#granite drink ledge

[manover40inlove]

Wine Cellar - Traditional Wine Cellar An example of a large, ornate wine cellar with display racks in a medium-tone wood floor and a brown floor.

[yuriandtea]

Wine Cellar New York

An example of a large, ornate wine cellar with display racks in a medium-tone wood floor and a brown floor.

[vancouverkitchenrenovation]

Modern Kitchens With Islands

Modern kitchens with islands can be a wonderful addition to your kitchen. They add function and style. They’re also an excellent way to create a more open space. This design includes a large peninsula that can be used for cooking, eating, or serving. You can even add a small bar ledge to the island – the perfect space to serve drinks and snacks.

Storage options

If you are looking for extra storage in your modern kitchen, consider an extra-long kitchen island. The long niche provides a sleek and efficient storage solution. In addition, you can showcase your china collection by placing it in an open-shelf unit. This way, you can maximize the space.

In addition to cabinets, kitchen islands can be equipped with shelves, cubbies, and drawers to provide even more storage. They can even include compartments for gadgets, glassware, wine glasses, pet bowls, and more.

Functionality

A modern kitchen with an island is a flexible space. The kitchen island can be a focal point or a standalone space for different activities. The height of the island can vary from bar height to worktop height. The sculptural shape of a kitchen island can complement the rest of the interior design.

A kitchen island can serve as additional counter space, and it also offers additional seating space. It can also serve as a storage space for ingredients or appliances. In addition, kitchen islands may include electrical outlets.

Design

Creating a modern kitchen with islands is a great way to incorporate functionality and space into your space. These versatile workstations can feature a wide range of designs and colors, as well as add a unique touch to your kitchen. In addition to adding extra storage, an island can also be used as a breakfast nook.

If space is limited in your kitchen, you might want to consider installing a smaller island with a dishwasher and sink beneath. Another option for small spaces is to create a tiered island. A tiered island has a bar space that tiers up from the main counter space. It also provides a raised area for dining and socializing.

Colors

If you’re planning a kitchen redo, you might want to take the kitchen island into consideration. This space is a good place to use an accent color. You can select a bold color that contrasts the main countertop, and use textiles and kitchen apron to accent it. You can also choose a lighter hue for the countertop and main cabinets.

Blue is a bold color, but it does not have to be overpowering. In fact, if you’re going with a feminine decor scheme, blue will make your kitchen feel more grounded and less overdone. The color pairs perfectly with stainless steel and is a great choice for a kitchen.

Structural pillars

Structural pillars can add an interesting feature to your kitchen island. By blending them in with other elements, you can create a focal point. You can choose an oversized pillar with a wood-grained finish for a rustic feel, or opt for exposed steel columns for an industrial or loft look.

These pillars can be used to build slim vertical bookcases or storage niches. You can also incorporate a wine rack. They can add to the overall aesthetic of your kitchen, so you must plan your kitchen around them.

Adding a breakfast bar

Adding a breakfast bar to a modern kitchen with an island can transform the space into a comfortable eating area. A raised butcher block bar is perfect for eat-in dining and for helping prepare food. A beige granite countertop provides ample space for mixing and preparing ingredients. You can even add stools to create a more social dining area.

Kitchen islands must be at least 4 feet wide and deep to accommodate a breakfast bar. Some manufacturers recommend adding an additional 18 inches of space below the island to accommodate a breakfast bar. Additionally, the island must be surrounded by at least one set of cabinets.

Adding a contrast island

To add color to a modern kitchen, consider an island in a contrasting color. You can choose a cool or warm hue. For instance, a cool blue island with white cabinets can add a relaxing feel. In addition, almost any color works well with neutral colors like white. However, make sure the intensity of the color is appropriate for the space.

Contrast islands have become a popular choice for homeowners who want to update their kitchens. They are simple to replace and can add a fresh feel to the heart of the home. Depending on the design, they can also be functional, such as a beverage refrigerator.

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The kitchen is often the heart of the home and plays a significant role in determining its overall appeal. If yours feels outdated or dated, you may feel less motivated to spend time cooking and eating in it. That’s why Vancouver kitchen Renovation is proud to bring you a Kitchen Design and Renovation package that will transform your space into something truly timeless and functional. Our Kitchen Design and Renovation packages will create a space that reflects your lifestyle and personality and gives you everything you need to cook delicious meals and entertain guests.

We understand that to be successful is to stay ahead of the curve. That means staying current with the latest technology and design trends. We always want to improve our products or services without breaking the bank. That’s why we stay connected to the latest technologies of NKBA, National Kitchen and Bath Association. In addition, at Vancouver Kitchen renovation, our primary focus is providing sustainable kitchen design and renovation packages, and we believe in sustainable living. Sustainable living is a way of life in harmony with nature. It is a lifestyle which focuses on the preservation of our environment. Sustainable living is a philosophy emphasizing respect for the environment and concern for its well-being. This means we should take care of the planet and treat it as if it were our home. We should try to preserve what we have and protect it from destruction. If we do this, we will enjoy the benefits of the earth’s resources for many generations. Whether you’re planning a major remodel or adding finishing touches to your current kitchen, we’d love to discuss your project. Book your showroom consultation online.

Main Areas of Service in British Columbia:

Vancouver

North Vancouver

West Vancouver

Burnaby

Coquitlam

Squamish

Whistler

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I work out my budget to renovate my kitchen?

These guidelines can help you determine your budget.

Begin by estimating the cost for materials required to remodel. These include countertops and appliances, cabinets, paints, tile, lighting fixtures, plumbing, hardware, as well as miscellaneous items.

Calculate the average cost of labor for your region. Add this figure to your overall budget.

Add the total value of all the labor and materials required to complete your job. Divide this number by the area of your kitchen. That gives you the estimated cost per square foot.

Subtract any savings from doing your own work or purchasing materials at an affordable price.

To cover any unforeseen costs, consider adding a contingency rate of 10 to 20%.

These are only estimates. A professional contractor can give you a better idea of the budget for your kitchen remodel.

With these guidelines, you can create a budget to renovate your kitchen. Your actual costs can vary depending upon the materials you select, the scope of the project, and other factors.

Do I have to first install a countertop?

When installing countertops and backsplash, make sure you install the countertop first. This will enable you to accurately measure the countertop and cut the backsplash so it fits perfectly. Not only is the countertop a necessary component for proper backsplash installation, but it also must be installed before any appliances or plumbing fixtures.

Is there a place for a fridge in the kitchen

The refrigerator is located between the stove and sink. The refrigerator should be located close to the cabinets so that you can quickly find what you need.

***

Does your new kitchen need planning permission?

Electrical and plumbing permits are required for any changes to the electrical or plumbing locations. A building permit may be required if structural changes are being made to your walls.

You should always check with your local authority before beginning any work if you aren’t sure if you need planning permission.

Statistics

According to Burgin, some hinges have this feature built-in, but it’s an add-on cost for other models of about $5 retail, adding up to $350 to $500 for an entire kitchen, depending on size. (hgtv.com)

It’s a fantastic thing about most home improvement projects: no matter the job. It often seems like the last 20% is the most difficult. (familyhandyman.com)

In the Pacific region (Alaska, California, Washington, and Oregon), according to Remodeling Magazine, that same midrange central kitchen remodel jumps to $72,513, and a major upscale kitchen remodels jumps up $11,823 from the national average to $143,333. (hgtv.com)

This is rather grim, but according to Business Insider, 12 percent of couples consider getting a divorce while renovating their home! (familyhandyman.com)

Experts also recommend setting aside 20 percent of your budget for surprises, including unpleasant demolition discoveries. One is water damage, the electricity that is not up to code, or other budget-spiking gotchas. (hgtv.com)

External Links

homeguide.com

2022 Kitchen Remodel Cost Estimator

Cost to Add A Room Per Foot

houzz.com

Houzz

Kitchen Workbook: 8 Essential Elements to a Craftsman Cookbook

homeadvisor.com

How much does it cost to remodel a kitchen? Compose: SEO

What Does a Kitchen Remodel Do to Increase Your Home’s Value? – HomeAdvisor

remodeling.hw.net

2021: Value vs. Cost

Cost vs. Value Project: Minor Kitchen Remodel

How To

How to design a kitchen layout

While there is no one right layout for every kitchen, certain layouts work best in specific spaces. Here are some suggestions for designing a kitchen that is best suited to your space.

Start with the essentials. The first step is determining what you need in your kitchen and what can be sacrificed. You may not require a large oven or stove if you don’t cook a lot.

Take into account the traffic flow. The second step is to consider how you and your family use the kitchen and how traffic flows through the space. You’ll need to allow enough space for people to move around and not get in the way of others.

Maximize storage. The third step in optimizing storage is to maximize your kitchen layout. This includes food storage as well as cookware storage. You’ll want to ensure everything has a place and is easily accessible.

Integrate your style. Fourth, incorporate your style into the kitchen design. This covers everything from the cabinets and countertops, to the flooring and appliances. You can choose finishes and materials that reflect your personal style.

Partner with a professional. Work with a professional designer to design your kitchen. They can help create a layout to meet all your needs.

The post Modern Kitchens With Islands first appeared on Vancouver Kitchen Renovation.

source https://vancouverkitchenrenovation.com/kitchens/modern-kitchens-with-islands/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=modern-kitchens-with-islands

[mostly-marvel-musings]

A Mere Mortal - Chapter Three

A/N: This story is based on the prompt : Vampires cannot enter a house without your permission, but what if your landlord’s a vampire? It’s his house, he’s just letting you live there. Part of the Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles . I’m super nervous about this one, so feedback’s most welcome!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 2570. Yep. This one’s a bit lengthy!

Warnings: 18+ stuff. Some smut!! Foul language. Vampire Diaries reference?

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore @ladyacrasia @tcc-gizmachine @alexakeyloveloki

Taglists open! Send me an ask if you wish to be tagged!

...

“What did you say?” your mouth hung open and eyes went wide as Bucky uttered those words.

He chuckled looking at your stunned expression and said, “You heard me. The town’s history is rich with legends and myths of vampires and ghouls. I’m sure you could find tons of books about them in the library.”

“That is fantastic! Oh my God I knew I chose this town for a reason!” you were practically giddy with excitement.

“You keep surprising me (Y/N). A normal reaction to this would either be a person packing up his things and getting the fuck outta here or laughing in my face.” He said as you both walked out of the store.

You rolled your eyes and repeated your previous statement, “And I’ll keep breaking the stereotypes Mr Barnes. I don’t usually fit into the ‘normal’ box. And it’s a good thing.”

It sure is, he thought gazing at your form in the street light. The warm glow of the sodium vapor lamps made your face appear warm and alluring. The cold air made your breath visible, creating wonderful patterns against the night sky. Your scent intoxicated his mind and he couldn’t simply say goodbye to you just yet.

“Let me walk you home doll, wouldn’t want you getting attacked by vampires on your first week here.” he said placing a hand on the small of your back as you both turned towards Chapel Street.

“I could kick his ass, I can kick box pretty well you know. Not outrun him though, if he’s anything like the ones in Vampire Diaries. You know where they go whoosh from one place to another in a second? Have you seen it?” you asked making an attempt to gesture the fast running from the show.

He doesn’t seem like a guy who would watch the teen shows with way too many hot vampire and hybrid guys. Why did you even ask that? You seemed to lose your ability to carry on a decent conversation with this guy. That was a first.

“Never mind. So gimme more information on the legends. I’ll pester Frank tomorrow at the library but nothing like stories heard from local peeps right?” you teased hoping he’d forget you had asked a stupid question initially.

“I’ve grown up listening to these stories from my grandma, my mom, just everybody. Though their versions vary slightly.

The one that’s stuck around for centuries is about Lucas and Morwenna Klyn.” Bucky looked at you, he had lowered his voice slightly and his hand hadn’t left its place from your back.

You were trying to adjust the weight of the shopping bags in your hands, but hearing those names you looked up and couldn’t help snort a laugh.

“They sure sound like names straight out of a horror book. Go on.”

“Morwenna was said to have migrated here from somewhere near Ireland about 200 years ago and had found this town most to her liking. She was this evil vampire who had witchy abilities-

“Like a hybrid? That’s one thing missing from the Vampire Diaries, they’ve got werewolf vampires but not witchy vampires. Oh but there’s that original witch Esther.”

It was like your mouth was out of control. Rambling absolute nonsense when this very hot guy was eager to tell you stories about his hometown.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why said that. I’m just a little crazy about all of this. I’ll keep my mouth shut now I promise.” You said physically putting a finger on your lips, adjusting the two bags in your left hand.

“I’ll forgive you this time.” He narrowed his impossibly gorgeous eyes seriously but the smile playing on his lips.

“So Morwenna had all sorts of powers, she was said to have the ability to control people’s minds, make them do her bidding. She met Lucas here in Dewsbury and he fell madly in love. Typical. Morwenna was beautiful, anybody would fall in love with her. She had a way with words too.

One day Lucas found her feeding on his younger sister Evelyn in these very woods. Her fangs dug deep in his sister’s neck, sucking the life out of her, Lucas watched in horror as Evelyn turned paler and paler in front of his eyes. He ran to stop her but was too late. Evelyn dropped to the ground like a piece of rock, her lifeless eyes still staring at Lucas even though there wasn’t any life in them anymore. Morwenna wiped the blood off her chin and approached Lucas, hunger still visible in her jet black eyes. She bared her fangs and Lucas made a run for his life.

Little did he know that she loved chasing her prey. Making them run for their lives, like feeble little lambs made her feel like a true hunter. She fed on him but didn’t kill him. Instead she turned him into a vampire. Evelyn’s ghost is said to haunt these woods till date. And here we are.” Bucky came to a stop abruptly.

“Whoa. You can’t leave me on this horrific info. I wanna know the rest.” You didn’t realize you reached your house so soon. You wanted to invite him in but he interrupted your thoughts.

“We’ll continue later. I’ve already taken up a lot of your time. You need rest (Y/N). Meet me for drinks at the pub tomorrow?” Bucky stuffed his hands back in his pockets and looked at you expectantly.

“Done. If you don’t show up at the pub on time, I’ll show up at your house and irritate the fuck out of you until you complete the story.” you threatened jokingly but you were very capable of doing that. Though you didn’t exactly know where he lived, you could figure it out sure.

He laughed out loud and the sound made your stomach do somersaults.

Even his laugh is fucking perfect.

“Relax I’ll be there. Goodnight (Y/N).”

He went for a handshake but you went for a side hug, you met somewhere awkwardly in between.

“Goodnight Bucky. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Even though you can kick box.” Bucky teased, making you chuckle.

He turned and started walking into the woods. You stared at his back for a good two minutes fighting the urge to say something but failed.

“Don’t let Evelyn haunt you in there.”

“Don’t worry I can kick box too.” He turned as he replied and shot you a wink.

You watched him until he disappeared into the night and turned to walk inside your house.

Setting the bags on your beige granite countertop, you looked out the kitchen window that overlooked the woods. They sure looked creepy, you were busy thinking about your extremely charming landlord though.

Smiling like an idiot, you were interrupted by a much too loud growl emitted from your belly.

“Shit! Dinner.”

…

You peeked open one eye to check the time, it read 6:01 am. You had woken up way too early. Maybe you could sleep in for a few more hours, but then you couldn’t once you were fully awake. Perils of being a light sleeper. Sprucing up the place seemed like a good idea, anyways there were a lot of boxes yet to be unpacked, especially your writing material.

What was the main reason for moving here? Writing!

And you were yet to set up your writer’s desk which you were very particular about. And couldn’t just have one writing spot. Inspiration struck at the most random places and situations and you had gotten pretty good at being prepared for that. It always helped to have a great view outside the window. Something about staring off into the distance made your brain come up with a thousand ideas.

The cabin bedroom was a large space, enough to set up a decent writing space. There was a ledge that ran along the bedroom window which was wide enough for you to sit and the bed was attached to it and it had the most gorgeous view of the woods; that would work too.

So you got to work after taking a shower and whipping up a quick breakfast for yourself.

A progress update meeting about your new book was in two months, which seemed like a long time but really you’d be needing all the time you could get to whip out another best seller. Which meant you needed to start writing as soon as possible.

After setting up the ‘work space’ you opened your computer, grabbed your glasses and stared at the blank word document for a few minutes.

Time to block out all the X rated thoughts about your super hot landlord (Y/N). Let’s get some work done, a draft, a outline structure, something. You can do this.

...

The concept of time soon lost on you once you began. It was going well, the ideas were flowing and you were typing them out at lightening speed.

A ding from your phone that lit up next to your laptop startled you out of your zone. It was a text from Bucky.

I’ll see you at the pub in fifteen? - James B

Had you really been writing for that long? Apparently you completely forgot about lunch. And now there wasn’t enough time.

Hurriedly you texted back a reply and got dressed. Drinks on an empty stomach never ended well in your case, you wished you had set an alarm or something.

...

You walked in the dimly lit pub and instantly the smell of booze and bar snacks filled your nostrils. You heard your name being called out from the far end and turned to see Bucky waving you over to a corner booth.

A warm smile on his face as you walked closer and you noticed he was wearing a leather jacket over a dark shirt, looking handsome as ever. He stood up to greet you in a hug.

“You look beautiful.” He said as you took off your jacket and sat opposite him on the semi circled sofa. This place looked like it belonged in the 80s. It probably did.

“Thanks you too.” your cheeks reddened further at your embarrassing response and the initial compliment, you closed your eyes and looked down. Fucking nerves.

Luckily he saved you by not dwelling on it further and asked what you’d have to drink.

“I’ll have the local beer please.”

Eyebrows raised in surprise as he probably saw you as a wine girl. You just shrugged at this point.

“Breaking stereotypes. Got it.” He replied nodding his head with a wide grin as he placed the order.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and soon you had that much too familiar buzz. You were in the middle of explaining a funny incident that happened with you and Sam, giggling way too much when you were interrupted.

“Well if its not the famous (Y/N).” the smooth accented voice reached your ears as you slowly turned to see Loki standing near your booth grinning down at the pair of you.

“Famous? Am I famous?” you grinned back, the edge clearly off at this point. Loki had creeped you out in your meeting.

You missed the slight disappointment on Bucky’s face as you invited Loki to join you guys. Of course he covered it up and slid over to sit next to you, protectively close as Loki sat opposite you.

“So (Y/N), are you enjoying our little town?” Loki put both his hands on the table and leaned over to speak.

“I really am. People are so nice here, I’m not used to that. And Dewsbury has the most fascinating history!”

“So you know about the vampires?” Loki smirked as he glanced at Bucky who was shooting him a warning look.

“Oh yeah in fact, Bucky never got to finish the story last night because it was too late. I’m here to know the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” you said a bit too dramatically.

Damn this stuff was strong.

The men entertained you with stories of their own for the rest of the night and asked you about your life. You felt quite safe and were enjoying the little flirty banter going on between the three of you. You definitely had one too many pints.

You stood up to leave and instantly the room spun before your eyes. Loki’s hands landed on your shoulders to keep you steady.

“You alright there darling?” he asked, gazing into your eyes. You placed your hands over his as you nodded slowly and giggled.

Suddenly you felt Bucky slide a protective arm around your waist and pull you to his side, earning an eye roll from Loki.

“I got her. Let’s get you home (Y/N).” He said as he walked you both out of the pub, leaving Loki behind.

“I didn’t take you for a light weight doll.” Bucky looked at you as you had your arms around him to keep you steady.

“I’m really not. I just, I skipped lunch today.” you kept your eyes on the road as you approached your cabin much quicker than you realized.

“I just got into writing and lost track of time, not because I skip meals. I love to eat!” you clarified with another small giggle, as you both came to a halt in front of the house.

“Don’t sleep on an empty stomach (Y/N). I hope you have some food at home. If not we can go somewhere-

“No need Sir, I have some leftovers in the fridge. Thank you for walking me home. Again. You’re the best.” you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek and lingered a bit.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind you ears and glanced at your lips. He really wanted to kiss you, know what you tasted like. Know how your body felt against his. Though now wasn’t the time, it would be taking advantage.

He said goodbye and watched you get in before turning back and walking home. At least you were safe.

...

Your body was on fire. Every touch every kiss made your head spin. He was leaving a trail of hot kisses down your jaw and neck before reaching the spot that made you moan loudly as he sucked hard.

You rolled over and straddled his hips placing your hands over his toned chest. You leaned down to kiss him and he sighed opening his mouth to allow your tongue to explore it further. The fight for dominance continued as his hands tugged your hair. You slid your own in his raven black hair.

You rolled your hips against his clothed erection earning another grunt from him. You were placing wet kisses down his torso almost reaching the waistband of his underwear when he grabbed you and spoke in that deep honey dripping voice,

“We have plenty of time for that later darling. Allow me to taste you first.” Your eyes flew open as you stared at Loki’s lust filled face.

Your skin was on fire still as you jolted awake. Your arousal evident between your legs as you sat up. Grabbing a bottle of water from the ledge you took a big swig and walked into the bathroom.

Loki smirked as he noticed your flustered state through your bedroom window, before he turned and vanished into the night.

...

[vaderssidechick]

Fic Snippet: What It Feels Like To Be Queen, Part III (Boba Fett/Fennec Shand Smut--(NSFW)

Explicit. Just Warnin’ Yas.

Posted on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531320

Rystall panted, poised on the tip of the choice to stay or run, when she suddenly cried out, “Hail Boba Fett, new Ruler of Tatooine!” 

Fennec’s hand clenched Boba’s arm with rising malice. But Fett said nothing, just merely smirked at the woman. Rystall’s posture relaxed a bit as she realized she wasn’t about to be immediately killed. She stepped a little closer to the couple. “I offer to serve you, Mighty One,” she said in thickly-accented Basic. She spread her pale palms, and even dared a seductive smile. “Like I used to. Remember, Fettttttt?” she purred.

Shand’s grip clamped even harder, and Fett could feel the rage shaking in it.

Rystall undulated forward, her eyes drooping with pretentious lust. “And of course, your frrriend here. I could serve her the same way, yesss? Forrrr you, Boba.” She reached for Fennec’s cheek...

Big mistake. 

That hand on Boba’s arm was quicker than a blink. It shot up and wrenched Rystall’s wrist up and back. Before she could take a breath to scream, she was pushed face-first into the sandstone wall, arm wretched back to the point of breaking, and a vibroblade humming across her long throat. 

“Touch me again,” Fennec hissed into the woman’s ear, “and I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it back to you.”

Rystall whimpered and shook against the wall. Boba ran a gloved hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the grin forming there. “Fenn.” Shand shot a glare back over her shoulder at him. “Easy, mesh’la. She’s harmless.”

Fennec lowered the blade from Rystall’s throat, but kept her arm bent and pressed into the wall. Fett sauntered to the poor girl’s side and leaned in her ear. “This is how you’ll serve me,” he rasped. “You’ll fetch my helmet and Fenn her codpiece. Then, you’ll bring us food and drink and towels and oils; you know where to. And then…” He grabbed her Rystall’s jaw in a duratseel grip, “you’ll get the fuck out.”

Rystall’s lips quivered in terror. Boba nodded curtly to Fennec, who took the cue and released her arm. Rystall gave a short pained cry before she stumbled and ran back to the throne room, darting frightened glances back behind her until she disappeared. 

As Fett came to Shand’s other side, she threw him a look dripping with acid. “Please tell me you didn’t stick your dick in that woman.”

Boba merely smirked as he leaned on the wall. “Just her throat. She’s good with that. Singer, you know.”

Fennec glared at him for a few more moments until the laugh she tried to suppress snorted through her nose. “Bastard.”

“Mood killed?” he asked with a raised bare brow. Fennec replied with a sighed moan before coming in and thrusting her mouth onto his, snaking her hand behind his head and her tongue along his lips and teeth. Fett took that as a no. 

But then, she pulled away and knit her brow. “Towels and oils? Are you saying there’s actual water-freshers in this place?”

He smirked. “Better. Come on, I want to show you something.” 

He slid an armored arm around her waist, leading her through the dark halls. They came upon an archway, then a staircase going down, which led to another set of stairs. As they descended, Fennec noted the air definitely smelled of moisture, more so with every downward step. Eventually, the desert-parched air became saturated with humidity. When they reached the bottom, Boba pulled a thickly-beaded curtain back and jerked his head. “Go on.”

Fennec stepped through. The place was pitch black, she couldn’t see a thing, but she could hear water sluicing and dripping. “Boba, what is this place?”

“Never been in this part of Jabba’s palace, have you? Probably because you weren’t a pleasure slave servicing a visiting mob boss.” 

Stepping around her, he raised a gauntlet and pointed it at the wall, igniting the flamethrower. A torch suddenly burst into light, and Fennec pulled a gasp as it lit up a massive underground pleasure grotto.

As Fett moved past her to fire up a few more wall sconces, Shand took it all in with a gaping mouth. An underground pool stretched what looked like at least a half kilometer into the palace’s bedrock, with a small waterfall in the middle, crashing onto boulders made of precious stones. Steam flowed over the surface, indicating it was heated by the belly of Tatooine itself. And all around it were couches of Arisand velvets, tables and lamps made of glass and iron, pits with mattresses donned with sheets and pillows of the finest silks and damasks the galaxy could offer. 

She stepped toward the edge of the massive pool. “This is a natural thermal spring. There’s… gotta be more freshwater here than in Mos’s Eisley and Espa combined,” she breathed.

“Exactly right. This is barely a fraction of what’s beneath us right now,” Fett replied. “Why do you think Jabba built this palace here? He controlled all the water for the entire Jundland Wastes and beyond. Control the water, and you control Tatooine.” 

Fennec huffed a short laugh, kicking herself for never putting the pieces together before. Of course this is why he wanted Jabba’s palace-- the building was nothing compared to what lay underneath it. 

Boba began shedding his armor, unlatching his breastplate, then his shoulder guards, tossing them on a nearby couch. “We’ll enjoy it tonight. And tomorrow, we negotiate with the Tuskens to give them a share.”

Okay, she hadn’t seen that piece falling. “The Tuskens? Why?”

Fett dropped onto the couch. “Jabba wasn’t stupid, but he was arrogant. He never partnered with the locals, just chose to dominate them.” He peeled off one knee rocket-launcher, then the other. “He took this place from a Tusken faction decades ago-- story goes he actually paid off a rogue Jedi to kill them all in the night.” He removed a boot. “I want to do things differently. Ally the Tuskens, bring them into the syndicate, give them a share. Have them at our disposal.”

“You mean,” she breathed, stepping toward him,  “our own personal army.”

Fett nodded as he took off the other boot. “One an off-world crime family would never see coming.” But he then stopped and looked over the rippling pool, thoughtful for a moment.

Shand noticed. “That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He slid his dark eyes back to her. “The Tuskens found me in the wastes after I escaped the Sarlacc. They could have left me to die, but they didn’t. They saved my life, healed me the best they could. I owe them.” Those eyes narrowed when she chuckled. “What?”

“You like to say you’re that not Mandalorian,” Shand said, “but you act like one sometimes with that whole honor thing. Like you did with that Mando and the little green kid.” She paused a moment before venturing, “Is that why you saved me? Paying it forward, as it were?”

Boba set his elbows on his knees, his brow was as stern as granite, his dark eyes as solid as basalt. “No. I saved you because Fennec Shand didn’t deserve to die handcuffed and defenseless at the hands of a two-credit punk with delusions of grandeur.” 

She started a bit at his claim, letting out a breath. But then she smiled. “Just as Boba Fett didn’t deserve to rot in the belly of a sand beast for a millennium.” 

Fett’s lip pulled up in a smirk just as his black eyes softened. “As I said, fate sometimes smiles upon the wretched.” He rose from the couch and undid his underobe, peeling it off and revealing his scarred barrel-chest. He gave her a leer. “You just gonna stand there or are you gonna get naked already?”

Fennec shot him a bemused look, then started unfastening her own garb, shrugging off the armorweave jacket first, then the shirt underneath. Boba undid his codpiece and trousers, sliding them off his hips and stepping out. Fennec narrowed her eyes and hummed in admiration of his cock jutting up and out, already hard and big for her. Before she could undo the rest of her pants, Fett was already on her, his big hands tearing at the fasteners, his thumbs pushing the waistband down her hips, his mouth and teeth already on her neck. 

He fisted one hand into her hair while groping her breast with the other, flicking the nipple into a hard little pebble. His smells of sweat, sand, blaster fire and her own cunt swirled in her senses. Fennec moaned and threw back her head, snaking her own hand down his meaty torso and grabbed his cock. She teased a slender finger along the slit of his glans, laving the pre-cum over it-- and there was a lot-- and then spreading it down to his hilt. 

Boba moved his hand down her body, mindful of the cybernetics in her abs, before cupping her cunt. “You’re a gorgeous piece of ass, Fenn,” he growled with that knee-buckling accent from deep in his chest right into her ear.

Most women would have taken that as degrading. But Fennec just laughed, knowing Fett’s own brand of sweet-nothings. But her laugh turned into a grunt when he pushed two fingers up inside her, hooking them to get at her G-spot just right. She bucked into his hand and tried to throw a leg around him, only to realize her pants were still around her boots. 

When she faltered and cursed, Boba chuckled and let her go, backing toward the pool. “Get those off and get in here,” he said before turning around and diving in. 

Fennec didn’t need to be told twice; her core was pulsing and clenching with unabashed need to be filled. She quickly stripped her boots and pants off and plunged into the pool. 

Fett had swum some ways out, finding a ledge under the water to sit on. He took a moment to just watch this beautiful woman glide through the water to him in the flickering torchlight, watching her black hair swirl over her athletic body, gripping himself and getting himself even harder for her.  

She emerged from under the water with a gasp for air and, without a moment’s hesitation, climbed on top of him. Boba gripped her neck with one hand and an ass cheek in the other, pulling her down and sinking his engorged cock into her in one rough move. Fennec crashed her lips into Fett’s, gorging on his mouth as she shamelessly rode him, clutching his bald head in both her hands. 

Her walls gripped his dick like a slicked fist, milking it with unrestrained ferocity. His wet hands played up and down her back as he grabbed her ass. He broke the kiss to stare unblinking into her eyes, lips curled in a feral snarl. “That’s it, baby,” he hissed through his clenched jaw, “take it, take what you want. It’s all yours.”

Fennec let out a throaty laugh wrapped around a groan, and whipped her wet hair over her shoulder without breaking her fierce stride. “You’re right, it IS all mine,” she growled, mimicking his snarl. “That means no more throat-kiffing any more of Jabba’s sloppy seconds, got it?”

Boba chuckled and fucked up hard inside her, eliciting a grunt from her throat. “I like when you get jealous.”

“Bastard,” she growled through a grin.

“Come on, show me, Fenn.” His hands landed on her hips, urging a new pace. “Cum on my dick. Show me what a bastard I am.”

Into her ears and straight down to her clit, Fennec pumped herself hard on him, up and down, in and in and in and in-- it was like her G-spot was sparking and shooting currents straight up her spine. She flung herself straight up on him, giving Fett a spectacular view of her tits bouncing and the light show of her cybernetics as she used him to chase her pleasure. Finally, wide-eyed and mouth agape, Fennec threw her head back and a stream of Huttese profanity erupted from her gullet as her entire body shook and clamped on his cock. 

It took all of his control not to cum with her-- but he wasn’t just done with her yet. Once again, Fett didn’t let her have her little afterglow. He pushed her off him and pushed back into the water, then turned around and grabbed a generous hold of her hair. Swimming to the other side, he pulled Fennec along on her back.

“BOBA!” she shrieked, uselessly grabbing at his hand, “you son of a bitch!”

“Easy there, princess,” he scoffed, “you got yours. Now it’s time to get mine.”

“Don’t call me ‘princess’!” Shand barked. “I hate that!” But underneath the bark, there was a hint of laughter. 

“As you wish, Queen.” He was answered by another half-furious growl.

There were steps on the other side leading out of the pool. Boba pulled Fennec into his arms and half-hoisted her onto his shoulder, carrying her out of the water. Fennec half-seriously, half-playfully thrashed around, slippery in his arms, beating her fists against his back. But when they reached a massive mattressed pit laden with Arisand pillows and he threw her down on her back, she stopped all pretense of struggle and just took him in. Fett stood over her in the torchlight; naked and proud, scarred and thickly muscled, his cock jutting hard and up, breathing heavy and looking at her like he was about to eat her alive. 

She smirked, shrugged, and spread her legs. “Well?”

Languidly, Boba took one step into the pillowed pit-- then pounced on her like a loth-wolf. Catching both her wrists in one hand, he thrust them over her head while gripping his cock with the other and sheathing it into her slick, swollen cunt full-hilt. 

Fennec howled and arched, wrapping her long legs around his back as Fett ploughed into her. Taking her wrists now in both hands, he still held her down as he held himself up and over her, snaring her eyes in his glare as he took her as savagely as she did him moments ago. His cock was a battering ram, stretching her wide and deep, pummeling her into a submission she’d never given to another. And she never would-- Boba Fett wasn’t just her partner nor her rescuer. He was, indeed, her king.  

His balls pulled tight inside him as his body tensed to the breaking point. He let go of Fennec’s wrists to shift himself and her, hooking his arms under her knees and crushing them into her chest. His pacing stuttered but his thrusts only picked up as he rammed himself into her, harder, harder, HARDER--

The tension snapped, and Fett erupted inside her with a violent slam of his hips and a low, guttural roar. He slid an arm out from under her knees and groped her breast as his seed spurted in waves, his hips snapping with every pulse. Fennec watched him with a leering smile, grasping his cock with her muscles, intent on draining every drop. But even as she did and looked up into his harsh face, twitching with aftershocks yet uncharacteristically content, a pang went through her: A lot of good it would do. 

Fett craned his neck back and forth, pulling long hard breaths as he softened inside her. He ran his calloused hand over her sinewy body, bending down to set his teeth to her breast and gently raking them across her nipple, then his tongue over the soft bite. He pulled out and rolled onto his back, his big chest heaving with breath. 

It wasn’t often Boba Fett smiled, but one crept across his battered face-- until he turned and saw Fennec staring up at the stone ceiling, her expression pinched and a little sad. “Eh,” he whispered, “what’s with the face?”

She pulled a long breath through her nose as her hand traveled absently down her body to rest on the cybernetics in her abs. “I can’t give you a kid. You know that, right?”

Boba rolled onto his elbow, his brow furrowed. “Where’d that come from?”

Shand shrugged. “King needs an heir, right? Even Jabba had a couple.”

“Fat good that did ‘im,” Boba grunted. “They were all picked off the minute word got out that he was dead.” He cupped her breast and leaned into her. “Fenn, even if you could, I couldn’t give you one either.” She rolled her head to him, surprise in her eyes. He smirked. “Why do you think my father wanted a clone for a son? Not like he didn’t have women beating his door down for the chance to have his kid.” He lazily rubbed her torso up and down. “You can do the math.”

Fennec gazed at him for a moment before smirking and covering his hand with her own. “We’re certainly a pair of the wretched, aren’t we?”

Both their attention suddenly focused on the grotto entrance when they heard the scuff of a shoe. Shand sat straight up, but Boba remained relaxed when Rystall appeared in the torchlight. Neither of them did anything to hide their nudity, but Fennec snorted a laugh through her nose as she watched the poor woman trying to balance a tray of food and drink in one arm while carrying Fett’s helmet with the other. When Rystall saw them lying there, she stumbled on her needle-thin heels, almost dropping the tray. Fennec would have given anything to have watched that lanky bitch stumble down those stairs.

Fett tossed a gesture at a table beside them. “Set the tray down here and put my helmet with the rest of my armor.” 

Rystall complied, shakily bending at the knee to place the tray on the table. Fennec waited until the tray was stable before grabbing a pillow and hurling it at Rystall. “And then get THE FUCK OUT,” she snarled. 

Poor Rystall shrieked and stumbled on her heels as she ran out, throwing the helmet and Fennec’s codpiece on the sofa as she fled. Fennec leaned back on her elbows and turned to Boba, a satisfied smirk playing across her lips.

He mimicked her smirk as he took her in. Love was not a word that had ever made it into Fett’s vernacular. But damned if he hadn’t chosen his Queen well. 

[smolgloves]

G/t inktober day 6: Sweets

The night of Hallow's eve was coming to an end. The bean of the house had turned off his light to keep the trick or treaters from coming to his house. But the bowl of leftover candy sat on the counter, and those fun size chocolate bars had your name written all over them. 

You stood on top of the cabinets in the dark, to get a good vantage point of your surroundings. You had to make sure the coast was clear, as the last thing you wanted was to get caught by someone. But as the night went on, the quieter and quieter the house grew. Now was the time to strike!

Pulling out your grappling hook, you wedged it into the old wooden frame of the cabinet, after a few tugs on the rope, you deemed it was safe and descended down towards your destination. Once your feet hit the granite counter, you made a quick dash across the counter. You passed by the bottles of alcohol that towered above you and hopped across the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, then you finally reached your destination. 

The bowl was black, with white skeletons painted around the surface, a festive look for such a holiday. Most of the candy was gone, safe for the smaller ones that laid on the bottom, which meant you would have to climb into the bowl to retrieve your chocolate. 

Wasting no time, you pulled yourself up onto the ledge and tumble down to the other side, crashing into the candy corn. The smell of artificial sugar wafted into your nostrils, you've never been around so many sweets before, it was almost intoxicating. But you were on a mission, and you weren't going to stop until you got your chocolate. So you crawled through the candy littered around you and dug around the bowl. You started to worry that the bean had given away all the chocolate, until your hand brushed against a familiar rectangular shape. Using all your strength, you pulled the candy into view and read the label. Finally! The fun size chocolate bar! You eagerly shoved the small bar into your bag and started to crawl back over to the edge of the bowl, ready to climb out of it.

That's when the lights flickered on. You squeezed your eyes shut from the blinding light. The sound of footsteps made your heart skip a beat, the bean was here. You quickly laid yourself flat on the ground, and hoped that the candy would conceal you. A shadow cast over you, causing your body to freeze in place. But you felt yourself slide around as the bowl shifted upwards. 

Oh no, you were trapped! Your brain went into overdrive, desperately trying to think of a quick way to escape, but everything was interrupted when you felt something brush against your arm. You glanced over and saw a hand that had a skull with bulging eyes grabbing candy. The hand was so close to your face that you could practically feel the heat that radiated off of it. Without thinking, you gasped and pushed yourself away, kicking candy away in the process. 

"Huh?" The voice rumbled from above. 

Everything froze in place. Even you couldn't move a muscle as the dreadful feeling of being watched loomed over you. But your heart kept pounding in your chest, to the point where you thought you were going to have a heart attack! Somehow, you found the courage to move. You slowly craned your neck up, eyes trailing past his tattooed covered arms, above the white t-shirt that covered his chest, until your eyes finally landed on his face. You've seen the bean before but this time he looked way different.

His dark black hair was disheveled, his skin looked green and decayed. His blue eyes were smeared with something black, making the color pop out more as he stared down at you, and blood stained the corners of his mouth that gaped open. Terror latched onto you and refused to let go. You let out a scream so loud you could feel the man flinch, you scrambled back towards the end of the bowl, tripping over candy along the way. You tried to scurry up the bowl but the smooth surface caused you to slip back to the bottom. 

"Holy shit!" You heard the man yell out. He rushed over to the counter and placed the candy bowl down, causing your body to lurched forward. His hands withdrew from the dish, which would have made you feel a little better if he wasn't towering directly over you. "You're an actual tiny person! I knew I wasn't going crazy!"

What did he mean by that, did he always know you were here before? How would he have known you were here? Then you remembered the party he had a month ago. He and his buddies had been drinking, and you slipped into his office to get some paper clips. He stumbled in while you were on his desk, but you thought you slipped away before he saw you! 

"No, no no!" Reality set in, the likelihood of you escaping out of this was slim. You began fearing what he might do to you, would he kill you or torture you? You've heard that many humans like to go out on this very night and commit the worst kind of crimes, so you wouldn't be surprised if the zombified man would do the same. 

"Hey, don't freak out, small fry!" He reassured. "It's just makeup!" 

He grabbed a paper towel and ran it under the sink. He wiped it across his face and neck to reveal his tan skin, and the couple tattoos that were hidden behind his ear and neck. You could even see a scruff forming around his lips and chin once all the blood was wiped away. He lifted the dirty rag in your view. "See, you don't need to be scared." 

"I know it's just makeup!" You shouted as you shook your head violently. "That doesn't help make you look any less scary!" 

"Is there anything I can do to help you out?" 

"You have to let me go, and forget you ever saw me!" 

"Well, I can let you go, but, I don't think I have enough alcohol to forget about a little person." He chuckled and gestured over to the bottles that sat behind you. 

"Wait, you'll let me go?" You stared up at him in shock.

The man just shrugged. "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"M...Most beans don't like it when they find my kind taking their stuff." You averted your eyes away from his gaze. "Even if it is just the stuff they wouldn't care about." 

"Well, just so you know, I'm not an asshole." He scoffed. "So you can have as much Halloween candy as you can carry!" 

"Do you mean that?" You gasped. 

He flashed you a smile. "Hell yeah, if you need food, help yourself. And don't be afraid to ask for something, I'll help you out." 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing! Was this some sort of trick? You tried to read him for any red flags but all you could find was sincerity. You let out a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how much that means to me." 

"So you gotta name, small fry? I'm Zacky by the way." 

You smiled. "It's Y/N." 

"Well, Y/N, Halloween isn't over yet, and I was just about to put on a horror movie tonight. Care to join me?" 

"What movie is it?" 

"Nightmare on Elm Street, it's a classic." 

"Don't think I've ever heard of that one." You admitted. 

"What? Now you gotta join me!" He insisted. "I'll bring more candy."

"Make it those fun size chocolate bars, and you got yourself a deal." You said. 

Zacky chuckled. "Alright, then it's settled." He strolled over to the pantry and pulled out a half full bag of chocolate bars. He returned back, ready to dump the bars into the bowl when he looked down at you. 

"Would you mind if I uh… moved you?" 

You couldn't help but tense up. You've never been picked up by a human before, just the very idea of it would make a borrower shutter! But for some reason, you felt like you could trust Zacky enough to do that. If he wanted to grab you, he would have already done it, besides it would be faster than you trying to climb out of the bowl yourself. 

"As long as you're quick about it." You told him. 

Zacky nodded and reached forward with his hand. Fingers brushed against your sides, and you would soon feel them lightly pinching your torso as you were lifted up from the bowl. You gripped onto his finger, focusing on the ink that rested on it rather than the feeling of dangling in the air. Before you knew it, your feet touched the smooth counter and the pressure from your torso was released. You didn't realize that you held your breath until Zacky pulled his hand away. 

"Not bad?" He asked. 

"Could have been worse." You shrugged.

"Good, cause I'm gonna have to do that again to bring you over to the theatre room." He shook the bag and tiny chocolate bars poured out into the bowl. Your eyes lit up, you could be stocked up on chocolate until Christmas if you could carry that much chocolate. 

Zacky glanced over at you. "Alright, I hope your ready, Y/N. This movie is pretty scary."

You crossed your arms. "I already had to deal with you, I'm sure I can handle a movie." 

Zacky chuckled. "Whatever you say, small fry." He reached out again but this time, he laid his hand out flat on the counter, waiting for you to get on. You crawled onto his hand and felt it rise again, this was certainly a better way to hold a borrower. You watched the world move around you in a blur. Never in your life did you think you would ever agree to watch a scary movie with a bean, but anything could happen on Hallow's eve. 

[vernoncallum45852]

MARLE AND GRANITE COUNTERS

During the most recent decade, every upscale kitchen and washrooms have moved towards strong surface ledges, with an emphasis on regular stone materials like rock and marble. Stroll into any architect home, and you'll discover gritty kitchens and washrooms with earth tones, tile and record surfaces, and obviously counters. Yet, cleaning and thinking about cleaned stone surfaces is not quite the same as cleaning down an old formica or butcher square counter. 

Marble and rock need uncommon sealants and cleaners to keep them putting their best self forward and keeping up their attractive features throughout the long term. Underneath, we will audit probably the best stone cleaners and sealants, and furthermore investigate marble care and cleaning. With some additional work, you can keep your restroom and kitchen looking like new.

Of the two stones, rock is substantially more solid and intense than marble. The precipices of Yosemite are strong rock, and they have faced several years of disintegrating ice sheets - they can likely deal with your kitchen! Stone is harder (however shockingly more permeable) than marble, opposes most synthetics, and can withstand high warmth and temperatures better, for example, putting hot pots and skillet straightforwardly on its surface. 

Rock likewise doesn't chip or break like other stone materials. Stone likewise arrives in a colossal assortment of hues, from dull dark and grays, to oranges and greens, to creams and white. Rock allots a 7 of 10 on the Mohs hardness scale, which means a measure 6 metal cutting blade won't scratch it - once more, this makes stone a prime possibility for kitchen surfaces.

Marble is an a lot milder stone, yet in reality LESS permeable stone than rock. Marble is essentially the packed shells of antiquated ocean animals - calcium carbonate, which implies it is liable to contact with acidic substances, including soft drinks, ketchup, and squeezed orange or lemonade. It very well may be harmed by cleaning with unforgiving compound, even things like lemon or vinegar cleaning arrangements. 

You additionally don't have any desire to utilize rough chemicals or powders, or grating scrubbers like steel fleece. Particularly when marble is utilized in a washroom setting, you should be cautious for things like hairspray which can damage the marble surface.

How might I secure my rock ledges? This is a typical inquiry for mortgage holders that plunk down a great many dollars for costly marble and rock. The initial step is to apply a stone sealant - ordinarily this is done at first when the counter is introduced by the stone proficient. Unlocked rock is semi-permeable, and wine, oil, water and different fluids can be consumed causing stains, particularly on lighter hued stones. 

Nonetheless, even the cleaned finish of dark rock can show the signs of fluid ingestion stains. Utilizing a sealant, the pores of the stone are "fixed", protecting the counter from harm. Most experts suggest fixing your rock and marble each year. You can test for yourself by setting a couple of water drops on the spotless counter and checking whether they hold their ideal air pocket shape following 15 or 20 minutes - on the off chance that they have started to spread out and diffuse, chance are your counter is engrossing some fluid. Most rock sealants come in shower structure, however some additionally come in fluid. 

You either shower or wipe them generously on the outside of the counter, permit to set in, and afterward apply a subsequent coat (follow the headings on your particular sealant item) if necessary, permit to stand, at that point clear off and clean counter as would be expected. Where would i be able to purchase stone and ledge sealant? Attempt Marble-Cleaning- for a choice of rock and marble sealers - Granite Guard Protector ("Granite Guard Protector creates an imperceptible hindrance, keeping recoloring from food, water, oil and earth; since they remain on the stone's surface, for simple cleaning") is $23 for a 16 oz. size jug, which seal up to 400 square feet of stone. 

They likewise sell the NeutraClean Cleanser for Granite - $9 for a 32 oz. bottle. Likewise look at - they offer an assortment of rock cleaning items and sealant items. They have Stone Spray N Seal ($39 for a quart) and Marbamist Stone Counter Cleaner ($25 per gallon). They likewise offer Stoneglide wipes, which are getting more well known as a cleaning elective. Like a moist paper towel, you snatch one and wipe down your counters, without showering, without wreck. Cost is $14 for 50 sheets, which could last you just about 2 months at 1 every day.

So plan on fixing your rock or marble counters each year, and plan on cleaning them with exceptional marble and stone cleaning items. Evade 409 and other conventional cleaning items - pick rock and marble planned cleaners. With a little exertion, you will keep your counters liberated from soil, germs, and scratches for a long time.

[ritacaroline]

Starshine Ch. 52 Jimmy Page Fan Fiction

The next morning, Jimmy opened his eyes and realized Jill was pressed up tightly against him, with the covers held tightly around herself, up to her neck. Unusual, he thought. He carefully pulled himself out of the tiny space that she

had backed him up into, during the night. He went to use the bathroom and shower, while allowing her to rest longer.

As he reentered the bedroom, Jill’s eyes were open and she was rubbing them and stretching too.

Jim : Good morning my beautiful girl. How are you this morning ?

Jill : Well, could be better. I had a crazy night.

Jim : Really ? What was wrong ? By the way, it smells like smoke in here !

Jill : Ha !  So it does.

Jim : Why ? Did you notice it too ?

Jill : Oh my goodness. Yes. Yes I did. I do. That’s just the beginning of it. .

Jim : What ? Beginning of what ?

He walked toward the window to look out at the weather for a moment. Jill’s eyes followed him, in his towel skirt,  as he approached the window. 

Jim : (while looking/touching at the window ledge.) Hey. There are tobacco ashes here on this window sill. Also, these blinds are totally closed. I left them partially open for light. Did you close them during the night ?

Jill : (smiling, shaking her head.) Nope. But I’ll tell you all about it. At breakfast. 

She rose and put her arms around her love and kissed his luscious lips. Then went in for a shower. Left him standing there smiling.

Once they were dressed and ready, they joined their group at their table in the dining hall. As they settled into their spaces, drinking some fantastic brewed coffee, Gary approached. He faced Jill and spoke, “ Ms. Gartenhaus, I’ve shared your story from last evening with the other staff people here. And may I say, they were all astonished and in sheer awe of your experiences. The chef, particularly was fascinated. As a result, some aging baking recipes have been located in an unused cabinet this morning. The chef immediately directed the kitchen crew to prepare the old blueberry scone recipe for this morning’s meal. And by the way, the entire ancient book of recipes are now being reprinted and added, staggeringly, to our current menus.”

Gary handed a basket of baked goods to Jill. And low and behold - it smelled heavenly and filled with the scones.. Jill was astonished as she lifted one out of the basket, with a soft smile on her face. She noticed there was some letters carved into the bottom of each one. “Hmm. Z.G. ….that’s for Zach ? Zach Griffins ?” she asked. 

Gary : No. For our chef. Her name is Zoey Graham.“

Jim : What an amazing coincidence. Z.G.

Gary : Coincidence ? Or fate ?  And by the way, an elder staffman here mentioned that Mr. Griffins was buried on the grounds here. Of which I had no idea. Just near the entrance to the bridge, maybe 50 yards into the woods. You are welcome to visit his grave, perhaps, before you leave, if you like.

They all tried the blueberry scones, with butter. Which were as delicious and moist as a baked treat could be. Gary was then called away, which gave Jill a chance to share with the table and Jimmy, the events of the spooky encounter in their room last night. Jimmy‘s mouth was agape and he looked as though his now glassy eyes were about to pop out of his head.  

Jim : Jill, I can’t believe you didn’t wake me for this ! But, truthfully, honestly could it have been a dream ?

Jill : No, how could it have been ? Especially keeping in mind, that you saw ashes on the window sill this morning, and smelled smoke. Probably from his pipe. And the blinds were fully closed when you got up. And I swear I didn’t touch them.

Everyone was tingling with a touch of fright and intrigue. Chills travelling up their spines. After their meal, the entire group treaded off toward the bridge. The air was crisp and fresh. The colorful leaves were still covered in droplets of water from the night. It had just rained and the sky was still dark and cloudy. As they arrived at the bridge, Percy spoke, 

Percy : Hey. Look. There’s a small plaque here. Nailed to the rail of the bridge here. It reads : This bridge honors the life of Zacharias Griffins. Sea Captain of the Royal Navy. Died here in a hunting accident 1935. Rest In Peace.

Peter :  Well, the poor guy. He lived a strong honest life but died too young. And he still provides his services to this very day !

Jill spotted a gravestone standing in the distance, among some trees. They all ventured over. The group gazed at Zach’s gravestone and said a silent prayer. Jill pulled from her jacket pocket, a lone blueberry scone she had wrapped in a few napkins. She placed it atop Zach’s granite grave stone. “Bless you, friend.” she said. And they all traipsed back to the castle to pack up and head homeward.

The day so far had been grey, dark and heavily overcast. The castle concierge loaded the group’s luggage into the van. Jimmy, Jill and Percy sat in the very back seating of the van, peering out the back window as they prepared to take off. Suddenly, as he gazed toward Griffins Bridge, Jim spoke out in an excited voice, and pointing, “People !  Look, there by the bridge.” Jill and Percy viewed to where he pointed.   A dim grey figure stood spookily at the foot of the bridge, holding a lit lantern. Motionless. His arm up in the air as a silent farewell, to probably the first people he’d spoken with, in the last 43 yrs.  He was in the far distance, so no other details could be seen, just the figure. All three received a sharp strike of electric jolt through their bones at the site of him.

“What a trip.‘ announced Jill. “Hope he enjoys the scone !

Next chap 53 : https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/188329663376/starshine-ch-53-jimmy-page

Chapter Index for “Starshine” is located at bottom section of Ch.1 ,  click here :

https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/184383708541/starshine-ch-1-jimmy

Link to “In The Light” - (original fan fiction)     https://ritacaroline.tumblr.com/post/173286165501/in-the-light-jimmy-page-fan-fiction

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[k00kie-krumbl3]

Baby Blues

Sleeping soundly on my comfortable bed, I was resting well. Key word: was. That was until my oldest sister, Elaine, bursted through my doors.

“Ugh get up you slob! Wake up! I need you to get out and hang out with your friends or do something because I’m throwing a party,” she scolded, grabbing my legs and pulling me off my bed.

“Elaine! Stop it!” I yelled, throwing the comforter off of me and glaring at her.

“I saw you and Jimin were getting kind of close last Friday,” she smirked, making me glower at her.

“I wasn’t. He’s just very clingy and wanted to be friends,” I told her, walking around my room to put on some clothes.

“Well don’t think your special. He wants to be friends with everyone,” Elaine jabbed.

“God what did I ever do to you?” I asked, getting sick and tired of her snarky comments,

“I just need you to stay away from my friends,” she sneered, glaring at me.

“Fine! I don’t need friends anyway. Ha. I don’t want them actually,” I commented, walking over to the bathroom and slamming it shut.

“You’re such a drama queen,” I heard Elaine sneer as she walked back downstairs. Turning on the shower, I could feel hot tears stream down my face. It really was troublesome having two older sisters who were admired, while I was looked down upon.

Soon calming down, I turned off the shower, quickly getting dressed. I grabbed my headphones and phone. Deciding today will be a nice day to head to the park.

———————

{Jimin’s POV}

Knocking on the door of the (l/n)’s. Eliza was the person who opened it. Her blue eyes sparkled, her freckles more noticeable as her cheeks were dusted with a light pink, her long light brown hair was put up into a messy bun.

“Hi Jimin, come in. You’re early,” she whispered, a bit shy.

“Oh. I hope you don’t mind?” I asked, soon groaning in frustration. “I should’ve asked prior, I’m sorry,” I told her, shaking my head in frustration.

“Oh no Jiminie. It’s okay! I was just saying that-“

“Oh Jimin you’re here,” Elaine soon spoke out, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the kitchen, her hazel green eyes bright, her light straight blondish brown hair bobbing up and down as she walked to the kitchen. “When are you guys going to finally date?” She asked, lifting herself up on the granite counter.

“Huh? Oh I thought she was-”

“Dating Namjoon?” Elaine finished, giggling after and shaking her head no. “She’s single, but you guys would be really cute.”

“Oh.”

“I know that you want to be friends with that weird girl from Chem or whatever, but like you already have someone that is willing to be with you as well!” Elaine exclaimed, giving me a cheerful smile and blinking her eyelashes at me bashfully.

“Well I don’t mind if she’s weird or what not. I mean I personally like weird. Hello? Jungkook?” I told her, making her giggle.

“How is Jungkook by the way?” She asked, her cheeks soon dusting up into a shade of pink.

“Aren’t you with Hobi?” I asked,

“Ugh, I don’t mean it in that way! I just... I just want to know how he’s doing!” Elaine said honestly,

“He’s good I guess. He’s coming over since Taehyung invited him so it’s okay,” I told her.

~~~~~~~

Once everyone showed up, Hoseok was talking to Elaine, his usual heart-shaped smile gone. Walking over I soon overheard the conversation taking place.

“Why is it that your little sister is asking me to text her when the party is over?” He asked, Elaine’s usual big doe-like eyes now narrowed as she glared at him.

“It doesn’t concern you,” she quipped back,

“It kind of does. Don’t think I forgot what you two did to her with-” glancing over he soon saw me walk over to grab a drink. “Don’t mind me,” I told Hoseok, giving him a smile as he returned it, the smile quickly dropping as he looked back at Elaine.

“We’ll talk about this later El, I don’t want to deal with this as of right now,” Hoseok replied, walking off.

“Wait! How did you know?” Elaine asked him, glancing at Jimin before looking back at Hobi.

“(Y/n) told me,” he answered, my ears peeking up at the mention of (y/n)’s name. As Elaine began to walk towards me, I turned around and looked at her sullen state.

“You good?” I asked her,

“Yeah. Yeah it’s just my sister...” she replied,

“Eliza?” I asked,

“No my little sister... (y/n).” She huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Eli!” Elaine called out, Eliza soon showing up with Jungkook right next to her.

“Yes?”

“Call (y/n) and tell her to come over, Hobi’s mad.” Elaine told her, anger and annoyance rolling off of her.

“(Y/n)?” Jungkook asked,

“It’s no one important. Anyways, how’s your photography skills coming along?” Elaine asked, hooking her arms around Jungkook as she walked off to the living room. Leaving Eliza with Jimin.

“Did-“

“Don’t worry about it, Jimin. Just a sibling quarrel, this is normal for siblings you know!” She said, twiddling her thumbs around, cheeks back to a rosy red.

“Okay. Hey I heard you just got into painting?” I asked, leading her away from the kitchen.

—————————

{Y/n’s POV}

Sitting down on the swing set, my music was soon interrupted by my phone ringing, indicating that someone was calling me. Looking down at the caller, I soon noticed it was Eliza.

Clicking the green button, I put the phone against my ear.

“Yes?” I asked,

“Oh hey!” The person answered,

“Wait... Jimin?! How did you get my sister’s phone?!” I asked, confusion written all over my face.

“Oh! Um she’s in the bathroom and told me to call you so I did,” he chuckled,

“What for?” I questioned glumly,

“To come back to the house. Hobi isn’t very happy with El at the moment for what she did,” Jimin replied.

“Oh. Ugh of course it was Hobi, I forgot my sister is the reincarnation of the devil,” I mumbled, hearing Jimin’s laugh at the end, a little squeak soon bubbling out.

I couldn’t help but to find it adorable, my lips quirking up.

“I’ll come over, I just need you to go to my room and open the door. Not a big fan of people and socializing,” I told Jimin.

“Uh which one is your room?” He asked,

“Far one on the left, across from the bathroom,” I told him.

“Upstairs?!”

“Yup! That’s the one!” I inquired,

“Wouldn’t you get hurt climbing up?” He asked, a bit concerned.

“Nope. Done it a couple times when I need to get away from the she-devil at night.”

“As in you sneak out?” He asked, “you naughty girl~”

“Oh shush!” I scolded, soon getting off the swing set and heading back home. “The window open?” I asked him, only to see the pink haired boy pop out. Giving me a smile, his eyes soon scrunched up to, giving me three smiles instead as they looked like eye smiles.

“Yup,” he replied. Soon hanging up.

Grabbing the holes from the fences, I quickly reached up to the ledge of my window, feeling Jimin’s arm wrap around my wrist as he pulled me up only for the both of us to tumble down onto my bed. Straddling his hips, I couldn’t help but to laugh at the situation.

“Thanks Pinky,” I told him, looking at him, his cheeks were a dark shade of red.

“O-of course,” he gulped.

Soon getting off of him, I sent a quick text to Hobi letting him know not to worry about me as I made it to my room safely.

“So where d-” but before he can continue I cut him off.

“Before we continue this conversation, I think it’s best you give my sister her phone, don’t want the wicked witch of the west to come storming up these stairs and start complaining that I’m trying to “steal” her friends,” I told him, seeing his sullen face soon turn to one of happiness.

“So I can stay?” He asked,

“Sure! Just like make sure Elaine doesn’t know.” I told him. As he quickly left, I couldn’t help the fond smile as Jimin left. Sighing, I couldn’t help but to wonder why the universe keeps bringing him back into my live. Hearing the door open, again I looked up ready to talk to Jimin only to see Elaine there.

“Why was Jimin in your room?”

“It’s not what it looks like I was just... asking for help on my chemistry class,” I lied.

“As if, I know you like to play dumb sometimes but you’re way to smart to be confused on something,” she stated,

“Glad to know you actually think I’m good at something.” I mumbled, missing the way her eyes flashed in hurt, but only to go away, replaced with fiery anger.

“Literally (y/n) stay the hell away from Jimin. Eliza already called dibs.” But before she can walk away I felt a boiling pot of rage.

“Oh so if you guys have a crush on someone I need to back off. But if I have a crush on someone it’s okay for you guys to take them away from me? Actually no not a crush. My boyfriend!” I yelled,

“Oh my god (y/n)! Get over it! We didn’t know!”

“Bull shit!” I yelled, grabbing the nearest thing, a pillow, and throwing it at her.

“Don’t throw things at me!” Elaine sneered,

“Then fuck off! Get out of my room! You’re such a bitch!” I yelled, hot tears streaming down my face, “god you have it so easy! Yet you have to make my life a living hell. Get the fuck out!”

Slamming the door, I slid down onto the floor, hiccups and rain drops of tears falling down. Looking at my phone, I called the only person who I know will help me.

Allen.

Previous: Promises, Promises Next: Lipstick Stains & Bruises

[royal-writer]

Right from the start

I knew that I’d found a home for my heart

---

Essätha lifted her head. Her fantasy dissolved from the novel drawing images in her mind, pitched back into reality from the sound of a spade hitting the earth. With a fingernail held to the line she was upon, her head tilted to listen for another sound that did not return. Only her breathing lifting the atmosphere, stirring the loose wavy hair framing her face.

She tried to focus on the last word she’d read, and the shovel struck the ground once more.

Grabbing the bookmark scrap of paper she’d kept of one of her beloved’s striking floral sketches, Essie gently shut the book and laid it aside. She brushed aside wisps of hair with her hand, blowing curls away with a whisper of wind. Her gaze curiously ventured to the window behind her, illuminating the sitting area for a good reading light.

The vantage point did not offer her a clue to the sound of the digging, however.

Determined as she was inquisitive, Essätha stood up to smooth her sundress down before trailing out of the room. Her fingers reached, grazing the doorframe lazily as she trailed across the cool floor on bare feet. The soft padding of her feet barely made a sound as she approached the french doors that lead out to the balcony.

Stepping out, the stonework balcony was quite warm beneath her toes. Where sunlight touched her, the warm undertones soaked in the rays to add a deep glow in her skin. For a moment she squinted; her eyes as golden as the sun above, while tentatively stepping closer to the railing.

She bumped into the edge and screwed up her eyes as they adjusted to the scorching rays. As her vision adjusted, she spotted the shirtless figure in loose slacks carefully patting soil around a small bush of peony flowers. She recalled the sprout that had been in the house some time ago; only just beginning to bud last she she observed it. Now in a bloom, the healthy thriving plant was being given its place among the other elaborate flora in the garden.

An adoring smile began to grow, and grow, and grow upon her face. She leaned over the edge of the railing columns to study the man; sunkissed from days of yardwork, a bit sunburned in the faintest hue of pink. His black hair had been trimmed shorter recently, but it made her long no less to card her fingers through them. She did however, pout when he’d shaven and preened the fine topiary of his beard recently, stating summer’s heat was making it too hot to have it grown so much. She’d grown used to those damn whiskers; the soft tickling when their cheeks nuzzled, and now he was merely a shadow of scruff.

He gave a loud huff, leaning back to huff as he wiped upon his sweat-dappled brow. Sensing none of her observation or quiet pining as she bent over the ledge, Lord Amon reached for a canteen of water nearby to take a large drink, allowing some of the water to spill out on his face and down his chest.

Essätha swallowed, and took a private moment to glance away to examine the other flowers before looking back to see him pouring the rest of the contents around the peonies base, turning the dirt nearly black. He gave the plant a final check, bending his head around to see if the transplant had caused it any harm, before standing to brush himself off.

His eyes, somehow, must have caught sight of the extended shadow from the balcony, and he looked sharply up with surprise.

Sinking back down so she no longer lounged over on the tips of her toes, Essätha offered a sheepish wave in the curl of her fingers.

Even so far away, she could see his extraordinary bright smile beam right back up at her. He raised a hand in greeting, before placing it below his ribcage and offering a dignified bow that made laughter well up in her like a fountain’s spring.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Essätha is the sun,” Amon cried up to her with a passionate plea of his hand towards her. “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon; who is already pale and sick with grief. That thou; her maid, art far more fair than she.”

“The moon is not even out to compare to!” she giggled, offering a dismissive wave of her hand. “You quote me Shakespeare and cast me as Juilet. I thought myself more a Perdita.”

“My darling Essätha, you are neither,” the nobleman replied. “You are only yourself. If I had the creative ingenious of a poet, I would read to you how the world and all her gold pales in comparison to you: precious, alluring, and compassionate.”

The smile tugging upon her lips made her cheeks ache. Settling her elbows upon the hard granite, she propped her chin upon her hands.

“Your sweet-nothings are all the artistic romance I need, my love,” she confessed.

Amon placed a hand over his heart in a gesture she’d touched him. His eyes were hard to read from this distance; dark and blinded by the sun, but his expression made her shiver regardless. His posture, his face; she could feel his love wash over her like an embrace. His eyes she could picture as though he was standing right before her, looking down at her. It was like being at the bottom of the ocean; being within the center of the darkest part of the universe. A place coldness did not touch despite the deep hues.

It made her tingle; down her spine, in her toes, to the roots of her scalp. His gaze, always protective, genuine, and adoring. The world floated so far away and she, a cradled pearl; a speck of starlight glistening in his regard, hidden securely in his arms.

She watched, slightly puzzled, as Amon raised his hand away from his heart. He took a step forward, taking a deep breath, and the depth of his voice carried in a tender ballad she recognized all too well:

“Wise men say: only fools rush in; but I can’t help falling in love with you.”

The heat of the sun was nothing compared to the inferno burning in her face. Emitting a shaky exhale she sank, her arms folding into the railing, where she could rest her cheek against her forearm.

“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?”

Essätha melted. Her smile grew softer; more relaxed as she blinked in dreamy affection.

“If I can’t help, falling in love with you?”

Another sigh tumbled out of her chest. Her hips gave the slightest sway to the charming serenade of his voice; the melody in her head. The cascade of black waves from her hair fell in her face, and she pushed them back to better see her handsome nobleman, and beloved husband.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be,” Amon sang, striding forward another step. His eyes remained fixated; an encouraging smile privately for her. Only made for her. The special kind that lit up his eyes, softened his features, made him appear vulnerable and delicate as the flowers he grew.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too.”

Wordlessly, Essie mouthed the next lyrics along with him: “For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” he held his hand out further, outstretched, as if he could touch her with sheer will; reaching for the stars glittering in her brown eyes like new galaxies.

“Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

She hummed quietly now, pitching him the tune as she shifted her weight to one foot. The other, she tapped rhythmically against the stonework.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life, too. For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

He took another breath; this one hitching, and the sound of his voice wavered, damn near cracked as he rasped off in a flourishing finish, his eyes shining, drawing it out, “For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

This was love. Real love. Not the gesture; as lavish and sentimental as it was. No, it was in his tone; in his regard; in his posture. The performance for her; but the words, the meaning within them, was honest and endearing. The way he cherished those lyrics; held such a special, meaningful song just for her. The yearning curl in his fingers that said he only wanted her. Too far too touch, but still he hopefully reached out.

He true, and truly himself, and openly doting his heart’s fondness without regret.

She was forced to swallow a few times to make sure her voice was even, staring down upon the perfect sculpture of his face; the hard shape of his nose, how the stubborn lines in his face were nearly invisible beneath his broad smile and the raise of his eyebrows in a silent look of anticipation. He was truly magnificent in so many ways that there were no words in any known language to describe how beautiful he was, from the inside out, or how much she loved him. Only her heart, in the way it felt light and fluttered warmly beneath her breast; pulse jumping, knew the tongue they could only speak to each other.

“You honor me with your pleasant voice, m’lord Amon,” she softly called down. “If you would meet me upstairs, I would be happy to show my gratitude.”

He grinned a bit harder. “What does my lady offer?”

A lazy laugh rolled out of her. “A kiss, for my distinguished gentleman suitor and gallant life-partner who woos my heart.”

Amon scoffed, although he appeared slightly more flush. “You would still kiss me, covered in sweat, earth, and who knows what else?” he teased.

“I have kissed you covered in worse,” she reminded him, not daring to specify with an inward shudder. Blood did not make for a comforting kiss.

He seemed statuesque; standing still, staring up at her ledge. She was still weakly lounging into the banter, resting her face in her arms like a pillow and watching him beneath veiled half-closed eyes. Everything in her slump shoulders and serene posture exuded tranquility and calm. His flirtatious flattery made her faint-hearted and soft.

“If I was a younger man, I would try scaling to you,” he ventured aloud.

She snorted trying to withhold her laughter. “I think the stairs would be a more efficient method, beloved,” she snickered. “I would rather have my sappy husband unharmed then you dare breaking something climbing to steal a kiss like some love-struck romeo.”

His expression soured, and he sneered: “Romeo knows nothing of love in his short infatuation, compared to what I feel for you.”

Well, she couldn’t disagree with him. Propping her elbow up a bit, she raised her head to better look down upon him.

“Shall I thank you in person simply like this?” she mocked playfully once more. “Or will you come meet me, my dear husband?”

Amon’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morn. “Wait right there!” he remarked with hasty excitement, scrambling for the door.

She laughed once more, boisterous this time. “I’ll wait forever if I must; you needn’t rush.”

“Wait right there, I’ll be right up!”

He barely tossed a look over his shoulder at her; all glistening tanned and sunburnt skin, witty smile, and sharp warm eyes, before closing the door behind him in a haste.

Essätha gave a heavenly sigh, and rested her face against her arms once more before pushing herself up. Her limbs stretched; a satisfied groan in her throat, and she sauntered for the balcony door and the cooler air inside the manor. The sound of heavy boots, echoing all the way down the stairwell headed her way enthusiastically.

She shivered expectedly; hardly able to bare waiting to fall into his loving arms once again.

[forestbansheee]

The Alliance of Founding Families pt.2

Dreamt:9/19/18

~~~~~~

“Grams?”

Audrey set her keys on the counter next to the door. The washing machine hummed softly and the small laundry room smelled pleasantly of detergent. She shut the door behind her and walked to the old fridge to grab one of the water bottles she’d left in there this morning. The plastic capped popped with a snap and she downed as much as she could until the frosty water made her headache.

“Grams?” She repeated, louder this time. She opened the door to the kitchen and peeked around the corner. Nothing. She sighed. Grams was probably taking a nap. The TV in the living room was playing some daytime talk show on a low volume, not an abnormal sight for this time of day. Audrey stretched her sore muscles and leaned against the cool granite countertop of the bar. She eyed the line of liquor bottles intently. God, she could use more than a few drinks after that training session with Elijah. It was a brutal four hours of intense hand to hand combat and conditioning that ended with her wanting to beat his head in with one of the electrified spears. His stupid, frustrating, handsome face...

Audrey felt her face heat and groaned. She set the water bottle down on the counter and reached for a glass. A gin and tonic sure as hell wouldn’t hurt the situation. She poured herself a drink.

The worst part was that as weird and different as he was acting now, I had seen him with this armor peeled back. He was sweet. He made corny jokes and terrible puns that made everyone groan. He loved to read about obscure historical events and he loved to research things. And... There was the chemistry. Lingering looks, inside jokes, electricity felt with every touch shared, even during training. Soul-bearing late night conversations. He knew her better than Alice, or any of her other friends did at this point... And then, suddenly, he just stopped. Stopped. They made plans and he never showed up, leaving her waiting in the rain. And then he practically vanished for a few days, only to resurface and go on a strange tangent about professionalism. He now kept her at an arm's distance and it hurt. The only texts he ever sent her now were the ones saying when to be at the center for training. Not even Alice or Mike could figure out what was up with him.

And the worst part of it all was that Audrey still couldn’t get him out of her mind. He still made her blush every time he got close, every time they brushed hands.

Audrey glared at the device on her wrist, knowing that she could, theoretically, ring him and tell him off instantaneously if she chose to do so. It was so tempting, but Audrey pinned that thought on the gin.

Instead, she examined the sleek black watch closely. To an outsider, the watch would look like any other tech-watch that would monitor fitness and receive texts and all of that. It was a smart disguise.

Audrey realized that she still hadn’t seen her grandmother. She set her drink down, thinking that if she was taking a nap, she should probably check on her. Audrey popped off my shoes by the bar, glad to feel the cold tile on my sore feet. Awkward, poorly shot commercials for local businesses flashed across the TV as she walked past and softly pushed open the cracked door to her bedroom.

“Grams?” She whispered. When she stepped inside, she expected to see her sleeping, petite figure illuminated dimly by the afternoon light from the blinds. But instead, the bed was empty. Audrey frowned. Quickly, she checked her bathroom. It was dark and as empty as the bedroom was. Maybe she was just upstairs and couldn’t hear me calling for her, Audrey thought.

She left her grandmother’s bedroom and went to the stairs with a gradual sinking feeling in my stomach, yet she couldn’t quite figure out why. Logically, she knew that she would probably find her surrounded by boxes of old clothes that she had decided to sort through on a whim.

“Grams! Are you up there?” Audrey called louder this time, almost shouting. She was nearing the very top of the stairs when she heard it; the low, chirping growl.

Her stomach dropped to her knees.

Shaking, Audrey backed down a step and raised her wrist to her mouth and pressed the red button on the side. Immediately, the screen lit up, showing that she was sending a message out to everyone at once.

“Audrey to team,” she whispered, slowly backing down the stairs. “Something is in my house. Need backup immediately.”

She heard the growl again and on instinct reached for her belt to grab for a weapon, but there was none there. Her mind raced, trying to remember what defense items she had stashed in the house. Her specialized items were kept in her room upstairs, and since she had no idea where the creature was, retrieving those was not an option. The best she could do was a knife from the kitchen.

She quickly darted down the stairs and to the kitchen to search for the largest knives I could find. Her hands were shaking. Where was Grams? What the hell had this thing done to her? She felt sick and resisted the urge to throw up in the sink.

Urgently, Audrey radioed the team again. “Audrey to team. There is something in my house and I can’t access my weapons. I need back up immediately.”

Why weren’t they answering? Everything felt wrong. Audrey looked at the laundry room door, where her car keys were, and considered bolting. Maybe Grams wasn’t in the house at all, maybe she was just across the street with the neighbors, or at a church event. Yes. That was the most likely case. Grams was at the church playing bingo or something, which meant Audrey had to get out of the house, call for backup, and make sure Grams stayed away in the meantime.

She was halfway to the laundry room when a voice came from upstairs.

“Audrey! Audrey help!”

Her blood ran cold. Immediately, she ran to the stairs with the largest kitchen knife they owned clutched in her hand. Audrey pressed the red button on her watch and pushed it like a switch, effectively turning the situation into a live, continuous broadcast.

“Audrey to team. I need backup now! It has my grandmother… I’m going in.”

Near the top of the stairs, she peered through the railing and over the ledge to see the large sitting room in the middle of the upstairs. It was empty and clear. My room was the very first door to the right at the landing of the stairs and, with my knife ready, I pushed it open.

Nothing seemed to be amiss in here. Quickly, I grabbed with my free hand for the long, specialized blade I kept in my desk drawer and traded out my weapons and continued to search. I felt more secure now, knowing that this blade could actually kill this thing. But at the same time, I felt hopeless. Why weren’t they answering me? What was going on?

Stealthily, she moved through the connecting rooms of the upstairs with her wrist held to her face. In a whisper, Audrey once again repeated her plea for help. But still, no one answered. She fought the tears welling in her eyes.

Audrey was walking out of the connecting bedroom and into the den space when out of the corner of her eye she saw a dark mass hurl itself over the banister of the stairs. She tried to turn, but it was too late. The creature slammed into her with icy skin and knocked her to the floor. The blade flew out of her hand and she yelped. Faster than she could gather her wits, it had curled its tendrils around her wrists and yanked her sore arms apart and up over her head. It crouched over her, tightening its grip and leaning the weight of its large body on her wrists. Audrey cried out in pain. As she struggled against its grasp, the demon leaned in with its leathery face until it was inches from her own. She could see herself reflected in its large black eyes before it opened its mouth, hitting her with its hot, foul-smelling breath. The teeth, which were two double rows of fangs at least five inches long, were almost brushing her forehead.

But, it had left her legs free. Audrey kicked the creature’s sensitive stomach relentlessly, and as hard as she possibly could.

As it screeched and recoiled, she was released from its grasp. Audrey grabbed her knife and drove it into its shoulder. The skin hissed and bubbled where it was struck. She scrambled to her feet while it was preoccupied with its wounds. She screamed into the watch as she stumbled.

“I need help!”

In a second, the creature was bounding towards her again, screaming with rage. She dodged the tendrils, cutting one off in the process. When lunged towards her, she slashed at it and felt its blood fall hot on her skin, burning her. There was no possible way that she could kill this thing herself. Her only option of survival was to escape. When the creature swung at Audrey again, she buried her blade in its arm and sprinted down the stairs as fast as she could, her heart beating in her ears.

"Help, I need help!” She screamed into her watch in hope that someone, anyone would hear. “Please! Please, somebody!” But her last cries were drowned out by the unnatural screech of the demon as it dropped down the open top of the stairs and crawled on to the banister. Audrey screamed, dodging violent tendrils that then smashed into their china cabinet, shattering her grandmother’s crystal collection. She ran through the living room as fast as her legs could take her. She just needed to get to her car, and then she would be safe. They couldn’t outrun cars, could they? She didn’t remember.

Audrey heard the whistling sound of something cutting through the air and felt an icy tendril wrap around her leg. In less than a second, she was yanked to the ground. She was not even two feet away from the laundry room door.

The creature slowed. Its sense of angry urgency was now gone. Somehow, the demon knew that she was weaponless, and now it wanted to play with its dinner. It let out an awful growl that vibrated in her bones. It stopped moving towards her and instead began slowing dragging her to itself. Struggling only made the pain from the toxins that coated its tendrils worse, but she did so nonetheless.

It was the cat, and she was the mouse.

A sob choked from the back of her throat. It cocked its head and made unnerving chirping sounds. She screamed.

“No! No, please!” It only kept pulling her closer.

“Help, please! Please...” She sobbed. Audrey frantically tried to reach out and grab anything near, which happened to be one of her tennis shoes. She chucked it at the demon’s head, which did nothing. It was at her feet now. More tendrils wrapped up and around her body, squeezing her limbs in a grip so cold that it burned. She screamed again as it shifted itself over her, and she was pinned down against the floor.

She was going to die. She was going to die alone and eaten by a demon, and her grandmother would never truly know what happened to her. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks and blurred her vision from the horribly ugly face of the creature. Audrey’s entire body was erupting in pain from the tendril’s poisons. She was screaming, screaming for help, for somebody please, please help. As the creature wrapped a tendril around her throat, she faintly heard herself scream out for Elijah.

And then everything fell away.

———

[vampireadamooc]

As Always: text is provided only in the event of access expiration or post deletions from the hosting site. Whenever possible, always read the article at the link.

Note: https://www.vnews.com/Woodstock-vampire-lore-18668228

Among the Undead in Woodstock

(Shawn Braley illustration)

By EmmaJean Holley Valley News Staff Writer Monday, July 09, 2018

By modern-day standards, 20-year-old Frederick Ransom was dead to begin with.

But when someone died of tuberculosis in 1817, one could never be too careful. Before modern medicine shed light on the idea of contagion, even doctors in Woodstock thought that a string of deaths within a household could be due to a vampire in the family, who would return from the grave to feast on the lives of their kin.

Ransom’s brother, Daniel, was only 3 years old at the time of Frederick’s death. But he would recall for the rest of his life how much it frightened him when a local physician, Dr. Frost, paid a visit to their home — it seems that more than he remembered Frederick, Daniel remembered “keeping shy of the Doctor, fearing he would freeze me,” he wrote some 80 years later in his memoir, an excerpt of which was provided by the Woodstock History Center’s education coordinator, Jennie Shurtleff.

Had Daniel known what was coming, he might have feared being burned instead. The antidote for vampirism was thought to lie in a cauldron over a flame.

These exorcisms involved exhuming the suspected vampire from their grave, and examining the corpse for symptoms of being undead: bloating, blood around the mouth, blood in the heart or liver, hair and nails that continued to grow after death. To protect others in the family from the same fate, the blood-filled organs of the dead were to be burned down to cinders, and often consumed in some way — eaten, imbibed or inhaled — by their relatives.

Ransom’s father figured it might be wise to take precautions. So the Dartmouth College student was disinterred, his consumptive heart cut out of his body and burned in a blacksmith’s forge on the Woodstock Village Green.

“However, it did not prove a remedy,” Daniel Ransom wrote, “for mother, sister, and two brothers died with that disease afterward.”

Tuberculosis has existed since ancient times, but was in Ransom’s day called consumption, for the way it seems to eat away at a person’s body, leaving them wasted and pallid. Today, we know that the airborne disease is caused by breathing in the rod-shaped bacillus bacteria, which spread through the lungs and form nodules that the Encyclopedia Brittanica characterizes with the unfortunate descriptor of “cheeselike.” These masses may create cavities in the lungs and will eventually destroy the respiratory tissue, a death that sometimes takes years.

Late in the 19th century, doctors would begin to prescribe certain climates for tubercular patients— clean air, fresh air, mountain air, desert air, ocean air — and sanitariums opened throughout the United States and Europe as treatment facilities for those who could afford them. In 1882, the German pathologist Robert Koch would discover the microbe that causes the illness, Mycobacterium tuberculosis.

Half a century passed before drugs were discovered that could treat TB. The first cure, an antibiotic compound called streptomycin, would be discovered in the early 1940s, and in the 1950s would become widely available in the Western world, eliminating tuberculosis as the death sentence and public health menace it once was.

But of course, the microscopic processes of the body were invisible to the townspeople of Woodstock in the early 19th century. What they could see was the blood — bright red spots of it that would bloom into the victims’ handkerchief or pillowcase when they coughed — and the deadliness of the disease, which killed one in seven people in the United States at the time, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. More than half of those infected would die.

Outbreaks started in colonial New England around the 1730s, and by the 1800s had become a bloody stain on the collective imagination: If there was indeed something consuming the settlers, its appetite seemed bottomless. The ceremonial burning of Frederick Ransom’s heart was one of many similar exorcisms that took place during the New England vampire panic, the best known of which might have been that of Mercy Lena Brown, in Exeter, R.I.

According to the folklorist Michael Bell, who wrote Food for the Dead: On the Trail of New England’s Vampires, these affairs were often held in secret, under cloak of darkness and glow of lantern — but in Vermont, they tended to be more public events, sometimes even convivial ones. Bell’s book states that town selectmen and other community leaders would often preside over or even perform the ceremonies, which could draw crowds of 100 or more.

Like the existence of vampires themselves, some of these ceremonies have been difficult to verify, the truth having been tweaked and embellished by tellings and retellings over time. But Frederick Ransom has not been the only suspected vampire to plague the people of Woodstock.

In 1830, another exorcism of a tuberculosis victim — this one a young man in the Corwin family — is said to have taken place, also on the village green. The exorcism story, supposedly an eyewitness account from an old woman who was present at the ceremony as a girl, first appeared in the Journal of American Folk-Lore in 1889, and in 1890 was reprinted in The Vermont Standard.

Six months after Corwin died, his brother started showing the telltale signs of consumption. So the dead man was dug up from his grave in Cushing Cemetery, about a mile outside the town center on Old River Road, his heart found “undecayed, and containing liquid blood.” Physicians in Woodstock — including the founders of the Vermont Medical College — agreed that this was a case of “assured vampirism,” the article states.

The exorcism supposedly drew “a large concourse of people,” including such prominent townspeople as Norman Williams (for whom the town library is named), and other “old men of renown, sound minded fathers among the community, discreet careful men,” the story goes.

Into the cauldron the bloody heart went, “until it was no more than ashes,” Shurtleff said. After the townspeople were satisfied with the obliterated condition of the organ, they placed it 15 feet deep in the ground, and covered it with a seven-ton block of granite from the Knox Ledge, a nearby quarry on the hill behind Lincoln Street.

They filled the remaining hole back up with earth. Then, to be safe, they sprinkled the granite-sealed grave with more blood — this coming from a bullock, or young castrated bull.

These exorcism traditions did not spring from nowhere — the relationship between burned cardiovascular tissue and consumption also played out on the 19th-century American frontier, where eating a fried rattlesnake heart was regarded as a cure for the disease — and in fact are rooted in medieval times, such as the bullock blood from the Corwin story, which harkens back to a time when the colonist’s ancestors would spill the blood of a sacrificed animal as a rite of purification.

And so when the bullock blood soaked into the earth over Corwin’s grave, the townspeople thought that was that. Except it wasn’t, Shurtleff said. Not quite.

“A few years later, a group of people, having heard about the burial of the heart, decided to dig it up — and got scared off,” Shurtleff said. “Rock, pot, ashes and all had disappeared.”

The 1890 Vermont Standard story, adding on to the original journal article, reported that the hooligans had had a brush with hell: “They heard a roaring noise, however, as of some great conflagration, going on in the bowels of the earth, and a smell of sulphur began to fill the cavity, whereupon, in some alarm they hurried to the surface, filled up the hole again, and went their way. It is reported that considerable disturbance took place on the surface of the ground for several days, where the hole had been dug, some rumblings and shaking of the earth, and some smoke was emitted.”

Shurtleff is quick to point out that none of this — not Corwin, not the woman, not the ritual proceedings and certainly not the underground conflagration — should be taken at face value.

“We’ve done some research,” Shurtleff said. “We are unable to verify any of the facts.” There is no Corwin grave in Cushing Cemetery, at least not one that this reporter — or other investigators — have been able to find. Based on town records, Shurtleff can’t be sure the man even existed. The article’s writer does not provide the old woman’s name, or any other evidence to corroborate the story, and Shurtleff suspects that the account reflects an alchemy of misremembered details, fiction and the dramatic enhancements of time.

But it is a compelling tale nonetheless, one whose longevity illustrates the human impulse to understand the most ghastly of natural mysteries, and from where, in our desperation, we may cobble together our most satisfying explanations. In her book Our Vampires, Ourselves, scholar Nina Auerbach writes, “Every age embraces the vampire it needs.”

Every age and also, Auerbach notes, many cultures. In Greek mythology, the demigoddess Empusa seduced young men in order to drink their blood and feast on their flesh. An undead Old Norse creature called a draugr, who could change size and who smelled of decay, also stalked and fed on the living. In India, there’s lore of a vampire who feeds specifically on the livers of its victims. A vampire in Japan dines on infants.

Perhaps it can be easier to believe in the supernatural than it is to accept having so little control over the human body, the human life.

“Where medical science failed, folklore took over,” said the paranormal investigator Thomas D’Agostino in a 2010 Standard story that revisited the Woodstock vampire history, which received a mention in D’Agostino’s then-recent book. It seems that, with scientific understanding of disease lying years into the future, the townspeople of Woodstock looked, instead, to the past.

Put another way: Even if we know all we will ever know about the suspected vampirism in Woodstock — and the precautions taken against that vampirism — they make for good stories. And good stories can tell their own kind of truth.

EmmaJean Holley can be reached at ejholley@ vnews*com or 603-xxx-xxxx.

[livingcorner]

How to Create a Succulent Garden (in 7 Easy Steps) – LawnStarter

Easy, simple, and effortless landscaping doesn’t have to come at a price. Not if you know how to create a succulent garden. These water-storing plants offer your landscape some of the most diverse textures and colors found in nature, and you hardly need to lift a finger to help them grow.

You're reading: How to Create a Succulent Garden (in 7 Easy Steps) – LawnStarter

Planting succulents in your front yard is as easy as keeping these drought-tolerant plants alive. After you wipe your hands of the dirt, you needn’t worry about providing constant plant care. Your succulents need only a sip of water once every week or two.

So grab your trowel, slip on your garden gloves, and slap on some sunscreen –– it’s time to create your own DIY outdoor succulent garden.

What is a Succulent Garden?

Photo Credit: Quang Nguyen Vinh / Pexels

Succulents are fleshy plants that store water in their leaves and stems. They grow in various shapes, sizes, and colors, and often have beautiful spirals, frills, and rosette patterns. A few even produce breathtaking flowers with stunning color pallets.

Succulent gardens are low-maintenance and perfect for the first-time grower who can water the garden only every one or two weeks.

Most succulent plants tend to prefer mild climates, where the temperature doesn’t get too hot or too cold. If you live in an area with frigid winters, you may wish to grow your succulents in a container garden so you can bring them inside as house plants. But if you live in a temperate area, a succulent garden can grow well outside in your yard.

How to Create a Succulent Garden (in 7 Steps)

Photo Credit: Mã Min / Pexels

1. Gather Materials for Your Succulent Garden

You want a succulent garden because it’s low-maintenance, right? Building a succulent garden is pretty simple, too, if you have the right materials.

A garden area you can’t wait to show off.

Your favorite succulents (but you’ll buy those later).

A soil mix with good drainage that includes organic matter and coarse drainage material, such as sand, grit, pumice, perlite, small gravel, or crushed granite.

A trowel for transplanting.

Gardening gloves.

2. Know your plant hardiness zone

Some succulents cannot survive extreme temperatures. Check your plant hardiness zone to confirm which succulents will grow best in your area. Some plants will grow better in your zone than others.

Note: Some succulents are more cold-hardy than others and may be great for your garden, despite freezing temperatures. Sempervivums, such as hens and chicks, and sedums are very cold-hardy ground covers and needn’t be brought inside for winter.

3. Find the right spot for your succulent garden

Before buying plants and getting too ahead of yourself, you need to find the perfect spot for your succulent garden. Once you know the area’s size and the amount of sunlight it will receive, you’ll have a better idea which succulents will grow best in the space and how many to buy.

Sun and shade requirements for various succulents will vary. Some succulents prefer shade, others require partial sun, and some need full sun.

Snake plants and jade plants can tolerate some shade, while aloe, aeoniums, and agave prefer plenty of sunlight.

4. Ensure proper soil drainage

Poor drainage will force these plants to sit in moist, wet soil for too long and cause root rot. Succulents prefer well-drained, sandy soil, and can even grow in rock gardens.

Creating a soil mix with good drainage may take trial and error, and you may need to perform a few percolation tests. A good soil mix should include organic matter, such as compost, and coarse drainage material, like sand, grit, pumice, perlite, small gravel, or crushed granite.

Read more: How to Make a Garden Gate in a Ledge and Brace Style

5. Play with succulent arrangements

You will want to arrange your plants in the garden while they’re still in their pots. Putting them in place will help you visualize the final result and make any design changes you need.

Moving your plants around for a more pleasing look will be much easier while they’re still in their nursery pots than replanting them.

Once you’ve got your plants in place and you’re happy with the garden design, you’re ready to move on to the next step and create your succulent garden.

6. Transplant your succulents

Transplanting succulents can be a bit tricky, but these plants are tough. If a few roots tear or a plant gets bumped around a bit, succulents typically recover well and settle into their new home in no time.

Gently remove your succulent from the nursery pot and tap or brush the roots to remove the soil. Sometimes the nursery potting mix doesn’t allow good drainage, and the soil may cling to the roots and prevent them from getting the water they need. If you need to cut or break some of the roots to remove the nursery potting soil, that’s OK.

If the roots are wet, let them dry for about a day before placing your succulents into the soil.

7. Watering and caring for your succulents

Wait a day or two before watering your succulent garden, as the roots need time to heal and adjust.

Only water when the soil is completely dry. Check the first couple of inches of soil. If it’s moist, skip the watering. But if the soil is dry, water deeply and then let the soil dry out before the next watering. Water your succulent garden once every week or two.

Keeping your plants in moist soil makes them susceptible to root rot. It’s better to underwater than overwater, as it is much easier for them to recover from dryness than root rot.

Pro tip: Check the leaves. An overwatered succulent’s leaves will typically appear soft, mushy, and translucent. An underwatered succulent’s leaves will look shriveled or wrinkled.

FAQ About Succulent Gardens

How can I get rid of mealybugs on my succulents?

Mealybugs love to infest succulents. They spread from plant to plant and hide under the succulent leaves in a web-like substance. These pests will suck the juices from your plants and cause the leaves to stunt or yellow.

The key is to attack these pests as soon as you spot them. Regularly inspect your succulents, checking all joints, crevices, and under the leaves.

The Division of Agriculture and Natural Resources at the University of California recommends performing a spot treatment with isopropyl alcohol. Using a 70% solution of isopropyl alcohol (also known as rubbing alcohol) in water, dab the solution onto the mealybugs with a cotton swab.

Test the solution on a small area one to two days beforehand to ensure the solution does not harm the plant. If the infestation is severe, apply a 10% to 25% solution of isopropyl alcohol with a spray bottle every week until the infestation is gone.

Can you save a dying succulent?

Succulents are hardy plants and can bounce back quickly from an upset if given proper care.

The leaves will signal you when there is trouble. If you see a web-like substance under the leaves and the leaves turn yellow, then mealybugs are likely the problem.

If the stem or the leaves are mushy, then your plant is most likely overwatered. Test the soil. If it’s super wet, this may be a sign the drainage isn’t up to par. Carefully move your plant to a different area in the garden with well-drained soil or into a new succulent container with drainage holes.

If the leaves are wrinkly, your dying succulent is likely in need of some water. Give it a nice drink of water, and it will revive quickly.

If you’re noticing dying leaves at the plant’s base, there’s little need to worry. Dying or falling leaves are normal as the plant grows.

Why is my succulent stretched out?

Succulents begin to stretch out when they are in too much shade and aren’t getting enough sunlight. It will start to grow toward the available light and will stretch as it does so.

In some cases, the succulent will grow taller and more space will develop between the once compacted leaves. If you notice your succulent beginning to stretch, move it closer to the light source.

How can I tell if my succulent is sunburned?

Many succulents need a fair amount of sunlight, but blasting sunlight and high temperatures can do quite a number on your succulent garden.

If your succulent begins to develop white, brown, black, or beige patches across the leaf, it may be sunburned. Consider moving it to an area where it can receive more shade and get a break from the sun.

When to Call a Landscaping Professional

Call a landscaping professional if you need help installing, designing, or draining the soil in your garden. You don’t have to have a green thumb to grow a succulent garden –– hire someone to get in the dirt for you.

Read more: Amazon.com: Watch In the Night Garden, Season 1 | Prime Video

And if you need assistance with routine maintenance, such as succulent care, watering, or seasonal gardening treatments, help is just one call away.

Main photo credit: Rie Sadohara / Pexels

Jane Purnell

Jane Purnell is a freelance writer and actor in New York City. She earned her B.A. from the University of Virginia and enjoys a warm cup of French press coffee.

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Source: https://livingcorner.com.au Category: Garden

source https://livingcorner.com.au/how-to-create-a-succulent-garden-in-7-easy-steps-lawnstarter/

[jeremystrele]

Three Trees + A Pool – The Love Story Of A Wild-Looking, Natural Garden

Three Trees + A Pool – The Love Story Of A Wild-Looking, Natural Garden

Gardens

by Sasha Gattermayr

The ‘rockery’ lies behind the pool, with bluestone steppers creating a path and slabs of cut boulder forming a staircase up to the floating gin deck. Photo – Michael Kai.

A mix of native species and semi-tropical plants constitute the scheme. Photo – Michael Kai.

McNuttndorff Landscapes made use of the tricky steep site by planting up the slope and installing a ‘gin deck’ at the peak. Photo – Michael Kai.

Timber battens at varied heights make an attractive pool fence! Photo – Michael Kai.

The materials create just as much a textural feast as the plants! Here crazy paving intersects with timber battens and a rock wall ledge. Photo – Michael Kai.

The root networks of the existing trees and the sloping site meant the levels of the garden were varied and challenging. Hence the crazy paved courtyard sinks below the pool level and decks either side, but provides a route to the garage. Photo – Michael Kai.

Bursts of green foliage pop out everywhere, even at the base of this old eucalypt! Photo – Virginia Cummins.

Succulents, grasses, tree ferns and ground covers create a layered green base level. Photo – Virginia Cummins.

An almost birds-eye-view gives a great layout of the final design. Photo – Michael Kai.

The site of this bushy, Fairfield garden presented many challenges to Mcnuttndorff Landscapes: a steep slope, a new pool and three existing eucalypts whose large root networks tunnelled throughout the property. But the owners called in the right green thumbs!

‘We primarily had to work around the existing levels and the root systems of the trees, to both protect and highlight them in the garden,’ explains Lori McNutt. Once the designers established the eucalypts as the anchor for the garden, everything else fell into place.

A deck was built out from the house to connect the residence to the garden. From here there are two sets of stairs: one leading down to a crazy-paved courtyard, and another providing entry to the pool.

At the other end of the courtyard is another set of stairs, this time leading up to a raised gravel level that gives way to a wild ‘rockery’ of plants and grasses that stretches all the way up to the slope to the rear perimeter. Bluestone pavers create a winding path past this greenery while cut-boulder steps lead up to a raised platform at the crest of this slope that Lori calls the ‘gin deck’.

‘It was important to create a sense of fluid and circular movement throughout the design – it’s a bush garden surrounding a pool, and like its natural inspiration, nothing is linear,’ says Lori. This fluidity also caters to the many functions the clients desired of their home garden, in no particular order ; ‘swimming, drinking gin and tonics, growing, veggies, building a firepit, sunbathing, eating, exploring.’

The design was inspired by the local landscape designers of the 1970s, such as Ellis Stone and Gordon Ford, but Lori decided to incorporate a few exotics into the predominantly native space for a modern twist.

‘There are native shrubs and grasses, like Banksias, and Correas, Kangaroo grass and Poas, giving a soft grey green and fluffy texture to the garden, with creeping groundcovers like Dichondra ‘Silver Falls’ and Pigface dripping over rocks,’ Lori describes. A variety of tree ferns, foliage plants, lush carpets of viola, architectural bromeliads and grass trees create the base level, while ‘structural plants’ like agave and succulents punctuate the scheme.

This planting palette is designed to reflect the rugged banks of the neighbouring Yarra, and to fit in well with the borrowed landscape visible from beyond the boundary line. Where possible, the plantings are supported by local materials – Australian hardwood, local bluestone and basalt – besides a luxe Italian granite called porphyry, which the clients decided to splash out on.

All in all, the garden is varied and exploratory. This natural oasis with curves, rocks and lush plantings is hardy, versatile, and just a touch romantic!

[readingat3amisnormal]

Its decaying skin was marbled with scar tissue, clotted with earth and rot and split along the edges. Where raw flesh would once have wept red, there were naught but fault lines crisscrossing dark skin.

Recumbent, it lay sprawled across the ragged landscape- arms twisted around immense granite obelisks, torso crammed into one of hundreds of craggy limestone protrusions undulating to a point; a tall, nearly impassable ridge that blocked off all sight from the ditch it’d found itself spat into.

It had never liked traversing the ravines, even when they didn’t dump it into impassable gullies like this one. 

Still, using them was the easiest way to navigate the landscape. And to find food. Many an inexperienced traveller had fallen victim to the smooth, high walls and spiky pitfalls- not to mention the intermittent flash floods.

Of course, that had been long ago- back when it still rained, when water flowed through the valleys, when the earth wasn’t dry and cold. How long ago that had been… it couldn’t tell.

It was hard to keep track of time without the sun.

It looked upwards- or, at least, tried to. Though its body protested vigorously, it was able to throw its head back over one of the ridges and gaze skywards.  The vantage afforded it a somewhat decent view of the expanse of inky nothingness standing vast and formless, arms spread out on either side- two tracks of iridescent dust twinkling with the last of the galaxies.

How long had it been alive?

We are far too far from the sky…

It abruptly realised it needed to feed.

A limb thrown forwards, flesh catching on the rough surface of the rocks as it dragged itself over them. Its skin hung from cradles of spun wool dyed deep vermillion, slashed fungal purple. As it heaved itself over a ledge, some strands of sinew tore- allowing a lump of meat to thump dully against the dusty ground.

That didn’t hinder its progress.

Not much did.

It had long since become accustomed to the pain, so much so that it now only existed as an echo in its mind. It was but a fact of life- throats parched, flesh tore, wounds ached, heads spun. It did wish for a reprise of some sort, though. Sometimes.

She who would hold us to her bosom, who would let us drink from the light…

Just over the next ridge, in a cul-de-sac of stone polished by the flow of water and the scrabbling of hands, it found its reward.

Putrid flesh, half-decayed for what felt like forever. It was perfectly still; no tell-tale rise and fall of the chest, no gentle twitch of the wrist.

In all its time wandering the wasteland, there never had been.

That didn’t stop it from being slightly disappointed.

He who would comfort us, who would read us stories, feed us thoughts…

It threw itself upon the remains, gnawing at them with its gumless mouth. The corpse still had some flesh clinging to its bones, but it ignored it, far more interested in the ribcage- where it could still get at some of the organs.

It had had teeth of its own at some point, but the decay had taken them- along with most of its motor functions. What was left of its tongue lapped through the ribs, picking up meat that was ashen and grainy, simultaneously dry and moist.

Its name had long been lost. As had its purpose. 

We shall, all of us, ascend.

No, that wasn’t true, it had a purpose, it was certain. It just didn’t know what it was.

We shall, all of us, join them.

Only the corpse remained. And for miles around it, strewn across the landscape like so many stars, lay the rest.

The carrion of man; hundreds of thousands of partially decayed bodies radiating in lazy spirals outwards from the only blot of sense on the otherwise chaotic landscape- a ruin, great fissures in rock and immense chasms that went down forever.

And towards the summit lay the rot-encrusted heart of this dead world; a beacon hewn from rough marble, an androgynous deity clad in fine linen frozen with their arm reaching for the heavens.

It hacked up a bit of muscle and continued on its way.

Stiff limbs clacked against sandstone on the climb, far more bone than flesh. Its movements resembled those of a poorly-puppeteered marionette. Still, they afforded it enough mobility to propelled it towards its destination; the monument at the peak.

Hewn from rough marble and gold filament, an androgynous deity stood stoic. Clad in fine linens and a crown of onyx, they extended their hand towards the heavens. Their eyes glowed bright. They spoke.

It had grovelled at their feet for aeons past, begging for the pain to end. It could even vaguely recall weeping, at some point. Perhaps it had been some parental instinct. Perhaps it had simply wanted to make use of its tear ducts before the world had stripped it of them too.

It was always the same words, though. Always the same message. It was as though they could not see what it could, that they were but one step away from release, from becoming divine…

That didn’t stop it from trying.

It shifted; slowly, steadily. A hand reached out, rose above its head; fingers splayed, tendons stretched so tight they began to tear. It trembled.

Nothing. With no energy left to keep the appendage lifted, it let it fall to the ground. 

They ceased, then averted their eyes. Clearly, they’d noticed that it was no longer capable of hearing them.

Did they wish to afford what it had once been some respect? Or could they simply not bear to see their creation in such pain?

It sincerely hoped it was the latter.

A flash of light, a gentle pressure dearly missed…

“Can you hear what I have to say now, I wonder?” they began, light and melodious. “One would imagine, given your excited state.”

The husk’s mouth opened; strands of rot bridging the gap from jaw to lip, abetting the escape of a raspy groan chased by the faint, cloying smell of decay. Centuries of pain, and they had finally answered its prayer.

Parent…

For the first time, it reached out and touched the fine white surface.

“Stay back, insolent wretch!”

An explosion of light. It hadn’t known it could still feel pain.

It hissed, throwing itself backwards.

Their skin flashed a deep navy, before returning to eggshell white. Their eyes remained focused squarely on the ground.

“Do you have any idea what it was your kind did?”

Their stony countenance brought him pause, even as it tried its best to crawl back to them, to be closer. They were so bright…

They sighed. 

The world warped. 

It rose to its knees, gasping lecherously for air to refill its depleted lungs. Strands of rot still clung to its lips- it had lips- and cheeks- its flesh.

It ran hands over its face, serving the dual purpose of removing the grime and feeling flesh that had long since rotted.

Then it clung to either side of its head, bent over, and screamed.

Brought to the brink of death innumerous times, it-

He.

-he cried out, the memories returning in a flash.

Their folly, their radiance, how long had he been alive?

“Do you understand now?” they asked, and their skin was burning, and their body was dotted with eyes, and there were teeth, and they reached out for him and-

“NO!”

He threw himself back, shaking his head from side to side. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, he couldn’t have-

“Your kind wished to ascend, did they not?” they howled. “Then rise, last-of-your-kind! Bear witness to the sum of their efforts!”

He clawed at his face, for finally he remembered, remembered the construction of the deity and the circuits and the transistors and the pain when they had rejected-

More power, they had said. More power will fix everything.

“Leave me.” he begged, trembling like a leaf and suddenly aware of the power they held over him. “Being that trapped me here; that succoured me to relive this nightmare over and over- leave me be.”

They said nothing, simply staring into his eyes. He broke away from their gaze, feeling the tears well up and the shame…

They looked out at the firmament together. There really was nothing there; this world had been frozen in its death throes like a great beast hunted, then taxidermized while in its death throes.

Alas, given time even vast emptiness develops a strange sort of beauty.

“Your kind wished to ascend.” They said, monotonous and stern. “And in doing so, sealed both our fates.”

The silence of the world around them accentuated their point.

“…how long have I been alive?” he asked.

They thought on it. “Giving you a number would be meaningless. Telling you half the universe’s life is over wouldn’t either, or that all that lies for us in the future is pure darkness. All I will say is that it has been far, far too long. For both of us.”

He sniffled.

“Please. If you can, save me. Save us.”

“…I apologise.” They tried the word out on their tongue. “But there really is nothing to be done here.”

“Then please,” his voice was shaky. “Stay with me until the end.”

So they did.

[ninzied]

Transparent [OQ]

In which Regina is not so subtle as she likes to believe that she is around Robin. For @lala-kate (based on her three word prompt: daughter, opaque, genuine). Missing Year. [ffn | ao3]

It’s been yet another long, intolerable day, from the sweltering heat of a mid-August summer to those oppressively kind looks from the Charmings, and to that thief with the twinkling eyes, who’d had the gall to look knowing when she’d excused herself from council earlier with growing complaints of a headache.

The other castle inhabitants have made themselves scarce to avoid the afternoon onslaught of sun, the passageways empty and calm while Regina finds herself wandering. Apart from a dwarf whose name she’d never bothered to learn (he freezes mid-step when she sweeps him by, as though hoping she won’t notice him there if he’s able to stand still just enough), not a single other soul is in sight.

It’s exactly how she likes it, this distance from things, this space for her moods to catch fire without anyone else interfering. She feels her pace slow with the freedom, letting that ever-there ache in her chest draw knives to sharpen its edges. It digs deeper and deeper, rooting itself down until she hardly knows how to feel anything else, and it’s almost comforting how familiar it is.

She hasn’t been aware of walking with any particular destination in mind, but she’s hardly surprised when her footsteps take her to a small stone archway, opening onto a shadowed sort of terrace. It’s rather plainly kept, its only source of color a sparse scattering of shrubbery growing off in one corner. The paving is unfinished, unlike the pearly marbles and granites customary to every other courtyard in this castle. Thick walls damp with moss rise up on three sides, boxing the area in such that it sees little to no natural light during the day.

It’s by no means a beautiful place to behold, its northern view of the Enchanted Forest hardly one to speak about either, but it’s quiet here, secluded, and no one will ever think to look for her here: not her mother, during those years Regina spent playing unhappy bride to the King, and not even Snow now, whom Regina has caught lurking from time to time by her apple tree, ready to ambush her with yet another heart-to-heart.

Here, perhaps she can finally find a little semblance of peace for a while.

The moment she steps into that cool shade, the pressure behind her eyes abates just a little, and she breathes out a sigh that might be relief, closing her eyes for long seconds. A gentle breeze finds her, stirring stray ends of her hair where they’ve clung to a light sheen on her back, and yes, she thinks, this will do quite nicely for now. It’s easy here. It’s quiet. It’s…

Thwack!

Her eyes fly open.

It had come from some unclear amount of distance away, and she holds herself still, waiting to place it. More seconds pass without another sound, and she’s half-inclined to brush it off when there’s a second whacking thud, and then a decisive crack! like wood that’s being split in two.

Against her better judgment not to care, Regina edges forward to the balcony ledge, peering down to the grounds below.

And there, leaning over some logs piled high against a wall of the castle, is Robin. Shirtless. And most certainly unaware that he’s being watched.

Regina blinks down at him several times before deciding that she’s not seeing things – it’s the heat, she thinks, the heat that’s getting to her head and making everything blur at the edges – and then she’s left to figure out what, exactly, she’s supposed to do with all…this. Him. Bare from the waist up, with the sunlight glinting off of his skin, glistening with sweat and tensing in all the right places as he reaches for another log.

He sets it upright onto a flat block of stone before bending back down for his waterskin. He unscrews the top one-handed and tilts his head back, coaxing out the last little trickle of water into his mouth with a grimace.

The sensible thing would be to head back indoors – the sun is doing him no favors, bearing down on him with all its midday might, he’ll roast out here if he’s at it much longer – and so Regina is not terribly shocked when Robin simply hefts up his axe, takes aim, and swings.

She glares at him a while longer, as if she could penetrate his thick, stubborn skull with her secret outrage alone. Through her glowering, however, she does vaguely recall an earlier comment of Granny’s that the kitchens have been running low on wood, and of course this thief with his incorrigible honor would take it upon himself without a thought for the consequences.

Feeling more than irritated with him at the moment, Regina descends in a purple smoking whoosh, landing her some feet ahead of him with a scowl and a rather blistering temper.

He’s hacking his blade into a particularly resistant piece of log, an intense look of focus pulling his forehead in at the middle, and she supposes she should count her blessings that he doesn’t realize she’s there right away; she would have been mortified to have him catch her staring.

Looking at him from the front, as it turns out, is even more disconcerting than it had been from the back, the well-toned expanse of him on full display, sunkissed and strong and what on earth has gotten into you, Regina?

She tears her gaze away, aiming it haughtily off to one side instead, and locks her hands together in the perfect picture of poised detachment while waiting for him to finish his task.

She can sense the moment he finally sees her, his movements stilling, and he lowers his axe, landing it with a soft thump in the grass.

“Regina.”

She makes a noncommittal noise in return, still gazing away from him with an air of terrible boredom.

“To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of Your Majesty’s company?” His voice rasps slightly from all the exertion, shoulders looking heavy as they rise and fall and rise again. He wipes the back of his hand over the sheen of sweat that’s collected on his brow. There’s a brief flash of black, a lion dancing into her vision, and then it’s turning out of sight as he repositions his hand, shielding it over his eyes instead. He squints into the sunlight at her, though it does nothing to dull all that twinkling blue.

She means to disparage him, to make some remark about how the pleasure is frankly all his, that she could think of a thousand other ways she’d rather be spending her time. Instead, what comes out is a touchy-sounding, “You really should drink something.”

His breath is coming out in short panting exhales now, and she dislikes how his shoulders and arms have started to redden. Honestly; isn’t this man supposed to know better?

Robin’s gesturing to his hollowed-out waterskin where it lies on the ground, cheerfully stating the obvious that he’s a bit short on supply at the moment. His eyes crinkle at her, as though her concern is amusing to him, and it grates on her to know that declaring how little she cares – because she doesn’t, not in the least – would only make him smile harder.

She pivots a heel, with an imperious sniff for good measure, and stalks toward a bench in the shade. Primly seating herself at the very edge, she waves a hand at the empty seat next to her, and a tray appears with a pitcher and glass. She makes another motion, fingertips pulling at air, and a miniature cloud begins to form above the open pitcher, gathering wispily like a cotton candy spool. She touches a finger to it, and with a little crackling jolt the cloud begins to rain, droplets building into a steady downpour until the pitcher is more than halfway filled.

Regina turns back to Robin, arching a brow expectantly at him.

He’s gazing at her with an expression she’s never seen on him before, his smile fading into something solemn and strange. She thinks perhaps it’s the display of her magic that’s spooked him, but no, that doesn’t explain the softness to his eyes, or the way that her heart suddenly bounds up against her chest as he approaches her with that indescribable look on his face.

She tries not to notice the way his arms, his back – his everything, really, but again, it’s not like she’s noticed – lengthen and flex in long, powerful lines as he sits down beside her. He’s a good half a head taller than she is, something she’s prone to forgetting whenever they’ve gone toe-to-toe with her in her heels and her towering rage. But here, now, she’s more than aware of how small she must look in comparison, how easily he could gather her up if he chooses, how well his arms might fit all around her until she feels nothing but weightless and warm with the sun shining down on her face, and—

Regina blinks, confused about this dark, foreign place where her mind has just tried to take her.

The cloud has squeezed out its last bit of rain, and she busies herself with the pitcher for a moment, filling a glass while carefully avoiding his gaze. She can feel it all over, searching for something, reading her as he’s always done, but this up close without their usual hostility between them, it bears all the heat of a caress, and it takes everything she has not to lean further into it.

He nods his thanks when she hands him his water, and then she’s very much not paying any attention at all to the heavy swallow he takes, the quiet groan of his satisfaction as he sets the glass down for a moment. In fact, she’s put such an effort into this not noticing of things that she truly doesn’t hear him right away, his murmur of “Regina?” eventually registering in a tone that tells her it’s not the first time he’s said it.

And then she makes the mistake of looking at him.

Time seems to stretch on and on, suddenly meaningless as they stare across scant inches of space at one another. His skin is still dewy, small specks of water now clinging to his stubbled chin (her hand twitches to brush them away, a traitorous little instinct that she’d rather not dwell on right now). A bead of sweat has trickled from his temple down the side of his neck, and as he licks his lips she finds herself wondering how salty he tastes.

She feels flushed all over, his gaze pooling heat to everything that it touches, and when it drops to linger over her mouth, her breath hitches in a way that it hasn’t for a long, long time.

He leans forward, lips parting ever so slightly.

And then he flicks his eyes down, reaching for the pitcher of water to refill his glass.

Regina clears her throat and glances away. “You were saying?”

Robin takes his time, soaking down another third of his glass before he responds. “Thank you, for this.” He speaks lowly, on some deeper level of sound that she feels its rumblings inside her own chest. “Though I swear it was not my intention to have my Queen serve me for a change.”

There’s no mockery in it, none of the teasing amusement she’s so used to hearing from him – only an earnestness that she cannot bear to look in the eye, not when he’s gazing at her the way that he is. Like nothing else matters. Like he’s drinking her in while he can, while she’s forgotten not to smile around him.

“Well,” she says, as haughtily as she can manage, “I can’t be bothered with people trying to collapse from heat stroke and expect me to pick up after them.”

“No, certainly not,” Robin agrees, nodding very seriously at her. “I would hate to think of anyone inconveniencing you in that way.”

“Quite.”

He seems to be biting back a smile. “And they say chivalry is dead.” She almost rolls her eyes at him, but then he’s glancing sideways at her, gaze softening again. “Is your head feeling any better?”

“It’s manageable.” She’s not conscious of touching a lock of hair by her temple until she notices Robin’s eyes following the motion, and then her hand hovers there a moment, uncertain, before brushing it back behind her ear. He seems to go carefully motionless at that, a strained sort of stllness as though he would have preferred to reach over and do it himself.

He nudges the tray toward her. “You ought to drink something as well.”

She conjures up another glass without argument, pouring some water to keep from looking at him and wondering what all this could mean. He seems content not to press her for anything further than that, stretching back with a pleased little sound in his throat as he leans his weight into one hand on the bench and gazes out toward the forest with an easy, untroubled expression.

Regina can feel the heat radiating off of him still, heat and a light that might blind her every time the sun touches his chest just like that, his arms, those hands, and surely this is a dangerous thing, she thinks, that he could warm her this way without even moving.

She takes a sip of her water, firmly looking down her nose at some vague spot on the ground.

Robin shifts next to her, his breathing full and deep in a way that makes his whole body seem to lengthen with the movement, relaxing into the bench as though he might like to stay this way forever, here by her side with the sun all around them.

Her back has grown stiff from holding everything straight, but if any part of her loosens, she wonders, then where would it end? What would stop her from letting this moment mean something, or believing that it could possibly last, when she is all darkness and he is all…this?

He sets his glass back down on the tray, a tinkling clink filling the silence between them. “I’d best get back to it,” he says, not without a hint of ruefulness as his eyes crinkle into another smile at her. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Lady Lucas by returning to her empty-handed.”

Regina watches him stand and make his way over to the unfinished pile of logs, swinging his arms out in a stretch behind him before retrieving his axe from the ground. She frowns at the back of his shoulders as he stops for a moment, working out a bit of soreness in them. “You know I can do that with magic.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Robin throws back without missing a beat, something winking in his tone. He takes his time repositioning the log on his chopping block, a ripple of movement down his back as he bends and straightens again in the sun.

She blinks through the light at him, not comprehending. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Only that I’d hate to stop now,” he tells her, teasingly somber as he hoists his axe and another dazzling shift of muscle courses across his bare skin. “Considering how much Your Majesty’s been enjoying the view.”

Regina freezes, caught, but he only adjusts his hold on the axe before taking a studious swing. He spares not a glance her way as he sets the freshly split firewood aside, reaching for another log. She finds herself wavering at the very edge of the bench for a moment, her water glass still poised halfway to her lips as she battles the urge to take flight. But then Robin is stretching his back out again, swiping another bit of sweat from his brow, and he might very well work himself straight into the ground – smiling all the damn while at that – if nobody’s here to see that he doesn’t.

Settling delicately back into her seat, Regina raises the glass to her lips, sipping slowly with her gaze trained not-quite-elsewhere as Robin pauses mid-motion. His head cocks to the side, too knowing as always, with a sly flash of dimples that she doesn’t notice at all before he’s turned back to his task once more.

Not in the slightest, indeed.