#wrought iron bar stool

[iheartbillholden]

Concrete Pavers Patio in New York Ideas for a medium-sized, timeless backyard renovation that includes a kitchen patio without a cover.

[dinnerandasuit]

Single Wall Home Bar Seated home bar - mid-sized country single-wall dark wood floor seated home bar idea with granite countertops

[funny-junks]

Single Wall Home Bar

Seated home bar - mid-sized country single-wall dark wood floor seated home bar idea with granite countertops

[liteblueeblog]

Tile - Patio Large elegant backyard tile patio kitchen photo with a roof extension

[tsundere-sunshine]

Rustic Wine Cellar Denver An illustration of a medium-sized wine cellar with storage racks in the mountain style, with a dark wood floor and a brown floor.

[lukemonaghan]

Traditional Basement in Toronto Large elegant underground medium tone wood floor and brown floor basement photo with brown walls and no fireplace

[kappatea]

Rustic Wine Cellar Mid-sized mountain style ceramic tile and beige floor wine cellar photo with storage racks

[shagtective]

Outdoor Kitchen Outdoor Kitchen Chicago

Ideas for a sizable, traditional backyard kitchen renovation with a pergola

[riiaeatsright]

Cincinnati Wine Cellar Large A sizeable transitional wine cellar design example with racks for storage

[merwilson]

Traditional Wine Cellar - Large

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is unique- the building started out as a local store, but the current owner bought it and converted it into a 1bd, 1ba home in 2020. They're calling it a barn-dominium, but it looks like a shipping container to me. The town of Windsor, SC is a trail riding community and this home comes with horse stables and 1.15 acres of land for only $235K. The interior decor is most unusual.

When you walk thru the front door there are hooks to hang coats on the wall. The bedroom is on the right. You can see the bed right there out in the open.

It's nice, and I guess if there's only 1 bd, there's no need to worry about privacy.

Walk in the front door and there's also the living room.

The living room and kitchen are open concept. Note the architectural salvage columns on the right. There's architectural salvage throughout the house. I love that look and the recycling concept.

The stools are wearing jeans. That's pretty cool. According to the description: Some furnishings, art and decor are negotiable. I would have to ask about those stools.

The kitchen sink.

The kitchen is cute- the cabinets are actually tool chests. You can see the loft above with the wrought iron railing.

They make attractive red and black cabinets.

If you've ever bought a tool chest, you'll know that they're not cheap. I think that this is a clever alternative to cabinetry.

These are Craftsman and they're definitely not cheap. It looks like they put wood counters on top of them

I saw the towel bars and got confused. Is this the bath?

Then I saw the washer & dryer. But, looking at the black metal nook, I realized that's the shower. It's not very deep.

Interesting.

I hadn't noticed the sink on top of the antique mail boxes until this closer photo. That's a bit of architectural salvage- love that so much. I don't see the toilet. I hope it's not a composting situation.

Here we are up in the loft. It's filled with storage, but it's pretty roomy.

Now, we're heading to the stables. So, there's a fenced area for the horses.

It's nice and clean. Room for several horses and it looks roomy.

Looks like there's an office in there.

Large garage/barn.

This must be the hay loft.

There's a road right here alongside the property.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/683-Windsor-Rd-Windsor-SC-29856/316702349_zpid/?

[bullet-prooflove]

Clarity: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @vsplanet @Jullyyy @art2emily @kmc1989

Summer School Series:

Part One: Summer School - Daniel's excited to meet Anthony's new art teacher.

Part Two: Dirt - Daniel learns more about you and your business.

Part Three: The Weight of Water - Daniel and you enjoy a moment by the sea.

Part Four: White Roses - Daniel finds out you might not be as single as he thought.

Part Five: Wall Art - Daniel makes a realisation when Amanda hires you for a job.

That evening Daniel goes out to the hotel bar he frequents from time to time. He started coming here after the divorce because he was captivated by the art work on the wall. It’s the Tree of Life, the trunk crafted out of wrought iron, the leaves etched in shades of copper, silver and gold. He knows it’s one of yours, by now he would recognise your work anywhere.

He doesn’t turn his head when someone takes up residence on the stool alongside of him, he’s too caught up in his own thoughts, his gaze studying the intricacies of the design in front of him

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?” You say quietly and Daniel can’t help but smile as he flags down the bartender.

When he turns his head towards you, his breath catches in his throat. You’re wearing a royal blue dress tonight, something light and gauzy, it contrasts against your skin as your hair falls loose across your shoulders. He wants to reach out and brush a stray strand back behind your ear but he stops himself because he still can’t believe your sitting here next to him right now.

“That was the first piece I was ever commissioned to do.” You tell him, gesturing towards the sculpture fixed to the wall. “When I need to get a little clarity sometimes, I come here to remind myself just how far I’ve come.”

“Clarity huh?” He says as the bartender sets two whiskies down on the bar. He pushes one towards you before he takes a sip of his own. “What do you need clarity on?”

The edges of your smile twitch up into a smile as your gaze lowers to your drink.

“You actually.” You say quietly as you swill the ice cubes around the inside of your glass. “I need some clarity on you.”

“Ah.” He says, his thumb chasing over the etching.

“I thought we were heading somewhere and then…” You trail off and Daniel realises what it must have looked like to you. One moment he was interested and the next he wasn’t.

“Jak…” He says softly and you tilt your head towards him.

It’s those eyes that bewitch him, a man could get lost in them and Daniel hopes to, every night for the rest of his life. He kisses you then and that passion, it ignites in his veins like a wildfire, searing through his synapses and drowning out his thoughts. He knew it would be like this with you, untamed and all consuming. He wants to take you upstairs, undress you, spend the whole night worshiping you like the goddess you are.

Your skin is flushed when he pulls away, your eyes bright. His forehead comes to rest against yours as your fingertips chase over the line of his jaw.

“I think we should get a room.” You whisper, your fingertips chasing along the lapels of his suit jacket. “Explore this a little further.”

“Yea.” Daniel smiles, his lips brushing over yours. “I think we should too.”

Love Daniel-San? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[winchesterszvonecek]

Blood Bound 18+

Chapter 1 - A Night at Salem’s

Word Count: 6162

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

It was an hour or two out from closing when Mike finally ducked into the familiar cover of Salem's Bar, rustling a few stubborn raindrops from the length of his hair as he allowed the comforting warmth of the establishment to engulf him entirely. 

For a while there, he didn’t think he’d have made it in time to hear the bell that would chime at last call. He had piles of paperwork stacked high on his desk needing one thing or another done to them and whilst he knew he should still be at the precinct continuing to make a dent into them, they were honestly the very last thing on Mike’s mind right now. 

Staring mindlessly at case files and crime scene photos on a Thursday night wasn’t exactly the most exciting, or cheerful, thing that he could do with his time. Not when there was something far, far more appealing that he could spend the rest of his night focusing his attention on, allowing time to drift idly by around him as he did nothing but nurse his drink and watch the bar’s owner like she were his favourite TV show. 

And yes, he knows, it was rather stalker-ish of him to come here solely to hide in the shadows and gawk at her whilst she worked, but he simply couldn’t help it.

The very second the bar’s tudor door, complete with old fashioned iron handles and a deep red stained glass window at the top, clicked shut behind him, Mike had spotted her already. It wasn’t hard, honestly. She was always behind the bar serving drinks and even despite the dim, barely allowing you to properly see , candlelight of the wrought iron chandeliers that hung over his head, it was never hard for him to find her. 

As though a bright white light emanated from behind every fibre of her being, Callie’s presence alone could light up the room more than he’d ever need it to. He was drawn to it. Like a magnet attracting him towards her, Mike made his way eagerly across the room the moment that light cut through the darkness and swallowed him entirely, the clicking of his shoes against the dark wooden floor barely audible over the music that drifted from the jukebox. 

He kept his eyes fixated solely on Callie as he delved further into the bar, passing a few patrons on their way to the door and watching as she wiped down a small portion of the mahogany bar top with the old rag she always had thrown over her shoulder. She was smiling, as usual. He couldn’t think of a time he’d ever seen her without it, and when she glanced over at him. When her eyes lit up as she saw him slowly approaching her to take up residence on his usual stool, that smile only deepened and Mike’s stomach all but flipped inside him. 

God, she was beautiful. Breathtaking, really, as he’d never seen a woman quite as radiant as she was in all his life. She’d caught his eye, and his ears, the very first day he found himself inside Salem’s. She had been singing, her band sometimes played an hour or two every so often and when he heard her voice? When that angelic — no, when that siren-esque tone of hers soared so intoxicatingly through the air and tempted him towards throwing himself overboard… he knew, in that moment, that he was done for. 

At this point, he was down so bad for her that he could practically feel the flames of Hell beneath his toes, all but laughing at him. Taunting and teasing him relentlessly for not being able to pull himself up by his bootstraps and do something about the feelings that swarmed inside of him. 

In the past, Mike had never had any trouble finding the courage to ask a pretty woman out. He’d actually been rather bold at times and could often have the recipient of his affections hanging both figuratively, and literally, off his arm, but when it came to Callie… When it came to seeing her charcoal eyes twinkling like stars in the dim light of the bar, sitting perfectly above that picture worthy smile he’d captured mentally only about a thousand times, there didn’t appear to be any questioning words rattling around inside Mike’s mind, that seemed to want to cross past his lips.   

“Hey,” Callie greeted, that heartwarming smile of hers still present on her pretty face as Mike perched himself onto his regular stool, his own lips twitching up at the very sight of her appearance before him. “I wasn’t sure if we’d see you tonight.”  

“Yeah, me neither,” Mike replied, trying his hardest to keep his cool as he slipped his arms out of his coat. Also, was it just him or did it sound like had she been waiting for him? “But you know how it is… Long day at the office.” 

“That’s unfortunate. You missed quite the show earlier.” Callie said, resting her arms lengthways atop the bar and leaning forward as Mike narrowed his eyes in question, prompting her to elaborate, “My drummer came down with the flu so instead of us performing our greatest hits… Big Al gave us all a rendition of his.” 

“Big Al?” Mike repeated, shocked to say the least as Al was well into his 60’s and spent the majority of the night passed out on his stool. “The guy who says dogs can’t look up…”

“They can’t,” Al mumbled gruffly from his spot about three stools down, his elbow then slipping from the bar top and sending his beer sloshing all over the place. 

Callie sighed exhaustively. Great, now she was going to have to go and clean that up before it seeped into the wood. 

“You’re telling me that he put on a show?” Mike asked doubtfully, pointing briefly at Al who was trying to scoop his beer off the bar top and back into his glass. He heard Callie hum quietly in agreement and he chuckled, shaking his head and focusing his attention back onto her. He paused for a moment, taking a second to simply drink in the glowing sight of her in front of him before his brow dipped curiously, and he just had to ask, “How was it?” 

“Surprisingly brilliant,” Callie replied, hearing a humourous, surprise-filled huff leave Mike’s nose as she pushed herself off the bar. “You want your usual?” 

“Please,” Mike replied, a soft smile rising on his lips as Callie nodded her head. He brought his hands up to rest on the bar top and laced his fingers together, his eyes remaining fixed on her as she ducked down, her dark hair falling briefly over her face as she grabbed an empty glass from beneath the bar and set it in front of him.  

Then, sliding, quite literally, across the smooth floor towards the liquor cabinet, Callie’s gaze quickly scanned the shelf for the bottle of goodscotch — as the bags beneath Mike’s eyes and the tension in his shoulders told her he needed it more than the cheap stuff that she was often inclined to use. She soon spotted the bottle, hiding behind the pink vodka with gold flakes that only one person ever seemed to order, and she grabbed it, hearing the gentle clink of its glass against the surrounding bottles. 

With the liquor in hand, Callie returned to Mike and poured him a rather generous helping, “This one’s on the house.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” Mike protested, yet his heart still flipped in his chest like it did each and every time she tried to offer him a free drink. 

She did it often. Very often, actually, and it was always with the good stuff. However, due to his inability to see through her facade, Mike never could tell whether she was simply being friendly… Trying to keep business by buttering up her regulars… Or if there was perhaps some other, possibly similar to that of his own reasoning for being here, meaning behind her blatant favouritism towards him. 

“I know I don’t have to,” Callie said casually, lowering the bottle to her side and leaning forward a touch, her elbow resting atop the bar. “But I want to. And if I find money for it under your glass when you leave, I’m barring you.” 

As the tips of his ears turned red Mike rolled his lips and nodded, offering Callie enough assurance that he wouldn’t, that she smiled in satisfaction before retreating back to the liquor cabinet to deposit the bottle. He let out a breath as she did, his shoulders loosening and his fingers curling tightly around the glass as he raised it, taking that first sip of alcohol to help try and steady his nerves.

The first subtle burn of the liquid as it ran down his throat did absolutely nothing for him. He still felt like he was sinking and it didn’t help that Callie had brought up the little detail of him secretly trying to pay her for the drinks. He hadn’t been expecting it, honestly, not in the slightest. Sure, he’d always leave her a little extra tip under his glass on days when she’d offer him a drink on the house, but he didn’t think she would have picked up on the true reasoning behind it. 

And it wasn’t because he was head over heels for her, although that contributed a little. No, it was more so because of the fact that the particular brand of scotch that she always supplied him with wasn’t exactly cheap. In fact, it could go for up to three hundred dollars a bottle and he never felt great about himself when she gave it to him for free, especially when he gave her nothing in return but a nervous smile and a mumbled thanks. He really wished he could muster up the courage to ask her to dinner. Or at least, find it in him to ask her to join him for a drink so that they could spend an hour, maybe even two, getting to know each other a little better. 

All they really knew about one another was their names, and in all honesty… it was getting to be rather exhausting for the both of them. 

“No, Al, you can’t…” As Callie sighed exasperatedly from the end of the bar, Mike shifted his attention towards her, just in time to see her trying to fend off a rather drunken Al. “Stop trying to suck the beer from the rag. I’ll get you a new one.” 

Al stopped immediately, his bushy eyebrow raising, “A free one?” 

“Yes,” Callie breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose momentarily as why, oh why, did she willingly choose to surround herself with drunks? “I’ll give you a free one, but please try not to spill it.” 

“Maybe we should start putting it in a sippy cup,” Abby, the other bartender, suggested playfully as she made her way over with a crate of bottled beer. 

“Oh, if only,” Callie mumbled, hearing a quiet chuckle from Abby as she arched her back to allow her to pass. She then reached for Al’s glass, smacking his hand away as he tried to climb over the bar to grab it in order to drink the last few drops that he’d wringed out from a napkin. “Sit down or I’m cutting you off.”

Like a child, Al sat down instantly — innocently — and allowed Callie to start refilling his glass. 

It was safe to say that there was never a dull moment in Salem’s, and despite his inability to make it all the better for both himself and Callie, Mike was rather glad he’d opted to spend his night here rather than doing paperwork at the precinct. 

And sure, things could get crazy sometimes and he’d often have to put Al in a cab at the end of the night, but he loved it here. Even though the energy around him may have spooked him from time to time, what with the menacing red-eyed gargoyles mounted on the wall at either end of the bar, and the strangely lifelike model of Dracula that was suspended from the ceiling in the corner, he literally couldn’t think of a better place he wanted to be right now.

Or ever really, as any opportunity, no matter how short and sweet, that he got to spend with Callie, was far better than anything else he could possibly imagine himself doing. 

“Hell yeah, free beer!” 

Shaking his head at Al’s drunken cheer as he all but downed his free drink, Mike chuckled quietly into his own and returned his attention towards his reflection that resided in the extravagant, and rather impressive, ornate mirror that sat front and centre behind the bar. He’d never seen an object quite as magnificent as that in all his life, with the intricately carved detail to the brass border that was lit up by bright red LED lights, and the mere size of the mirror itself, he wouldn’t have put it past her if Callie had paid an absolute fortune simply to have it hang behind her. 

In fact, the entire bar was more than he ever could have expected and he wouldn’t have been surprised if half of the objects that resided within the stone walls each cost more than his yearly salary. That first day he stumbled his way inside to seek shelter from the rain, he’d had to do a double take as for a moment he thought he’d travelled, not only back through time, but halfway across the world too as it was almost like stepping inside an old, European tavern. 

Only this tavern would clearly have been run by Dracula, or at least a Dracula wannabe, as you would have to be blind, or have lived under a rock your whole life, to miss the not-so-subtle hints that revolved around those fanged mythical beings. 

For starters, the very liquor cabinet that Callie had just plucked his scotch from was coffin shaped. Not to mention the many blood themed drinks on the cocktail menu, which Mike wouldn’t lie about and say he hadn’t tried a few of… As he had. And they were amazing. Some of them even came served in blood bags or syringes for that extra added detail, and he had to say…he thoroughly enjoyed the experience. 

Callie had clearly put a lot of time, effort and money into opening this place and he commended her for it. The subtle nods towards all things legend of the vampire were truly exceptional, and even he himself had picked up on a few of them. 

For example, mounted behind the bar like a gun, or a fish, was an exact replica of the wooden stakes used in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Mike only knew that from the time he dated a girl obsessed with the show, but even if he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been hard to guess which franchise the stake had been pulled from. 

Behind him, just above a cosy booth, was an oil painting of Nosferatu, which honestly kind of creeped him out a little and the first time he saw it in the reflection behind him he almost fell off his stool. Thankfully, Callie hadn’t seen that as she’d been up on stage, but it was safe to say that he was rather glad it was just a painting and not a life-sized replica placed eerily behind the door otherwise he might never have been able to return. 

That was about all the knowledge of vampirism Mike had when it came to Salem’s Bar. He knew the name, of course, he’d read Salem’s Lot in high school and remembered it well, but other than that…his mind drew blank at everything else. 

He didn’t know what the illuminated red sign that read Nadja’s was from, or who the little black haired porcelain doll was that sat beneath it. He had no clue why there was, what he hoped was a fake, machete mounted on the wall next to a decapitated head, or why it said ‘ eat it Twilight’ next to it, as he was fairly certain that head didn’t belong to anyone from those movies…and no he wouldn’t be explaining how he knew that. 

Anyway, moving swiftly on, there was a lot Mike didn’t understand about Salem’s. Like why, for thirty days each winter, there would be fake snow dusting the floor and fake blood splattered over the walls and windows. Or why there was a gun that looked like a penis mounted on the men’s bathroom door, but aside from all that, the place had quickly become a comfort to him. 

A home away from home, he should say, as he often found himself wishing he could stay here forever and I’ll let you in on a little secret… It wasn’t because of the tastefully themed decor. 

“You look like you could use another.” 

Mike was easily ripped from his puzzling thoughts — about the penis gun — when Callie’s addicting voice drifted towards him. He drew his gaze up to her almost immediately, feeling the intense flutter that always swarmed inside his chest when her lips curled upwards and she leaned contentedly against the bar. 

“You want the same?” Callie asked, her eyebrow arching as her tone bordered on flirtatious. “Or… do you want to try the next cocktail on the list?”  

“That depends…” Mike said playfully, eyeing her carefully, “Does it come in a glass or in a blood bag?” 

“A glass,” Callie replied, a soft, humorous breath leaving her parted lips as she flashed back to Mike’s reaction when she first served him that drink. 

Poor guy, he got so flustered and cute over not knowing what to do that she ended up having to pour it into a glass for him before he ended up leaving from shame. 

“In that case, I will happily give it a go,” Mike said, watching as Callie tapped her knuckles against the bar in acknowledgment before she headed off to make him his drink. 

At the same time the door opened, a chilly breeze and the faint sound of the rain sweeping through the air around him. Mike glanced to his side just as it closed, his eyes squinting suspiciously at the sight of the two boys who had stepped in through it. They didn’t look like they’d been twenty-one for longer than a few days, if the fraternity themed shirts they both sported were any indication, but so long as they behaved… Mike wouldn’t have any need to remove them. 

But as the saying goes, boys will be boys and the split second they landed properly inside, they opened their big mouths and made Mike easily reconsider his previous thoughts about behaviour. 

“Dude,” The smaller of the two breathed out, patting his friend on the chest with the back of his hand as he cocked his head in Callie’s direction, his eyes all but bulging out of his skull. “Check out the bartender.” 

Curious, the taller of the two boys glanced eagerly over at Callie, a low, impressed whistle leaving his lips, “Damn, I’m getting a hard-on just looking at her.” 

Charming.

With his jaw now clenching, Mike sat up straighter in his stool as his hardened eyes followed the boys in the mirror as they delved further into the bar. They headed for a booth, every crude comment they made about Callie’s chest and ass, or ogling, drooling look they fired her way caused Mike’s grip to tighten around his empty glass, the sudden urge to flash his badge and kick them from the bar without reason easily brewing and bubbling away inside him. 

“Okay, so this one’s a little basic,” Callie said as she appeared in front of him again, softening his features immediately as he dropped his gaze towards her and forgot all about the creeps behind him. “It’s called the Vampire Bite. It’s got black cherry liqueur, a splash of chile liqueur, pomegranate juice, tequila, a salted rim and…” Revealing a pair of plastic fangs from beneath the bar, Callie draped them carefully over the edge of the glass, “Your very own pair of vampire teeth, which you get to keep.” 

“I get to keep them?” Mike questioned, mimicking her comical tone as he allowed his hand to loosen from around his glass. “I don’t know… I think that might be too much responsibility for me.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Callie chuckled, warming Mike’s heart as she did. She slid the drink closer to him, the plastic teeth knocking quietly against the edge. “Just try it.” 

“Alright,” Mike exhaled, lifting the teeth, which now had red stained fangs which he thought was a nice touch, from the edge and setting them on his napkin. He picked up the martini glass, swirling it gently as he brought it to his lips, pausing momentarily as he savoured the heartwarming sight of Callie gazing hopefully up at him, as though praying he’d like it. “But if I turn into a vampire, I’m holding you responsible.” 

Callie pretended to think for a moment, before replying, “Okay, fair. Now drink.” 

With a forced, but obviously sarcastic sigh, Mike rolled his eyes playfully and took a sip, feeling the sharp tingle of the chile liqueur ripple across his tongue and hit the back of his throat as he swallowed. He coughed lightly, clearing his throat and shaking his head a little as wow… That was strong. 

“Too much?” Callie asked, chewing anxiously at her lips over his reaction. 

“Maybe a little,” Mike confessed, setting the glass back down atop the napkin as Callie nodded reluctantly in agreement. 

She had thought she may have added a little too much chile liqueur when she was making it. However, she didn’t get a chance to tell Mike that verbally, or add more pomegranate juice to the drink before she was being hounded at… by the very same boys Mike already had issues with. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” The taller of the two called towards her, clicking his fingers to get her attention. “You mind bringing us a couple beers?” 

“Sure thing,” Callie replied, forcing a smile to rise to her face as the boy winked at her in thanks. The second he turned away, her face fell and she rolled her eyes, muttering in disgust, “God, I hate college frat boys.” 

“Say the word and I’ll throw them out,” Mike joked… outwardly anyway, as on the inside he was deadly serious and he was already planning on which one he should toss out first.  

“I might take you up on that,” Callie exhaled, grabbing two beers from the crate Abby had set on the shelf a few minutes ago and twisting off the lid with a quiet hiss. “But who knows, perhaps they’ll behave.” 

As a doubtful hum left the back of his throat, Mike kept his gaze firmly fixated on Callie as she lifted the beers from the counter and made her way out from behind the bar. He couldn’t help but allow his eyes to drop, trailing them down the entire length of her form and drinking in the shy sliver of her pale skin he could see poking out around her waist. Not to mention the sinuous shape of her hips as she walked, that was a sight that could have made him swoon in an instant had something else not caught the entirety of his attention instead. 

The frat boy. Or more specifically, the frat boy’s hand as he brazenly grazed it up the length of Callie’s thigh and round to her ass, smacking it such a way that it had her lurch back and shoved his hand furiously away from her. 

“Okay, you two can leave. Now,” Callie breathed out as authoritatively as she could, her heart hammering a little harder in her chest as Mike appeared beside her, having launched himself off his stool the instant the guy's hand first touched her. “I’m serious. Get out.”

“Lighten up, sweetheart,” The guy scoffed, only adding fuel to the fire burning inside Mike’s chest. “With an ass like that, you were begging for a slap.” 

“Alright, listen here, pal ,” Mike gritted, slamming his palms on the table so hard it shook the bottles atop it and made both boys, and Callie, jump a little. “You touch her like that again and I won’t hesitate to knock your teeth down your throat.” 

“Mike, ease up a little,” Callie said softly, taking a gentle hold of Mike’s arm and giving him a small tug towards her. “They’re just kids.” 

Mike couldn’t help but scoff at her words, as he knew better. Boy did he ever know better than to trust a frat boy. They were the absolute worst for sexual assault given that half of them thought they were untouchable, yet he still allowed Callie to usher him back away from them. She was right, technically, as they were just kids but still he kept his sharp eyes fixated on the guy, cutting holes into his face as he did nothing but swallow thickly now that all traces of his bold attitude were gone from his being. 

Guess he wasn’t used to being put in his place, Mike thought to himself. And thank God he’d decided to come here tonight as he didn’t even want to imagine what might have happened had he not. 

“Get out,” Mike said firmly, placing his hands on his hips and opening his jacket a touch to reveal the golden sergeants badge hidden by his hip. “Now.”  

At the sight of the badge — and gun — mixed with Mike’s harsh tone and stone-turning eyes, both boys scrambled frantically out of the booth and left the bar quicker than either of them had probably ever moved before. The same chill swept through the air as they did, only rather than cause those inside to tense up and shiver, it allowed them to relax a little, their shoulders sinking as the atmosphere slowly returned to normal. 

“Are you alright?” Mike asked, a little worried as he turned back towards Callie. He knew he’d come off a little strong there, given his job, so he could only hope he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Callie replied, flashing him a proper, reassuring smile that allowed the knot in his stomach to unravel. “It’s not the first time some creep has grabbed my ass, but it is the first time I’ve had a cop here to rescue me.” 

“I would find a little triumph in that had you not told me the first part.” 

“Stuff like this comes with the job, Mike,” Callie said softly, reaching out to pat his arm comfortably and feeling her chest tingle when she did. “But it’s nothing I can't handle.” 

“For now,” Mike said bluntly, unable to stop himself as he’d seen firsthand what this kind of behaviour could lead to. He sighed, running his hand over his chin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil the mood.” 

“Please,” Callie scoffed humorously, causing Mike’s brow to furrow. “It’ll take a lot more than some handsy frat boy to ruin the mood in here. Now come on, you’re drinking free for the rest of the night so you better make the most of it… Sergeant .” 

At the sultry way in which his title rolled across her tongue, Mike’s stomach dipped inside of him as he happily allowed her to drag him across the bar. He slid back onto his stool the second they reached it and watched as Callie then shuffled towards the door, locking it and flicking off the neon sign on the window before she hopped over the bar. And he meant it literally too as she jumped up onto it, spun around and landed softly on the other side. 

From there, Callie grabbed two shot glasses from behind her and set them in front of Mike, who didn’t get a chance to do anything but open his mouth before she was gone again, returning almost instantly with a bottle of tequila in her hand. She filled the two glasses to the brim then lifted one, holding it towards Mike and urging him with her eyes to take it. 

“Don’t make me drink alone,” Callie pouted, moving the shot closer to him and turning her playful frown upside down when he reached up to take it from her, the light brush of his fingers over hers sending an immense chill down her spine. “There’s my hero.” 

The words may have been so quiet that Callie herself could barely hear them but Mike did. He heard them loud and clear, and his heart skipped a beat the second he did. Hero. He liked the sound of that and who knows…perhaps after tonight he wouldn’t find himself as nervous to finally ask her out on a proper date.

Obviously, he could have done it now while the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins but he didn’t think that would be appropriate. She’d literally just been groped by some perv and the last thing he wanted, should God forbid her flirtatious nature be nothing more than a facade, was to come off just as creepily strong as that guy did. 

No, he asked her another night. That would be the safest option as not only would the atmosphere be cleaner, but Callie herself would be sober as the way she was downing those tequila shots… Well, let’s just say it made even his eyes widen and he’d once drank scotch with Rafael Barba. 

However, after another three shots each and a ‘Now I’m A Wizard’ cocktail, Callie eased up on feeding them both alcohol and eventually rang the bell for last call. There weren’t many people left in the bar by that point, just herself, Mike, Al, Abby, and a few other regulars scattered around the place, but it was custom for her to end the night with a ding, and when he heard it, Mike couldn’t help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over him. 

“Callie, I don’t know what was in those drinks but even my head is swimming,” Mike said, a strenuous groan leaving his lips as he all but lifted Al into a cab, as he’d grown accustomed to over the weeks he’d been a patron. He gave the driver the address, shutting the door and tapping the roof briefly before it zoomed off, allowing him to turn back towards the woman in question. “What about you? Are you good?” 

“I’m good,” Callie couldn’t help but chuckle, as she seemed to hold her liquor better than most of the guys inside. An icy breeze then swept over her entirely, causing a fierce shiver to ripple up her spine. “Well, once I get home and get into the warmth of my bed, I will be.” 

“Yeah, you and me both,” Mike replied, bringing his hands to his mouth and blowing a little heat into them. It really was cold tonight, and that breeze didn't help. But hey, at least the rain had stopped and that meant he could save a little money on a cab. “Well, I should probably get going. Let you get closed up.” 

Disappointed, yet not surprised as Mike had been oblivious to her blatant attempts of flirting with him, and or, trying to get him home with her since he first started coming here, Callie offered him a sweet smile before she bid him a final goodnight — as they’d been saying it for the past hour as Mike kept saying he needed to go yet never did. She retreated a few steps back into the warmth of the bar, catching sight of him lingering outside until she’d securely locked the door and told him she was safe behind it. 

It was only then did he make his move to finally leave.

“Mike’s cute,” Came the sudden voice of her bartender, Abby, which made Callie jump terribly beneath her skin as she’d forgotten she was still inside. “He ask you out?” 

“No,” Callie exhaled, running her hand over her chest to help try and calm her heart down as she spun around to face the bar. It worked a little. She was still a little spooked as Abby often did just appear behind her without her realising, but she no longer felt like it was going to come bursting out of her chest and dance its way across the floor. “Not yet, anyway.”

Callie only added that part for herself, as she had to keep the faith that Mike would eventually put on his big boy pants and ask her out…before he ended up making her be the one to ask him. 

“That’s a shame,” Abby said, yet she didn’t seem too sympathetic for her friend as she wiped down the bar with a clean rag and hummed quietly to herself.

“Yeah,” Callie drew out, running her tongue over her teeth as she began to cross the bar. “You know Abby, you can just leave that. I’m too tired to tidy up tonight, so I’ll just do it myself tomorrow.” 

“You sure? Cause I don’t mind staying.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Callie nodded, a brief smile rising on her face as she leaned against the stool once occupied by Mike. “Go on home… I’m sure that boyfriend of yours won’t take too kindly to me keeping you any later.” 

“Right… Yeah, okay,” Abby said, with a touch of hesitancy as she set the rag down and wiped her hands on her apron. She untied it from around her waist, setting it under the bar before grabbing her purse and coat from beside it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Callie replied, following Abby with her eyes as she ventured into the back and left via the employee exit. 

As soon the sound of the door clicking shut met her ears, Callie let out a deep, relieved sigh at finally being alone after a day surrounded by drunks and Twilight fans. She didn’t even have anything Twilight related in the bar, aside from a glittery cocktail called ‘The Skin of a Killer’, that she rarely ever advertised and only added it because Abby was a fan, so she wasn’t even sure why they kept showing up and pretending as though this entire place was run by the Cullens. 

Nevertheless, she still pushed herself off the stool and began to tidy up at least a little bit, so that she wouldn’t be left too angry with herself in the morning. If there was one thing she hated even more than Twilight, it was having to open in the morning to the mess from the night before and so, after grabbing a mop and switching the jukebox to something a little calmer, Callie began to make a rough start on trying to keep the smell of beer out from within the slats of the wooden floor. 

It wasn’t too boring. She actually found cleaning to be rather therapeutic when there wasn’t anyone nagging in her ear telling her to do it. She always hated that. It made her no longer want to do the chore, but so long as no one was around to bug her, she didn’t overly mind tidying up. She carried on across the length of the bar, doing a little twirl with the mop handle at a rather upbeat part of the song before something caught her eye. Whatever it was, it was thin, black and it lay directly beneath the stool she had declared as Mike’s — as he always sat on the same one and she was honestly thinking about getting him a little plaque with his name on it. 

Anyway, she set the mop aside and crouched down, ignoring the pop of her knees as she picked up what she quickly came to recognise as a small leather ID wallet. Her brow furrowed a little, her finger sliding between the fold and when she flipped it open her eyes fully widened when she came to realise… it was Mike’s ID. 

Mike had dropped his very important, and extremely official looking, NYPD sergeant's identification on the floor. No doubt he needed that. No doubt he’d be frantically looking for it in the morning as he got ready for his shift, and given the fact that Callie didn’t have his phone number to call him and tell him where to pick it up from, as he’d yet to leave her it on the napkins she kept sliding at him, it left her with simply no other choice…

She’d have to bring it to him. She’d have to be the good samaritan she always prided herself on being and call into the precinct in the morning to hand the ID directly to Mike herself. 

Chapter 2 (coming soon) ->

[villagerain]

@steeleidolon --

It is as public as a public venue can be -- more or less. Not precisely the highest class of bars, End of the Line resides in the sliver between the transit station and the corkscrew tunnel vehicle access, and serves grounders who may need to wait for the train until last call as much as it serves Plate-dwellers looking for a taste of the underbelly without the grime of Wall Market.

It may as well be a speakeasy lifted from fifty years ago and deposited three hundred meters above the ground. Nicotine-stained brick and amber lights, wrought iron cup-stools, plush leather benches worn to a patina, a dark hardwood bar, real wood and brass in an age of synthetics, all paint a picture of run-down opulence.

And then there's the karaoke setup. Kunsel descends to whistles, the odd catcall, a tossed-crumpled gil note (with a phone number, it looks like), and then jeers as he cedes the stage and the microphone to an unsteady salaryman who is ruddy-faced and eager for the next song. Must be a regular. It's early yet as these places go and the crowd isn't that large.

Kunsel is mostly out of regs, not that over-knee boots and fitted trousers are terribly uncommon. The hug of long-sleeved mesh and angle-patterned dark fabric draw attention away from the lambent gleam of eyes in the dark. Not to say he did not bring the other half of his uniform--it's within sight in the clear-paneled gun cabinet behind the bar. Swords and coat, right next to someone's shotgun. Maybe the barkeep's. Maybe not.

Playing by the rules and all.

Kunsel helps himself to a perch on a stool right nearby with an air of sprezzatura he may not feel at the eerily familiar face.

"Oof. Why are you looking at me in that tone of voice?" He manages wry as he orders something strong and citrus-forward. Maybe he'll even get to finish it. "Was it that bad?"

A Turk outside of uniform is still a Turk. Balto has eschewed the usual suit jacket and white shirt for a satin, navy blue shirt buttoned up to his collarbone and white slacks, but he is not here without purpose. That delineation between profession and personal does not exist for him anymore. The higher you climb, the older you get, the smaller the view out that window becomes. 

SOLDIER First Class, Kunsel. Newly promoted. Not his usual type, but that hardly matters. 

Balto keeps his head bowed, providing his undivided attention as his companion’s rich baritenor shares space with the warmth from old-fashioned, power hungry incandescents and exposed brickwork walls. 

He's already nursing a drink by the time Kunsel snakes his way back through the rounded tables with their glossy, vinyl black marble finish. The ball of ice in his glass bobs on its amber bed as he sets it down and leans against the bartop on one elbow with his body angled towards Kunsel.

"You could benefit from vocal training." There's something resembling a grin on his face, more in his eyes than the line of his mouth as he meets Kunsel’s gaze over the top of his glasses. "It wasn't bad, objectively speaking."

Good enough to impress the crowd, although the reception of most any performance always improves with a pretty face.  

“I can’t complain anyway.” If not for a direct invitation to attend, he’d be sitting out in the cold on the rooftop right about now, half-asleep with a headset on. Good to know the brutal honesty approach isn’t a total wash. “So, why the change of heart?”

Balto breaks eye contact briefly to glance at the bartender as she slides an eye wateringly bright, orange cocktail across the way.

“Sector Eight Cocktail.” She looks between the two men beneath a fringe of brown bangs, guessing at their association perhaps, before the curiosity drowns somewhere in the need to address the demands of the bar’s other patrons. Attractive in the conventional sense, despite the fake lashes and dramatic winged liner. Balto catches her attention before she can turn away by wiggling his fingers ‘hello.’ 

“Hey pretty miss, I’ll have one too, please.”

[charactercreationgirl]

Kitchen Bar Stools Are Not Just For The Kitchen

How to choose the right barstool for your needs from the many different types. Find information learn more on rattan bar stools, western bar stools, retro bar stools, wooden bar stools and more.

You need different kinds of furniture at your home for different purposes. Some of them may be used daily while others are used occasionally. Kitchen bar stools are a part of the furniture that is used on a daily basis. In some cases they have become a mainstay of the home.

Bar stools are available in a large variety in terms of color, fabric and designs. The stores are full of numerous kinds of stools that may be casual, fun loving as well as formal. Before choosing a bar stool ensure that the design fits in with the overall design of your kitchen.

Mostly kitchen stools come in four different heights: 24 inches, 26 inches, 30 inches and 34 inches. There are 18 inch stools, but these are uncommon and are made to meet the requirement of short counters. The 24 and 26-inch stools are the most common sized stools for a standard kitchen counter. They come in all price brackets from moderate to expensive, with the swivel kitchen stools costing rather more.

If you are looking for a traditional style kitchen stools, go for something made of oak, pine, or other wood. The handcrafted designs on the legs and back can add an extra charm to the decoration of your kitchen or dining room.

Remember, kitchen stools may be used for several purposes, so you have to select the material that can withstand rough use, especially if you have a young family. Avoid stools that are made of soft wood and rather go for metal ones like chrome, aluminum, wrought iron, stainless steel or at least hard wood. Take note of the height of your counter tops and measure the seats height to the counter tops. Make sure that they are comfortable to sit in. Remember, your child will use the stools as well as you.

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Fruitful Moon Pt.4

Here's another chapter! Darrell Todd belongs to @bluecoolr

The Lycanthrope, feeling he had done a good deed retrieving Mr. Cuddles and sorted out if Miss Claudia was a threat or not, treated himself to a well earned glass of whiskey when he finally departed after a few hours that same night.

He leaned over his stool at the bar slowly turning the slightly dingy crystal glass in his hand. The vampiress had indeed not only been a threat but as passive and docile as one vampire could get only sustaining herself mainly through fruit juice. She also had quite the sweet tooth, being asked to have tea with her and being supplied with many a flaky chocolate confectionery. The pair sat on the porch with her handmaid's present, Claudia was cheerful, if a bit airheaded. But she was eternally grateful at the return of her beloved childhood toy.

That was a few weeks ago.

Since then, the pair had seen snippets of eachother but for the long lived life of him, Darrell’s heart ached to see her. Claudia was elegant, charming, poised and gorgeous. The southerner couldn't help but mapping out her adorable face in his mind. He would jump at any chance to see her again.

Darrell had walked into town, to clear his head and was stopped by a courier.

“Excuse me sir?”

Darrell looked back. “Can I help you?”

The courier looked flustered. Obviously a new hire at the post office and one not very in tune at talking to people. “Are you by any chance Darrell Todd? Or do you know him?”

The blonde snorted, putting on a friendly smile. Gotta keep up those appearances.

“That’d be me.”

The young man looked relieved. “ oh, Fantastic. Lady Claudia, up in the big house? She wanted me to pass this” He produced a letter with a beautiful wax seal that smelled like an apple orchard over to him. “To you. She asks that I give it to you with utmost haste, she paid me a handsome sum to get it into your hands. Have a good day, sir.” and with that, the courier walked off.

Darrell’s wolf-like nose picked up the scent of the orchard again that wafted from the sealed letter itself. Definitely, Claudia’s doing. The man couldn't help but chuckle. Sweet, just like her.

Breaking the seal, Darrell lifted up his hat a little, reading:

'Dear Mr. Todd,

I hope this letter finds you well.

A matter has come to my attention that would require your expertise.

Please come see me at the earliest convenience,

Yours,

Claudia Grey

Lady of the Grey Estate'

This is what Darrell had been waiting for, his chance to see her again. It was already too early to call upon her as she was most likely in bed by now as would be most of her maidstaff. He had time to kill until then. He was feeling sort of tired. He had pulled a long job last night, robbing a few travelers with his Pack, not that Claudia would need to know about that.

He decided to grab what he needed in town and head back to camp for some rest, He’d need it tonight.

Darrell stumbled out of his tent with a lazy yawn, stretching. Part of him still wishes he had that stuffed dog with him. He sort of liked cuddling with it.

“Hey boss, where ya headed this late?”

“ I got a job at the big house, The girl summoned me.”

“What? Seriously? You practically almost murdered her, why is she asking to see you again?”

Darrell shrugged, “what i'm about to find out. I’ll be back soon…”

Darrell took off in his wolf form, paws kicking up dirt and debris behind him as he sprinted, careful not to be seen by anyone and turned back, grimacing at the dirt under his freshly cut nails. He picked at them on the way through the wrought iron gate and up the stone steps, past the gargoyles standing silently at the entrance. The letter in his back pocket, he knocked.

Juliet answered the door, a smile on her face. “Mr. Todd I presume?”

He chuckled, tipping his hat. “Evenin’ Miss Juliet. The Lady of the house in?”

The door was opened wider. “Right this way.”

Darrell hadn't gotten a good look at the inside of the manor, it was lavishly furnished, polished marble floors, Columns and antiques that dated back quite a bit. He self continuously wiped his boots outside before walking in. “Thank ya kindly.”

Their footsteps echoed quite a bit into the sitting parlor where Claudia was sipping her tea.

A playful smile on her lips as she had already heard of Darrell’s arrival.

“Lady Grey? Mr. Todd is here as requested.” Juliet bowed and took a step back.

The vampiress set her tea cup down on its saucer with her pinky, standing.

“Darrell, how are you?”

“ S’been good, Lady Claudia. And yourself?”

“Still blind as a bat.”

At the joke they both chuckled, The Vampiress smiled. Oh how she wished she could see him, how handsome he sounded. The southerner took a seat at the table across from her and she sat. Her manicured fingers, running around the edge of her teacup. It was a usual porcelain piece with flowers. "Has my favorite teacup not been recovered?"

Juliet sighed. "No, I'm afraid not my lady."The lycan looked up. "a teacup?"

"It was her grandmother's. Pink marble, in the shape of a heart." Juliet piped up.

Darrell gave it a quick thought. Tea cup. Marble? The carriage had been recovered. So had the hapless coachman's remains. Perhaps the teacup would have been part of the spoils his pack had brought back.

"I suppose I could look around for it," he said, "If it should please the lady?"

Claudia looked up at him, hopeful and grateful at once. "Oh, yes! Please? ... sir?"

He had enjoyed tea with Claudia once again, being offered dinner and declining saying he had already eaten. Which wasn't a lie, he had a meal of Bear Stew which his camp cook had whipped up and was gone in seconds. Enjoying his time with her and hanging onto every word that she spoke. The way those adorable lips moved, her skin could have been mistaken for porcelain, how fair it was. And those eyes! From what he could see under those adorable bangs were a pair of glossed over pink pearls for eyes. She looked like a being that had been made from treasures.

The way she spoke was ladylike and gentle. But she was also charming! Why would she ever want to talk to a mongrel like himself? He almost killed her that day they met and here she was, chatting to him like a dear friend. Darrell couldn't help himself as they walked around the manor that evening. Claudia on his arm, trusting him to keep her safe with Juliet chaperone just a few feet behind. Darrell had to wonder, what exactly did she see in him?

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