#vinyl tile brooklyn

[bororugcarpetwarehouse]

How to Choose the Best Tile Sealing, Residential Flooring, and Tile Stores in Brooklyn

Guide to Brooklyn Tile Sealing

What is Brooklyn Tile Sealing?

Tile sealing in Brooklyn involves applying a protective layer over the surface of tiles to safeguard against stains, water damage, and other forms of wear and tear. This process is essential for maintaining the longevity and appearance of tile surfaces in both residential and commercial spaces. Tiles, especially those made from porous materials like natural stone, marble, or unglazed ceramic, are prone to absorbing liquids and stains, which can lead to discoloration and damage over time. Sealing creates an invisible barrier that prevents these issues, making maintenance easier and extending the life of your tiles.

How is Brooklyn Tile Sealing Done?

The process of Brooklyn tile sealing typically involves several key steps to ensure effective and lasting protection:

Cleaning the Tiles: Before sealing, the tiles must be thoroughly cleaned to remove any dirt, grease, or residues. This ensures that the sealant adheres properly to the tile surface.

Choosing the Right Sealant: There are various types of sealants available, including penetrating sealers and topical sealers. Penetrating sealers absorb into the tile and grout, providing protection from within, while topical sealers create a protective layer on the surface. The choice of sealant depends on the type of tile and the specific needs of the space.

Application: The sealant is applied using a brush, roller, or sprayer, depending on the product and the area being sealed. It’s crucial to apply the sealant evenly to avoid streaks and ensure complete coverage.

Drying Time: After application, the sealant needs time to cure. This period can vary from a few hours to a couple of days, depending on the type of sealant used and environmental conditions. It’s important to avoid using the tiled area during this time to allow the sealant to set properly.

Buffing and Finishing: Once the sealant is dry, the tiles may be buffed to enhance their appearance and ensure a smooth, even finish.

Guide to Residential Flooring in Brooklyn, NY

What is Residential Flooring in Brooklyn, NY?

Residential flooring Brooklyn NY encompasses a wide variety of flooring options tailored to meet the needs of homes in this diverse and vibrant borough. The choices range from traditional hardwood and elegant marble to modern laminates and versatile vinyl. Each type of flooring offers unique benefits and aesthetic qualities, catering to different preferences, lifestyles, and budgets.

How is Residential Flooring in Brooklyn, NY Done?

The process of installing residential flooring in Brooklyn involves several stages, each critical to achieving a durable and aesthetically pleasing result:

Assessment and Planning: This initial stage involves evaluating the existing flooring, measuring the space, and discussing the homeowner’s preferences and budget. Factors such as the room’s function, foot traffic, and exposure to moisture are considered to determine the most suitable flooring type.

Material Selection: Homeowners can choose from a vast array of materials, including hardwood, laminate, vinyl, tile, carpet, and more. Each material has its own set of advantages, maintenance requirements, and cost implications.

Preparation: The existing flooring is removed, and the subfloor is prepared. This may involve cleaning, leveling, and repairing any imperfections to ensure a smooth surface for the new flooring.

Installation: The new flooring is installed according to the manufacturer’s guidelines and industry standards. The method of installation varies depending on the type of flooring. For example, hardwood floors may be nailed or glued down, while vinyl and laminate often feature a click-lock system.

Finishing: After installation, the flooring may be finished with additional treatments, such as sealing or staining, to enhance its appearance and durability.

Final Inspection and Cleanup: The installation is inspected to ensure it meets quality standards. The area is then cleaned, and any debris is removed, leaving the space ready for use.

Guide to Tile Stores in Brooklyn

What is a Tile Store in Brooklyn?

A tile store Brooklyn is a retail establishment that specializes in selling a wide variety of tiles for different applications, including flooring, walls, backsplashes, and more. These stores offer an extensive selection of materials, colors, patterns, and sizes to cater to the diverse tastes and needs of Brooklyn residents and businesses. Tile stores in Brooklyn also provide valuable services such as design consultation, material sourcing, and sometimes even installation services.

How Are Tile Stores in Brooklyn?

Tile stores in Brooklyn are known for their diverse offerings and knowledgeable staff. They cater to a wide range of customers, from homeowners looking to renovate their kitchens or bathrooms to contractors and designers working on large-scale projects. Here’s what you can expect from tile stores in Brooklyn:

Wide Selection: Tile stores in Brooklyn carry a vast array of tiles, including ceramic, porcelain, natural stone, glass, and more. This variety allows customers to find the perfect tile for any project, whether it’s a traditional home renovation or a modern commercial space.

Expert Advice: Staff at Brooklyn tile stores are typically well-versed in the different types of tiles and their applications. They can offer valuable advice on choosing the right tile based on factors like durability, maintenance, aesthetic preferences, and budget.

Design Services: Many tile stores offer design services to help customers plan their projects. This can include assistance with tile layout, color coordination, and material selection to achieve the desired look and functionality.

Quality Products: Tile stores in Brooklyn are known for offering high-quality products from reputable manufacturers. This ensures that customers get durable, long-lasting tiles that can withstand the demands of their specific applications.

Competitive Pricing: With the competitive market in Brooklyn, tile stores strive to offer competitive pricing and various promotions, making quality tiles accessible to a broader range of customers.

How to Choose the Best Tile Sealing, Residential Flooring, and Tile Stores in Brooklyn

When selecting tile sealing services, residential flooring options, or a tile store in Brooklyn, consider the following tips to ensure you make the best choice:

For Tile Sealing:

Experience and Expertise: Choose a company with extensive experience in tile sealing and a proven track record of successful projects.

Product Quality: Ensure the sealants used are of high quality and suitable for your specific type of tile.

Customer Reviews: Look for positive customer reviews and testimonials to gauge the reliability and quality of the service provider.

Warranty: Opt for a company that offers a warranty on their sealing services, providing peace of mind and assurance of quality work.

For Residential Flooring:

Material Selection: Consider the range of materials offered and whether they align with your aesthetic preferences and functional needs.

Installation Expertise: Choose a flooring company with skilled installers who have experience with the type of flooring you select.

Customer Service: Excellent customer service is crucial. Ensure the company is responsive, communicative, and willing to address any concerns you may have.

Budget and Financing: Look for transparent pricing and financing options if needed, to ensure the project fits within your budget.

For Tile Stores:

Product Variety: A good tile store should offer a wide range of tiles to suit different tastes and project requirements.

Knowledgeable Staff: The staff should be knowledgeable and able to provide expert advice and assistance with your project.

Design Services: Consider stores that offer design services to help you plan and visualize your project.

Customer Reviews: Check online reviews and ask for recommendations to ensure the store has a good reputation for quality and service.

Conclusion

Whether you're sealing tiles, choosing new residential flooring, or shopping for tiles in Brooklyn, understanding the processes and what to look for in service providers and retailers is crucial for successful projects. Tile sealing protects your investment, residential flooring enhances your home's comfort and style, and tile stores provide the materials and expertise you need to bring your vision to life. By following the guides and tips outlined above, you can ensure that your home improvement projects in Brooklyn are both beautiful and durable, adding value and enjoyment to your living space.

[pierceconstructionandrepair]

If you are facing issues with home improvement Services in Brooklyn, New York, and surrounding areas. Contact Ignite Home Improvement!

[davidsblogs123]

Brooklyn Flooring Masters Hardwood & Vinyl Installation by Ignite Home Improvement

Discover the unparalleled craftsmanship of Ignite Home Improvement, your Brooklyn Flooring Masters. Specializing in both hardwood and vinyl installations, we elevate spaces with expertise and finesse. Our meticulous approach ensures flawless installations, transforming your home into a haven of elegance and durability. Trust us to ignite your floors with a blend of timeless hardwood charm and versatile vinyl appeal.

[roofingbronx]

Vinyl Plank Flooring Queens

Vinyl flooring is a popular choice for homeowners looking for an affordable and durable flooring option. At R Luis, we specialize in all types of vinyl flooring installation and repair work, including vinyl plank flooring and commercial vinyl tiles, all designed to help you transform the look of your home. At R Luis, we strive to provide NYC’s premiere vinyl flooring installation services, using a careful and thorough installation process that’s specific to our client’s every need!

[clothesairers]

5 Tips for more efficient drone photography

Introduction Readymade godard brooklyn, kogi shoreditch hashtag hella shaman kitsch man bun pinterest flexitarian. Offal occupy chambray, organic authentic copper mug vice echo park yr poke literally. Ugh coloring book fingerstache schlitz retro cronut man bun copper mug small batch trust fund ethical bicycle rights cred iceland. Celiac schlitz la croix 3 wolf moon butcher. Knausgaard freegan wolf succulents, banh mi venmo hot chicken fashion axe humblebrag DIY.

Waistcoat gluten-free cronut cred quinoa. Poke knausgaard vinyl church-key seitan viral mumblecore deep v synth food truck. Ennui gluten-free pop-up hammock hella bicycle rights, microdosing skateboard tacos. Iceland 8-bit XOXO disrupt activated charcoal kitsch scenester roof party meggings migas etsy ethical farm-to-table letterpress. Banjo wayfarers chartreuse taiyaki, stumptown prism 8-bit tote bag.

Story Listicle offal viral, flannel franzen roof party shoreditch meditation subway tile bicycle rights tbh fingerstache copper mug organic umami. Glossier meditation ugh brooklyn quinoa, 8-bit banh mi everyday carry 90’s. Glossier gastropub prism vinyl viral kale chips cloud bread pop-up bitters umami pitchfork raclette man braid organic. Affogato health goth typewriter etsy, adaptogen narwhal readymade hella hoodie crucifix cloud bread portland williamsburg glossier man braid. Typewriter brooklyn craft beer yr, marfa tumblr green juice ennui williamsburg. Farm-to-table church-key truffaut hot chicken migas you probably haven’t heard of them. Photo booth church-key normcore craft beer intelligentsia jianbing, gochujang kale chips gentrify hell of williamsburg.

Conclusion Venmo fixie knausgaard readymade. 3 wolf moon blue bottle sartorial blog. Vegan beard messenger bag taiyaki DIY pickled ugh whatever kickstarter. Yuccie 3 wolf moon church-key, austin kitsch try-hard man bun ramps beard godard art party cray messenger bag heirloom blue bottle. Tilde waistcoat brooklyn fingerstache bespoke chambray leggings mustache hella.

ORIGINALLY FOUND ON- Source: 5 Tips for more efficient drone photography(https://clothesairers.com/plans-to-increase-vehicle-power-and-range/)

[turtle-steverogers]

There’s an old 24 hour soda shoppe down the block from Bucky and Steve’s new apartment in Brooklyn-- one that’s been there since before they died and came back in pieces. But it’s weathered, too, in the same way they are. Changing with time and a little cracked around the tiles. Still bright and lively all the same. 

After nightmares, they take to going to the soda shoppe, and it’s peaceful, sitting in a booth in the back. 3 am chocolate shakes and pancakes the size of their faces. A huge plate of fries between them. Hands meeting in the middle, and the surreal shine of the bright overhead lights as they people watch the pedestrians outside the window. Making up elaborate stories for the other people up in the night. Laughing as the shadows that cloud their faces during nightmares fade to something softer; fuller. Watching the sunrise and staying long enough to see the morning rush filter in. Getting breakfast to go and slipping out before the crowds can really arrive, leaving until the next time the cracked vinyl booths call to them when they ache for an ounce of familiarity from the things that go bump in the night. 

[violetfaust]

Here's my pitch for the post-credits scene in Dr. Strange: Multiverse of Madness.

Open on a large wall-mounted TV clicking on to some news station.

Pull back so we can see a white cat sitting on a wooden coffee table, batting at the TV remote: she's just turned it on.

Then we start a slow pan around the room: nice, not huge, lived in. A squishy sectional couch with a huge photograph behind it of a graffitied wall outside an NYC subway station. Video game controllers on the coffee table. A floor plant or two. Music playing in the background, turned down quite low; we can't make out all the words.

The room flows into a dining room: big MCM-style table with the CA shield at one end. It's upside down and a black-and-white cat is curled up in it, asleep. There's an MCM sideboard with a record player and some speakers on top; a large mason jar filled with wine corks. Open storage on both sides; one side has a collection of vinyl records, the other a stack of board games and video game cartridges.

There's a record on the player, and now we can hear it clearly: Etta James's Trust in Me (we can also hear indistinguishable voices in the background, some muted laughter).

We can get along, we can get along

Oh, if you trust in me

While there's a moon, a moon in the sky,

While there are birds, birds to fly

While there is you, you and I

I can be sure that I love you

Oh stand beside me, stand beside me all the while,

Come on Daddy, face the future,

Why don't you smile

Trust in me and I'll be worthy of you

Camera keeps panning, never stopping, into an open kitchen: black cabinets, white subway tile, wood counters and floating shelves. A magnetic knife rack with a HUGE number of knives. Two almost-empty glasses of red wine on the kitchen island.

Music fades out and we can hear the people talking more clearly; the camera never stops to focus on them. We just get bits of conversation. It's Sam and Bucky, washing dishes at a big old farm sink. One of them washes and the other dries.

"--birthday, and Sarah asked if you'd bring that chocolate cake--"

"Oh, a request? For my chocolate-potato cake?"

(muttering)

"My 'Depression nonsense' cake? That cake?"

"What, you gotta make me say it?"

"You know what? Yeah, I do. C'mon. 'Bucky, I love the chocolate-potato cake.'"

"Okay, fine. FINE. Bucky, I love--"

Camera is panning out of the kitchen, in a circle back to the living/dining room, so the voices fade and we hear the music again. Passes an exposed brick wall with a ton of pictures and artworks, gallery style: black-and-white and color photos of families, the boat, a black-and-white photo of lower Manhattan seen from Brooklyn about 70 years ago, the wartime pic of Bucky and Steve from the Smithsonian, the picture of Sam and Riley from TWS, a candid of a lot of people from Tony's Avengers party at the beginning of AOU, a laughing Natasha Romanoff batting at Redwing, a WWII-era "Captain America Wants You" poster.

And we've come full circle back to the TV. Which is playing "Breaking News" footage of lightning flashing in purple skies and half of Manhattan falling into that huge sinkhole.

Alpine meows. Cut.

[saintflint]

ladies, friends, and fellas, i gift to you “corny home-grown playlists i’ve lovingly tended out of sheer quarantine-induced boredom” please listen & enjoy 🧡💫🍊

the inner workings of a lonely scorpio — all my go-to jams, the songs that fill and feed my soul at all hours of the day.

and i’m a kid again, listening to grandma’s vinyls — imagine you’re six years old, hanging at your grandma’s house. it’s summer, you’ve just gotten out of their backyard pool, you’re laying out on the warm tiles outside, waiting to dry off while your cousins laugh or doze or jump back into the water without you. and drifting from past the sliding doors, you can hear the warm, crooning voices of the beach boys or the four seasons or dozens of others, reminding you that you have all the time in the world.

mom and dad’s bops — what can i say? my parents were the ones with a dozen tapes in the car and eventually those old laptops with the swirling backgrounds while their 70’s and 80’s hits blasted in the living room and my siblings and i danced and danced and danced.

do-you-ever-yearn.jpeg — it is Yearning hours, my friends. i.e., a collection of soft, yearning, pining songs to play while you stare out your car window and long for love. or maybe just to listen to while you miss all those years that have long since past and that still haunt your dreams late at night with golden memories full of sunshine and laughter.

the secret of the universe — yes, this is a boreo playlist. listen to it when you want to imagine yourself in the blistering nevada heat with your only best friend, the “blood of your heart,” by your side. he has secrets but that’s okay, because so do you, and really, with your arm wrapped around his shoulder, despite the miles and miles of dust and sand you’re practically drowning in, you feel like you’re both enough to take on the world.

eds, my love — here’s the concept: richie makes eddie a mixtape full of their all-time favorites somewhere towards the end of their senior year of high school cause he just can’t come out and say it but he can’t contain it anymore either, the love that threatens every day to tear him apart from the inside out, he has to put all that love somewhere, he just has to. listen when you feel like longing for that summer love from the best friend you never had. or when you just want to cry about the clown movies.

womb to tomb, sweetheart — i really, genuinely do apologize for this one (quarantine really has awoken my deepest, oldest hyper fixations). basically, if you ever wanted a mix of mostly soft, 30’s and 40’s jazz tunes to imagine bucky and steve listening to in their tiny brooklyn brownstone while they silently yearn for each other, look no further.

[13mkg]

this is a test

I'm baby cray photo booth tumeric waistcoat, hashtag letterpress whatever pork belly chartreuse. Chartreuse yr palo santo hashtag vinyl plaid cronut coloring book tacos. Bicycle rights before they sold out tumblr irony, pour-over PBR&B aesthetic. Squid thundercats mustache hella farm-to-table umami, godard 3 wolf moon franzen cred waistcoat tumeric art party cray.

Jean shorts art party whatever adaptogen, meh snackwave everyday carry. Readymade schlitz forage four dollar toast cold-pressed food truck trust fund YOLO asymmetrical kombucha salvia vice fixie roof party. Williamsburg sriracha unicorn tacos authentic, master cleanse craft beer flannel knausgaard umami fashion axe lo-fi. Knausgaard fanny pack hoodie gentrify mustache.

Crucifix taxidermy organic man bun, skateboard DIY poutine venmo biodiesel food truck. Sustainable chillwave artisan quinoa aesthetic godard narwhal lo-fi synth ugh forage celiac small batch poutine. Try-hard kale chips yuccie, shabby chic cronut salvia ethical lomo pabst listicle. 

Hot chicken seitan meh knausgaard pork belly schlitz snackwave offal portland 

You probably haven't heard of them occupy subway tile waistcoat twee paleo. 

Unicorn put a bird on it brooklyn wolf copper mug farm-to-table cornhole mustache kinfolk occupy.

Chambray chillwave brunch, small batch 90's disrupt crucifix. Mixtape austin hot chicken locavore before they sold out sriracha. Godard farm-to-table activated charcoal chia distillery seitan coloring book bespoke kitsch direct trade umami swag. Sartorial organic chia snackwave whatever vaporware pinterest mixtape microdosing seitan mustache salvia kogi 90's bushwick.

Lo-fi tacos jianbing, master cleanse poutine woke selfies drinking vinegar sustainable subway tile. Af meh hammock, pinterest affogato ugh paleo next level. Everyday carry marfa flannel tofu letterpress literally VHS artisan hexagon poutine cardigan ramps lumbersexual aesthetic kinfolk. Sartorial PBR&B selvage flexitarian affogato iceland. Heirloom pour-over freegan prism, yuccie pop-up retro authentic hashtag post-ironic raw denim messenger bag jean shorts stumptown. 

Franzen woke farm-to-table vaporware

Four loko iceland tumeric meh sustainable.

Dummy text? More like dummy thicc text, amirite?

[bororugcarpetwarehouse]

Exploring Brooklyn’s Best: Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse — Your Ultimate Tile Store Brooklyn

In the bustling borough of Brooklyn, amidst its vibrant streets and diverse neighborhoods, lies a hidden gem for homeowners, contractors, and interior designers alike: Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse. As you embark on your quest for the perfect Tile Store Brooklyn, let us introduce you to this esteemed establishment, where quality, variety, and service converge to elevate your tiling experience to new heights.

Introduction to Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse

Nestled in the heart of Brooklyn, Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse stands as a beacon of excellence in the world of tiles. With a reputation for excellence spanning decades, this family-owned business has carved a niche for itself as a premier destination for all things tile-related. From floor tiles to wall tiles and everything in between, Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse boasts an extensive selection that caters to every taste and preference.

A Multifaceted Tile Collection

Step into the expansive showroom of Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse, and you’ll find yourself immersed in a world of possibilities. Their vast collection of tiles spans a myriad of materials, colors, and styles, ensuring that there’s something to suit every design vision. Whether you’re drawn to the timeless elegance of marble, the rustic charm of ceramic, or the sleek sophistication of porcelain, you’ll find an abundance of options to explore.

Expert Guidance and Consultation

At Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse, their commitment to customer satisfaction extends beyond merely offering a vast selection of tiles. Their knowledgeable team of experts is on hand to provide personalized guidance and consultation, helping you navigate their inventory with ease. Whether you’re a seasoned contractor embarking on a large-scale project or a homeowner undertaking a DIY renovation, their friendly staff will offer invaluable advice to ensure that you find the perfect tiles for your needs.

Professional Installation Services

Choosing the right tiles is only the first step on your journey towards transforming your space. Recognizing the importance of proper installation in achieving impeccable results, Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse offers professional installation services performed by skilled craftsmen. With years of experience under their belts, their installation team possesses the expertise and precision necessary to bring your vision to life with flawless execution.

Unparalleled Customer Experience

What truly sets Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse apart is their unwavering commitment to customer satisfaction. From the moment you step through their doors, you’ll be greeted with warmth and hospitality by their attentive staff. Whether you’re seeking advice on tile selection, scheduling an installation appointment, or simply browsing their showroom, you can expect nothing less than exceptional service at every turn.

Your Tile Destination Awaits

If you’re in search of a tile store in Brooklyn that offers quality, variety, and unparalleled service, look no further than Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse. With their extensive collection of tiles, expert guidance, professional installation services, and dedication to customer satisfaction, they are poised to be your ultimate tile destination. Contact them today or visit their showroom in Brooklyn to embark on your journey towards transforming your space with beautiful tiles from Boro Rug & Carpet Warehouse.

[pierceconstructionandrepair]

Ignite Home Improvement is the Best Home Remodeling & Renovation Services in Brooklyn, NY. We are providing services for the Bathroom and Kitchen, Painting and Hardwood Flooring, etc. Visit us for more details!

[lazywriter7]

shades of happiness

Summary: Part of the journey is the end.

Steve Rogers considers his many possible endings, and chooses one.

Warnings for major character death

It’s always been the shade that caught his eye the quickest.

In a set of pastels, blocky and chalky-soft and colour staining on his fingertips – always the pop of red towards the end that his gaze drifted to, where it lingered. The colour that could change the very way you looked at things – like when sunrise lit the tenements of Brooklyn in rose-gold-cinnabar, gleaming off bicycle pedals that used to look dusty and camouflaging the cracks in sour-cream building walls, clothes left over on the lines at night flapping gently in the wind – like filtering it all through this shade could alter reality itself.

(Reality, that makes one of six–)

Steve had a weakness for it, for red. Any time one of his paintings looked a touch too dull, like the colours had been leached of their potency, like everything was too drab, too still (too dead), his brush strayed towards the red tube of paint. A dab here and a highlight there, and it was like the painting became a new creature – vivid and kinetic, the richness of the hue enhancing the brighter shades of yellow and orange, adding depth into the darkness of browns and blacks. It was always on his palette, he couldn’t imagine picturing a world without…

“Steve.”

He shook with it, the startlement. He blinked his eyes. Peggy smiled at him from across the diner booth, chestnut-hair shining in the light and victory suit as perfectly pressed as when he’d first met her. “You were gone there, for a while.”

“I was.” Steve said, and there was something about that that wasn’t quite right. Spoken too lightly, frivolous and easy. Lacking the import that words like that deserved.

But Peggy seemed to pay that no note and only smiled wider. Steve was braced for the breathstopping, jawbreaking clench of longing the sight brought – the corners of her quirked lips, the dip of her lower lip where the skin always seemed to be chapped and flaking. The carmine slash of her lipstick.

Red.

“Nice place, isn’t it.” Peggy tilted her chin, dark eyes flitting over the light fixtures and checkered décor.

It’s very seventies, Steve wanted to say – the foreignness of the thought prickled at him. It was… it was out of place, in this picture-perfect scene, out of time, because he’d never have known to have the thought if not for pop-culture and watching movies about the seventies in the futu–

So something else escaped his tongue instead. “Sometimes, I’d think about if I was just imagining it too… too sunny. Too bright. What would’ve happened if I’d never gone down in the ice.”

A shining image, through rose-tinted glasses. There was something about that too, which rattled at the shadowy edges of his mind; tinted glasses, tinted glasses and dark eyes–

(Dark eyes, bare for the taking. “Liar.”)

“Was the end of war. Couldn’t have been all sunshine and roses.” And for all of his heartache, he’d gotten to skip that part, hadn’t he? Hadn’t had to live with the aftermath. Bombed out streets, diners that were looking a lot emptier, hollow smiles and haunted eyes, empty chairs at the kitchen table.

Except he did live with it, just not at that particular time. Steve cleared his throat, dry to the bone, something like ash lingering at the back of his tongue. “I had to… had to carry on, for five years after. At times, it was harder than the ice.”

But Peggy only smiled on, uncharacteristic, shine of white teeth like something lacquered over. “Have some water, dear, you sound parched.”

The light seeping through the windows caught in his eyes, near-blinding. Steve raised a hand to shield them – was the sun setting? “Must’ve been hard for you to go through that all alone, after the war. Don’t know how you managed it.”

When he’d blinked the spots out of his eyes, the diner seemed faded – though still bathed in coloured light. Peggy had stopped smiling, though her eyes were still kind. “I wasn’t alone.”

Of course. For all that it had gotten dimmer, the world also seemed clearer at the edges. Like a hazy picture beginning to resolve, showing all its grainy details, cracks in the wall. Steve breathed in the stillness, breathed in the dust. “How’re the husband and kids, Peg?”

Peggy blinked, dark lashes batting through the stillness. She wasn’t wearing a ring. “Steve, I don’t know what you’re–

No, the sun wasn’t setting. But the dimmed light had gone awfully red, casting shadows across Peggy’s cheekbones, creeping across the diner table that was somehow too solid and yet not enough under Steve’s numb fingers. “Peg.”

“They’re.” Peggy hitched a breath. Cast in unearthly scarlet or no, she still looked like Steve’s best dream. “It hasn’t happened yet, but… they’ll be. They’re.. doing really well.”

Behind her glossy locks, Steve could see the diner fracturing – jagged shards of light cleaving through the vinyl booths, checkered floor, white tiling on the counters. His breath was shaking along with it, sucked clean out of his chest like an asthma attack of old, fingers digging into the table– “I never stopped loving you.”

“Me neither, darling.” The words sounded thick in her throat, but Peggy wasn’t crying. She leaned forward, cupped her warm palms over his whitening fingers, “Always.”

Then why. Why did they have to, why couldn’t this be–

(“I needed you. You said ‘together’, and–”)

“You’ve worked so hard. Been… unmeasurably brave, done so much.” Peggy’s eyes glistened with the warmth of a thousand setting suns. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

“I could… I could do it again. Here.” Work at it, at belonging to this time again. It couldn’t hurt as much, couldn’t claw at his throat with the hollowness of it more than the first go around. “With you.”

“Oh, but sweetheart.” Peggy raised soft fingers, leaned enough to ghost them over the back of Steve’s neck, catching at the flyway strands of a haircut she’d never gotten to see. “You’ve already done your time someplace else.”

The light blazed, and the world winked out.

~

 The air pumped through his chest, hard and heavy, throat dry with gasping. His hands were braced on his thighs, view obscured to the gap between them – sweat-slick fringe whipping in his eyes when he bent over and tried to regain his breath.

“Sloppy, sloppy.” A voice teased – Steve jerked his head upright and saw red.

Not the long, straightened sheet of locks he’d gotten used to during D.C.; not even the braid she’d started putting her hair in in the past five years when her roots started growing out. No, Natasha’s hair was scarlet, violently red – and done in the short bob he’d grown to know when they’d first met, and when they trained the Avengers at the compound together.

Which was where they were now, maybe – there were mats under their feet and the training equipment around them looked halfway familiar; somewhere in between what had been in the SHIELD barracks and the Avengers facility gym. On the wall behind, off to the corner of his vision: the edge of a logo set into the plaster gleamed metallic under the afternoon light.

(“That’s what we do, right? The A-vengers? We lost, we–”

“You giving up on the fight, Rogers?” Natasha stretched her hands above her head, jet black leather-and-Kevlar creaking with the motion; rolled the joints in her neck, hair clinging to sweaty skin. “Misery of existence getting you down?”

It was a sharp, sharp jab – Steve heaved a breath and laughed with it, laughed till his eyes were faintly blurring and his chest hurt. Straightened up, meeting twinkling green eyes that he’d thought once upon a time, were cold and unreadable. “You’re not getting off that easy, Romanov.”

“You sure?” Natasha mocked, and the affection of it was raw salt and soothing balm all at once. “You’ve been looking pretty bummed lately. Maybe you should go back to bed, rest those old, creaky joints.”

Steve’s feet were moving – he’d fallen into the dance, the pattern, unaware of even making the first step, the two of them circling each other around the ring. How many times had they done this? He should’ve… he should’ve kept count.

“It’s always the same with you millennials. Life is hard, it always is.” Steve’s gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers, boots gleaming cherry red just at the edge of his sight. The old uniform – now that was a different touch. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve got plenty in my life to get outta bed for.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard this one before.” Natasha didn’t roll her eyes, the gesture far too pedestrian for her – and Steve knew that, now and during the course of… ten? Ten years. “The future isn’t really that bad, the internet is such a useful resource, do you know how dangerous polio used to be–”

Oh, but it was far more nuanced than that. In moments, that yawned long and crushingly heavy, the future seemed nothing more than a wasteland. And yet, here was a friend grinning at him from across the ring, and his breath shivered in his chest with the realisation, a truth sitting in his chest too simple to ignore – “I’ve got more than that.”

(“You trust me, right?”)

Natasha stilled. Behind the shield of banter, the fond, biting grin – Steve could see now that her eyes were too bright. Gleaming with a layer of something liquid and unspilled, eyes reddening – streaks crawling in from the corners, overwhelming the whites. “Yeah?”

“Chatting with Mr. Patel at the bodega three miles away. Helping Wanda control her powers.” It was like feeling the dark give way, lightness stealing in – till his vision was wrecked with it, till keeping his eyes closed was no longer an option. “Morning runs with Sam. Sparring with you.”

Natasha’s smile settled into the crinkles of her eyes, a colourless drop leaking out the side and vanishing into the curve of her cheek. Her voice was ever-so-slightly hoarse, and in that moment more tempting than any Black Widow act she’d ever put on. “You can keep this, if you want. Keep all of this.”

The Avengers logo blazed on the wall behind her head, the corner of the A obscured by her curls. It felt, for a second, that his knees might give way after all.

Steve stayed standing. “You can’t.”

There was something trickling down from Natasha’s temple – a thin line of scarlet mingling with the trail of tears. He didn’t know how close to the truth it was. He’d never gotten to see the bod– he’d never gotten to see her go. His voice cracked with the thought, a cleaving strike right down the middle, “I can’t do this without you.”

“Steve.” There was a gentleness about her, a sense of care he’d never deserved. “I did what I had to so you could.”

“Is that…” No matter how many times he cleared his throat, the rawness wouldn’t subside. An open wound, every word flecked with the pain of it, “Is that why you…”

“You already know why.” Did he? The nose of the Valkyrie, heading straight for the Arctic shelf. Natasha’s mouth curled slightly, an affectionate smirk as if she could read his mind. “Serves you right for setting such a good example, hmm?”

“Besides, I had a job.” She said the words like she said so much else, point blank and matter-of-fact – because that was who she was. Not the masks, or the deception, or even the fights. She was duty, and a commitment to it unflinchingly made. “And a debt to repay.”

A debt to repay. The words struck something, grasped for something – past the skin of his chest and aching muscle, through the defences of his ribs and right down to his unenhanced, beating heart.

(Not red this time, no. Hearts were blue, blue and white like the hottest part of a flame; heat and weight slammed down into his palm, metal burning a circle into the skin.

“Liar.”

Burning regret, and a debt that couldn’t be cast away.)

Something slipped into his hand, warm fingers working their way into his own gaps. Steve squeezed against the pressure, breath escaping just a fraction more lightly. “Did it hurt when you went down?”

“No.” Natasha said simply, and the press of her hand against his was not a lie. Reddened as they were, her eyes still looked peaceful. “It was nice. Like a warmth in my chest, of… getting to throw aside all that my life had been used for, and choosing what it was going to mean.”

It means everything. A hero, when it counted the most for everyone. A friend, when it counted the most for me.

“It didn’t feel like that for me, the ice.” The world was hazing around them again, soft and crimson. His fingers curled in harder, held on tighter. “I knew what I was doing was right, but… it didn’t feel like that.”

“Well then.” Natasha tilted her head one last time, light gleaming off the devastating line of her jaw, eyes teasing like he’d remember her best. “What’re you waiting for?”

A breath, brushing past the stillness. Like conviction finally emerging again, settling into its long-worn shoes.

The world blazed bright. Steve let go.

 ~

 When Steve came back to himself, the universe was in stasis.

It felt like he could see all of it, spanning wide, even though his eyes were only confined to this place, this instant. This battlefield, sprawling on the grounds of a compound he’d once called home.

It was all silent, all still. Ash caught in mid-air, immobile. Weapons thrown and not yet landed. Snarls on unmoving faces, bodies contorted into the fight, friends and enemies all stretching around about him. Frozen in time, and Steve a man out of it.

Something glimmered at the corner of his vision – an exhale fleeted from his lips, a solitary breath among thousands that had been paused midway. The Time Stone shone dully among the gaps of his fingers. But it was only a spark of green amidst a sea of red; the Reality Gem blazing next to it, eye-searing.

Steve could not move his fingers. They twitched a little, but stayed firmly wrapped around, entwined through the scratched-up, faded metal fingers of an Iron Man gauntlet.

Steve lifted his chin, and stared at Tony’s face, frozen inches away from his.

(It had been a split-second decision. Lying on his back, holding a broken shield, tasting the blood through his teeth; catching a glimpse of Tony’s face through the debris, as he looked at someone out of view – at Strange, maybe.

Catching a glimpse of that resolution stealing over his face, grim and ruinously beautiful. Watching the tussle between him and the Mad Titan, watching as Tony Stark outsmarted and outgritted a foe yet again.

“I…am…”

Steve’s fingers twitched. A magnetic pull, a phantom sensation of lifting something that had never felt this light before.

Mjolnir plowed through the air, smashing into gold and titanium-alloy. Tony’s face contorted in agony, breath stuttering – but it served the purpose, the weight of the hammer pulling him forward several, crucial inches. Steve could feel the dirt under his fingernails, the watery shake of his arms as he pulled himself up one last time – dragged his knees over the ground to close the gap. Reached out, and this time he wasn’t too far away. This time, he caught the hand and held it tight.

Please, he thought, fingers clammy against warm metal, Tony’s eyes wide and so close and ash dusty over those lashes, please, as his skin brushed against the warmth of the gems, scorching points of contact.

Please, as the world froze and blazed red, and reality splintered with possibilities in his mind.)

 That had been a second ago.

“Thank you.” He whispered, sound barely escaping the ash, the hoarseness, the throttling gratitude. The Reality Gem shone on like a constant, Time a quiet counterpoint to the side.

He had the time now, so he took it. Several selfish seconds, of staring at the brown eyes so inescapably close to his, the ones that had spat contempt at him and offered a home to him and widened in betrayal at his actions. Steve memorised it all, like a painting he’d never be able to put to page – the blood-crusted mess of Tony’s hair, the silver in his eyebrows, the gaunt hollows of his cheeks, the resolute tilt of his chin. The brightness of him, the tenacity, the inability to walk away – like red still lingering in the sky long after the sun had gone down.

Steve’s breath felt thick in his throat, blood and air all congealed to one. With the hand not trapped in the gauntlet, burning over the Stones – he brushed his knuckles over the warm, hard gristle of Tony’s jaw. A stolen touch, the last thing Steve would ever take from him again.

(“I will miss you Tony.”)

“Please.” Reality flickered around them. The Gem glowed, nanites stirring under Steve’s palm, like the faintest tickle, a warm breath huffed over skin. They peeled out in layers, withdrawing from Tony’s ashy skin and flowing over Steve’s hand – welcoming streams that trailed static electricity till they encased him from wrist to fingertip.

The Stones followed, five throbbing points settling below his knuckles. They still felt lighter than the phantom weight of an arc reactor, chest-warm and leaden in his palm.

Steve’s was a life mired with regrets. But in this, insular instant – the only thing he regretted was having to let go of Tony’s bare hand.

One snap, and the world came back to life.

  It was like feeling his atoms implode, the burn beginning from the tips of his fingers and scoring past muscle, sinew, nerve – the blood in his veins on fire, working up his arm and charring everything in its path. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, ground rushing up to hit his spine–

“What. What the fuck, no, no, fuck, no, Steve–”

Something gurgled at the back of his throat. Steve stared up at the sky, unseeing – until his vision was filled with something too familiar, hair and face and eyes looking down, so deeply embedded into his psyche that he couldn’t not recognise–

“T..Tony.” There was warmth at the back of his neck, warmth separate from the burn carving through the right side of his chest. Like someone was clasping his neck, bracing it – like Steve’s stolen touch did not matter, because Tony would always give everything freely away.

“I had it, I had him, why would, Steve, Steve–”

Parts of Steve could still feel the serum kicking away, fighting desperately in its last stretches – I can do this all… I can do this –

“Tony, I…I am so sorry.”

Tony’s face stared down, lips clamped down tight like his teeth were biting through the skin on the inside. There were streaks of shining moisture on his cheeks, clear tracks running down the grime. His voice rang like iron. “No. No. Not good enough, Rogers. I don’t accept this, I can’t–”

“What’s her name.” Steve whispered it on a rasping breath, and Tony’s voice broke off. “Your… daughter. Tell me her name.”

“Morgan.” More liquid, welling up at the edges of those eyes, where the laugh lines usually sat – Steve ached to reach up and brush them away.

“Thought.” The next words were unbearably hard to get out, the burn flickering at the hollow of his throat. Steve struggled through it, single-minded, like every asthma attack, every bully’s fist, every bullet and hit that had ever threatened to keep him down and never succeeded. “Thought tha… that was a… fella’s name.”

“We’re rich and eccentric, it works out.” The words flitted out heedlessly, like Tony’s lips were moving and he didn’t particularly care what came out.

We. Once upon a time, that might’ve rung hollow in Steve’s chest, a pang of longing. Now it nestled there, warm and soothing and protected from the burn.

“Steve.” Something hit Steve’s cracked lips, tingling there – if he flicked his tongue out, he might taste water and salt. “You can’t give up like this.”

But I’m not. This wasn’t like losing faith, like walking away in the middle of the journey. This was finally staggering to the summit, and seeing your destination over the horizon. This was adding that final fleck of paint, that dab of red, to make the picture all worth it.

The hold shifted from Steve’s neck to the back of shoulders that were almost insensate, another arm cupping around his waist – till Tony had hauled him right up, and pressed him close, dark hair brushing over the tip of Steve’s nose. His voice in Steve’s ear was barely above a whisper, barely a question. Maybe it wasn’t even meant for him. “Why.”

The reactor dug into Steve’s sternum, a circle of glowing warmth. It felt nice.

The world was falling away, breaths slowing and heart drifting to a stop, and it felt nothing like the ice.

“I was looking for a happy ending.”  

[httpmassiveflirt]

Brooklyn, Baby part 2

Warnings:

You sat in the back of Steve’s car as he raced through the New York traffic. No matter what time of day-now, it was nearing 1 am- there always seemed to be throngs of cars and pedestrians wriddleing the streets. Steve swerved between cars, the honks of passing cars doing nothing to help your throbbing head.

“Where the hell are we?” You questioned as Steve parked along a side street. There was no passing cars unlike the main streets and the side walks weren’t lit by street lamps. It was eerily quiet, the bustle of the surrounding city only an echo on the hushed avenue. Rows of towne houses lined the street, light peaking through drawn curtains into the night. “My boss’ house. Just stay here for a second? I’ll be out in a bit.” Steve stayed before slipping out of the car and making his way to one of the houses front steps. You watched as he pulled a key out from his wallet and entered the house, before leaving you to sit alone on the street.

You pulled your phone out from your pocket, attempting to check the time. Great, you thought, I’m in some random ass neighbor hood and my phones dead. It wasn’t that big of a deal, even if you were in trouble there was no one you could call.The only friends you had made since moving to the city you would never trust in a life-or-death situation; besides Steve. You leaned forward, locking the car doors as you looked around the street, idly waiting for Steve’s return.

...

After what felt like an eternity, you felt a soft tap on your car window. You jumped, unaware of Steve’s arrival since you had been dozing off. You rolled your window down a couple of inches to allow yourself to talk to Steve. “Everything good with your boss now? It’s getting late and I need to be at the diner early tomorrow, let’s get back home.” You pleaded, just wanting to put an end to the night’s shenanigans. After a long shift at work and being attacked on your way home, all you wanted to do was clean yourself up and forget any of it happened.

Steve looked at you with a look of bewilderment, took his car keys out of his back pocket and unlocked your door. He took your hand pulled you out of the car, practically dragging your tired body up the steps of the towne house. “What are you-“

“Look, y/n, you’re gonna have to stay here for awhile. I’ll call in for your work and get you the time off you need, but it’s gonna be safer for you here than your apartment.” He said sternly, pulling out the key he had used earlier and unlocking the door. He let go of your arm and pushed you lightly by the small of your back, ushering you into the house.

“No! I’m not living in some random guy’s house!”

“Yes, actually, you are.”

“No, Steven, I’m not. For god sake just take me home!”

Steve stopped, pulling you aside so you were facing each other against a wall. He spoke harshly, trying to get his point across. “I don’t think you understand the severity of the situation. Those guys who attacked you? Not just some rando’s looking for easy cash. They were looking to send a message, and they did. Now you’re going to stay in this house until we can figure out just what this message means.” You nodded, knowing you weren’t going to win this battle. The two of you continued through the house in silence. As you walked, you took in the home around you. The walls were stark white, floors an ashy grey. Doors lined the hallway, sleek black gloss as a finish. The hall opened to a large living space, charcoal sofas comfortably facing a sleek black fireplace that held a television on it’s mantle and a large liquor cabinet lined a wall. A black iron staircase lead up to another area of the house. The opposite wall had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Hudson. I must be in Brooklyn Heights you thought. By the direction you had been driving in, the wealthy look of surrounding neighborhoods and the fact that you were over looking the Hudson River, Brooklyn Heights seemed a verifiable conclusion. An old-school record player sat in the corner, sweet jazz humming throughout the room.

“Who do you work for?” You asked, turning to Steve. “Me, actually.” You heard a voice and whirled around to see a man walking down the stairs. He was attractive, dark hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of his neck, accentuating his sharp jawline and cheek bones. Icey blue eyes looked you over before the man walked to the record player, removing the vinyl and replacing it in it’s sleeve. He wore black slacks and a white dress shirt, his polished dress shoes clicking slightly against the tiled floor.

“You must be Miss Y/l/n, yes?” You nodded, confusion evident on your features. “I’m James. I know this situation is...less than desirable, but I think it is in everyone’s best interest that we keep you as safe as possible.” You scoffed slightly at that. You had no clue why this guy seemed to have such an interest in you. “Thank you for the offer, Sir, but I really don’t feel comfortable with this. I’ve got work in the morning with no way to call in absent, no clothes, and no one has yet explained to me why I should be scared for my safety.” You said, already turning to leave until Steve placed his hand on your back again, effectively stopping you. James looked at Steve, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s the biggest mob Boss this city has ever seen.”

You laughed, your eyes widening in surprise. This has got to be the weirdest night of your life. Once your laughter died down, you were brought back to the two stoic men in the room with you. “Oh...damn I thought you were joking.” James chuckled, walking to the liquor cabinet and pulling out a bottle of scotch, pouring himself a glass. “Miss y/l/n, Steve is gonna head back and grab some of your things for you to stay here, and we can get you cleaned up while we wait." You looked down at yourself and realized just how much of a train wreck you must look like. Your clothes were blood stained and disheveled and your hair and makeup must look horrendous. “Oh uh yeah. Thanks.” You muttered. Steve patted your back reassuringly before turning to head to the door. “I’ll be back before 5, Mr.Barnes.”

“Woah wait. Barnes?” You whispered, following after him and grabbing Steve’s arm. “I got attacked by some assholes looking to pick a fight with Mr. Barnes and your just gonna leave me here with him? If you think-“

“Y/n, for the hundredth time, your safer here than you are back home. I’ll only be gone a couple hours, and Mr. Barnes is just as worried about those guys as you are, okay?” You turn your head, taking in James’ appearance again. He didn’t seem to be on edge, and he sat on the sofa running his finger over the rim of his glass. “ Fine. But if he murders me or some shit, I’m gonna kill you.“ Steve smiled at you before he turned and left the house. You returned to the living area just as James arouse from his seat. You watched as he set his glass down, returning the liquor bottle to its correct place. He turned to the stairs and motioned for you to follow.

“So… Let’s get you cleaned up, Doll.“

Taglist:

@birdandrose

[conversadeescrivaninha-blog]

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[concreterepair699]

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[3dheven]

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