sophistication and refinement while providing long-lasting comfort and functionality. Examples of these styles include fitted upholstery, simple lines, and graceful forms.  

Purchasing high-quality furniture made of long-lasting materials like leather, hardwood floors, and natural textiles guarantees longevity and classic style. Furthermore, adding classic furniture types, heirloom pieces, and antique decorations to a room honors tradition and heritage while bringing character and individuality to the area. 

The general atmosphere and charm of the home are further improved by the careful layering of textures, patterns, and accessories, which adds visual appeal and depth. Property owners can design homes that are easily stylish while feeling ageless by combining aspects from both traditional and modern design.  

HARMONIOUS OUTDOOR SPACES: 

Creating outdoor areas that are harmonious is crucial to bringing the property’s classic charm into the surrounding environment. The architectural style and aesthetic of the property are complemented by the use of classic elements like symmetrical walks, formal gardens, and well-kept lawns, which provide a sense of harmony and tranquility.  

To enhance your outside space, consider including patios, terraces, and courtyards as well as landscaping to create areas for lounging, entertaining, and spending time outdoors. The outside atmosphere is enhanced by classic materials that endure the weather and age beautifully over time, like wrought iron furnishings, wood decking, and natural stone.  

In addition, Timber Roof Trusses Newcastle adds elements like fire pits, water features, and outdoor lighting gives outdoor spaces more atmosphere and usefulness, making them pleasant retreats for both inhabitants and visitors.  

To summarize, the process of bringing classic architectural elements, fine craftsmanship, classic color schemes, classic furniture and décor, and well-planned outdoor areas together are all essential to creating a residence that exudes timeless charm.  

[taperwolf]

So I'm building a Eurorack case from plywood, and not exactly the best quality plywood at that — and one of the big problems with plywood construction is how the edges look, as seen on the picture above. Now, you can certainly lean into that look, but the usual solution is to cover the exposed edge with a veneer, a very thin strip of wood that's simply glued into place over the top.

So I was looking at stores online that sell veneers in various colors and patterns, and then I remembered I had a roll of the stuff: two inches wide and eight feet long, in white birch, with the sort of glue on the back that you just have to iron on, a thrift store find from several years ago. The process, following a couple of YouTube demos, is just to cut a strip, slightly oversized, using a utility knife and straightedge, iron it down, and then trim off the excess. They sell fancy edge trimmers that peel the margins away with a razor blade, but, again, you can just whittle it away with the same utility knife. I still need to do some sanding, but I think it'll turn out pretty well.

Not bad for woodworking on the living room floor.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Spectacular 1889 home in Lexington, Kentucky has 2 turrets. This is a masterpiece with 5bd. 4.5ba. and is listed for $1.450M. You gotta see this.

Look at the millwork on this small front porch, alone.

Spectacular central hall. Just look at the ceiling, wainscoting and stairs. Now, this is nice- they painted the pocket doors white and some of the trim, but left the majority of the woodwork. 

Usually I don’t care for 2-tone floors, but this looks nice.

It must be the way they did the pattern. Instead of just plain Yipes! Stripes! they made it look inlaid. 

Notice the angles in the rooms. Such detailed architectural features.

I love a butler’s pantry off a dining room. The cabinets look original and either very well preserved or refurbished.

Clearly the kitchen’s original footprint is intact and look at the door- got to be a dumb waiter. 

Vintage half bath off the pantry.

Service stairs. 

Large family room up here. 

Bedroom off the family room. 

Unusual bath with vintage touches.

Love this Victorian shower so much!

Wow. Just, wow.

Secondary bd. with a vintage en-suite.

Here’s a laundry room and this is where the dumb waiter comes up. That’s convenient.

The landing from the main stairs.

And, proceeding up to the attic via the service stairs.

Good storage.

It’s all been renovated up here.

In addition to new bedrooms, there’s a family room in the turret.

Plus, they added a new shower room. 

On the side of the house is a port cochere. 

In the back is a screened deck.

Plus a patio.

And, a lovely garden,

https://my.flexmls.com/angelamurray1/search/shared_links/8TQgE/listings/20230407003408735929000000