#handpainted wooden windows

[vintagehomedecorshop]

Hand Painted Wooden Window Design and Frames - Yellow Verandah

Shop for antique, vintage and unique handmade wooden window for sale at Yellow Verandah, Hyderabad. Find the perfect home wall decor for your home! Check noe: Hand Painted Wooden Windows

[stace609]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Emerging Elf Tree Hanger.

[thelistingteammiami]

Most Popular Types of Florida Home Architecture

Most Popular Types of Florida Home Architecture

Florida is one of the best places to live in the US. It has a rich cultural heritage and history. The housing is affordable, and the cost of living is good as well. Then there is the great well-balanced weather and so many fun outdoor activities. These are all the things you should learn if you are ever planning on moving to Florida or buying a vacation home there. However, one more thing you should get familiarized with before committing to something so serious is learning about popular types of Florida home architecture. This will help you make a better, well-informed decision about the property you are considering purchasing there, but that is not all. It's also good to know about this if you are just thinking of adding some upgrades to raise the value of your Florida home. So we made a list of some of the main Florida architectural styles you should know about.

Florida home architecture- The list

As we said already, Florida is a very good place to live, and more and more people are moving there every year. But even though Florida is great, you still need to do some research before moving there. In the same way, you search for packing tips for beginners on the internet so you can do it like a pro once the moving day comes; you also need to research the architectural styles that are popular in Florida. The four architectural styles on our list have been the most popular in the last decade, so they are the ones you should focus on the most:

·       Mediterranean type

·       Spanish type

·       Modern type

·       Ranch type

Mediterranean type is one of the most popular

When it comes to Florida home architecture, we must start our list with the Mediterranean type. This style has proven to be very popular among home buyers in Florida in the last couple of years. There are some key differences between a Ranch style home and a Mediterranean-style home, with the main one being the fact that Mediterranean-style homes are typically two stories high. Then the next trademark of a Mediterranean-style home is the red-tiled roof. Big windows with creatively styled arches are often seen in these types of homes. The goal with the big windows and natural elements is to bring the outdoor vibe inside the home. We also have to mention the stucco walls, one of Mediterranean architecture's main characteristics. While rooted in European architecture, this style has become very popular in America but mostly in Florida and California.

Spanish-style homes are special

We have come to the Spanish architectural style, which at first glance doesn't look too dissimilar to the Mediterranean style, but there are some notable differences. But first, let us explain what common traits both styles share. The main similarities are the stucco walls and the red roof tiles. But there are some differences you need to know about as well. First Spanish-style homes can be both two or one-story high. They also usually have flat roofs. While these homes have curvy arches and entryways, they are actually quite simple and toned down. The less is more approach very present here. Doors are typically wooden with interesting arches and iron hardware. Another feature of Spanish-style homes that is very attractive to homebuyers is the handpainted tiles on the stairs. Its small interesting details like this that truly make these types of homes special.

Modern architecture

We have come to the modern architectural style, whose main characteristic is functionality. Modern architecture homes are made for those who like their homes to be practical but, at the same time, stylish. It is a very simple and elegant type of home that wants to use its space in the most efficient way possible. Modern architecture homes have a lot of big windows and rely heavily on getting some natural light inside. If you purchase a home in this style, you can expect a house with open floor plans and large living spaces. Modern materials such as steel, iron, and glass are also very well utilized here. These homes are minimalist and are designed specifically to be comfortable and practical. They are great for people who like clean, open, and well-organized homes.

Ranch  architecture is a good fit for older people

One of the architectural styles that are very popular in Florida and that you should know about is Ranch. But this style is not only popular in Florida but also quite popular all over the US. Here are some characteristics that will help you recognize this particular style. First, Ranch style homes are typically one-story houses, and they don't have stairs. This makes them excellent for older people and retirees who struggle with climbing stairs or have other health problems. Other than that, Ranch-style homes are open-concept and have a spacious, airy vibe. They are usually rectangular, U or L shaped. Another benefit of Ranch style homes is that most of them come with an already finished basement and garage, which according to experts at zaptmovers.com, is something a lot of people look for when they decide to move.

In conclusion

These are the most popular types of Florida home architecture. And there is something for everyone's tastes. If you like open spaces and outdoor vibes, then Mediterranean and Spanish styles are the best for you. If you are a retiree or are looking for a home for your grandparents, then Ranch style one-story houses are ideal. But if, on the other hand, you want a home that emphasizes functionality but doesn't lack in style and is aesthetically pleasing, then look for a  Modern architecture style home. The goal of this article wasn't to answer the question "What is the best architectural style in Florida?" but to familiarize you with various popular styles instead. The key is finding what works best for you and your family so you can buy your dream home. We hope you found this article informative and helpful.

Met Description: Before buying a home in Florida, you should read our article and educate yourself about the types of Florida home architecture!

Kw- Florida home architecture

Images used:

https://www.pexels.com/photo/sea-during-golden-hour-2524166/

https://www.pexels.com/photo/roof-made-of-red-clay-tiles-5401232/

https://www.pexels.com/photo/couch-and-big-windows-in-living-room-12002390/

https://www.pexels.com/photo/apartment-architecture-family-floor-276656/

[yellow-verandah]

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[tsakalia]

@dethqveen liked for a starter! (Ruelle)

The pleasant jingling of a ceramic bell heralds the arrival of his first customer of the day. It’s early, the sun having risen just enough that it no longer shone directly into the small shop’s windows, leaving gentle light to filter down through its clean glass.

The outside of the florist’s shop, while small, had quite a bit of charm -- rough hewn wooden signs that appeared to be handpainted, bearing its name ( Sireli Aygi ), along with some gentle, affirming platitudes. A wrought iron cafe table, worn but in respectable condition, is flanked by two mismatched patio chairs, and well-kept ivy has started to climb the walls. The inside is similarly cozy -- various plants sit in pots along the floor, shelves, and windowsills, and a display of pre-made cut floral arrangements sits beside the wooden counter. The atmosphere is airy and light, matching the tone of the bell above the door.

So it is that Ruelle Balfour turns to greet his first guest of the day, a bright smile already on the young man’s face as he removes his stained gardening gloves.

“Mm...! Good morning!” The greeting -- genuine, but not overly eager -- is out before he’s registered who he’s looking at. The moment he recognizes that this isn’t a regular -- nor anyone he’s seen in town at all, really -- curiosity and interest join his friendly smile. “If there’s anything in particular you’re looking for, I’ll do my best to help. Ah-- I’m Ruelle, what should I call you?”

[solariaswitch]

i’m so bored the power just went out in my house...any brella headcanon with children ?

- Stella’s first pregnancy is quite rough for her. She feels ugly and swollen and easily gets nauseous. Brandon is really supportive of this and brings her all her cravings whenever she asks for them (sometimes he does it even without her asking) and massages her back and tummy if she’s in pain. 

- Stella is scared to have him in the delivery room at first because she thinks he’ll find her ugly when she’s giving birth. But he ends up being so supportive of her and she’s grateful that she let him be there with her.

- Brandon and Stella are both loving parents. Brandon is the softer parent that the kids turn to for a shoulder to cry on and Stella is the parent they turn to when they want to solve a problem or have fun. (Stella is still emotional support for her kids, of course, but she’s more action-oriented.)

- Brandon is the parent that cooks breakfast and brings his kids and wife tea or coffee just to be nice. He also likes to play sports and games with his kids. 

- Brandon and Stella take turns reading bedside stories to their kids every night. They both love it and make time for it every day even if they’re busy. 

- The kids aren’t raised in Solaria's castle. Brandon and Stella get a nice, big manor on a nice island on Solaria, with large open windows, wooden floors, and handpainted tiles in the kitchen, surrounded by a meadow. They want their kids to be free to play outside and not have the eyes of a whole planet upon them from birth. Stella knows how insecure it made her feel to constantly be judges as a child and doesn’t want that for her kids (though, she still teaches them royal manners, because of course she would).

[artificialqueens]

You'll Never See It Coming, 1/? (Jaida/Nicky/Jackie) - Viktor

Summary: Jaida and Jackie are two private detectives, with the objective of taking down a mysterious thief that has been bugging them for a year now.

A/N: As someone who writes Jaida a lot on his blog, it was about time I dropped one of my Jaida works in here! I really hope you like this, I got really attached to this AU haha! You can find me in my blog @theviktorr if you want to see more! Enjoy <3

The sun rays were starting to sneak inside of Jaida’s room, filling the open spaces of the semi-closed blinds.

Jaida hated sleeping with light. It was almost tempting to get up, close the blinds properly, and tuck herself back in her bed. However, she had work to do. And the annoying beeping of her alarm clock made sure to keep her awake, as the brightness from her phone blinded her for a few seconds when reaching to turn the shit off.

She stepped off her bed, running one of her hands across her messy hair and rubbing her eyes with the other. It was just 7:30, and she had a lot of work to do. She put on her slippers and got herself comfortable with her favorite robe, sighing at the sudden warmth she got from them. She finally opened the blinds, letting the sunlight illuminate her bedroom. It wasn’t a big bedroom, but it was big enough to be comfortable in it. She looked outside the window for a spare second, smiling at the potted flowers on the window sill. They were perfectly cared for, Jaida swore she could almost smell their perfume. Her roommate was really talented, huh?

Jaida finally got out of her bedroom, her senses overwhelming with the smell of dust and old books, which she found not-so-oddly anymore, after all the years spent surrounded by it. After all, being around secondhand bought books, piles of yellow toned documents and tables stained with melted wax made her feel all sorts of happy; she felt more at home than she ever did with her blood family. She quickly noticed that the signature scent of her housemate’s coffee wasn’t there. And knowing that trails of her partner’s coffee were always left, even after drinking it hours ago, she figured her friend was still asleep, and Jaida couldn’t blame her for it.

It wasn’t even necessary to go to her bedroom to confirm it. She only had to look around to find her partner sleeping in the living room, accommodated with her head resting on top of her arms, which were laying on top of their old wooden table, and her favorite golden glasses were thrown across the table. She was calm, her breathing seemed slow and steady. When did she even go to sleep…? She did tell Jaida that she wanted to stay up a little longer, that she thought she was finding some useful information within these books she borrowed from their local library. She probably got caught up on her reading again and fell asleep after some hours. Jaida smiled, tucking a strand of her friend’s brown hair behind her ear. She took off her robe, gently setting it on top of the older woman’s shoulders, and silently left the living room, heading to their small kitchen instead.

Now, Jaida’s coffee wasn’t as sweet and tasteful as her partner’s, she didn’t know the secret behind the flavour she enjoyed so much during their typical breakfast, but she tried her best to make it appealing for her. She took the time to make pancakes and toast some bread, choosing her friend’s favorite marmalades. She cleaned up the table, if we could consider “cleaning up” moving and piling papers to a corner of the table, and served the improvised breakfast while the woman still slept peacefully. And when the last mug was finally left on top of the wooden surface, she sat down by her side, softly squeezing her shoulder to wake her up.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” She smiled at her, only getting a groan from her partner, who raised her head slightly, and then buried it between her arms again “Jackie, you have to wake up… I made you breakfast, come on.”

Jaida rubbed her hand on Jackie’s back, with the woman slowly waking up and stretching a little on her seat. She turned around after finally opening her eyes and getting comfortable, gifting Jaida one of her adorable smiles.

“Morning…” She yawned. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Now eat, we have a long day coming.”

Even if Jaida could sound cutthroat sometimes, Jackie knew it came from a place of love. She took a sip from her coffee, getting adjusted to the heat, and after asking Jaida to hand her the glasses she left on the other side of the table, she eyed yesterday’s newspaper, giving another look at the words she highlighted in neon yellow last night. It was crystal clear that Jackie hardly got any sleep, she had dark bags underneath her eyes and she couldn’t stop yawning, even if the coffee was keeping her slightly more awake.

Jackie meant the world to Jaida. Both of them were private detectives, and undoubtedly had chemistry. They worked amazingly together, and have managed to solve so many mysteries with their shared thoughts and intellect. They made a good name out of themselves with their efficiency and hospitality towards both newer guests that were just starting to work with them, or old acquaintances that trusted their methods so much they always came back to them. They moved together only months after they started working as a pair, buying an old small house that smelled like dust and looked like history. They remodeled it, of course, with Jackie adding all sorts of flowers and plants to make it look alive. Jaida even remembered that her favorite flowers were marigolds and sunflowers; and even if Jackie was sad she couldn’t plant any sunflowers, she bought fake ones and made sure everything was decorated. She even handpainted pots in their free time; she wanted the house to have her creative touch to it. And she did it, because Jaida had never been happier.

However, their happy days ended exactly one year ago, when they were approached with the mission of capturing a mysterious person that called themselves ‘la voleuse fantôme’, a thief that was after the richest people she could find. And they still couldn’t find her. They even admired her talent to escape them, two of the most renowned detectives in America. But they couldn’t give up yet. They had to capture her and get her in jail for her crimes, this had already gone too far. Whoever she was, they would need to step up their game if they didn’t want to be discovered, because Jaida and Jackie were sure they had her in the bag this time around.

“Have you checked the mail, Jaida?” Jackie inquired.

Jaida didn’t answer. Well, she did, by standing up and going to their porch to check if there was anything new. And within cards signed by Jackie’s best friend, Sasha, or postcards from Heidi, Jaida’s little sister, she noticed that there was something that stood up between all their usual mail. It wasn’t odd to them, the red envelope was already a normal thing for them to see. It was the thief, she knew it. They looked so extra, sending bright red envelopes to their house and, as far as they’ve seen them, dressing like a caricature, with a big white hat, a checkered cape and the most expensive masks Jaida and Jackie had ever seen.

The younger detective went back to the dining table, sliding the colorful letter across the wood and letting Jackie have the honors of opening it this time. She carefully did it, unfolding the paper inside it and reading the thief’s disgustingly perfect handwriting. Jackie cleared her throat and started to read the content, feeling how shaky her hands were as she got towards the end of it.

“Good morning, detectives.

You two are so much fun! It’s already our one year anniversary of you guys chasing after me and failing miserably. And to celebrate, I prepared my best show just for you!

I’ll show up at Gigi Goode’s masquerade ball next Sunday. What will I steal, you may ask? Well, that’s simple…

I’ll be taking grandma Goode’s crown that has been passed on for the last generations.

I wonder how it’ll look on my head when I wear it.

See you guys next Sunday!

With love,

   La voleuse fantôme.”

Oh, so it was at Gigi’s place this time.

Fuck.

Knowing they were good friends with the Goode family, especially their future heir, a young girl known as Gigi, failing at capturing the thief would mean that they would serve both of their heads in a platter and show it to everyone during their massive reunions. Jaida got chills down her spine at the thought of that. It was scary, yes, but it motivated her to catch the thief. Not only catch her, but also throw her behind bars once and for all. She wanted to get rid of her already and keep living her normal life with Jackie, resolving simpler murders or investigating nannies for old women who wanted the best for their kids. As much as she loved the thrill of this ‘voleuse fantôme’ lady, she really wanted a break and a very well-deserved nap.

She looked back at Jackie after a moment, noticing the nervousness in the Persian’s eyes, and carefully grabbed her by the wrist, squeezing it. She looked back at the brunette, and after a short sigh, managed to give her one of the confident smiles Jaida liked so much from her. She could see the motivation behind those golden eyes, there was a fire in them that Jaida couldn’t even explain. She was ready to do it. And seeing that look from Jackie gave her that little boost of confidence she needed. She was ready, they were ready.

“This time around, I’m sure we’re gonna get them.”

[batz]

Is there a way to tell if a Raggedy Ann doll is rare? I sometimes find them at yard sales but I’m never sure what I should be looking for.

hard to say, tbh! there are so many rare raggedies (both rag dolls and plastic dolls and books) that are considered rare. 

Volland Raggedies are a GOLD MINE and can sometimes be found at garage sales, being unknowingly sold at a low-ish price because of their often ragged appearance. Volland Raggedies are the first Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls to be created and sold, after high demand from parents after seeing one in a shop window advertising the books. These were made from 1918 to 1930ish. its a bit hard to tell whether its a recreation or not, but a pattern between these raggedys is that they actually Dont have the ‘i love you’ heart printed on their chest, but rather have a cardboard/wooden heart that you can feel/see in their chest. if the garage sale owners allow you to hold the doll, if you come across one and arent sure of its validity, feel around the chest. usually if you feel something in there, its a legit volland doll. 

these are georgene dolls, they came out after the volland dolls (1940s - 1950s). the eyes are made of metal (painted tin i believe?) and they have the dopey hand painted smiles. they look similar to Knickerbocker raggedies (which are fairly common), but they tend to have a lighter more orange color yarn for their hair. they are expensive, but sometimes can be found being sold for cheap at garage sales if you are lucky! just remember: dopey handpainted smile, tin eyes, faded orange-y hair. 

molly-E raggedies are interesting! they aren’t official raggedies, and were created and sold in the 1930s/1940s as knock offs! resulting in a HUGE lawsuit between Gruelle and Molly-E. despite not being like. official raggedies. they are a huge collectors item! they are known for their iconic side glancing eyes and painted face, no shoe button eyes!

these are the cotton fabriche kurt adler dolls! kurt adler does a lot of raggedy ann ornaments, but these two dolls are very elusive. theres only about 2 photos of them i can find on the internet, despite probably being a 90s-2000s doll! if you find them, BUY THEM. and then tell me so i can cry  bc they e x i s t and i n e e d them.

honestly, the raggedies you’ll mostly run into are Knickerbocker raggedies, hasbro/applause/aurora raggedies, and maaaybe some macmillian raggedies. not to say there arent any rare knickerbocker raggedies, because i can assure you there are, but this post is long enough dkjgdkjfgbasically if you find volland, molly e, or georgene raggedies for an affordable price BUY THEM!!! they will be a Golden part of ur collection, although every raggedy is absolutely wonderful.

also if you want me to make a separate post about rare non rag doll/non doll raggedy products lmk bc there are bunch of other cool rarities worth searching for! like books and pictures and ceramic figurines and stuff!

[floramodus]

[ As per usually this year, you can interact with this post as you see fit (treat it like a transportilizer notification, hand delivered, etc. basically interact-able) but heres the whole kit kaboodle. Theres many left off, be it new friends or old ones (like her parents, lord knows they get so much love) for the sake of my sanity or forgetfulness. It’s nothing personal! I just tried to keep it to semi active muses. Rest assured shes at least given everyone she likes sweets and baubles. ]

@vwig

- A wool sweater decorated in the pattern of gingerbread sharks - a tiny self sustaining ocean terrarium - a small stuffed shark that doubles as a bluetooth speaker. its blepping. - Matching sweater for Seahorse Dad - A small ring made of what looks fur in resin

@holydestruction

- A wool sweater that depicts regal lions in christmas hats, in the style of a house crest - Ornate, hand engraved shampoo and coniditioner bottles, in real gold - Matching sweaters for the lion babies

@skyphile

- An angora sweater thats soft blue with clouds. The clouds glow in the dark - Matching hat and scarf - A tiny matching sweater for Icarus - A tiny desk rectangle that shows the outside weather via realtime displays like actual clouds and tiny rain. - A matching pillow bug to Morbid's ladybug, except its a lightning bug and its butt does light up

@windows9k

- A knitted windows pinball sweater - A matching one for Turing - A plate of handcut cookies that look like pizza slices

@velcrounit

- An angora sweater that looks like a god awful 90's bowling alley - Matching awful hat, socks and gloves, - A handknit vaporwave blanket

@comicsnas @comedianrhapsody

- Matching sweaters for them and the baby, the babies being a tiny rudolph sweater with a matching soft antler beanie and socks - SBAHJ cookies and a couple of hedgehog ones

@morbidkind

- A knitted sweater dress of red and gold thread - A matching one for Curio - An extinct sabertooth tiger skull - A bumblebee in amber necklace

@mindparkour

- A knit sweater that says "Merry Birdmas" its covered in so many tiny birds in hats - An alarm clock that looks like a roostering canary - A signed Cardboard Castles vinyl

@travellinggilderoy

- A gold transportilizer wristwatch with s hand tooled leather band with his name on it - An ugly christmas sweater of an angry cat breaking ornaments - A matching one for Weeb

@kindredconfectionery

- a minature functioning tomato garden - an angora sweater that looks like a typical christmas sweater "pattern" - except the motif is plants

- A set of wooden spoons with his name carved on them

- A small knit christmas bat

- A matching sweater for the baby

@riflesquiddle

- A knitted sweater made up of the elements that make up a christmas tree - A very ugly handpainted strawberry pot - A knitted dog that works as a heating pad

@clockworkkatana

- A knitted sweater that looks like an unholy combination of vinyl aesthetics and bowling alley aesthetics - A floating gear clock - A knitted sword cozy

@olivecatnip

- A very awful catpun sweater, with matching peet gloves and cat ear beanie - A 365 tea calender

@carcinogenicgallantry

- A knit sweater thats covered in bad words - An led lamp that looks like a fern - A matching sweater for the baby

@stolenfeathers

- Peanut butter seed balls in the shape of gingerbread men - Small ones for Tangy - A knit christmas sweater covered in different birds in christmas hats - A matching one for Tangy - A big knit christmas stocking for Tangy - A single christmas sock for DS - A small nest like bed (Made of cloth scraps knitted together) with Tangy's name on it

@brackishbarracuda

- A set of color coordinated knit sweaters for everyone, her included. The sizing might be a bit big - Plenty of cookies

@cherry8om8

- A real leather bomber jacket with his name stitched on the back - Matching gloves - A really silly beanie that has flames on the side - A small knit puppy

@orangeccandycanes

- A bright orange sweater covered in hoof prints - An orange soda lava lamp

@precognitiveignition

- A tiny christmas tree that floats, but theres a catch; It's entirely made of flames, sections of the tree different colored flame- like lights - A generic looking christmas sweater but the bottom half is being eaten by knitted flames - A normal, unassuming plant in a small pot. It comes with a note saying its one of the babies from the seeds Jack gave her, her first year.

@puppyscience

- A knitted sweater covered in robot puppies in christmas hats and light up eyes - A set of spices, in beaker shaped bottles - A beanie with headphones built in

@birdbizarre

- A giant festival sock - A quilt made up of various soft fabric scraps - A peanut butter seed gingerbread man - A giant, near oversized knitted sweater with canaries in hats  

[veritascara]

Hera and Heritage - A Meta in Pictures

As I’ve researched Hera’s character over the last few months while working on writing, one of the most surprising things that has stuck out to me is all the little glimpses of her Twi’lek heritage that sit unobtrusively in the background in the early seasons and develop further from there.

Hera by nature is a private person and does not wear her culture on her sleeve the same way Sabine does (although she does wear it literally, which we’ll also discuss), but she consistently surrounds herself with it, and appears to maintain a deep connection to her homeworld, even though we do not see the full depth of that emotional connection manifest until the attempted retrieval of the kalikori in season 3.

So here we go, LOTS of pictures ahead! (Most images with credit to cap-that.com, although I have lightened and cropped a number of them.)

Starting with Hera’s cabin, the one place we get to see her most private expression of herself, here is one of my favorite images, with so much to unpack. This is the first time we get to see her room, in “Rebel Resolve,” and hidden in the shadows we find an intricate border motif on the walls, and beautiful rosette pattern on the floor to either side of her work table.

A different twist on these rosettes and the border motif decorates the back wall of her bunk, as well as the edge of the delicate sheer curtain that frames it.

More rosettes frame her doorway in “Homecoming.”

And the intricate patterns extend upwards as well (seen here in “Legacy”). The subtle, organic designs, which appear handpainted mostly in a red ochre (with some details in yellow), are ultimately found on the floor, the ceiling, and all four walls.

The artwork is vastly different in style from Sabine’s, which decorates most of the rest of the ship. It looks, well, like this:

Similar rosettes can be seen on a banner in The Clone Wars episode “Innocents of Ryloth.” And then there’s both rosettes and that border pattern, which looks an awful lot like this one:

Framing the windows and doors of Numa’s childhood home, and many of the other homes in her village.

And flashing forward to season 3 of Rebels, we find that same border pattern framing the doorways . . .

And the exterior of her own childhood home.

The most important use of that particular motif, though, is arguably on the central post of the kalikori itself, highlighting its immense importance in their family life.

Going back to her room, another pattern seen on her cabin walls (top left)

Echoes the motifs over a number of doorways in her home.

And rosette designs are embedded in the home’s windows (and other places) as well.

So all the artwork around Hera’s room, which I am quite certain she painted herself, is inspired deeply by the culture of her homeworld--both her personal home, and the larger Twi’lek culture. Note that I say inspired specifically, because I find it really interesting that NONE of the designs she has in her room are identical to the Ryloth ones in either show. They all have their own twist on them. The border pattern in particular, seen again here in “Legacy:”

Draws upon but is much more complex than the intertwined “V” pattern seen universally on Ryloth and the kalikori. The strokes vary more in direction, angle, and size, and it’s more tightly interwoven and twisted, you could even say more broken, in character. It’s definitely unique. Take from all that what you will about Hera’s self-concept and character. She has certainly taken her history and made it her own.

The other little bit of home we see aboard the Ghost that appears from the very beginning is likely Hera’s wooden chair, bolted down in the corner of the common room. Five bucks says that came from Ryloth too; the arching, organic shaping and natural materials make that a pretty fair guess.

But what about Hera herself? Her clothing is far from traditional Twi’lek attire, sure, but even there she still reflects her homeworld pretty clearly. Because what’s orange and brown and green and gray all over?

That’s right, Ryloth, of course! (Also Kanan, who is designed as the inverse of Hera, but that’s a discussion for another day, although definitely one of my favorite details.) In character, you could say that Hera dresses in a way that is practical for her day to day activities, but still reminds her of home. And it also makes perfect sense from a character design point of view. Hera, quite literally, is a picture of the best of Ryloth, no matter how far she gets from home.

But even when she strays from her usual flight suit in season 4 when the Ghost crew sneaks back onto Lothal in “The Occupation”

Her outfit is almost identical in style to those worn on Ryloth by some of the female freedom fighters in Cham’s original Free Ryloth group (although quite different from the dresses with thigh-high slits that most of the Twi’lek women in The Clone Wars wore).

So there you have it. My general assessment is that, despite the estranged nature of Hera’s relationship with her father prior to season 2, Hera has always carried a deep love for her home planet and culture, even though she feels called to work beyond it. She is surrounded by it in all her most private moments. She doesn’t talk about it, just like she doesn’t really talk about anything personal, until it’s quite literally staring her in the face. But her desire to retrieve the kalikori certainly isn’t born on a whim and is in keeping with what we’ve seen of her before. And there are many deeper conclusions we could draw about her character from her art. With all that in mind, Hera adding Kanan to the kalikori really symbolizes the marrying together of the most cherished (and finally spoken) loves of her past and present.

#actualsaddestweddingever #excusemewhileigocry

[blodreina-noumou]

Purple and white ♥️

I love to reblog ask games and then log off.

Thank you so much, dear one! 💖

Purple: Ten Facts About My Room

1. I share a room with my husband, because I’m a married adult and that’s terrifying. (This hopefully excuses the weird “we/I” confusion I’m about to do.)

2. I always sleep with a fan on, even in the wintertime.

3. Our bedroom walls are a grayish green. We didn’t choose the color, but I really like it.

4. I have a huge, handpainted blanket hanging on my wall that my best friend (the beautiful @wildchamomilla​) brought me back from Thailand.

5. There isn’t actually enough room for two nightstands and our kingsize bed, so my nightstand is turned sideways and pushed up against the wall.

6. Consequently, there’s stuff in those drawers that I haven’t seen since we moved in a year ago.

7. Our bedroom window faces west.

8. The floors in my room are wooden.

9. On the top shelf of our closet sit two stuffed animals - the ones husband and I have had since we were kids. We always leave our closet door open and I think it’s kinda cute to see them up there, watching over us.

10. I also have a charcoal rubbing of a temple carving from Thailand hanging on my wall. My best friend gives me the coolest gifts. 💖

White: Three Facts About My Personality

1. I am very introverted, in that most social interaction drains me of energy. I love alone time and feel happiest when I’m by myself. There’s two exceptions to this rule - but I need space even from them, eventually. Despite being introverted, I’m not particularly shy - I find it easy to talk to people, it’s just exhausting.

2. I’m really sarcastic and use a lot of self-deprecating humor IRL.

3. I’m more of a listener than a talker, but I really love it when people give me space to ramble about my thoughts.

Send me a color if you’re curious!

[anandartandcraft]

Wooden Temple Mandir Handcrafted Window Pooja Ghar Mandap With 9 Pooja Items For Worship Home Office Wall Decor Indian Art ..................................... ........................... .................. . . . . . Wood, Hand Painted Description  Hand Crafted Wooden Hand Made Brass Fitted Polish Work Art *This Temple can Be Used In Home As Wall As In Shop / Office / Home * 1 Drawer / Tray Keep The Pooja Accessories * Size :- Outer 18 X 12 X 24 ( L X W X H ) inch Approx * Size :- inner 15 X 9 X 11 ( L X W X H ) inch Approx * Weight :- 7.280 Kilo Grams Approx * Size :- Outer 24 X 12 X 30 ( L X W X H ) inch Approx * Size :- inner 20 X 9 X 16 ( L X W X H ) inch Approx * Weight :- 10.380 Kilo Grams Approx Available in stock DM me 📩 . . . #mandir #temple #india #woodentempledesigner #woodentemple #swaminarayan #hinduism #templearchitecture #bhakti #workshop #poojaroomdecor #interiordesign #architecture #shiva #darshan #bapsphotos #mahadev #homemade #bapsswaminarayan #shree #handmade #rammandir #dailydarshan #handpainted #hindutemple #homedecor #bhagwan #satpurush #wallhanging #anandartandcraft @anandartandcraft (at Milkman Colony Jodhpur) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNwpAqGH4bn/?igshid=v5bb9zv3r6lu

[thelistingteammiami]

Most Popular Types of Florida Home Architecture

Florida is one of the best places to live in the US. It has a rich cultural heritage and history. The housing is affordable, and the cost of living is good as well. Then there is the great well-balanced weather and so many fun outdoor activities. These are all the things you should learn if you are ever planning on moving to Florida or buying a vacation home there. However, one more thing you should get familiarized with before committing to something so serious is learning about popular types of Florida home architecture. This will help you make a better, well-informed decision about the property you are considering purchasing there, but that is not all. It's also good to know about this if you are just thinking of adding some upgrades to raise the value of your Florida home. So we made a list of some of the main Florida architectural styles you should know about.

Florida home architecture- The list

As we said already, Florida is a very good place to live, and more and more people are moving there every year. But even though Florida is great, you still need to do some research before moving there. In the same way, you search for packing tips for beginners on the internet so you can do it like a pro once the moving day comes; you also need to research the architectural styles that are popular in Florida. The four architectural styles on our list have been the most popular in the last decade, so they are the ones you should focus on the most:

·       Mediterranean type

·       Spanish type

·       Modern type

·       Ranch type

Mediterranean type is one of the most popular

When it comes to Florida home architecture, we must start our list with the Mediterranean type. This style has proven to be very popular among home buyers in Florida in the last couple of years. There are some key differences between a Ranch style home and a Mediterranean-style home, with the main one being the fact that Mediterranean-style homes are typically two stories high. Then the next trademark of a Mediterranean-style home is the red-tiled roof. Big windows with creatively styled arches are often seen in these types of homes. The goal with the big windows and natural elements is to bring the outdoor vibe inside the home. We also have to mention the stucco walls, one of Mediterranean architecture's main characteristics. While rooted in European architecture, this style has become very popular in America but mostly in Florida and California.

Spanish-style homes are special

We have come to the Spanish architectural style, which at first glance doesn't look too dissimilar to the Mediterranean style, but there are some notable differences. But first, let us explain what common traits both styles share. The main similarities are the stucco walls and the red roof tiles. But there are some differences you need to know about as well. First Spanish-style homes can be both two or one-story high. They also usually have flat roofs. While these homes have curvy arches and entryways, they are actually quite simple and toned down. The less is more approach very present here. Doors are typically wooden with interesting arches and iron hardware. Another feature of Spanish-style homes that is very attractive to homebuyers is the handpainted tiles on the stairs. Its small interesting details like this that truly make these types of homes special.

Modern architecture

We have come to the modern architectural style, whose main characteristic is functionality. Modern architecture homes are made for those who like their homes to be practical but, at the same time, stylish. It is a very simple and elegant type of home that wants to use its space in the most efficient way possible. Modern architecture homes have a lot of big windows and rely heavily on getting some natural light inside. If you purchase a home in this style, you can expect a house with open floor plans and large living spaces. Modern materials such as steel, iron, and glass are also very well utilized here. These homes are minimalist and are designed specifically to be comfortable and practical. They are great for people who like clean, open, and well-organized homes.

Ranch  architecture is a good fit for older people

One of the architectural styles that are very popular in Florida and that you should know about is Ranch. But this style is not only popular in Florida but also quite popular all over the US. Here are some characteristics that will help you recognize this particular style. First, Ranch style homes are typically one-story houses, and they don't have stairs. This makes them excellent for older people and retirees who struggle with climbing stairs or have other health problems. Other than that, Ranch-style homes are open-concept and have a spacious, airy vibe. They are usually rectangular, U or L shaped. Another benefit of Ranch style homes is that most of them come with an already finished basement and garage, which according to experts at zaptmovers.com, is something a lot of people look for when they decide to move.

In conclusion

These are the most popular types of Florida home architecture. And there is something for everyone's tastes. If you like open spaces and outdoor vibes, then Mediterranean and Spanish styles are the best for you. If you are a retiree or are looking for a home for your grandparents, then Ranch style one-story houses are ideal. But if, on the other hand, you want a home that emphasizes functionality but doesn't lack in style and is aesthetically pleasing, then look for a  Modern architecture style home. The goal of this article wasn't to answer the question "What is the best architectural style in Florida?" but to familiarize you with various popular styles instead. The key is finding what works best for you and your family so you can buy your dream home. We hope you found this article informative and helpful.

Images used:

https://www.pexels.com/photo/sea-during-golden-hour-2524166/

https://www.pexels.com/photo/roof-made-of-red-clay-tiles-5401232/

https://www.pexels.com/photo/couch-and-big-windows-in-living-room-12002390/

https://www.pexels.com/photo/apartment-architecture-family-floor-276656/

[ayushkejriwal]

(Swipe to see more) This is the feature wall in my living room. I wanted to create an open space where I would be able to cook, relax , unwind and work. Considering my apartment is tiny having a full wall to floor length art work was inadvisable, I went ahead and did it anyways. The walls are painted in dark forest green and I love the contrast with the herring bone wooden flooring. The highlight are the two Mata ni pachedi artworks of Visat Mata and Mahadevi. The antique chair and the green velvet accent chair adds an oomph to the space and I love sitting on it looking out of the big window and see the swans in the river. I love fresh flowers and you will always find them in my home, I change them every second Sunday. #glasgowharbour #glagsow #ayushkejriwal #designerayushkejriwal #beautiful #smalllivingrooms #shelves #glasgowharbourterrace #glasgowwestend #smallhome #interiordesign #uniquehomes #artwork #ayushkejriwalartwork #worldofayushkejriwal #handpainted #handmade #craftofindia #madewithlove #matanipachedi #livingarea https://www.instagram.com/p/CC3u6O2JEEc/?igshid=wo4wlxburdru

[cameronschuyler]

I made this little wooden 21-window V-Dub ragtop bus for my dad for Father's Day. I grew up riding in a Volkswagens just like it, to and from the beach, the park, and drive-in theaters. Thanks, Dad. #volkswagen #vw #ragtop #ragtopbus #ragtopvw #miniature #handpainted #fathersdayflashback #nostalgia #classiccars #rightinthechildhood #bellflowerca #rightneardabeachboi #raisedright (at Bellflower, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCorFkCFznW/?igshid=pmvwnlkifsze

[loveinpanem-blog]

Love is...Unconditional

Banner by the brilliant, amazing and perfectly talented @akai-echo

Parts 1 and 2 are available on AO3/ffnet! 

Epilogue will post on Valentine’s Day. 

A million thanks to my lovely friend, @eala-musings for betaing this, the incomparable @akai-echo for the prereading, making the gorgeous set of banners and for talking me through some plot points. And finally, to the wonderful @thegirlfromoverthepond , my other partner in crime with @loveinpanem for inspiring this fic. Thank you all!

Part 3 - Release

“I’m fine, I promise,” I said, holding the cellphone in the crook between my neck and shoulder as I spoke to Prim and packed at the same time.

“I know, I know, but I just worry. I’ve never gone a month without seeing you. When are you coming home?”

“Soon, Little Duck,” I said, using my most soothing voice. Peeta quietly took my bag from my hands and checked the room one last time before we shut the door behind us.

“Okay. I just need to know you’re okay and I’ll quit worrying.” Her voice was plaintive, sounding like it did when we were children.

I sighed and watched Peeta pull on his shoes and tie them, knots double-laced, as always. “This trip has been one of the most important ones I’ve ever taken.” He looked up at me, one eyebrow raised as if in skepticism. I held his gaze defiantly as I continued. “I wish it would never end.”

His face softened, becoming thoughtful, then sad, before he let his eyes drop down to his shoes where his fingers still rested on the laces. I wished my sister goodnight and retreated to the restroom to brush my hair and keep myself from falling all over Peeta once again.

XXXXX

We stayed in Haymitch’s house just long enough to notify the proper individuals regarding Haymitch’s possessions so that they would be properly disposed of before we took the next train out. With him being legally dead and yet having been so visible and active in the matters of that small town, we were in no position to allow ourselves to be caught up in the confusion that would likely ensue with Haymitch’s abrupt disappearance.

The train took us further southwest, to the coastline of Panem, where District 4’s seaside towns were located. The trip lasted nearly three days, as we were unable to secure a ticket on an express train. Dread, heavy like the stone I’d cast into the lake, sat in my belly as we neared the place where Peeta was last alive. I suggested several times that we make a detour, stop in District 7, or even make a clandestine visit to District 12. It was, after all, our home and wouldn’t it be nice to see it one last time? But Peeta demurred, insisting that we go to the sea.

“There’s one more stop we need to make,” he kept repeating.

“But why the sudden hurry?” I insisted, cloaking myself in a naive hope that I could prolong all of this, pretending that I didn’t know why he was now racing to get to District 4.  To Peeta’s credit, he didn’t indulge my fantasies, but he wasn’t cruel or blunt either. He simply smiled, running his hands along my hair and down my braid before releasing it with a small tug.

Those days on the train with him existed beyond all reality. I wasn’t sure how things could get any stranger than my traveling with the corporeal ghost of my deceased husband, but it did. No one existed except for us, even though the train was full of people going about their business each day.

No one seemed to notice that Peeta was different, except for a small toddler with curly blond hair who waddled up to him when we were visiting the dining cabin. The child could have passed for Peeta’s son as he stared at him, not with fear, but with confusion as to the nature of the kind, blond-haired man he’d been instinctively drawn to.

“He’s beautiful,” I whispered as his mother tugged him away. I felt a memory barrelling upwards, a memory I pushed violently away for fear it would make me bleed.

Peeta’s face went through a quick series of changes, first frowning, then smoothing out to impassivity. “Some people are more attuned to ghosts than others,” he said, turning the pages of the magazine next to his sandwich.  “Kids, especially.”

We fell into a tense silence, which persisted until the little boy finally left the car with his mother.

XXXXX

“Do you know I have a secret?” I said one night, sprawled out on our cabin bunk.

Peeta, who had been placidly reading at his side of the bed, looked up. “Really? Do tell.”

“Yes. Something I’ve never told you.” I took up most of the space on the bed as I spread out dramatically. “I had a girlfriend the very first year we went to college.”

Peeta closed the book, watching me as I smiled at the memory. “I had no idea.”

“Well, you and I weren’t actually dating yet. It was weird, really, how it all happened. I’m not exactly a people magnet, but she liked me and pursued me. She was very pretty - astonishingly so given what a social idiot I was.”

“I’m not surprised she pursued you. I’d been pining for you since I was five. How long did it last?”

I shrugged. “Four months. But it was...intense. We saw each other every day. She was the first person I’d ever had sex with and I admit - we couldn’t get enough of each other. But then it just fizzled out. We never talked about the future, never mentioned marriage. It was just...what it was. So when she left, I let it go. She had marked an important period of my life, but I wasn't as devastated as I would have expected.” I turned my head up towards him. “I learned a lot from her but she didn’t break me when she left.” I rolled over and rested my head on his lap, looking up into his blue eyes, which danced with amusement and a certain amount of awe.  “It’s strange, the things that connect people.”

“Maybe it’s because you and I are married?” he whispered, playing with my hair.

I shook my head. “Marriage is a formality, nothing more. No, it’s because when I decided to love you, I gave it all to you - I made my existence completely enthralled to yours, and if you'd have stuck around, it would have been good. I gambled on the fact of you living, but I lost.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his expression pained.

I shrugged. “Don’t be. Maybe the odds weren’t in my favor. But you were worth all of it, even with the pain of losing you. Knowing what I know now, I'd still do it all over again, because simply being with you was a gift.” I ran my hands along his leg, reveling in the hard muscle beneath his pants.  “I'm learning to accept that I will live my entire life and never love anyone the way I love you.”

“It’s not true,” he said, helping me onto his lap. “You can love someone else one day.”

I shook my head. “Hey, I just admitted to surviving beyond you. That’s all the progress you’re going to get out of me today.”

Peeta snorted in disbelief, but he didn’t argue with me. Instead, he kissed me, murmuring sweet nothings in my ear before asking, “So, do you have any more secrets?”

I snaked my arms around his shoulders, realizing how many things we still had to learn about each other, and wondering if there would ever be enough time. “Yes, but for now, I think I’ll keep them to myself.”  

XXXXX

When we descended from the train, we walked out onto a two-lane road. One side was lined with shops and restaurants, while the oceanside featured a long boardwalk that went on for miles in either direction, punctuated by public beaches, quaint motels and wide stretches of sawgrass and mangroves. The sea was not masked behind even the tallest structures but made itself known by the deafening roar of its call and the overpowering smell of salt. It beckoned from the open spaces of beach and between the alleyways of buildings.

We searched the strip, or rather, I followed as Peeta wandered from one motel to another until we arrived at a small establishment with adjoining restaurant, buried under overgrown vines and trees, hanging thick with bougainvillea and jasmine. A sign with the handpainted name, The Seacomber, was posted proudly at the entrance and above the building.The smell intoxicated me, and I knew we’d arrived even before he’d stopped to consider the building.

“Here,” was all he said as he took my bag and stepped inside a tiny office with a faux-marble countertop that served as the front desk.  We were greeted by a middle aged woman with a face that smiled easily. A handsome young man, not much younger than me, with an unmistakeable resemblance to the woman, emptied the trash bins in the small office, pausing only to welcome us before exiting through a door in the back.

“I can offer you a poolside room on the first floor,” the woman suggested, showing us a map of the U-shaped property. A large pool area sat in the middle, surrounded by lounge chairs. The opening of the configuration faced out to the sea. I examined the layout more closely.

“Is that one available?” I asked, pointing at the leg of the U, at the end of which appeared to be a room that faced directly onto the ocean.

“That’s our honeymoon suite complete with a full kitchen, separate bedroom featuring a king-sized bed, and a lounge area that opens onto the balcony overlooking the beach. It’s...pricier...than this one.” The woman, who wore a name badge identifying her as Cecilia, pointed at the room she had originally assigned us.  

“I’ll take it,” I said, glancing at Peeta. He made to protest, but I silenced him.

“I want this. Please.”

He nodded and watched as I signed the credit card slip and gave it to her in exchange for a large room key with the number 11 hanging on it.

I was satisfied when we made it to the room. It was one of the loveliest rooms I’d ever seen - white-painted, wooden furniture adorned the open space. The sofas were dressed in homey prints of yellow and blue with matching pillows and a throw blanket. Sheer white curtains rustled in the breeze of the open window and the current created by the ceiling fans circling above. I set my bag down and crossed to the large balcony that, from the door, appeared suspended directly above the ocean. The shore only became visible when I approached the rail.

The smell arrested me - the aroma of flowers we’d encountered wafting up to our room, mingled with the sea, the sand, even the pungent odor of chlorine from the nearby pool. The squall of seagulls in the distance was the only sound we heard and I was grateful for the sparsely populated beach that spread for miles in each direction.

But it was the ocean that drew my interest. Rolling in on gentle waves under a partially-clouded sky, it did not give a hint of its menace. Rocks piled over each other to the south and the north beach curved into a bay that drew most of the sea-goers’ attention, for the water was smooth, almost mirror-like to swim in. But this savage beauty enticed me, nearly making me believe that it’s invitation into its depths was benevolent and sincere.

“I never thought I’d come to the sea again,” I said. Peeta came up behind me, wrapping his powerful arms around my waist. “I don’t know that I can go in it.”

He squeezed, pulling me flush against him. “Then don’t. I’d never force you to do a thing.”

“But what about you?  Doesn’t it…?”

“Does it disturb me? In the beginning, I was terrified of everything. I didn’t understand what was happening. But I came to grips with this,” he spread his hands out to indicate the treacherous water that lay before us. “It was one of the first obstacles I had to overcome so I could go where I needed to go, which was to you.”

I crossed my arms over his. “I’ll never forgive it.”

Peeta sighed, turning me to look at him. “It’s useless to hate a mindless thing.”

“Well, then who else do I complain to about this?” He fell silent on this point. He’d died but he knew as little about everything after as I did. “Well, then, since no one is listening, you’ll have to forgive me for hating that thing for taking you away.”

He shook his head but didn’t protest anymore. It was useless to argue over such things, anyway.

XXXXX

The family who owned the establishment where we stayed was a small one. There was Cecilia and her husband, Caleb, a jolly man somewhat older than her but who still preserved a certain air of humor about him that rendered him youthful. They spoke of two boys - Jayden, who was studying in a residential engineering program in District 2, and Thresh, who also studied in north Panem but stayed back in the summers to help his parents run the motel.

“Thresh sure does love the seaside,” Cecilia said fondly of her son, who at that moment was wiping down the machinery in the back of the restaurant. “His older brother had more of an itch to go away, do something different. But Thresh will probably inherit the place, since he loves working here so much.”

Peeta and I sipped our coffee as she chatted. We were consistently the last customers to make it down to the dining room before the breakfast bar closed.

“Now, don’t you worry,” she said as I apologized for the third morning in a row when we arrived only ten minutes before breakfast stopped being served. “We keep those hours for the business folk who come in and have to eat early so they can get on to their meetings and things. You both are obviously on vacation. We can relax the rules some.” She winked as Caleb brought hot water for our tea. “I’m on the ins with the owner.”  

We spent the days walking along the beach, exploring the national park north of our location. There was a reef off the coast that was only a small boat trip from the motel but after two weeks, I still refused to go in the water.

On one of our walks, after I’d turned down yet another invitation by Peeta to go in the water, he paused, considering me before taking off his t-shirt, leaving him in his swim shorts.

“What are you doing?” I said, panicking as he exposed his fair skin to the sun. “You barely put on any sun block!”

“Worry wort,” he teased as he gave me a brief, lopsided grin before turning and plunging, head-first, into the ocean.

“No!” I shouted, scrambling to take off my dress and race in after him. When I reached him, I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him towards me.

“Get out! GET! OUT!” I screamed, pulling frantically at him.

“I’m fine, I’m not going out there, Katniss. Please!” he begged as I continued to shout at him until I had managed to drag him out onto the sand.

“How dare you do that to me!” I screamed, hitting him on the chest, not once, but several times, tears now streaming down my face. “You promised you wouldn’t force me!”

“I’m sorry!” Peeta said. “I just really wanted to go in, so you could realize that I’m okay. I can take a swim and nothing will happen to me.”

I leaned my cheek against his wet shoulder, trying to regain my composure. I remembered the ambulances, the police cars, the National Guard boats out on the open water, combing the rocks, the reef islands, the mangrove fields and not finding anything, leaving me on this very beach, just north of where they were now, kneeling and begging for the courage to throw myself into the sea too.

“It’s physical. I…” I looked up at him, calmer but still upset. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, scraping my cheek with the fine grains of sand. “I just can’t let it touch me. It’s taken too much from me.”

“Hey,” he said, holding me firmly to him. “I understand. I felt the same way when I first, well, after…”

“You’ve had more time to deal with it. This is the first time I’ve been in front of the ocean in three years.” I looked out at it, so warm and beautiful, calling to me, presenting itself as it is, without will or volition. It just was and could no more help itself than the wind could stop itself from blowing.

I turned to look at Peeta, who was staring at me with those confounding blue eyes filled with worry. The water dripped from his hair, down his chest - making his hair sparkle again. I ran my fingers through the damp hair, curling them before I released them. Taking a decision, I stood and helped him to his feet and. With his hand firmly in mine, I waded into the warm, lapping waves, shivering despite the temperature.

Terror raced over me but I swallowed it back, breathing deeply in time with the music of the seagulls in the distance. I squeezed Peeta’s hand, swaying slightly as we reached the break line, where the sea was most insistent, waves crashing with mindless force against us. Finally, the foamy, roiling water became gentle undulations that spread and caressed us, a contained fury that enticed us to let down our guard, to trust it, but never too much.

Peeta pulled me up so that he was holding me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. The water came to our mid chest, so we let it carry us, each anchored to the other. Despite my terror of earlier, I felt safe and protected, the way I could only feel with Peeta. I still eyed the sea in anger and no small amount of hatred, but I could also admit its beauty and serenity into my consciousness. My arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and I heard his murmurs in my ear, dampened by the low roar of the surf.

“Hmmm?” I asked, unable to capture his words with any clarity.

“Oh,” he said, as if he hadn’t been aware that he’d been speaking. “It’s a silly thing really,”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

He looked sheepish but he spoke again, this time so I could hear:

We the mortals touch the metals,

the wind, the ocean shores, the stones,

knowing they will go on, inert or burning,

and I was discovering, naming all these things:

it was my destiny to love and say goodbye.

 I kissed him then pulled back. “That’s beautiful...and so sad…”

Peeta shrugged, pulling me back to my place, head on his shoulders, arms and legs wrapped around him. “It is, isn’t it?”

XXXXX

We spent so many days that way, where the goal was not where we were going or what we were doing, but that these things were done together. Peeta had always had a gift for sketching and I sat next to him for hours as he indulged himself, making drawings of me, of himself, the birds and oceans. And he gifted each creation to me, amongst the most precious things he ever gave me.

We took long naps in the afternoon, retreating to our room to talk, read or make love - whatever and whenever the mood struck us. In the quiet rhythms of our time together, we learned more about each other than in the ten years we’d been married, punctuated as they were by the constant freneticism of work, obligations and an ever present to-do list. I imagined myself doing this forever but my imagination would not reach that far. It was funny how people were made - we could get used to almost anything and I eventually became accustomed to the uncertainty, living as fully as possible in the moments I spent with him.

Some days, when Peeta napped and sleep eluded me, I wandered the premises or the beach, though I refrained from going in the water without him.  There were small, secret places in that motel, and I wandered into one of them after nearly a month, drawn by the lonely chords of a beautiful piano piece I nearly recognized. I followed it, searching for its source until I reached a conference room, its door closed but not locked. I opened and walked through.

The music drew me in, a gentle melody that was executed with a practiced, if hesitant tempo, as if the player did not fully trust their ability to play. I followed the music, which I recognized as Comptine d’un Autre. It took me back to my youth in District 12, and to, Madge, who would invite me to her house nearly every day. Each time, at some point in the visit, she would sit me down next to her as she played this melody and others, all the while pausing between songs to chat. Sometimes we said nothing at all and she just played song after song, which suited me fine because I loved listening to her play.  My visits always smelled of tea and cookies, sometimes homemade, mostly bought from Mellark’s Family Baker.

The thought brought Peeta to my mind, causing me to nearly turn back. I missed him when I wasn’t with him, but he’d had been sleeping so peacefully, I was loathe to disturb him.

I forced the door open and stepped inside. A young girl of about 12 sat at a fairly old and well-worn piano. She wore a blueberry-colored dress with a crisp collar, the color of whipped cream. Her slender fingers danced, occasionally missing a key, which she corrected with a smooth shift of her hand. Her skin glowed smooth and brown, her tight curls fastened into two fluff buns on either side of her head, held in place with ribbons the color of her dress.

Drawn by the music and the nearly picture-like perfection of the girl, I stepped up to the piano, capturing the expression of surprise on the sweetest face I’d ever seen.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly, noticing that she wore the same look of being on the verge of a smile that Cecilia and Thresh possessed. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”

The girl, who had paused in her playing, spoke with the voice that reminded me of trilling birds.  “Oh, you’re not. I’m just keeping myself busy, like my brother always says.

I was confused. Cecilia had only mentioned two boys, but I kept it to myself. “My best friend used to play that piece. When I was young, it was my favorite and I always made her play it.”  I smiled as she giggled. “I’m Katniss.”

“I’m Rue,” she said, resuming her playing. “I want to practice so I can play at the school assembly. But I have to learn it perfectly first.”

“It sounds perfect to me,” I said, taking a chair next to her. She took up humming the tune under her breath. I watched the soft undulations of her shoulders as she brought her arms to her side, chasing the tune with child-like persistence. A sound, harsh and short, caught my attention and I turned. It jarred, not because it was loud but because it reminded me of a wound being torn audibly open.

I saw that Thresh had taken a seat at a long table behind me, watching with an expression of agony as the girl played on.

“You can see her?” he asked, the sound barely audible over the tinkling of piano keys.

“Yes,” I answered. “She’s a very good player, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a paper napkin from his pocket and gripping it in his fist. “She comes and goes, always playing that song. I’m the only one who ever sees her. At least others can see your husband.”

“You noticed that,” I said, more calmly than I should have. But it was clear that Thresh and I were two of a kind. “Why is she here?”  My proximity to this world taught me that there was always a reason that the dead lingered, always a knot that they were seeking to untie before they could be free.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice sounding more tired than anyone should sound at his age. “When she was born, I was so jealous of her. My parents paid so much attention to her, and my older brother - he was too busy with his own things.” His face clenched as if he had been struck. “I only learned later that she had been born sickly and my parents were just trying to...keep her comfortable. Alive. By the time I figured it out, I’d wished her dead so many times that I was sure I was the one who made her sick.”

“It doesn’t really work that way,” I whispered, though who was I to lecture anyone on regret?

“When she turned 11, she died.” He rubbed his face, as if trying to keep all that he felt by physically shoving those feelings away. “She won’t leave because she knows my evil wishes killed her.”

Rue stopped playing and turned to look at him, staring without saying a word.

“She does that too,” he says. “Just stops and stares at me, like she’s accusing me.”

My heart ached for him and Rue. For Haymitch and Maysilee.  For myself and Peeta. For all the spirits torn away too soon and the broken souls they left behind.

“I don’t think she’s here because she’s angry. They never come to us out of anger.” I closed my eyes and thought of my husband, how I could describe in every way his presence in my life but never as a haunting. The living were haunted, not by ghosts, but by their own regrets.

“I think she’s just waiting for you to forgive yourself. You were just a child. No amount of wishing in the world could have made her stay or leave.”

Thresh stared back at his sister, who held his gaze with innocent purity. “I didn’t know, Rue,” he said, his voice now broken. “I didn’t know.”

Rue stood and walked towards him, her small dress swishing about her knees. When she reached him, she touched his hand and smiled, provoking a hiccup of sobs from him as he took the little girl’s hand and pressed it to his lips. He held it there as if it would keep all the grief in the world from spilling out of him and blotting the bright sunlight beyond the windows. With her other hand, Rue cupped his cheek and, like a blueberry tinted rainbow, shimmered and dissolved into mist.

XXXXX

I quietly left Thresh in the dignity of his solitude, knowing those moments belonged only to him. I couldn’t get a handle on how I felt after that. I stumbled out of the room and down the hall, my memory attempting to betray me again, reminding me that I, too, had an account to settle, a ledger on my balance.

I thought if I walked quickly enough, I could escape it. But it had become another spirit, one less benevolent than all the ones I’d met. It was vengeful, insistent and emanated purely from my guilt. As I pushed the door that opened onto the sparsely populated pool and I wound my way to the stairs that would take me to our suite, the spirit of that memory overcame me, and I had no choice but to stop under its power.

I was back in District 4, the night before Peeta died. We’d return from a walk with Finnick and Annie, both aglow with joy from the good news. They were expecting their first child in the fall, and they had infected both Peeta and I with their excitement. In particular, Peeta was as ecstatic as if the good news had been his own.

When we returned to our guest room, Peeta had acted immediately under that borrowed happiness. He’d taken me and kissed me, his hand sliding over my belly to grip my waist, his intent clear. No matter what happened between us, how angry the fights or how deep the disappointments,we always had this way of connecting, through the physical rhythms of our bodies, moving in synchronicity - a dance that always brought us back together.  Our unity of motion coaxed the same in our hearts.

When it was over, Peeta had whispered, “What about us?”

I had known what he was asking for he had asked for it often in the years of our marriage. There had always been a way for me to put him off - first our need to finish school, then the more pressing need to save money - all to hide the real reason I didn’t want to have children. I was terrified to death of having them, ruining them and, most compelling and ironic of all, of losing them.

“Maybe when we move back to District 12,” I had answered lamely. I knew Peeta had hoped for something more enthusiastic and committed from me but that night, I had failed. And it had been a critical failure.

Peeta was far too sensitive to me. He perceived the hesitation, and, soon, all I felt was ice from his side of the bed. I reached out to touch him, to try to find that connection to him again, the one I had severed with my answer. But he sat up suddenly, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and dressed quickly.

I sat up also, gathering the bed sheets around me.

“Where are you going?”

He paused, his rigid features visible only in profile, but it was enough to capture to depth of his hurt and anger.

“The thing I’ve always looked most forward to in our life together was the possibility of having a child with you. To have someone who carried a piece of you together with a piece of me.” He inhaled loudly, as if it would steady him.

“I want that too, some day…” I said, hearing the emptiness in my words as I said them and knowing that I was continuing to fail miserably.

“One day?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “I don’t understand why you would marry someone you don’t want to have child with.”

“That’s not true!” I said, anger now spewing out of my chest, at him and at me. “That’s such an unfair thing to say!”

“Why the hesitation then, Katniss? Why else but because I just don’t inspire that in you? Maybe someone else would be better able to do that.”

“Hey, hold on,” I said, oblivious to the fact that my blankets had fallen away and my voice was rising. “You don’t have to say things like that to me!”

Peeta stood and whirled around, hands balled into tight fists. “Oh, come on!  You keep putting up every fucking obstacle that you can find to actually settling down and starting a family. You keep postponing our move back to 12, you’re completely unenthusiastic about me taking over the baker…”

“I just want to make sure we have enough money, that’s all! You’re just turning everything around so that you don’t have to take responsibility for your own unhappiness!”

Peeta grabbed his hoodie and threw it haphazardly over his head. “You know what? My happiness depends as much on you as yours does on me. I take responsibility for that. You’re the one who keeps pursuing goals that take no account of how I feel!” He shoved his feet into his shoes. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I’m taking a walk.”

“Don’t...don’t go,” I said, suddenly horrified by the argument, by our words. “Please, let’s talk it out. Maybe I can…”

“You can what?  Keep putting me off? I’ll pass on that, thanks.” He turned, opened the door and left the room. I was so stupid. I should have gotten dressed. I should have gone after him. Instead, I kept thinking that if I gave him time, he’d come around, become the Peeta that I loved, the Peeta I’d taken for granted - the patient one, the one who was always willing to apologize first, and make amends.

I chose to sit on that bed and wait in my self-righteous anger.

It was the last time I saw him alive.

XXXXX

Tears blinded me as I finally arrived in our suite. Peeta was awake and making coffee in the kitchen. I tried to calm down, tried to find a stable place. We had so very little, precious time.

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked as I paced the room. Memories had become feelings that rose up to swallow me and God knows I didn’t want them. I didn’t want them to make their appearance. I pressed my temples as if I could push them back behind the wall of darkness where they could haunt me without my awareness. But it was futile. The time had come, and I could no more keep them back than I could hold back the waves that had taken my husband’s life.

“You have no idea what these last three years have been like for me,” I said between clenched teeth.

“No,” Peeta said softly. “I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?”

I wiped my cheeks, trying to take in air. “No one has ever hated themselves more. You have to understand,” I leaned against the window, gazing at the sea, at once so calm and beckoning, yet full of treachery and death. “I let you die with that stupid argument between us. I didn’t realize how...how badly you wanted them.  And I was too proud to tell you how afraid I was.”  I turned to him. “Why did we let it go so long?”

“Because I never pushed you,” Peeta said, suddenly next to me, flexing and unflexing his hands in that confounding habit he’d come to have. “I didn’t want to force you and have you hate me if you weren’t happy with the decision.”

“You should have forced me!” I shouted, all of my self-hatred and regret rising out of me in one enormous wave of feeling, powerful enough to pull me under. I was forced to take a seat on the divan. “You don’t know how many...how many times...I...cursed myself for saying no to you. For not going after you and telling you, once and for all, that I would give you everything you wanted.” I balled my fists against my eyes to keep the tears from escaping again. “If I’d have just done that, you would still be here, with me and not dead...and fading…”

“Katniss, please! I told you not to play this game!”

“I should have had your baby!” There it was, the truth. I would have had someone to comfort me, to make my life worth something in the event he left me and took my heart, my soul, my will to exist with him. “I should have just said yes.”

“Katniss…” he whispered, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades while I sobbed. “You weren’t ready. I...I made the mistake. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

His words still stung, even with the distance of memory. “I was...haunted...obsessed...by the thought that if I had only just said yes...if I had only just given in.” I sobbed between my words, forcing them to make sense. “And this...thing...this regret...it nearly killed me. And now it traps you here.” I look up at him, feeling so unworthy of him, of everything he had given me and continued to give me. “Why did you even bother to come back?”

Peeta sank down onto the divan next to me, flexing his right hand again. “I have a confession to make.”

I stopped blubbering enough to listen to him. “I thought I was the only one with secrets.”

“That’s not entirely true. I...I owe you an apology.”

“And apology? Why?” I look down at his hand and notice the subtle phase shifting like Haymitch, noticed his hands as they curled into a fist and opened again. “You’re fading, aren’t you?” I gripped his arm in a panic. “You’re beginning to fade!”

He shrugged, capturing my hand in his and squeezing. “I’m always coming and going. That...that’s not...Katniss, I’m not just here for you.”

“Not here just for me?” I repeat, never having posed the question of his current state of existence, even to myself before today.

“I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, why I’d held on, why, when other spirits were moving on, I was stuck and couldn’t leave. I needed to make it right with you. I needed...I shouldn’t have left you that way. I should have never said those things to you.”  His ragged breath prefigured the tears that now fell.

“Shhhh….” I whispered, pulling him towards me.  “People say things…”

“You were alone for so long,” he continued.  “I could hear your grief, Katniss. It was like a lonely chord rising above a symphony of existence, a note that only I could hear. I followed it because if you suffered, it was because of me. I’m the one who left you alone after that argument without making amends. I had no choice but to come to you. I had to fix that.”

I gripped him to me, revelling in the feel of him, a feeling I never wanted to duplicate with anyone else ever again. “You have nothing to apologize for. We got a little lost, that’s all. But it never changed anything for me. I love you. I loved you then.” I looked up at him. “The only thing that could fix everything is if you stayed. We could live here, if you like, or in the mountains. Any place would do.”

Peeta shook his head. “I’m not in the right place.”

He stood, stepping toward the large window I had just vacated, beyond which lay the sea. He had no fear of it - he’d demonstrated that to me already when we swam in it. But he leaned towards it, as if it beckoned to him, and I knew, I knew I wasn’t ready. I could be - I could make myself strong, but just not at that moment.

“No, not yet!” I shouted, hurling myself at him, gripping his arm, not realizing that his edges had been blurring until my hand landed on him and he became solid. “Please, I’m not ready.”

He shook his head. “Neither am I,” he said, pulling me into a tight embrace. “I’ll never be ready to be without you.”

We held on to each other for a long while before he spoke again, his words rumbling in the depth of his chest, radiating in my ear.

“Please? Stay?” I begged, but weakly, because I knew it was only a delusion.

“I’m fighting everything to be here, but I only have so much strength until the tide turns and takes me away again.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Peeta!” I shouted. “That’s such a horrible metaphor!”

He froze, perhaps not expecting such a reaction from me, before chuckling into my shoulder. “You’re right. That was downright lurid.”

XXXXX

After we exchanged more reassurances, more words, the exactness of which I can no longer remember, but there was healing in them. We cleaned up and took a walk down to the small shack of a restaurant that served fresh seafood. We ordered several plates and a bottle of astonishing good, local white wine. We sampled everything on the menu, stuffing ourselves until my belly felt sloshy and full.

I told him all my secrets then. About the time I’d caught a deer after my father died and let it go because I couldn’t stand to kill it, even though the meat would have been welcomed. The only time I’d cheated on a test. How much I first envied my sister when she was born. How desolate I was when my father died and my mother couldn’t pull herself from the depression that followed.

And he told me his. The crush he’d had on our fourth-grade teacher. The time he nicked gumballs from the sweet shop, so proud he’d gotten away with it that he’d saved those round, shiny treats until they became brittle and nearly disintegrated to powder in his desk drawer. The night his mother had gotten piss drunk and woke him up in the middle of the night to confess that she did love him, with all her heart, but she was a right piece of shit and didn’t know how to show anyone how much.

“I can’t believe your mother would say that,” I said, feeling drunk in my own right.

“That’s mom for you - she isn't afraid to drop a surprise drunk confession on you in the middle of the night.” He looked up at me, his face suddenly serious. “Does it make me a horrible person that I didn’t once think of going to look in on my family?”

I thought about it. “Well, I never once mentioned it so that makes us both lousy human beings.”

He lifted his glass in a mock toast, before downing the glass of white wine in one gulp. “Come on, woman. Let’s pay this bill. I”ve always wanted to make love to you on the beach.”

I smiled as I paid the bill and we strolled for a long way along the beach. It felt terribly like something on a bucket list, which I indulged him. We did make love on the sand, the gritty grains getting everywhere, invading places where they shouldn't be. But when he poured salt water over me with his hands, cupping the warm water and letting it fall over my arms, my shoulders, the warm liquid racing in rivulets over my belly, I forgave all the discomforts. We melted into the gentle waves, clinging in the unfathomable darkness to one another. The waves pushed us gently together and I thought how ironic that, on our second last night together, the sea would conspire to unite what it had so violently torn apart.

XXXXX

Peeta fell asleep as soon as we returned to the suite.  I barely closed my eyes, opening them every few minutes to check that he was still next to me. But he was. In the silence of the room, and the depth of his exhaustion, I watched him sleep, memorizing him, cursing my inability to generate even the most rudimentary picture. While at Haymitch’s, I had tried to capture him with my cellphone but he simply refused to appear.  

“You can’t break every single law of physics,” he had said as I showed him the shot I’d taken. There was only an outline, like capturing the scattering of light, which only hinted that a person was standing there.

“It’s like those ghost pictures that you see in magazines sometimes,” I said.

“I guess you’re not the first person who’s thought about taking a picture of a ghost.”

Now, I had only my eyes, my memory, which would fade and leave only the impression of the man I loved, a poor duplicate for someone I had come to need for my very survival. But feast I did, until I was bleary-eyed from exhaustion. It was an exercise in futility, for no amount of staring would ever be enough. And he hid, in the sweetness of his slumber, the most striking thing that made Peeta Mellark who he was - his deep blue eyes, full of the texture of his kind heart and gentle soul.

When he woke at dawn, I was exhausted and he was struggling. His edges blurred and he compulsively flexed his hands into white-knuckled fists. I put my hand over his. “It’s how you focus, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his face strained. I would never truly grasp how much strength he’d needed to hold himself together until now. He was suffering and I knew that there was nothing to be gained by letting someone I love suffer, even for my sake.

“I wish I could beg you to stay. I wish I knew the formula that would keep you with me forever. But I know now that I can’t,” I said, holding on to his fists more strongly, my breath threatening to escape my lungs and leave me without speech. Everything in my body rebelled against it, but the time was near, and I had to cut the strings and let him go in peace. I had no idea how I would survive, but I knew, for his sake, that I had to try.

“Do you know that we are only aware of .04% of the universe?” he said suddenly.

“I...okay…” I said in confusion, wondering if his sanity would be the first thing to go.

“It’s so immense. It’s been around for so long and it’s expanding, always expanding, and will do so possibly for all of eternity. And our lives are like a flash in the middle of stars blazing their finite light in an infinite darkness - blink and you miss it.” He looked at me with eyes melting into the very stars he described. “I was so privileged to live in that infinitesimal moment in time, to have been alive when you were, and to have had, for that incredibly tiny interval, the gift of your love.”

“Peeta...don’t…” I was sobbing. Leave it to Peeta and his silver tongue to magnify the pain of his leaving a thousand times by simply opening his mouth.

“But I did what I had to do.” He released my hand and place his palm over my belly.  

I looked down at the deceptively flat expanse, warmed by the heat of his palm, and suddenly felt something, perceived in one, fierce vision of illumination the tiny life stirring beneath. My mind struggled to accept what my body had already known, had been preparing for since possibly the first moment the universe was cleaved into a billion pieces, setting in motion the timeline that would bring us to this moment.

“How...how could it happen...how can you possibly know?” I babbled in awe as I put my hand over his and held it.

“I told you...I know things.”

“But you’re a ghost!” I shouted.

Peeta shook his head. “We’re the same,” he raised his hand, shimmering like a collection of constellations. “We are both light and energy, mass and heat. And love. So much love. Einstein got some of it right, at least.”

I held his hand, the solid one, like a captive over the place where our child was taking shape. I had no words for this moment. It was too much for one person, so I just clung to the part of him that was still solid, still here.

After a time, Peeta said, “You’ll never be alone again.”

I smiled, despite the immense pain of my heart breaking in two. I smiled. I cried. I wailed. And finally, I laughed. I flung my arms around him and laughed and cried into his shoulders. “God help me, Peeta. All I can think about is I’m going to have one helluva story to tell when I get home.”

Peeta gripped me and held me close to his him. “Just be sure to leave the good stuff out.”

XXXXX

It happened like a star falling out of the sky. At sunset, I helped him down to the sand, where we both stumbled, falling in a pile on top of each other. We laughed like idiots because we were idiots. Who the hell did stuff like this happen to?

But when we sat in the sand and he became nearly transparent, I beckoned him to me one more time and his eyes became filled once again with the color of the dying sun. “We’ll see each other again, won’t we?”

Peeta became solid as he answered. “We will. Not for a while yet. But we will.”

“Okay,” I said, running my fingers over his face one more time.

“Can you do me one last favor?” he said, flickering now like a candle.

“Anything.”

“Call her Amada. Tell her she was given that name because she is beloved.”

And with that, he was gone.

Epilogue will post on Valentine’s Day.