#refurbishing window frames

[hometoursandotherstuff]

The 1889 Hull Castle, a stone Romanesque home in Fort Wayne, IN, is a "project house," b/c it's not finished. But, it's mostly finished, and move-in ready. It has some water damage on the 2nd level from a fire in August 2020 and there's an unfinished part of the 3rd level. 4bds, 3ba, 4,419 sq ft, $949,900.

The large entrance hall is completely refurbished and has a beautiful staircase with a bulit-in bench.

The current owners installed this gold ceiling. Not sure if I like it.

It looks like they may have framed this panel that was removed from somewhere in the house.

Look at the beautiful details under the stairs.

Original stained glass window and look at the gorgeous turned spindles.

The current owners like blue and re-faced the fireplace in blue tile.

The new owner can decorate. The rooms are good to go.

Beautiful original lighting.

They re-did the sitting room in a basic way.

The dining room is too modern. It has pocket doors, that they left natural wood, but they painted all the other wood white. The inlaid flooring looks new.

It has a nice fireplace, but I'm not sure that I like the big mirror. I'm thinking that maybe they shouldn't have done any remodeling.

This is so cute. A sun room with floor to ceiling windows and they left the wood original. Look at how nice the natural wood door looks.

Unfortunately, the new owner will probably come in and finish the kitchen with modern cabinetry, etc., but I think it's perfect, so far.

They really modernized the back stairs. It needs some lovely wallpaper and paint. Again, they painted over the wood.

This is one of the bedrooms. The floor is fine and the wood is intact. I don't think it needs anything but some brighter decor.

The back porch is so pretty.

This is a beautiful terrace on the 3rd level. The 3rd level isn't finished, but the tower room is, so that's a big plus. I wish there was photo of it.

It looks like there's an apt. behind the garage. All the listing says is that there's a 2nd level.

The 3 car garage is in perfect condition.

The yard and gardens are very pretty and look at the nice fencing. This home doesn't need much more work and will be worth well over $1m. 9,147 sq ft lot

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/721-W-Wayne-St-Fort-Wayne-IN-46802/73113142_zpid/

[keeping-writing-frosty]

Cara and the Will-o'-the-Wisp

Chapter One – A New, Weird Home

In a home from a bygone era that sat perched atop what the locals called a Little Mountain which bordered an ancient forest that had been there longer than any memory of the collective consciousness of the locals and the natives before them, and despite its well-maintained appearance and landscaping, it looked old and craggy to most. Within this home sat a creaky staircase, nestled in the shadows of the early morning as the golden honey-light streamed through the old, dirty windows which did not affect its brilliance. Beneath the stairs sat an ancient, knotty-wood door, whose weathered surface felt rough to the touch. Its natural dark brown color seemed deeper and darker than any other she had seen before, however, to the young Cara, the door seemed to call and beckon to her, much like an enchanting siren-song, she could hardly resist the temptation.

All the while as the movers brought in the family’s boxes and furniture, Cara approached the small door with wide, mismatch-colored eyes: the one eye on the right was colored a light blue-green turquoise that her mother used to tell her that it looked like the ocean, while the other looked a deep brown-orange amber, which seemed to lighten or darken depending on the light.

As her parents ignored Cara with their attention focused on where things should go, she used all of her strength in her slender frame to pull the door open. Yet it only opened just past halfway before the rusty hinges stopped their creaking and refused to budge any further. When she peeked through into the darkness where wispy spider webs and dust clouded her vision, disappointment washed over her as all she found was an empty wooden box adorned with a faded Black Cat Cigarettes Logo. After she pushed the box aside, which stirred up another cloud of dust, caused her nose to scrunch up in response.

Cara was such a precocious, garrulous girl that all loved upon first impressions; whose mother, through some headaches, had grown to love her inquisitive nature. Almost like a deranged kitten in a way. Cara had discovered this perfectly hidden gem just after she pushed open the front door of her family’s new home for the first time. Though this unfamiliar place failed to provide even a single ounce of comfort that Oregon had in every tree, cloud, and blade of grass. Main simply didn’t have this comfort, this home-like feeling to her, not even a speck, a gram of it. Yet, still, it had a unique charm of its own, and Cara thought to herself, at least everything is new to explore.

“Give it time. It’ll feel like home soon,” mother told Cara on the plane ride.

“Maine will never replace Oregon but try to take in the best things about Mount Desert Island: the lush forest that would be fun to explore, so much snow during winter, and the newness of it all,” father tried to comfort her.

Cara didn’t think it would ever feel truly like home. As she temporarily lost interest in the compartment under the stairs, she exited out into the cool morning air. Where a chilly breeze blew off the ocean ruffled the leaves and brought with it a briny aroma so much like the breeze from home. When she finally took in the house, seemingly for the first time, Cara took it all in.

The building was capped with a tall, steepled roof which towered high above anything she saw in the small, nearby town called Haven Bay. It provided a spacious attic that Cara wished she could explore, as for decades it was used as storage. Having been refurbished into an apartment where a curious old man lived that introduced himself over that long move-in weekend. He called himself Jakub Kaczmarek, he explained he was Polish and explained that he used to be a marine biologist that worked at Miskatonic University and now trained his various cats to do tricks on command. Cara thought him an odd man. Finding out that if you spent more than five minutes around him, he was never short of a tall tale to tell. Much like a magical aura, he carried with him unconventional wisdom when he spoke. Jakub always reeked of cheap tobacco, and cheaper, bitter alcohol.

Over this long weekend, Cara found beneath the creaky floorboards was a wine cellar as ancient and dusty as the house above, which intrigued the twelve-year-old girl. With its flickering light bulb above her head, that cast shadows that danced and twirled about the crumbling crates and disused wooden barrels. Mid-room sat aged wine shelves which laid mostly barren, minus a few glass bottles with French-sounding names and a layer of dust thicker than Cara was wide. When asked, Mrs. Robyn Clarke, the landlady, reassured the family that anything which remained was no longer fit for consumption. That they could keep the bottles but would recommend tossing its contents.

Cara couldn’t understand why anyone would want to drink something so awful to begin with, wine was just awful in general. Her mother would indulge in wine she kept in that little wooden cabinet father made for just for. That would, more-than-likely, be moved down here as it was the perfect condition for aging wine, supposedly. To her, she always felt like something was watching her down here, that there was a constant pair of unseeing eyes that couldn’t keep to itself. Despite her curiosity, Cara never spent much time down here.

Nestled midway down the hill behind the manor, where the land slightly protruded before it sloped at a gentle angle down to the ground. Laid an ageless, well-maintained garden that seemed to hold a certain magic about it. With only one entrance through the shrubs and flowering bushes that surrounded the perimeter. A wooden sign proclaimed with pride that the garden was first designed and planted in the mid-1800s by a Louis Bennefield, which was almost as old as the house itself by a couple of decades. As she discovered later, Mr. Kaczmarek ended up being the tender to the garden now.

Yet the garden was beyond anything Cara had ever seen before. It had a certain natural majesty, weather-beaten trees which provided a protective canopy around the perimeter, not just for the delicate flowers and shrubbery, but for anyone who wished for just a moment, a break from all things, to sit down on a marble bench adorned with little baby-faced cherubs on each side.

It seemed to cast a spell on Cara, as when she sat down on the bench and watched the dappled shadows that the late morning sun created over all the delicate, vibrantly-colored flowers. While the trees overhead weren’t nearly as fragile as those whose leaves protected. These were robust, ancient giants: a dawn redwood that towered above everything, even the house itself, a gnarled Norway Pine, and several balsam firs. She only knew the names because of the small signs set in front of each. Eventually, she had to get up as her mother would be cross with her if she didn’t unpack her room.

Her bedroom was quite a bit larger than the one she had back in Arcadia, Oregon, and as she unpacked her boxes, Cara realized that it was the same size as her parents’ bedroom in their old house. This brought a bit of happiness, and her window overlooked both the garden, the forest that bordered the property, as well as a squat, single-level home, its faded white paint peeled over the years. With her window open, the sweet aroma of the flowers mixed with the fresh cut grass smell. That when she took a deep breath, her lungs were filled with such beauty.

As her stuff was put away, for the most part it would satisfy mother, Cara rushed down the stairs where her father called out for her to slow down. It didn’t matter, she was already on the bottom landing and through the front door in the warm, sweet-smelling day. Down the pathway that led past the garden, she ran her fingers through the top of the black-purple leaves of a barberry shrub, which stood toward the back of the garden just before the trail winded its way towards the edge of the property.

On her way to the forest, Cara wrapped her arms around her petite torso as a suddenly cool breeze came through as the wind shifted. At least they carried the sweetness of the honeysuckle bushes near that small house along the edge of the woods.

Off in the distance, perched on a long, gnarled branch, sat a small blue and black bird. Who whistled a song that enraptured Cara for just a moment. Before she pulled out her phone and took a picture of such a beautiful bird. She hummed to herself and continued along the path. Perhaps she could find a bit of happiness here.

As Cara came close to the porch of the small home, she shrugged to herself and stepped up onto it, which creaked and groaned under her weight. This was the home of the round-shaped landlord and her broadly shouldered husband Adam. Both were as unassuming as their home. In fact, she questioned herself as to why she came here, but Cara had seen a girl over here earlier. So, with a deep breath, she knocked on the heavy wooden door. No one liked knocking on someone else’s door.

“Oh no, don’t get up at all. I got it!” The voice of a girl came from behind the door. Followed by a solid click, then the door opened with a squeak. “Oh, hi,” she spoke rather bluntly, her broad green eyes cast a curious gaze, her hair were tight orange curls which bounced every time she moved. “Ah, ya the new girl that just moved into the main house, right?”

Cara’s reddish-blonde hair covered her face after she nodded and brushed it out of her eyes before she quipped, “yep!” After a moment she continued, “my name is Cara Quin. Nice to meet’cha.”

“I’m Rowan, it is good to meet ya as well, Cara,” the new neighbor expressed with seemingly utter sincerity.

A grinning smile lit up Rowan’s well-defined, angular face, she invited Cara to come inside with a wave of her hand and stepped to the side. As soon as Cara stepped in, the cold, almost icebox like air, caused goosebumps to raise upon her arms as the AC overworked itself with a hum that seemed to come from within the walls.

Within the modest living sat an old worn-out couch, its brown fabric threadbare and whose springs squeaked and boinged with each movement. Across from it sat an older HDTV which played some cartoons that no one paid attention to. Splayed across the couch, and parts of the coffee table, sat lanky obviously twin brothers: Steven, the one with shoulder-length orange hair much like his sister except without the curls, while Sam had a short, almost military-style haircut cut down nearly to his scalp, and seemed quite new. Both were seventeen and far-too-cool for Cara and her inquisitive, twelve-year-old nature. They roosted like lazy birds, faces buried in their Nintendo Switches without a single word uttered between them even as a new person entered their home.

Cara followed her new-found friend past the boys and their loud games, which blended with the distant hum of the television. Where they entered a narrow hallway off to the right, bathed in the soft, artificial glow of a dimly-lit overhead light. Off to the right, a bathroom where the unappealing aroma of too much cheap room spray wafted from within. To the right, a door with a neon-yellow caution sign on it that proclaimed for no one to enter, especially any boys.

Once inside, Cara was greeted by a kaleidoscope of visual delights. Dozens of posters adorned the walls, showcasing female soccer players in mid-action, fierce and elegant at the same time, their faces caught in moments of determination all frozen in times. Interspersed and mixed in were the familiar faces and art of beloved musicians and bands, smiles captured in all their glossy details. Which the one Cara knew the best, and was her favorite band, was Tegan and Sara. In all of their glorious eighties-like style, or from what she assumed. In the corner covered in what Rowan would later call, “organized chaos,” sat a desk with a laptop sitting open that cast a gentle blue hue on everything around it. While a cellphone, plugged into its charger, played a soft song that Cara didn’t recognize. Stacked on a small table under a lamp beside the bed was a collection of well-loved, frequently-read, creased young adult fantasy novels, their colorful spines whispered tales of adventures and escape.

“Let’s chill. You can get comfortable and all.�� Rowan smiled and plopped down on her bed

Cara thanked her and moved to sit beside the quite tall girl. “So, how old are you?” She inquired.

“Twelve.”

“Oh, that’s frickin’ awesome. I turned twelve this past April. So, wow, you are just really tall! I dig it.”

“Oh yeah. I am almost as tall as my brothers. I’m going to be huge! I can’t wait, but yeah. My birthday is February twenty-night. I’m a leap year, baby!” She touted arms raised high, which caused mirth to rise up in both of them into a short bout of laughter.

Eyebrow cocked, Cara asked, “Wait, so you only celebrate your birthday every four years?”

There came another laugh, a good-natured warming sound. “No, usually the twenty-eighth. Though it was nice to celebrate it on the correct day, for once.”

“So,” Cara dragged on the word for a moment. “I am going to assume ya like soccer.”

“Love it. I’ve played my whole life. Do you play?”

“A little here and there, but nothing truly competitive. I’m not the most athletic.” Cara stretched her noodle-like legs out in front of her. “A friend of mine back in Oregon played a lot. Would be rad to learn how to play better, though.”

“Hell yeah. I’d love to play and teach you more,” Rowan enthused.

Cara added. “But, until then, is there anything interesting ‘round these parts?”

A pensive look took Rowan for a moment as a silence hung between them. Until she bit her bottom lip as if she wanted to speak but was afraid of how Cara would react. “Okay, I don’t want you to think I am weird, but this place is very old and, well, weird place, you know? I’ve lived here in this house my entire life. Wanna see some cool shit, though?”

Shooting up with a start, Cara exclaimed, “hell yeah! Oregon had some cool places to explore, but we didn’t have a forest like this. At least, not close enough to explore all the time.”

Rowan stood up, and it was the first time Cara noticed how tall her new friend truly was. Easily she was a head-and-a-half taller, if not more. Mostly legs, one could almost think she was a basketball player. She was shaped normally, just lanky and tall. “A few dope places, you know? They have a vibe I just”—she shrugged her broad shoulders—“can just center myself in. If that makes any sense.”

Yet before the pair left Rowan’s bedroom, she stopped and turned to look at Cara. “I don’t want to be rude or anything. Just wanted to say that your eyes are unique and very pretty.”

A rosy crimson lit up Cara’s pale complexion who found her words flustered and hard to vocalize. “T-thank you very much.”

“They are awesome, cool, and I know we just met, so I hope this didn’t come off as weird or cringe or anything.”

Cara was used to people staring at her because of her differently-colored eyes. Usually by creepy-looking adults, or kids who were just going to make fun of her. “Thank you,” Cara mused, the smile on her face grew ever wider.

After Rowan locked her bedroom door and checked its security. She led Cara outside just as a strong wind kicked up leaves, flower petals, and grass clippings into a swirling current that flew off out of the yard towards the forest. Cara was led by her new friend to past the tree line.

A few steps into the woods, where it darkened, Rowan held a sly smile across her angular face, leading Cara into a grove surrounded by a copse of red cedars and sugar maples. Long ago, as Rowan explained, some force arranged the large stones and boulders in an almost geometric pattern that dotted the roundish grassy knoll that sat middle of the grove.

“They say a coven of witches used to practice their rituals here,” Rowan explained as she hopped onto an old tree stump covered in moss as she sat and watched Cara.

Beyond intrigued, Cara examined every rock and stone, ran her fingertips across the rough surfaces—some were moist from the dew, still others sat bone dry. There, just outside the semi-circle, stood one in particular. After a long several minutes of examining the rock, that’s when Cara saw a face on the rock. Painted upon it many years ago, now almost completely faded.

“Oh-ho-ho,” Cara hummed and rubbed her hands together. “You were right.”

When Cara looked over at her new friend, who seemed so much like a goddess of the forest on her stump throne. She said, “This is wonderful. Truly a magical place. I can almost feel it.”

“Some years ago,” Rowan began, knee pulled up to her chest. “Sam was acting like a complete ass. Though, I don’t remember ‘bout what. So, I ran into the forest, and I remember crying. I just so happened upon the grove. It was autumn and everything was so colorful. I remember that more than anything else.”

“Then I crumbled to my knees and buried my face in my arms on this stump, just weeping and crying and snotting about something. Then when my tears eventually dried up, and I was without words, ya know? The stones, man, just caught my attention. I know I studied each one for seemingly hours. Before the twins came to find me and hung out with me. Sam apologized, as he always does.” Rowan let out a long-held breath as she propped her chin on her knee.

She stood up and pointed back towards the trail. “Wanna go check something else out, yes? It isn’t too far away and it’s a even better spot than this place,” Rowan suggested as she got up from the stump.

The trail was well-maintained and had to look of being well-trodden. Hanging over the trails was large, gnarled limbs that held bright green, healthy leaves not yet affected by the forthcoming autumn. Around the biggest tree Cara had ever seen, and behind a rough, natural boulder sat a large fairy ring where the canopy had thinned out just enough to let the sun filter through. The ring was so large, Cara and Rowan could lay on the soft grass in the middle of the ring and still have plenty of space to not touch any of the squishy little, brown-speckled mushrooms, which stunk when accidentally crushed underfoot.

Despite the rather unique and pretty godawful smell, Cara had to resist every fiber within her that wanted to take one home and put it in an old aquarium to see if it would grow. Images of her mother exploding in quite the physical and literal and verbal sense if she even tried to do so, or even if Cara just wanted to dry them out on the windowsill and keep them between the pages of an old book. She still might do so anyways. Just the image in her mind’s eye caused a giggling laughter to emit from Cara.

Parsing her lips, Rowan cocked a thin eyebrow. “What’s up?” She inquired.

Cara found it hard to talk as she snort-laughed, she choked out, “s-sorry, sorry. Hehe. Just thought of something funny and stupid. Something my mom would say.”

But their adventure wasn’t done yet. When Rowan finally got up from the wet grass, Cara followed in step beside her. Further down the trail into the woods, they came across an ancient stone well built by many hands lost to time long ago with craggy and misshapen stones. Green-blue moss, and algae that matched rainbows just after a fresh, summer rainfall, decorated the structure. While an old wooden roof-like structure bleached from years of exposure, looked as if it held a coil of rope and a bucket at one-point years past. There off to the side, slightly hidden among the weeds, sat a broken lever, forgotten and discarded.

On top sat firm and unmoving a heavy stone lid which kept everything out, and despite Cara’s growing strength, the lid would not budge. Much like the green-brown toad that sat upon it, toward the back end. Which croaked its displeasure with a simple ribbit.

“Yeah, if I can’t push it off. You can’t.” Rowan hopped up onto the rough stone lid and dangled her legs off. Her boots almost touched the ground, and when Cara sat beside her, their knees touched for only the briefest of moments.

“It’s kind of gross to think people drank out of that,” Cara did her best to not think about how Rowan’s touch felt. The toad gave one last croak and jumped off, burdened with an expression of such disgust. “Can you imagine what lives in the water?”

“Toad water.” Rowan scrunched up her button nose. “This is such a cool place. There’s one last thing I want to show you today. Before my mom starts yelling for me.”

“My mom would just send a text demanding I come home.”

Rowan scoffed, “I hate that they think they can control us because we’re—“she held up her hands and air-quoted—“kids. We’re almost teenagers.”

“I fear my mother would be even more of a pain once I turn thirteen.

A short, “hah,” came from Rowan. “Phones don’t work that well out here anyways. So, what is she going to do? Must be all the trees, I reckon.”

“What else would it be?”

Rowan shrugged. “No idea.”

The rough stone of the lid scratched at her denim jeans when Cara pushed herself off. “What other cool shit do ya got to show me?”

The smile that adorned Rowan’s heart-shaped face grew ever brighter. “The coolest thing of ‘em all.”

Further down the trail sat an old wooden sign planted into the soft ground with its words etched into the roughly-hewn surface that gave directions to Haven Bay just a couple of miles through the woods. Thick, ancient tree limbs seemed to form an arch that crossed over the trail. Roots jutted out of the ground, with spider-like almost-legs covered in moss, and if you could crawl through them, seemed much like a portal to somewhere else.

Despite the sun that hung high above head, the thick canopy kept out almost all of its warming rays. Which fostered an atmosphere thick with moisture and allowed a lingering chill to float on the almost stagnant air, which made sense to Cara with all the bogs that could be found just to the east, or so Rowan explained. While the earthy, almost lovely, aroma of toadstools and those musky fiddlehead ferns, underlaid with the constant sweet scent of decaying undergrowth, seemed almost magic. There was no absence of life here, birds sung their summer melodies and small animals rustled just out of view but not out of range of the girls’ ears. If someone told Cara this was heaven, she’d have no complaints or arguments.

When Rowan took Cara’s hand, the softness of her touch surprised Cara as it contrasted so much with the obvious strength within said hand, and Rowan led the way toward a rather massive tree stump that seemed far, far older than the forest itself. As if the tree was the first of its kind. Seemed so much different from the one in the grove—this stump seemed so much grander and beyond greater. At one point many eras ago, a gigantic tree towered above all others, and it knew. It almost reminded Cara of an actual throne, where the real Queen of the Forests sat, she sat here and surveyed her domain.

With an impressive leap, Rowan jumped on top of the stump with steady dexterity. Her pants pulled up a bit to show off her mismatched socks, both deliberate and somehow accidental. As she spoke, her voice lifted in a lilting tone as she almost whispered, “this place is magical, isn’t it? Something’s here, isn’t there? I can feel. Don’t you feel it? I’ve always felt a connection to this place on a level that’s hard to explain.”

Rowan looked down at Cara, a look of surprise and almost disbelief held the smaller girl’s features.

“I know what it sounds like. Like I am crazy.”

Cara shook her head. “Not crazy.”

“The twins both talk about going to college, moving away, seeing the country and the world, but me? At one point my dream was to play for the US women’s soccer team. Maybe to play for some prestigious club, but nowadays? I don’t know.”

The tall girl reached up to take a long, three-pronged leaf off of a tree, tossing it into the air where and unseen and unfelt breeze took it away on a short trek to the ground below. There existed not a single doubt in Cara’s mind that this place was special. Yet something about it spoke to Cara, but it was in a language she didn’t speak. Not yet.

“Thank you.” Cara intoned in almost agreement.

Rowan turned to look down at the girl that seemed so far below her. “For what?” she questioned as curious as she was .

“Thanks for trusting me and sharing your favorite spots.” Cara smiled and buried her hands in her pockets.

Cara climbed onto the stump to sit on the edge, with Rowan sitting beside her. They sat there in silence as the surrounding forest went about its day. The day seem so alive, even if it just looked as if they were nothing but trees. A comfortable air came between the girls so fast and quickly. Comfortable was the best way to describe the two. And Cara felt just a bit more accepting of her new, weird home.

*****

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[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 10 - Illusión De Amor

prev - chapter 1

"Hosah, hey," A familiar, grating voice pounded at his ears as he was shaken awake.

God, what time is it? Disoriented and disgruntled, the shifter lifted his head from his folded arms, having being laid face-first on the desk, rubbing his eyes for a clearer view.

Ew, what the hell was Scotty doing here?

"Ugh.." He groaned, "..What? What are you doing here?" Hosah struggled to get his words out through a yawn.

The security guard just laughed at him as he usually did, except this time with a lot less venom, "It's ten o' clock. You could've clocked out four hours ago. Don't get paid for overtime here, you know."

"Shit, where's Teddy?"

"Who?"

Right, "Edward, sorry. Where's Edward?"

Instead of giving an answer, Scotty just pointed toward the single illuminated room down the hall, the staff room. Through the glare in his glasses, Hosah caught a peak of his own reflection. Gross. The kind of face only a good nights sleep would fix.

"You should go on and get home now," the unusually nice man dragged his feet as he walked away, "Shifter Slaughterers come out at this time of night." Oh, there's the Scotty he knew all too well, he was beginning think that the security guard had been replaced by some sort of evil clone, the polar opposite of his true self. Hosah couldn't help but scoff at the term. Nice alliteration, but still sounds kind of bad on the ears.

Watching as his coworker slinked off into the cramped security office, which he was sure was just a refurbished utility closet, the shifter got up to stretch. Now really was the perfect time to get back home, not only was his ass numb from the cheap chairs Jules' gave them, but he'd also kept his assistant waiting for god knows how long. So long in fact, that it was already pitch black out.

One good thing about the office was its location. Right in the heart of the city. The shifter stared out of the window, eyes transfixed on all the little lights scattered across the street view. It was almost as illuminating as the sun during the day, as the night awoke and the paths became even busier than ever on the Friday night, ready to experience the thrilling night-life the Big Apple had to offer.

That wasn't the life for the detective. At least, not anymore it wasn't. Sleepily stumbling all the way, Hosah travelled towards the staff room where Teddy was implied to be, and sure enough, there he stood, coffee mug in hand.

The taller of the two's face seemed to light up as he walked in, "You're awake."

"Yeah, why didn't you just get me up earlier, how long have you been waiting for me?"

"Seemed like you needed the sleep, didn't want to disturb you." The kindness Teddy had shown towards the shifter sort of put him at unease, an inkling that there must be something the man was looking to gain from their friendship, although upon close inspection, Hosah found nothing of value he could be manipulated into offering.

"Right," His eyes adverted down to his feet, leaning against the door frame to support his heavy body, "I need to go to bed."

Despite wanting to say 'Yeah, you look like you do,' , Teddy refrained, instead leading his partner in crime out of the building, holding onto the oversized coat sleeve that hung from his skeletal body all the while. Upon living with the seasoned detective, he realised maybe his tired look wasn't actually due to poor sleep schedule after all, and with the recent discovery of his poor health, it seemed to just be a more sunken face situation.

The way Hosah's skin clung to his bones was always concerning, his cheekbones and jaw so sharp it looked like they'd rip straight through his flesh at any given moment, and seeing him in full without the cloak that was his work outfit definitely cemented that worry. He could see exactly where Doctor White was coming from with his theory, but didn't want to outright say that to avoid offending the malnourished man. Teddy had studied psychology for four years at university level, and only god knows for how long he'd read about it during his days at boarding school, so he considered himself an expert on how to approach and communicate with his new friend.

To be honest, as the two weaved through the busy night-life of the city, Teddy realised that was probably one of his flaws. He didn't see any of his relationships in a normal way, he saw it more as a dissection of the other person's mind, being able to tell what they're thinking and how they're feeling just from a slight glint in their eye. That was the beauty of being in a close relationship with someone. The scholar was usually very good at this, reading people's minds after a mere handful of interactions, but Hosah was very different.

It was just as the note put it, he was hot and cold, contradictory, totally unpredictable, a textbook gemini. He felt sort of bad for thinking of him in such a way, but, to the rookie detective, Hosah was sort of like a wild dog he'd embarked on taming. At first, he bit and he argued, he was cold and said very little, but as the days passed and they spent almost every second in each others company, he quite literally felt them both warming up to each other, as the shifter now willingly sat, perched in his palm, leaning into any sort of touch he was given. It was extremely cute, admittedly.

The previous weekday, although painful and possibly traumatic for the shifter, was an extreme advancement in their relationship, and Teddy couldn't help but smile when thinking back on it. He felt proud of himself as he stared down at the impossibly tiny figure beneath him on that pillow, in that moment, Hosah was no longer the scruffy stray he was when they'd first met, he was now a well-groomed house pet, almost as if he'd never been wild at all. The only thing the giant could think in that moment was 'Look at you, all domesticated now,'. That was probably an extremely unsavoury way to put it, but it was the most obvious comparison Teddy could think of to his situation.

He'd done this before many times, in terms of actual animals at least, remembering his days on the farm during the summer when stray cats would wander out of the nearest village- about four miles away, all cold and hungry, bare bones and in need of a little love to make them all better again. Maybe a cat was actually a more accurate comparison to make in regards of Hosah, still feisty, some interpreting his clear setting of boundaries as being mean or rude, but with all the ability to love and play just like that of a puppy.

As he actually sat and thought about it, the assistant felt a rush of guilt, looking to the figure sat at his side on the late night subway ride home. The shifter leant on his shoulder like he did with the door frame, eyes barely open. He really was very pretty like this, even the yellow luminescent glow of the train suited him, made him look less jaundiced by comparison. With his eyes closed, Teddy could get a proper look at his long, wispy eyelashes that usually weren't visible due to how straight they were. Very, very pretty indeed. He felt guilty for being so pitiful of the shifter. Objectively, it was understood that Hosah was a grown man with his own set of thoughts, beliefs, dreams, values, wishes, all the sort of things that made one human, which is probably why Teddy felt so bad in the first place.

He'd never really felt human himself. Teddy recalled being in the food hall during his childhood, every other boy with his eyes closed saying their graces, as he sat, wide eyed with nothing to say in regard to his meal. Maybe it was due to personal experiences, but it always confused him, why he was expected to thank god for the meal. Why not the farmers who harvested the ingredients, or the chef that prepared it? Sure, God might've put the animals there to begin with, but they were created to live, no? Sitting in that hall, the only one not following orders, was what made Teddy realise he probably was not normal. He was supposed to be god fearing , obedient without question, but his mind couldn't help but doubt what he was taught to be fact.

Although he really didn't want to admit it, all Teddy wanted to do was to show the shifter the same sort of love he did to the lost kittens that wandered onto his grandparents farm, but that was one thing his time studying the catholic bible had taught him not to engage in. Despite questioning almost every other teaching he was given, this was one that always stumped him. Thinking of Hosah in such a way made him feel like some sort of predator.

He'd watched before how the farm cats would sit and stalk the little field mice, approaching very slowly, their moves so meticulous, so calculated. That's sort of how he found himself behaving in regards to the shifter. Overthinking every word he said to make sure it only had a positive effect on their relationship, buttering him up and throwing in 'You're right'-s even when Teddy knew the man was so blatantly wrong. Just the thought of turning that into love felt completely wrong. Not that he didn't want to, the feelings were definitely there and definitely grew stronger and more persistent as the days went on, but he'd learnt these kinds of feelings should be reserved for women, and women only.

Teddy would feel totally improper entering a vulnerable persons life, having them depend on him in such literal and small, personal ways, and then asking for romance. Although he'd heard a rumour or two about Hosah's love life through the grapevine, it all sounded so vulgar, so harsh, and it more made him feel extremely bad for the shifter rather that disgusted with him. That kind of disgust he saved for himself. It was clear there was some kind of underlying problem or event that dictated Hosah's life, but it would be far too forward to confront him about it, so instead he waited with intense focus, lurking with a fixed gaze until he opened up on his own terms.

He desperately didn't want to be like those who had previously hurt the shifter, despite not even knowing if that assumption was true or not, and it would eat at him from the inside out to know he was capitalising from Hosah's misfortune to receive the kind of sick love he'd always longed for. Teddy knew it wasn't wrong to seek love, but it proved to be increasingly difficult to break out of old habits and thought processes.

Looking down at the sleepy face before him, Teddy wondered how anyone could have such hatred toward the shifter. The stalker had the general understanding of Hosah as an individual, a human being, but still despised him just for his unlucky pick at the genetic lottery. As far as he was aware, the shifter generally hadn't done much to harm others, besides being a little rude from time to time. Why anyone would come up with the conclusion that the man was a vermin to the people surrounding him puzzled Teddy greatly.

Actually, no, third times a charm, Hosah was most like a mouse. His only crime being his size, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's how Teddy felt towards all fifteen of those people they found that day. How people could be so cruel to those who, below the surface level, were the same as everyone else in the world. His job continuously hurt his heart, feeling repeatedly crushed with every day that passes, every little tidbit of new information being gathered, which is exactly why he stayed. Hosah was now a target, and he would do all he could to free the shifter from the glue trap he found himself stuck in.

"Are we almost home?" The sleepy voice was so quiet, muffled by the coat Hosah's face was pressed against.

Snapping back into reality, awakening from the depths of this own brain, Teddy reassured the heavy-eyed man whose head lay against his shoulder, "I thought you fell asleep for a second there. Not much longer now,"

Raising his arm, Teddy wrapped it around the shifters shoulder, pulling him in closer, the blond head now resting in the cavity of his shoulder between that and his chest. It didn't matter if the other commuters looked at them, shit, this was New York, people could have psychotic episodes on the tube and it'd just be another mundane Monday.

The ringing of his phone forced the assistant to shift his position, forcing Hosah to hold himself up without support. The number wasn't saved in his phone, weird.

Reluctantly, Teddy answered the call, "Hello?"

Luckily, the crazed killer had not in fact found his phone number, instead, it was far worse, "Edward? I went back an hour or so before I clocked in, there was some dude peering in the windows about.. I don't know, twenty minutes before I got there?" Scotty's voice was just as annoying when muffled through the flip phone's poor audio quality.

For fucks sake. "Think it's the same person who left the package?"

"I mean, yeah, who else would it be? Fucking idiot though, lights were off downstairs, and you guys are on the third floor. Anyway, just thought you should know. Maybe bring a gun on your way to work tomorrow or something."

Despite the clear sarcasm in Scotty's voice, that last part sounded quite serious.

Before being forced to endure chatting with the unpleasant security guard for any longer, Teddy hung up the phone, wondering if the shifter had overheard any of the conversation.

"I have a gun in my apartment, it's in a safe in the closet with all my painting stuff." Hosah clarified. The assistant couldn't picture him with such a weapon, but maybe that's just because he'd painted the man as something so delicate, so fragile, something that could only ever be hurt, and never the other way around.

The shifter continued, his big, brown eyes looking up at Teddy's face all innocently, "Can pick up a my paints and a canvas when we drop by for it, then I can return the favour you asked of me."

Ah, that's right, Hosah's art was truly beautiful, nothing outwardly unique or preposterous, in fact it was all quite close to still life, except the way he blended the paints in such a fuzzy, soft way gave all the pieces the same sort of quality you'd have looking back at old childhood memories in your mind at night, some details straight up missing, the faces of adults blurred as you've forgotten their features over time, barely able to see them as they were so far away from your pre-developed body.

Despite the fact that Hosah was probably horrified with the information that was relayed over the phone call, his assistant couldn't help but smile. Hosah would be making a painting for him. He almost felt guilty for feeling happy in this moment, but then he remembered the fact and that sort of childish excitement Teddy hadn't felt in years came rushing back. Too ecstatic for words, Teddy just nodded, agreeing to go back to the previously broken into apartment to collect the shifters things.

"Are you not worried to go back there?" He enquired, the absolute need to understand the shifter and his thought process possessing his speech.

Instead of any kind of logical, satisfactory answer, Hosah shrugged, "It's kind of the least of my worries right now. People can be arrested, detained, they can lose interest. But all of my internal problems need to be solved by myself, and I need the will power to solve them. That's way more scary. That I just won't have it in me to fix myself."

Although it was certainly stupid in terms of regards to his physical safety and wellbeing, Hosah was right. He said the most insightful things when he was tired.

-~-

It felt like it had been years since the pair were sat in Jules' office, but in reality it had been three weeks at most.

This time around, they could keep each other entertained with their casual banter whilst waiting for the ruthless woman to assign them to a new task. Something still related to the overall mystery, but more detached from the main objective. Not only would it be better in terms of keeping Hosah safe, it would also he more accurate to what he had been hired to do.

During his time living at a hospital-esque sleep away school, Hosah had learnt he was quite the good mediator. Quite literally shrinking down to his peers height, getting their version of events to a T, being a source of both comfort and logic for the troubled individuals, it was something he actually quite enjoyed. As someone who greatly enjoyed knowing about the drama going on around the so-called school, and also as someone who was a big fan of being regarded as the hero who saves the day, the one able to solve everyone's conflict. That was probably why Jules came back to butt-fuck-nowhere-town Colorado to recruit him.

Finally, maybe twenty minutes after being informed she had business for the two to attend to, Jules arrived, looking as breathtaking as ever. Even in the business casual black button down blouse and knee length pencil skirt, the woman looked completely out of this world. She could wear a raw rotisserie chicken, and all the high fashion brands would probably make a trend out of it.

"We got a call earlier ago," Jules had a concerning smile plastered onto her annoyingly perfect face as she took her seat, "Same old same old, that bakery's had their roof torn off again."

"Ughhhhh. Okay. Yeah we'll go right there." Hosah brushed his fingers through his hair, sick of this same scenario happening monthly.

Teddy on the other hand had not yet been on the bakery bandit's case, and just his face alone was enough to know that.

"What- What do you mean they've had the roof torn off?" For lack of a better word, he was flabbergasted.

The shifter waved him off as if to say 'Don't worry about it' , but Teddy was most certainly worrying about it.

"Happens all the time. Shifter grows to like , eighty feet, something like that, goes for the roof and takes their goods. Not for themself, probably, never takes all of it, just a few things." Hosah was laughing, despite his assistant's visible concern, "I kind of don't ever want to catch the guy, gotten to be quite fond of them with all the times they've done it. Seems innocent enough, just fucking annoying. This is where my taxes are going. Fixing their stupid roof. At this point it'd be cheaper to just move location."

Teddy wasn't really paying attention to the shifter's debriefing, more-so focused on the absurdity of the scenario the shifter seemed so casual about.

When they arrived, the detectives had to fight their way through the crowd of onlookers and news reporters just to get in the door and talk to the cashier. Hosah didn't understand why everyone was so fussed, this thing was a regular occurrence nowadays.

It was a sweet little cafe-bakery fusion, and when it got refurbished as it did so often, it was a real hidden gem. The walls were a soft, pastel pink, although they were now covered in dust and dirt from the rubble that had come down from the moved roof, and the decor had a very similar colour palette, with cute little flower shaped pillows on all of the painted wooden chairs, pretty lace serving as table cloths, although they'd probably have to get replacements for them now as they were dirtied beyond repair. Such a shame, Hosah would've quite liked to frequent the place if the not-so-desirable visits didn't happen so often.

The young girl behind the register looked absolutely disheveled. The shifter didn't recognise her, so he assumed she was probably a new hire. Unlucky. It wasn't unusual for the bakery's staff to quit after their first encounter with the giant, who seemed to love terrorising this specific location for no apparent reason at all.

Shifters that could grow instead of shrink weren't exactly unheard of, they just had to take extra precautions in regards to their height changes. Usually, if you have the fact stated in any of your records, the military's special forces will get straight into contact, which is where most of them ended up going. Despite wanting to understand the fear everyone felt regarding the situation at hand, Hosah just couldn't, he was far too used to being tiny, being surrounded by more giants than anyone in the vicinity could probably even comprehend.

"So. Back at it again huh." Hosah leant against the rubble covered counter top, seeing what goods the delinquent had left behind in the glass case beneath him.

The girl sniffled as she nodded, "I was-, I was warned about it, but... I need the money..."

Her name badge read Yojeong, Hosah recalled it meant 'fairy' in his mother's native language, a very cute name indeed. Yojeong's hime-cut hung loose from her short ponytail, shielding her reddened, tear streaked face. Poor kid. The shifter himself knew just how scary it was to be tiny, he couldn't imagine what it would be like for the girl, with no prior experience or exposure to that sort of horror.

"Not hurt or anything, right?" This was never the case, but it was always best to clarify before assuming.

Still, with her head hung low, she shook 'No', as expected. Although, after Hosah's sigh of boredom as he prepared to hand the girl a paper to fill out giving a statement, she seemed to have remembered something,

"He- He didn't even like... take anything, he just gave me an order and asked for it to go. So.. I don't know if I should've done, but I just bagged it up for him, and he reached down and took it."

"If he didn't pay, then he took it."

"No, no, I mean he wasn't- he wasn't forceful at all! It was so weird, he was so casual about it, like he wasn't even doing anything wrong!" The girl now had her head raised to look up at the seasoned detective, something he couldn't say happened very often, given his lack of height even when it's at its maximum capacity.

Although he did feel bad that Yojeong was in such distress, visibly shaking as she recalled the interaction through frantic stutters, it wasn't anything new to the detective.

Hosah had heard the same story about a hundred times. Handing the girl a witness form to fill out, the shifter was about to go on his merry way, until a figure he swore he recognised walked in through the front door, the little shop bell jingling sweetly as if nothing had happened at all.

Thierri!

Ah, everyone's favourite unnecessarily tall detective. Actually, the man was barely a detective at all, he was hired to do petty tasks like coffee runs and such, but just kind of inserted himself into cases nowadays. Supposed to help Jeanne out with things, but the guy was such a klutz, the shifter wasn't too sure how exactly he'd be of any benefit to the well experienced Detective Alice.

That didn't matter though, Thierri had this amazing, mind boggling personality that just made him so charming and fun to be around. Hosah had no idea why his coworker seemed to cold towards the man, he was a sweetheart! The only way the shifter knew to describe him was 'excitable puppy that knows no physical boundaries' , but that wasn't necessarily as bad of a thing as it sounded on paper.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Hosah beamed, not even noticing how the young cashier had slinked away into the kitchen.

Thierri shrugged casually, "Maternity leave."

The information just shared was most certainly not deserving of the man's nonchalant attitude.

"Oh, shit, congratulations?" The shifter's assistant held his hand out to shake Thierri's, but instead, the man continued speaking as if Teddy had said nothing at all.

"Yeah, she's a Pomeranian, got her from the shelter last week. Her names CCP."

Oh. Of course, how could the shifter be so stupid. It was no surprise his coworker had used the phrase 'maternity leave' totally wrong, he should've just known upon hearing the phrase come out of his mouth. It wasn't the first time Teddy had his mind blown today too, but the shifter knew this was classic Thierri behaviour.

Almost choking in disbelief, the assistant asked, just for clarification, "...You named your dog after the Chinese Communist Party?"

Instead of a normal reaction, Thierri scoffed as if it was the most unreasonable assumption to make after hearing the acronym, "No, it stands for Captain Cream Puff, duh."

Right, obviously, how foolish of him to assume otherwise.

"You know what we should do? Let's call Jeanne up and get lunch together, you haven't properly met Edward, have you?" Hosah inquired, although the two coworkers in front of him didn't seem too keen on the idea.

"No, you're right, I haven't been introduced yet.. which is whyyyy... we should maybe go out just us three? Right, Edward?"

Instead of taking his superior's side as he usually did, Teddy nodded in agreement. What the fuck was going on? Hosah didn't think the awkward air between them all and Jeanne was that bad, was it? What kind of beef did the two have with him?

Wanting to get to the bottom of the mysterious air of tension between all of the detectives, the shifter took the decision into his own hands.

"I'm calling Jeanne anyway. If he declines, he declines. I'm not gonna be rude and not even invite him." Hosah had already pulled out his phone by now, there was no turning back.

Also, he wanted to debrief the last couple days to everyone at once, feeling it was necessary to air out his current situation given the gravity of it all.

This was going to be fun. Or at least, that's what the shifter hoped it would be.

[oaksvalley]

There was only one bed

“Don’t you worry about me, farmer,” Willy assures, stepping into the empty living room with his duffle bag. He wasn’t expecting a fully furnished guest bedroom in the small, newly refurbished house on Ginger Island. In fact, Willy had helped the farmer lug over construction supplies and the bare minimum appliances from Pelican town, so he knew he would most likely have to sleep on the floor. He is surprised the farmer even has a bed to begin with since that hadn’t been in the stuff they brought here a month or two ago. It showed just how crafty the farmer had become since arriving to the valley. “This living room is more than enough. I’m used to sleepin’ on wooden planks anyway.”

“You sure?” The farmer asks, wringing their hands. Their cheeks are flushed pink from the rain and wind outside but also from embarrassment. It’s their fault Willy is stuck on the island in the first place. They forgot to check the weather forecast before booking this trip and a nasty storm started to roll in, preventing Willy from going back.

“I’d ’preciate a blanket and maybe a pillow if you could spare?”

“Of course!” The farmer scurries off to their bedroom. Their cheeks further reden. Why didn’t they think to offer first? They open the bedroom closet and grab a thick quilt and blanket before snatching one of the pillows from their bed. When the farmer makes it back to the living room, Willy is off to the side, kneeling in front of his duffel bag to look for a change of clothes. The farmer folds the quilt to make a sort of futon, and gingerly sets it next to where the fisherman is. They place the pillow on one end and the blanket on top before glancing at Willy.

The man grins at them, “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” the farmer sheepishly mumbles. “Uhm, if you’d like to freshen up I can heat some water on the stove for a bath.”

“That would be grand,” Willy smiles pleasantly.

“Alright,” the farmer says, walking to the kitchen area. Willy follows after them. “The bathroom is through my room to the left. Well, I call it a bathroom, but really it’s just a wet room with a wooden tub. The door in there connects to the outhouse.”

Willy hums, looking around. There’s a wood burner to heat the house, small gas stove, equally small sink, and fridge all lined up nicely along the wall. He frowns, questioning the safety of having the gas stove so close to the wood burner. He’s about to ask when there’s flash of white followed immediately by a sharp cracking noise and rumble that rattles the windows.

The farmer yelps and drops the large pot they were taking out of the cabinet. The pot falls onto the counter with a metallic clatter. The loud noise only makes the farmer recoil further. They cover their ears and shut their eyes tight, crouching down and make themselves even smaller.

Willy immediately kneels down in front of them. His hands cradle the farmer’s face and he starts talking to them. His soft tone and warm touch coax the farmer to open their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the farmer wobbly apologizes. They bring their shaking hands down to their knees, and Willy shifts to hold their hands up in his own firm grip. The slight pressure helps ground the farmer. “I- well, I don’t do well with storms anymore.”

“Don’t worry,” Willy soothes, noticing the farmer starting to shiver. They still haven’t changed out of their soaked clothes. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

The fisherman gently pulls the farmer up and guides them to their room. Willy waits at the door frame with his back turned to give the farmer some privacy.

Quickly and more than a bit flustered, the farmer haphazardly shrugs off their soaked clothes and puts on pijamas. “Willy, I—

Suddenly there is another flash of light and thunder. The farmer whimpers and flees under their covers. They really don’t want to be alone until the storm passes, or at least until the thunder and lightning stop. Before they can think too much about it, the farmer blurts out, “Can you stay with me? Please.”

The silence is deafening. The farmer’s anxiety increases, so they start to ramble, “There’s more than enough room for the two of us. Only if you want of course. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Actually, if you’d rather not—”

Willy interrupts, “Let me get changed. Be right back.”

From under the covers, the farmer silently counts the seconds it takes for Willy to come back. It helps calm their nevers, but it also makes them truly think about what they just asked. They wonder if it was really okay with Willy. What if they ruined whatever rapport they had with him? Soon they hear Willy’s approaching footsteps.

“I’m back,” Willy says moments later. He hesitates and stands beside the other side of the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Please,” is all the farmer replies. The bed dips as Willy climbs on, but he doesn’t get under the covers. The farmer inches their way closer to Willy when lightning strikes again.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Willy speaks. He gathers the farmer closer to himself. “It’ll be over soon.”

A wave of comfort washes over the farmer with Willy’s firm grip on their midsection. There’s a faint smell of the ocean and coffee. It isn’t long before the farmer fully relaxes and falls asleep in the safety of the older man’s arms.

[scotianostra]

On October 15th 1902 Edinburgh's Balmoral Hotel opened its doors for the first time.

Look out for my own connections to this grand old hotel, both in a personal sense and through my home town of Loanhead.

Back then it was called The North British and in Edinburgh a lot of people, myself included, still refer to it by the initials NB.

On Wednesday 15 October, 1902, on the front page of The Scotsman newspaper, a small advert appeared: “North British Station Hotel. This hotel in direct communication with Waverley Station is now open F.T. Burcher, hotel manager.”

According to the hotel’s official history, the North British was “a vanguard for the railway company which built it, a surrogate for the grand station they had never been permitted to erect in the sensitive site between Old and New Town.” The architecture, executed in golden sandstone, features towers and balconies galore. It’s a glorious mash-up of influences from across northern Europe. Expensive to build as well as to run – it gobbled upwards of 200 tons of coal every month – the hotel was seen as a “sign of the future heralded by the railways, the newly opened Forth Bridge and the electric lights switched on in Princes Street just seven years earlier”.

Nevertheless, some believed the Caledonian, which opened a year later, boasted the more advantageous location. And some detractors found the sheer size of the hotel gauche, complaining “it is coarse and obstructive at once”.

The hotel – working name “Waverley Station Hotel” – was the brainchild of George Wieland, a former NBR company secretary who retired to its board in 1890. Having toured some of the most lavish hotels in the world – where he realised the importance of having a banqueting hall to bring in business – he hired W Hamilton Beattie to draw up plans for Edinburgh. The hotel would have 300 bedrooms, 52 bathrooms, and 70 lavatories, and was designed to encourage the circulation of fresh air. Lifts shot people straight from the station into the hotel’s foyer, and beyond that, to rooms furnished with mahogany, leather and crimson moquette. It’s said that the bill for plants and flowers exceeded the bill for gas, and there was even a special machine to burnish the silver. Weiland made sure the new hotel’s cellars were full of the finest champagnes, hocks, ports, and whisky, the better to entice his ideal customers – wealthy, landed families moving between their multiple residences.

In 1922, the hotel became part of the London and North Eastern Railway Company and by all accounts the hotel sparkled from top to bottom, but after the Second World War, when the railways were nationalised, and Prestwick airport began getting transatlantic traffic, things began a slow downward trajectory. Even so, the hotel remained the destination for Edinburgh society events, be they corporate or personal. In 1983, British Rail sold off its rather faded North British Hotel. In 1988, it closed for refurbishment, it was in dire need of this, some of the rooms were looking a wee bit shabby, the wooden window frames unable to open fully, and how do I know this? Well I used to be the window cleaner in the hotel and the windows that didn't open meant I had to find one close by and edge along the crumbling sandstone ledges, the worst affected, and highest were on the south of the hotel and there was a six storey drop down to the train station below.

At the start of the 1990s, Balmoral International Hotels, an Edinburgh based company, bought the venue. In 1997, the Balmoral became the first hotel bought by Sir Rocco Forte as he assembled his portfolio of hotels. It currently boasts Scotland’s only Bollinger Bar, as well as the Michelin-starred Number One restaurant run by executive chef Jeff Bland, a spa, and ten function rooms accommodating up to 450 people.

Famous guests over the years have included Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Palin, Beyoncé and JK Rowling, who finished the last Harry Potter novel here, on 11 January, 2007, and then daubed her signature on a bust in her room.

A second wee link with the hotel, is Charles Forte, Grandfather of the present owner began his working life in my home town of Loanhead when he moved to Scotland from Italy.

[clarafell]

Inside the interior of Homura’s apartment. Did Homura use any form of magic to make the inside of her apartment like that?

unprompted / always accepting!

Hello there, dear anon. I want to start off by welcoming you to my little blog. Next, I want to personally thank you for taking the time to send me such a thoughtful question. I'm always willing to answer any questions related to the franchise since Puella Magi Madoka Magica is a really big comfort for me, even if it doesn't strictly relate back to my muse. As someone who adores everything about Homura so much, getting questions relating back to her always make me really happy. I always get super excited when I receive thoughtful questions out of the blue.

Let me get this out of the way: You are not the only person to question what the heck is happening in Homura's home in the franchise. There is a lot going on in her home. It's a pity she doesn't give a tour of her home, isn't it?

But the lack of concrete knowledge on Homura's home only makes her air of mystery all the more fascinating. Many fans alike have sat and pondered the same thoughts. I'm sure that everyone has their own personal headcanons on Homura's interior home, so please don't take my personal thoughts as facts. Here is my personal take on the interior of Homura's home...

Isn't Homura's home on the outside so pretty?

Allow me to mention that the world of Puella Magi Madoka Magica is shown to be sprinkled with advancements in technology. Let's take the school, for example. The desks are shown to be built so well that the desks can retract into the floor, effectively clearing away the room with only the push of a button. Gone are the days of stacking the desks away, at least in the school that Homura attends.

The image above reveals the floor where a desk is secretly located, ready to be pulled out for the student to use. The Japanese seen on the floor reads Sayaka Miki's name, showing exactly who the desk is belongs to via the digital sign. Not only does it state the student's name, but it states that she is absent. Isn't that cool?

I believe this example of technology advancement in a public space really does speak for itself about the world. There is a popular theory on why technology is so impressive: It is a visual example of how wishes have progressed the advancement of human kind throughout history. I believe this theory to be a really easy one to understand, but it also makes plenty of sense.

As for Homura's interior room...

There is a lot to unpack, but I believe the interior of her home is a strange mixture of both technology and her magic. With that said, I do heavily lean towards the technology side. Personally? I like the balance of both worlds. Not only do I believe that technology and magic are at play, but I also believe that Homura has sought out to refurbish her home.

I have reason to believe that parts of Homura's home are holographic displays. The frames of the various illustrations in the background appear to have frames that resemble image-like tabs. Not only that, it appears that Homura has found references in her studies over Walpurgisnacht. Judging by how old Walpurgisnacht is, I assume what we are seeing on the blank wall is Homura's research.

Walpurgisnacht aside, these clusters of images on the wall do scream that there is some form of technology at play in the background.

A closer look at the various images show that the window-like frames are actually physical frames. This little detail implies that these potential holograms behave like picture displays, but only for digital photos. I believe that Homura is basically using her walls as one big monitor in order to always be looking at her research. She is taking workaholic to the next level by covering every part of her home's interior with her research.

Walpurgisnacht has taken over her life so much that Homura eliminates all of her old distractions. The image above shows just how much Homura has changed after all of this time— Her home is distant and cold and empty...

The exact opposite of Mami's home, if you think about it. Both Mami and Homura live alone, but their interior homes are so vastly different from each other. Mami's interior is welcoming and cozy, mirroring her personality. However, the moment that we lose Mami is when the warm atmosphere of her home becomes sad... Almost bittersweet. Mami's home looks more normal, showing us that all Mami wants is to block away the loneliness with as much comfort as she can.

Let us take a brief look at Homura's old interior. As you can tell by the two connected images, Homura's old style is less bizarre-looking. You spot a desk, table, couch, and even a couple of framed paintings. But nothing really screams Homura. It shows that all she cares about is having what is necessary. Not only that, but it shows that Homura is easy to adapt to whatever she can find.

Darkness covers the entire room, perhaps to foreshadow Homura's descent.

The old interior gives off a gloomy atmosphere. It still, however, looks like a home. A lonely one, yes, but still something normal. It isn't anything special, but it still has something. The fate of Homura's interior in the later timelines lack personality, looking as detached as its owner. The future look of Homura's home looks more like a witch's labyrinth, not someone's home.

I do, however, believe that Homura has reconstructed her home with the help of magic and technology. The odd-looking flames on the candles (maybe even the slowly swinging pendulum) scream that they are formed by magic. Fans have also pointed out that Homura's room looks more like a clock, easily a reference to her time manipulation magic hiding in plain sight.

As seen in the original anime, covered in a purple aura-like light, Homura has the ability to control large objects with her magic. While this might be only for weapons, it still shows that Homura can use magic on physical objects. With this in mind, it could be possible for Homura to redecorate with her magic when her technology cannot do the trick.

Overall, I love the changes that we see in Homura's home. I am hoping to be able to see more of Homura's home in the upcoming movie, Walpurgisnacht Rising. I love seeing Madoka or Mami's homes, but I would love to see more of Homura's life.

It's interesting that Rebellion doesn't feature Homura's home, even though the witch behind that impressive labyrinth is actually Homura herself. The lack of a home really does show that Homura doesn't give a second thought about her home. Homura is anywhere but inside her empty home, even within her labyrinth...

It's almost a little sad, actually.

With that said, I hope to see more of Homura's home again!

[comfy-whumpee]

Flightless 1

The people voted for Boo! Thank you voters!!

@neuro-whump​, @rosesareviolentlyread​, @whumper-in-training​, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @whumpsday, @firewheeesky, @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question, @highwaywhump, @noirineverysense (sorry, I forgot to add you way back when! let me know if you're not interested anymore)

CN: injury/hospital mention, BBU, dehumanisation.

“Hello?”

 “Hi, I’m calling about the ad you placed about refurbishing pets?”

 “Ah, hello. Yes, I can take them off your hands, no charge.”

 “Amazing. Can you collect? We’re at Warrington Drive.”

 “One moment please. I’ll just look you up… Yes, I can collect. What’s the designation and company of origin?”

 “Security designation, from Euroboxies. HXUF8.”

 “And your reason for having them moved on?”

 “It failed. The primary is injured in hospital.”

 “I’m sorry to hear that. I can collect as soon as tomorrow, if you need.”

 “God, yes. As soon as possible, please. Every time I look at them…”

 “I understand. I’ll fully wipe and retrain them. You’ll never have to see them again.”

 “Thank you. Thank you so much. Let me give you the proper address…”

Kacie was standing with her arms tightly folded as she spoke into the phone resting on the dresser. She was framed in the bay window over the coastal view, sun pouring in from all sides to light her in a dazzling silhouette. Her hair crested her head like a wave, her mouth moved quickly, and she kept her gaze outward, eyes flicking across the scenery as she thought and responded.

 She was beautiful even now, fierce and bold with her head held high. Her father’s injuries meant nothing to her in this moment but another task to organise, analyse and overcome. The treatment was one stage. The payment was another. The legal proceedings, a third. Finally, a distant fourth, was dealing with the sorry creature who had failed them.

 HXUF8 sat with their knees pulled to their chest and their arms around their ankles. They were used to the cage by now, after so many nights with Kacie since the incident, but being in it during the day always made them restless. She wasn’t supposed to lock them up. They were meant to be out and active, patrolling her grounds or shadowing her around. She didn’t have any security of her own within her property. Everyone was at the gates. One person slipping by would be all it took, but her guard was locked up because…

 The yawning abyss of grief never opened slowly. It was like a pitfall. The ground fell out from under them suddenly and violently.

 Kacie thought it was their failure, their fault, because it went against everything they were. But HXUF8 knew there was nothing they could have done. A pet, no matter how well they were trained, couldn’t stop a bullet. Not even with their body. It had torn straight through them and nearly killed the primary anyway. Still could.

 It was as if they weren’t there. It was luck that kept them from bleeding out before someone attended to them. But they’d lain on the grass, body flooded with adrenaline that made everything magnified a thousand times, and they’d remembered that they weren’t meant to be like this. They’d once had a name, a family and a life. They’d once had dreams.

 Everything had vanished after, in a haze of bloody red and empty, empty white. But the feeling had remained. They had done everything right. They’d taken the bullet, but the bullet hadn’t cared. They were nothing.

 So they didn’t mind the cage, except for the instincts. They had to patrol. They had to protect. But most importantly, they had to remember why they were grieving.

 Not for the primary, the rich man who’d never once looked at them directly, much less spoken to them. They grieved for that moment where they’d been whole again. Just about to die, just about to remember, but it was forever out of their grasp.

 And now Kacie was going to resell them, and they’d never remember again.

 HXUF8 closed their eyes and rested their head on their still-bloodied knees. They would never be whole. They could never, ever be whole again.

 -

Tara had once been someone who went on missions. She had worked doing the hunting and the retrievals. But even though she had excelled, there were always losses. There were always runaways she couldn't catch, simply because of who she was. She was tall, powerful and in control. She had to be. But some pets, especially the kind that had absconded, would see her and run.

 That was why she had developed the plan for a new operative. She already worked with Refurbs. Why not use one herself? She needed defective pets to fix to keep her business going, and owners needed their losses recouped. She could purchase one and repurpose it, and it would be more flexible than she was capable of, because it would be a traitor to its kind.

 The perfect candidate fell into her lap. The company of origin was dubious quality: Euroboxies were often poorly trained, as the market wasn't well-established and remained unofficial in many places, downright illegal in others. But fiddling with legal loopholes and border crossings allowed her to operate wherever her services were needed. Her hunter would be the same.

 It would have to be disciplined and obedient, and trained for pressure and pain to a high degree. It needed perfect recall and flawless dedication. The guard pet that came onto her radar was a sorry sight, by the time she was arrived to collect, but the potential was there.

 It had been trained for a guard, but not a guard dog, thankfully. It had restraint and could pass as a normal human, with training. The original principal had been failed, but such things happened and it was less of a disaster in her work. A dead pet was cheaper than a missing one.

 She had memorised its designation before arriving. When the seller unlocked the cage, it didn't emerge. It was filthy, a miserable ball of hunched back and bunched limbs, with dirty, mousy hair and sunken eyes. There was intelligence in there, she could see at a glance. It knew its fate would be unpleasant.

 "Out," she told it.

 It barely had the room to push itself forward by the heels, scraping out of the wires. She watched its muscular body move with a critical eye. It should have had no difficulty in escaping from a dog cage. It showed a promising disposition that it hadn't.

 "Stand," she ordered next.

 This took an extra moment, the pet's face tight with pain, but it unbent its folded legs one at a time, and then came onto its heels to rise. The seller scoffed quietly and turned away. Tara ignored her.

 "Follow," she said finally to HXUF8. She watched it glance to the seller, who turned her head away. When Tara walked to the door, it looked back, and moved in small, wincing steps to shadow her.

 She had to let it sit in the car instead of putting it in the boot. She didn't want to risk pet cruelty crusaders snapping her licence plate. She strapped it in and drove, with the windows cracked open to dissipate the smell of the thing.

 It was silent and stock-still for the entire drive, but for restless eyes that swept back and forth over their surroundings, assuming the role of bodyguard even without instruction.

 Initiative. Another good sign.

 The first order of business on their arrival was a cold shower. She worked from an old animal shelter, so it was well equipped to dispense a blast of freezing water. She didn't bother removing the clothes. It would stay in them until she had need to it dress differently.

 It entered the wet room without hesitation. Perhaps it knew this part. She blasted it with the jet, and it held still, braced against the pressure. The only sign it recognised what was happening was that it closed its eyes. No cringing, begging or fawning strategies were deployed. Perhaps Euroboxies and their inadequate training would work in her favour on this blank slate of a creature.

 One question did need answering, though, so after she was satisfied the thing was clean, she turned off the tap and said, "Do you speak?"

 It answered readily enough, voice quiet and hoarse. "If required, ma'am."

 "Mistress Tara," she corrected it sharply.

 That, and that alone, prompted a wince. It didn't look genuine, more of a nonverbal show of regret. "My apologies, Mistress Tara."

 "The first mistake will be corrected. Further mistakes are not tolerated. You are to be retrained and deployed. You will be of use or you will be wiped in your entirety and returned to your company."

 She laid out each law with conviction. This part was the same process as always. New pet, new world, and she wanted it firmly controlled without ambiguity. Too many pets thought a new owner meant they could show their personality. She would have no such thing.

 "Unless told to stay, you follow. Unless told to speak, you are silent. You follow every order you are given by me, and ignore the rest. You are my property."

 It nodded once. No attempt to speak. It was listening.

 "I will now test the quality of your training. This begins immediately."

 It barely had time to process warning before she was running for it, fist clenched and ready to break it in two. It was fast enough to twist out of the way, but did not return blows. Extremely interesting, and not what a guard should be trained to do.

 For a moment they were evenly matched, but the pet was tired and sore, and before long one of her blows caught it in the gut, after which it was child's play to have it winded on the floor. She continued the beating for half a minute after her victory, and then stepped back.

 It rose to its knees immediately, face red with exertion. Tentatively, it set its hands atop its thighs neatly. Again, there was no wince of pain, only its slow movements giving away the bruises she had given it.

 "Tell me why you did not fight back."

 "I was not ordered to."

 She turned and crossed the room. There were clothes here, but they could stay in their wet rags for now. It needed to be tougher than just one beating. Cold conditions, discomfort and exhaustion would be added on top. She would put them through the worst she could before allowing them the luxury of a mission.

 Instead, she selected a new collar. Returning to her purchase with it in hand, she again noted its lack of expression. The presence of a collar should be reassuring to almost any pet, especially after its last one had been removed, presumably due to their failure. The collar was a conditioned reassurance of ownership and belonging. It should want the collar.

 Instead, she saw nothing on its bland features. It waited placidly. She was going to have to hurt it badly, perhaps with the whip. She relished the challenge.

 When she leaned down, its only movement was a slight, instinctual lift of the chin, so that she could easily secure the metal band around its neck. This close, she could see the slight tension of its neck and back. Was it simply from her proximity, or was there an old injury there? She would test that too.

 She had a lot of work to do. But the early signs were promising, and she was confident she could turn it into something of use.

[fandomnerd9602]

You left your past behind you. You thought you found the good life with a nice young woman. You buried your lightsaber and tried to move on with Brynn. It was good, great even. At least for awhile.

You and Brynn went back to her hometown and tried to refurbish her old family home. The townsfolk were not as welcoming.

And then came the invasion. The greys. They knew you. They were scared of you. And yet they still tried to attack your lover.

You heard the door slam. You and Brynn went to investigate and that's when you saw the greys.

'Hide' you whisper to your girlfriend.

'I'm not leaving you' Brynn tried to say through her tears.

'Then stand back' you answered back, holding out your hand.

The grey came running, charging at you. Your buried lightsaber came out of the ground and right back to your hand. You ignite the blade and drive it right into the grey alien's skull.

'S-Starkiller' was the last thing the alien managed to say before whatever light was left abandoned its doll like eyes.

'What's Starkiller?' Brynn asks only for a smaller alien to burst through the bedroom window. Brynn quickly slammed the door, squishing the alien right in between the door and frame.

'It was a past I left behind' you try to explain.

'Who are they?!'

'Invaders. Master Vader and I dealt with them before. Guess word spreads around.' Another, more larger alien bursts through the walls. You jump down and cleave one of its legs off. You lift up the screaming alien with the force.

'You tell the rest of your force to leave this world alone' you growl at the alien.

'Starkiller. The Annihilator.' is all it managed to say before you threw the being out of yours and Brynn's house.

You can feel the fires of wrath burning within you again. And then Brynn comes down the stairs. She gently touches your shoulder, the fires begin calming down again.

'I got you' she whispers as she wraps her arms around you.

'I got you' you answer back. 'what now?'

'We find another home.' Brynn answers as she grabs a bottle of wine and lighter. Doesn't take long for the old home to go up in flames.

You and Brynn get into your car and leave as the flames reach to the sky. You swear you could see an armada of UFOs taking off to the dark sea of outer space. They knew. They knew that the Starkiller was on this world and with it, they understood that you would move planets and stars just get the one you love back.

The one currently running her thumbs across your knuckles. The woman who you call your home.

for @deafeningsharkslimeempath

[okay-computer]

hello! i'm looking towrds buying a new computer for christmas and even if i'm not us based i still take you recommendations into account (thanks for your work). my question is: what's your opinion on windows tablets? i commute a lot and one of the problems with my last laptops has been the frames breaking because of bumps during bus rides. also, i carry my computer with me all day and the tasks i need it for are not ver specialised (meaning, i would be fine with a word/slide processor, some editing software and a web browser), so i've been thinking about buying a windows tablet (i need windows for work reasons) while having my old laptop at home for more "hard" tasks. do you think they are worth any attention?

thanks and sorry if this is not within your area of expertise!

I am not a fan of tablets-as-computer and Windows Surface tablets in particular are very very expensive, but I'm more concerned that a tablet wouldn't do any better against that bus ride than a laptop unless the issue is that the laptop case was getting jostled around in storage while the tablet would be in a bag that you carry on your person. If you wanted to try something like that I might actually recommend seeing if you can get a relatively inexpensive refurbished surface pro to see if it would work, but I wouldn't buy a new device to take on the same commute that has repeatedly broken other devices.

[threeeyesstudio]

From Frames to Connections: Behind the Scenes of My First Art Pop-Up

Preparing for my first in-person art sale was an intense but rewarding experience. I want to share some highlights from this journey—from finding creative ways to present my work to the unexpected moments that made it all worthwhile.

I started by collecting second-hand frames for my signed prints. There’s something special about giving these frames a second life, and I know how much people appreciate art that’s ready to hang. Refurbishing these frames felt like honouring their potential. Watching a piece come together in a frame, blending something old with something new, was incredibly satisfying.

The pop-up was held at a local shop in my neighbourhood called Loohoo. The name caught my attention because it reminded me of my cat, Lulu, and the shop itself offered such a creative way to connect with the community. The owner provided space for local businesses to host pop-ups, and I was thrilled to have this opportunity to share my art.

As the event approached, my days were packed with prepping prints, designing small details, and juggling my day job. I even created holographic stickers with a QR code linking to a new digital card I’d set up. It’s a modern take on business cards, making it easy for people to find all my links in one place.

To promote the event, I collaborated with the shop owner to design a poster that was displayed in her window and around the neighbourhood.

While recovering from an illness, I tried to balance work and pop-up prep from home. I don’t know how to code, but I had to learn a bit to make my backup Linux gaming console work for me as a backup work pc. It was exhausting, and the illness eventually got the upper hand. Preparing for the pop-up took a backseat while I focused on recovering from a month-long battle with back-to-back flus. My doctor jokingly called me "lucky."

The week before the pop-up was a frenzy of activity. I curated stickers, cleaned up frames, and set up displays for my silk scarves in some cheap boxes I found at the dollar store. They worked surprisingly well and kept the setup neat and approachable. My packaging leaned toward simplicity and sustainability: tissue-wrapped art in mismatched secondhand paper bags. It wasn’t fancy, but it felt like the right approach—practical and aligned with my values.

The pop-up itself was an incredible experience. Meeting people, hearing their stories, and seeing how they connected with my art was one of the most rewarding parts.

One piece that stood out to visitors was Wildflower Hair. Two people were especially drawn to it for very different reasons: one said it gave her a sense of strength and independence, while another shared her love for dandelions, despite their reputation as weeds. This piece was my way of saying that even when you feel like a "weed," you’re a beautiful flower, deserving of celebration.

Heart of Gold was another favourite. One woman added it to her growing collection of anatomical hearts, while another loved the contrast of strength and openness in the design. The gold in the piece was meant to represent that delicate balance: strong boundaries that still let love shine through.

After the pop-up, I took some time to rest and recharge. Reflecting on the experience, I realized how important it is to have a solid plan, especially when balancing a full-time job with creative projects. The event also gave me valuable insights into what works for markets, from display setups to the kinds of art that resonate most with people.

Connecting with people in person was a game-changer. Unlike the online world, which can feel like shouting into the void, the pop-up allowed me to see real reactions and have meaningful conversations. It confirmed that the emotions I aim to convey through my art resonate with others, even as they interpret those emotions in their own ways.

This experience has inspired me to think about how I might create a stronger sense of community around my art, even though I’m still figuring out how to do that. While online will remain my main focus, I’m excited to explore more in-person markets in the future.

Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

[blazingorchid]

WIP for an upcoming LuNami Fic

Here’s a snippet from something I’m cooking. This was very therapeutic for me to write. I loved it all so much, i wanted to share. We all need a friendship like this. I hope you all enjoy! 💕💕

When Usopp opened Nami’s front door, he was met with pitch black darkness. He quickly reached to his right; feeling for the switch on the wall and flipping it on.

Nami’s apartment was small. The entrance led immediately into her living room. An open door frame to the left led to the kitchen. A small hallway straight ahead made room for one bedroom at the very end and a bathroom to the left. There wasn’t very much furniture. Just the necessities. The only thing extra really was a small flat screen that was placed on a cheap table she’d found at a garage sale.

Nami didn’t spend frivolously for the most part. Sure, she’d splurge on clothes and bags. Maybe even jewelry. However, her phone was an older model and the laptop she’d use for school was refurbished.

He had come to learn that the façade that Nami showcased in public was starkly different to who she truly was.

She was beautiful and knew it. Egocentric in some ways. But, she was also incredibly shy in weird times. Compliment her looks, and she’d give a curt smile as a thanks. However, tell her that her paintings are incredible, she’d turn into a giggling mess and turn bright red.

Usopp scanned the living room. Her satchel laid on the floor in front of her futon. Her phone was on one of the cushions. So, he made his way down the hall.

Her love for money was something she voiced often. On the weekends, she’d work part time at a cafe in the mornings and a five star restaurant at nights. She saved almost obsessively and hid stacks of cash in odd areas. But despite her money motivated ways, she refused to charge the single moms in her apartment complex when they would ask her to watch their kids so they could work. The ones she did charge, who could afford to pay more, she’d only make pay for lunch or any small necessities. It was almost ironic that the job that could prove to be her most lucrative endeavor would be the one she didn’t charge enough for. Simply because she loved kids and respected their hardworking parents.

Coming up to her bathroom, he noticed the crease had a dim light seeping through.He knocked on the door with one hand and placed the other one on the knob. He called her name after placing an ear on the door.

The biggest misunderstanding was that Nami was cold hearted. Usopp had been a victim of this misconception himself. At the beginning of the year, Nami simply went to class and wrote her notes. She didn’t spare much time conversing with their peers. To those who had approached her; which were usually men looking for a chance at a date or just a night of fun, she’d give them blank stares. Sometimes she wouldn’t even let them finish their sentences before bluntly rejecting their advances. If people tried to continue after such a response, she simply turned her face to the window or to her notes.

But through a project in which they had to work together, Usopp had come to know that cold was the very opposite of what Nami was.

Fiery hair with burning eyes. An attitude that blazed like wildfire and a smile that put the sun to shame… Nami was warm and bright.

In fact, she was so bright all the time that Usopp tended to forget Nami was also more sensitive than anyone could imagine.

Something that he was currently reminded of as he opened the door and found her huddled within herself in the bathtub. She was rocking back and forth, her head tucked between her knees. Her sobs echoed off the tiled walls. She looked up when she heard him enter. Her eyes were swollen; snot and tears mixing as both pooled from their respective places. Her bottom lip trembled violently.

“U-Usopp.” She called to him. Maybe it was question. Maybe it was an observation. But whatever it was didn’t matter.

He quickly walked to her and crouched. His hands cupped her cheeks. He soothed loose hair out of her face while also trying wipe her cheeks with his sleeve.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I got ya.” He said softly.

She moved forward so that she could hug him tightly. Once she was secured in his arms, she began to sob just as loudly … actually more loudly than before. This time she had someone willing to hear her. Someone who didn’t feel the need shy from.

He was her best friend and she was his. There was no shame to be had

[cleanchoice]

Builders Cleaning Services Milton Keynes: Why Post-Construction Cleaning Is a Game Changer

After weeks or even months of construction chaos, the last thing anyone wants is to face the mess left behind. Dust in every corner, leftover building materials scattered around, and grime stuck to every surface—it’s not just unsightly, it can also be a hazard. That’s where Builders Cleaning Services Milton Keynes come into play, offering a solution that’s both efficient and essential. If you’ve recently completed a building project in the area, this guide will help you understand why hiring professionals for a thorough post-build clean is the smartest move.

What Is Builders Cleaning?

Builders cleaning is a specialized service that focuses on deep cleaning newly built, renovated, or refurbished properties. It goes way beyond your average domestic cleaning. This service targets everything from paint splatters and dust to debris and construction waste, ensuring that the property is spotless, safe, and ready for use.

Why Is Builders Cleaning So Important?

You might wonder why a standard clean won’t cut it. Here’s the truth: after construction, the level of dust and debris is on a whole other level. Without proper cleaning:

Dust can damage fixtures and fittings.

Debris can pose a safety risk.

Surfaces won’t be ready for painting, furnishing, or letting.

A professional builders clean ensures your space is not only visually clean but also hygienic and hazard-free.

Top Benefits of Hiring Builders Cleaning Services Milton Keynes

1. Save Time and Effort

Post-construction cleaning is time-consuming and physically demanding. By hiring a specialist cleaning team, you can focus on the more important things—like decorating or handing over keys to your client.

2. Professional Results

Professional cleaners have the tools and techniques to handle even the toughest grime and dust. You’ll get a polished, showroom-quality finish that impresses immediately.

3. Compliance with Health & Safety Standards

Dust and construction residue aren’t just annoying—they can be harmful. Cleaning specialists follow health and safety protocols to remove hazardous materials effectively.

4. Ready for the Next Step

Whether you’re preparing the property for sale, letting, or moving in, a professional builders clean means the space is 100% ready.

What’s Included in Builders Cleaning Services Milton Keynes?

Services may vary slightly depending on the provider, but a typical builders clean includes:

Dust removal from all surfaces, including ceilings and light fittings

Cleaning of floors, carpets, and tiles

Deep cleaning of kitchens and bathrooms

Removal of paint splashes, adhesive, and plaster

Window cleaning, including frames and sills

Cleaning of skirting boards, doors, and handles

Waste removal (optional depending on the provider)

Domestic vs. Commercial Builders Cleans

In Milton Keynes, builders cleaning isn’t just for homeowners. It’s equally vital for:

Property developers

Construction companies

Retail units

Offices and commercial buildings

Whether it’s a single property or a full development site, cleaning services are tailored to the size and scope of the project.

How to Choose the Right Builders Cleaning Company in Milton Keynes

1. Experience Matters

Look for companies with a proven track record in builders cleaning. Experienced cleaners know what to expect and how to tackle complex clean-ups efficiently.

2. Fully Insured and Certified

Always hire a service that’s fully insured and adheres to UK cleaning and safety standards. This protects you from liability in case of accidents or damage.

3. Check Reviews and Testimonials

Reputation is everything. Check online reviews or ask for client testimonials to make sure you’re choosing a reliable provider.

4. Tailored Services

Make sure the cleaning company can adapt their service to your needs. Whether you need a one-off clean or phased cleaning during a project, flexibility is key.

Local Expertise Matters

Hiring a Milton Keynes-based cleaning team offers extra perks. Local companies understand the area, can respond quickly, and are often more affordable due to lower travel costs. Supporting local also helps boost the community’s economy—win-win!

How Much Do Builders Cleaning Services Cost in Milton Keynes?

Prices can vary depending on several factors:

Size of the property

Extent of the mess

Accessibility

Specific services required

On average, you might expect to pay anywhere from £150 to £500+ for a standard builders clean. Always request a detailed quote before hiring to avoid any surprises.

When Should You Book Builders Cleaning Services?

Timing is everything. Ideally, the cleaning should happen after all construction work is complete, including decorating and fitting. If multiple trades are still on-site, your freshly cleaned area could quickly become messy again. For larger projects, phased cleaning might be necessary.

Final Thoughts

Builders Cleaning Services Milton Keynes are more than just a luxury—they’re a necessity. Whether you’re a homeowner, developer, or landlord, a professional clean can elevate your property’s appearance, ensure safety, and save you a ton of time. Don't leave the finishing touches to chance—hire the pros and get it done right.

[qualitybodyshophutchinson5]

Restoring the Road Ahead: Hutchinson’s Trusted Hub for RV and Bus Body Repairs

When your vehicle is more than just a way to get from point A to B—when it’s your home on wheels or your passengers’ trusted transport—keeping it in peak condition becomes essential. In Hutchinson, Kansas, residents and fleet operators alike rely on trusted professionals to handle everything from minor dents to full-scale restorations. With decades of expertise and a commitment to quality craftsmanship, Hutchinson is becoming a go-to destination for top-tier RV and bus repair services. This article explores the importance of vehicle-specific repair, the range of services available, and what sets a reliable body shop apart from the rest.

Specialized RV Repair Services in Hutchinson

Recreational vehicles are complex, mobile living spaces that require a unique skill set for maintenance and repairs. Whether you're dealing with storm damage, a collision, or wear from years of travel, finding experienced professionals in RV Repair Services Hutchinson is crucial. The best service providers understand the intricacies of both mechanical and cosmetic RV repair—working seamlessly on everything from frame straightening and fiberglass panel replacement to window resealing and awning installation.

RV repair specialists in Hutchinson also prioritize the preservation of your RV’s structural integrity and interior comfort. Using advanced diagnostic equipment and manufacturer-approved repair methods, these technicians ensure every component, from plumbing to electronics, functions flawlessly post-repair. What makes the difference is not just the skill but the commitment to getting you back on the road quickly and safely—without compromising on quality.

Excellence in Bus Repair Services Hutchinson

Large passenger vehicles such as buses demand a different caliber of repair approach due to their size, structure, and usage frequency. Bus Repair Services Hutchinson offers an essential resource for schools, tour companies, public transit agencies, and private operators. Whether it's body damage, electrical faults, or axle alignment issues, a high-end bus repair facility in Hutchinson is equipped to manage every facet of the job.

Technicians trained in bus-specific systems perform in-depth assessments, ensuring compliance with safety regulations while delivering durable repairs. Services often include complete accident reconstruction, paint and decal matching, frame repair, and even interior refurbishing. Having access to local experts who understand your business needs—like minimizing downtime and maintaining appearance—means more than just good repair; it means operational continuity and reliability.

Why Choose a Local RV Body Shop Hutchinson

Selecting a local RV Body Shop Hutchinson isn’t just about proximity—it’s about expertise you can trust. Local businesses bring added value by fostering strong customer relationships, maintaining transparent pricing, and offering a personalized service experience. Many of these shops also partner with insurance companies, providing end-to-end claim support that simplifies the entire repair process.

A quality RV body shop in Hutchinson goes beyond simple cosmetic touch-ups. They conduct in-depth inspections to uncover hidden damage and prevent future issues. Technicians are often certified by industry-leading organizations, staying up to date with the latest repair technologies and materials. Whether you’re dealing with exterior scratches, water damage, or custom body modifications, these experts can provide tailored solutions that extend the life of your RV and maintain its resale value.

Restoring Confidence with Bus Body Repair Hutchinson

Bus Body Repair Hutchinson services are designed to restore both form and function to your commercial vehicle. When a bus suffers body damage—whether from an accident or environmental wear and tear—the repair must meet high safety and aesthetic standards. The process often involves replacing metal panels, performing welds, realigning frames, and applying commercial-grade paint systems that resist weather and UV damage.

Hutchinson’s bus body repair shops recognize the urgency of these repairs, especially for businesses that rely on buses for daily operations. Many facilities offer expedited service and flexible scheduling, including weekend work or mobile estimates, to minimize disruption. Moreover, a reliable bus body repair team works closely with fleet managers to ensure vehicle downtime is limited and all regulatory requirements are met post-repair.

Trusted Craftsmanship from a Local Name

In the Hutchinson area, Quality Body Shop Hutchinson has built a reputation for its integrity, skill, and consistent results. Their team specializes in RV and bus bodywork, leveraging decades of experience to deliver top-quality results on every job. From handling minor fender repairs to executing full-scale reconstructions, their professionals treat each project with care and precision.

Customers consistently highlight the shop’s commitment to honest communication and long-lasting workmanship. Whether you're managing a fleet or caring for your own family’s travel vehicle, choosing a trusted name ensures peace of mind and investment protection. With advanced facilities, modern tools, and a deep understanding of large-vehicle bodywork, this local shop continues to be a pillar of the Hutchinson repair community.

The Technology Behind Today’s Vehicle Repairs

Modern RV and bus body repairs are no longer limited to hammer-and-paint jobs. Technological advances have introduced 3D frame measuring systems, computerized paint-matching tools, and water-based eco-friendly paints. The best shops in Hutchinson utilize these tools to ensure precision and compliance with manufacturer standards.

For example, electronic diagnostic tools help uncover hidden faults that might affect the long-term performance of a vehicle. Meanwhile, paint systems tailored to match original colors ensure seamless aesthetics, even after major repairs. This commitment to innovation is what sets high-quality shops apart and ensures customer satisfaction long after the job is done.

Conclusion: Choosing the Right Repair Partner

When it comes to RVs and buses, repairs require more than just basic mechanical knowledge—they require specialized training, advanced tools, and a commitment to safety and excellence. From tailored RV Repair Services Hutchinson to premium Bus Body Repair Hutchinson, local service providers offer the expertise and technology to restore vehicles to their best condition.

Whether you're seeking dependable Bus Repair Services Hutchinson or a reliable RV Body Shop Hutchinson, make sure your chosen facility has the experience and track record to deliver. Quality Body Shop Hutchinson stands out as one such partner—offering trustworthy solutions, expert craftsmanship, and unparalleled customer care in the heart of Kansas.

[nilecruisers4]

Sail Egypt’s Nile in Luxurious Style

The Timeless Allure of the Nile

The Nile River, stretching over 6,800 kilometers, is the lifeblood of Egypt, cradling a civilization that has captivated the world for millennia. Cruising its waters offers an unparalleled journey through history, where ancient temples and tombs stand as testaments to a glorious past. Egypt Nile Cruise Packages provide travelers with curated experiences, blending exploration with comfort. These journeys navigate between Luxor and Aswan, revealing iconic sites like the Valley of the Kings and the Philae Temple. Each voyage is a step back in time, immersing visitors in the mysteries of pharaohs while surrounded by the river’s serene beauty.

A Journey Aboard a Luxury Cruiser

Among the finest ways to explore the Nile is aboard a vessel designed for elegance and indulgence. The Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise epitomizes luxury, offering spacious cabins with panoramic windows that frame uninterrupted river views. With only 22 accommodations, including suites with private terraces, the cruiser ensures an intimate experience. Guests enjoy gourmet dining, with menus featuring Western, Middle Eastern, and Asian cuisines, served in an elegant restaurant or poolside under the stars. The onboard spa, complete with massage therapies and a temperature-controlled pool, provides relaxation between excursions, making every moment aboard as memorable as the destinations.

Exploring Ancient Wonders

Egypt Nile Cruise Packages are crafted to showcase Egypt’s archaeological treasures at a leisurely pace. A typical itinerary includes visits to Luxor’s Karnak and Luxor Temples, where towering columns and intricate hieroglyphs tell stories of divine kingship. In Aswan, the Philae Temple, dedicated to the goddess Isis, enchants with its island setting. The journey also stops at Edfu’s well-preserved Horus Temple and Kom Ombo’s unique dual temple, each guided by expert Egyptologists who bring history to life. These excursions, often conducted in small groups via luxury coaches, ensure an immersive and informative experience for every traveler.

The Unique Appeal of a Luxury Cruise

The Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise stands out for its meticulous attention to detail and personalized service. Originally launched in 1996 and refurbished in 2015, the cruiser blends contemporary design with touches of Egyptian art, creating an ambiance of refined comfort. Cabins feature plush bedding, soundproof French windows, and complimentary high-speed Wi-Fi, catering to modern travelers. The vessel’s private docking areas in Luxor and Aswan offer seamless access to sites, a rarity among Nile cruisers. With amenities like a cigar lounge, library, and in-house movie theater, the cruiser transforms downtime into moments of delight.

Why Choose a Nile Cruise?

Opting for Egypt Nile Cruise Packages offers a seamless way to explore Egypt’s Upper region without the hassle of planning individual tours. These packages typically include full-board accommodations, guided excursions, and transfers, ensuring a stress-free journey. The slow rhythm of the river allows travelers to absorb the landscape—lush banks, desert horizons, and ancient ruins—while moving effortlessly between destinations. Unlike land-based tours, a cruise provides a floating sanctuary where guests can relax after a day of exploration, with the Nile’s gentle flow as a constant companion.

Tailoring Your Egyptian Adventure

The Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise offers flexible itineraries, with four- or six-night options to suit different schedules. A four-night journey might cover key sites like the Valley of the Kings and the High Dam, while a six-night cruise includes additional stops, such as the Dendera Temple, dedicated to the goddess Hathor. Optional activities, like a hot air balloon ride over Luxor or a felucca sail in Aswan, add personalized flair. With multilingual Egyptologists available upon request, the cruise caters to global travelers, ensuring cultural nuances are fully appreciated.

Practical Considerations for Travelers

Booking Egypt Nile Cruise Packages requires attention to seasonal factors, as Egypt’s climate varies. The cooler months from October to April are ideal for comfortable sightseeing, while summer cruises offer lower rates but warmer temperatures. The Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise includes practical amenities like air-conditioned cabins, purified water, and 24/7 medical services, ensuring guest comfort and safety. Travelers should budget for extras like tipping, optional tours, or spa treatments, and confirm visa requirements before departure. Most packages include airport transfers, making arrivals in Luxor or Aswan smooth and efficient.

A Voyage of Cultural Connection

A Nile cruise is more than a vacation; it’s a cultural odyssey that connects travelers with Egypt’s soul. Egypt Nile Cruise Packages weave together history, luxury, and discovery, offering a front-row seat to humanity’s ancient achievements. The Oberoi Philae Nile Cruise enhances this experience with its unparalleled elegance, from gourmet meals to private balconies overlooking the Nile. As the cruiser glides past palm-fringed shores and timeless monuments, guests are invited to reflect on the enduring legacy of a civilization that continues to inspire. Embark on this journey and let the Nile reveal its secrets, one breathtaking vista at a time.

[retechie]

Creative DIY Projects Using Old Laptops

Technology evolves rapidly, and many people find themselves with old laptops that no longer meet their needs. Instead of discarding them, why not explore some innovative ways to repurpose them? Whether you have a second hand laptop, a refurbished MacBook Air, or an outdated Windows device, there are plenty of DIY projects to bring them back to life.

If you’re looking for sustainable and budget-friendly ways to reuse your old devices, here are some creative DIY ideas to make the most of used laptops in India.

1. Transform It into a Home Media Center

One of the easiest and most useful ways to repurpose an old laptop is by turning it into a media center. With apps like Plex or Kodi, you can use your laptop to stream movies, music, and TV shows directly to your TV. Simply connect it via HDMI, install your favorite media player, and enjoy a personalized entertainment hub.

How to Set It Up:

Install Plex or Kodi for a streamlined media experience.

Connect an external hard drive for additional storage.

Use an HDMI cable and link it to your television.

2. Convert It into a Home Server

An old second hand laptop can be repurposed into a home server for storing files, hosting websites, or even running smart home automation software. This is a great way to keep your data centralized and accessible from anywhere in your home.

How to Do It:

Install Ubuntu Server or FreeNAS for file sharing.

Use it to store backups, family photos, and important documents.

Set up a basic cloud storage system for easy access to files.

3. Create a DIY Digital Photo Frame

If your laptop’s screen is still functional, why not turn it into a digital photo frame? This is a fantastic way to display family photos, artwork, or even inspirational quotes.

Steps to Make It Work:

Install photo slideshow software like Google Photos.

Remove the keyboard and mount the screen in a frame.

Set it up in your living room or office for a modern touch.

4. Use It as a Secondary Monitor

A renewed laptop with a functional display can be repurposed into a secondary monitor for increased productivity. Whether you're working from home or gaming, a second screen can improve multitasking.

How to Set It Up:

Use SpaceDesk (Windows) or Air Display (Mac) to connect wirelessly.

Connect using an HDMI cable if the ports are compatible.

Extend or mirror your screen for better workflow.

5. Turn It into a Gaming Console

Older refurbished laptops may not support high-end gaming, but they can still be turned into retro gaming consoles with emulators. With software like RetroPie or Lakka, you can play classic games from PlayStation, Nintendo, and more.

What You Need:

Install RetroPie, Lakka, or Batocera.

For a console-like experience, use a Bluetooth controller.

For a larger screen, connect it to your television.

6. Donate or Sell Your Old Laptop

If your laptop is still functional but no longer useful to you, consider donating or selling it. Platforms like Retechie specialize in refurbished laptops in India, offering a marketplace for buying and selling second hand devices. This not only helps someone else but also promotes sustainability by reducing electronic waste.

Where to Sell or Donate:

Sell it on Retechie if it still has good resale value.

Donate it to schools or NGOs for students in need.

Get credit for a newer gadget by trading it in.

7. Extract and Repurpose Individual Components

Even if your laptop isn’t working, some parts can still be useful. Here’s what you can salvage:

Hard Drive: Convert it into an external storage device.

RAM & Battery: Use them for repairs or upgrades.

Screen Panel: Repurpose it as an external monitor.

Final Thoughts: Give Your Old Laptop a New Life

Instead of letting your old laptops collect dust, these DIY projects can help you turn it into something practical and exciting. Whether you transform it into a media center, home server, or secondary monitor, there are plenty of creative ways to extend its usefulness. Looking to buy used laptops or sell your old one? Explore Retechie, the trusted marketplace for refurbished Apple laptops, second hand laptops, and renewed laptops in India.

[certainenemycowboy]

Creating a Modern Look with Aluminium Windows in London Renovations

Introduction

When it comes to renovation projects in London, homeowners are increasingly leaning towards modern aesthetics that combine functionality and style. One of the most impactful choices you can make during your home renovation is the selection of windows. Aluminium windows in London have gained immense popularity for their sleek designs, durability, and energy efficiency. This article delves deep into how these windows can elevate your home's look and feel, providing insights into their benefits, styles, and installation process.

Understanding Aluminium Windows in London What Are Aluminium Windows? Aluminium Windows in London

Aluminium windows are frames made from aluminium alloy that houses glass panes. Known for their strength-to-weight ratio, these windows offer a modern flair while being incredibly practical. Unlike traditional wooden or PVC windows, aluminium frames can be crafted into slimmer profiles without compromising structural integrity.

Why Choose Aluminium Windows in London?

The choice of aluminium windows in London is not just about aesthetics; it's also about performance:

Durability: They resist corrosion and weathering. Energy Efficiency: Advanced thermal break technology improves insulation. Design Flexibility: Available in various colors and finishes. Key Features of Aluminium Windows Sustainability: Made from recyclable materials. Low Maintenance: Requires minimal upkeep compared to wood. Security: Stronger than many other window materials. The Aesthetic Appeal of Aluminium Windows Creating a Modern Look with Aluminium Windows in London Renovations

The allure of aluminium windows lies not only in their functionality but also in their ability to create a modern look for any home. Whether you're refurbishing a Victorian house or upgrading a contemporary flat, these windows can seamlessly blend with your design vision.

Color and Finish Options Available

One significant advantage is the variety of colors and finishes available:

Powder Coating: Provides a wide range of colors without fading. Natural Anodized Finish: Offers an industrial look that’s trendy. Bespoke Finishes: Customization options ensure unique looks. Framing Styles That Stand Out

From casement to sliding designs, the framing style can dramatically influence the overall aesthetic:

Slim Frames: Maximizes light entry while maintaining strength. Large Glass Panels: Creates an open feel by blurring indoor-outdoor boundaries. Performance Benefits of Aluminium Windows Energy Efficiency Explained

Aluminium frames have advanced insulation properties due to thermal breaks that separate the inner frame from the outer frame. This reduces heat transfer significantly:

Result: Lower energy bills during both winter and summer months. Weather Resistance: Why It