construction wood

anonymous asked:

Could you elaborate on those D&D settings? Maybe two or three sentences describing each? I always thought D&D was just set in Generic Fantasy Land #357

(With reference to this post here.)

Yeah, a lot of people have the wrong idea about that. Dungeons & Dragons is a set of rules for running a particular kind of game, with a number of published settings associated with it, few of which resemble the generic Tolkien pastiche most folks picture when they see that it’s got elves and hobbits in it.

In the same order as the previous post:

Planescape is set in an industrialised quasi-Victorian city constructed around the inner rim of a giant ring hovering atop an infinitely tall spire at the centre of the universe. The streets are ruled by warring gangs of philosophers who can literally argue you to death. Playable races include anarchist goat-centaurs and sapient geometric shapes.

Dragonlance is basically medieval fantasy meets World War II, wracked by constant open war between the forces of Light and Darkness. Knights ride dragons into battle while sinister dragon-men prowl the countryside (there are a lot of different kinds of dragons). Playable races include steampunk gnomes and musical minotaurs.

(If that last bit sounds familiar, it’s because most of what World of Warcraft didn’t borrow from Warhammer, it lifted from Dragonlance).

Ravenloft is pretty much as described in the previous post: it’s a prison dimension for the multiverse’s worst baddies, which has evolved into a confederation of dystopian city-states ruled by thinly disguised expies of various Hammer horror villains, like Dracula and the Wolfman. And also an evil version of Pinocchio, because why the hell not?

Spelljammer is D&D in space, where enchanted galleons sail the luminiferous aether in search of fortune and adventure. If you’ve seen Treasure Planet, you’ve got the right basic idea, though Spelljammer predates Treasure Planet by some decades. Standout features include mercenary hippo-men and gnomes whose ships are powered by giant hamsters running on wheels.

The Forgotten Realms is probably the closest to what folks are picturing when they think of “generic fantasy land”, though they’re a couple of decades off with respect to its inspirations - it’s much more 1980s romantic fantasy than 1960s epic fantasy. Talking housecats, cosmopolitan cities with suspiciously modern amenities, enlightened matriarchies ruled by beautiful sorcerer-queens - you know the drill if you’ve read your Lackey.

Dark Sun is a post-apocalyptic milieu set in the wake of a global environmental collapse brought about by irresponsible use of magic. “Mad Max with wizards” would be a glib but not-wholly-inaccurate description. Playable races include savage cannibal hobbits and giant psychic praying mantises.

Birthright assumes that the player characters are members of ancient ruling houses empowered by the blood of slain gods. Beyond that, it’s almost entirely generic - its whole shtick is that you get to rule a domain right from first level, rather than having to work your way up to it.

Red Steel is an Age of Sail swashbuckling game set on the Savage Coast, a region tainted by magical fallout that grants wondrous powers, but also induces progressively more hideous mutations. The economy is based on the eponymous red steel, a rare metal that grants resistance to the mutations without suppressing the accompanying powers. I wasn’t kidding when I said The Three Musketeers meets the X-Men.

Eberron is a “magipunk” setting that envisions a high fantasy world in the process of undergoing an industrial revolution. Trains powered by bound lightning elementals crisscross the land, and one of the major tensions involves the integration into society of a race of mechanical soldiers constructed from enchanted wood to fight in a recently ended war.

Greyhawk is tough to pin down, as it’s basically the collected campaign notes of one of the game’s original designers. It covers a lot of ground, but the focal point, the eponymous city of Greyhawk, is a straight up sword-and-sorcery pastiche. In terms of inspirations, think Robert Howard, Fritz Leiber and Michael Moorcock. Sinister cults, baroque cities ruled by degenerate nobles, and player characters who are as likely to be planning urban heists as delving dungeons.

6

Airframe 01 cupboard by Mieke Meijer

A Cupboard usually is a heavy and sturdy piece of furniture. The Eindhoven, Netherlands based Studio Mieke Meijer took on to this challenge and created the Airframe 01 cupboard, that is lightweight and stable at the same time. The inspiration came from early 20th century aeroplane constructions. By making the oak veneer visible at the outside, the construction is defining the character of this industrial but warm and appealing piece of furniture. Together with a thin polyester textile at the inside and some thin steel wires, this huge cupboard weights only 18.5 Kilos.

Repeat after me: “I don’t hate on characters other people enjoy, even if I don’t like those said characters, because I wouldn’t like my favorite characters being hated that way, because I’m a mature person and want everyone here to have fun and because I don’t want to cause more distress to people who have already problems and come here to forget about them for a while.”

The Witchy Lifestyle: Shrines, Altars, and Holy Places

Last week, I posted up an article on Domestic Garden Witch about building shrines near trees in a garden in order to provide a space for magic or worship or meditation. The amount of popularity that this article had gained showed me that, at least to some extent, there is a love or desire for building shrines and altars in many places where shrines aren’t necessarily as common as one would like. Indeed, as I walk through the beautiful city of San Luis Obispo, I see a lot of religious diversity - a gorgeous mosque, the imposingly beautiful Presbyterian church in downtown, the historic Catholic mission at the heart of the city, and a pagan boutique on the very same road where we hold our Farmers’ Market.

Each church has its altar. And I’ve been in pagan stores that have community altars. When it comes to shrines, however, I hardly ever see any around here in public spaces. It’s not to say that I don’t see shrines on occasion. There is a lovely salon near where I live which has a gorgeous shrine right in the front of their store for welcoming business and honoring the gods. But I found myself wondering, “could part of this be due to a bit of confusion over what is a shrine and what isn’t?”

The only concrete answer to that question is “maybe.” But in thinking a bit harder, I realized that it would still be good to discuss shrines in a little more detail. As a community, we as witches and pagans talk a lot about altars and magical spaces (or holy spaces, depending on what vernacular you prefer). As such, it’s not uncommon to see a witch or pagan with at least one space in the home which has candles and some sort of religious iconography, either in a simple and clean setup or in as complex a setup as my coven’s Lughnasadh altar.

So much happiness and peace!

But to get back to the point… What is the difference between an altar and a shrine? And what role would each have to play in a tradition?

Magic and Worship In Communal Space

Altars, as I’ve mentioned, are something we see a lot of in the witchy and pagan communities. From aesthetic posts to tutorials, as well as instructions in some spells for how to properly set up an altar. I have yet to see a “starter’s guide” to witchcraft or paganism that does not have a chapter devoted to building and consecrating an altar.

In short, an altar serves a couple of purposes: providing a place for meditation and worship for a pantheon, and anchoring/grounding magical workings done on and near it. In this way, an altar is essentially the Swiss Army Knife of witchcraft. It is in itself a tool, but also houses multiple other tools, such as wands, athames, candles, stones… you get the picture. By itself, an altar need not be religious, and instead serves a much more practical use in magic as storage and anchoring space.

As an anchor, altars are places where we place ourselves into a magical mindset. A circle may be cast around an altar, with the altar being the focus for where spellwork is being done. Like a magnifying glass focusing sunlight, the altar can help concentrate energy to enhance our magical workings. And, in guided meditations, the altar can also serve as a beacon - helping us find our way back to ourselves if we begin to feel that we’re straying too far in the astral.

As a religious space, the altar becomes dual-purpose. In this situation, it is not only used for magical workings, but also for worship - usually to multiple deities in polytheistic traditions. As such, my home altar can be seen with statues for archetypal god and goddess, as well as dragon imagery and more specific symbols for my deities (such as a raven’s feather for the Morrigan, a rose for Cerridwen, a Brigid’s cross for Brigid, and occasionally an arrowhead for Cernunnos). My coven’s altar setup varies depending on who is with us - at times, it is strictly generic, while more often we incorporate the deities and traditions of all present (thus resulting in symbolism for Celtic, Norse, Greek, and Egyptian gods, as well as offerings and symbolism for Hecate specifically… we even sometimes have Christian imagery if we’ve got a Christian witch with us).

It’s this variety and ability to be so generic, coupled with its practicality which makes altars so appealing to so many people. It’s why we’re more likely to see communal altars in a public space than a shrine, and it’s why much of our worship tends to happen around them. But this isn’t to say that shrine’s can’t have a particular role in a tradition.

A Familiar Space, with a Special Face

When I was younger, I had the opportunity to tour some of the historic California missions. Most California schools have us do this in grade school, but as I was older, I was doing this for personal research. And in some of the buildings, I came across areas that were set aside for a specific saint - not part of the main altar in the chapel. This intrigued me, given my Lutheran background. My protestant upbringing acknowledged the saints, but that was about the extent of it. Later on, when I was learning more about Dia de los Muertos, I was further intrigued by the same practice being extended not just to saints, but to family members who have passed away.

The traditions revolving around these two practices are different - shrines to saints have a much different purpose than those built for ancestors. This is something that I understand. But break the practice down to its absolute basic level and you have the same practice being done - a space is being designated for honoring and/or worshiping a specific individual. This practice isn’t limited to saints or ancestors, either. 

A shrine to Buddha in Oakland, CA.

There are many religions that are polytheistic, in which there are further denominations, cults, or sects devoted to a more specific deity (e.g. the cult of Demeter in ancient Greece, or the sect of Bast in Lower Egypt). Even monotheistic and non-theistic religions have been known to construct shrines in areas as a means of honoring or worshipping spirits, or as a way of creating a space in which meditation can be done closer to home.

What sets a shrine apart from an altar is its purpose. While a shrine may occasionally be rather large and grand - it is often described as being almost like a home in some practices (in Shinto, a shrine is quite literally the home of a kami or other spirit) - a shrine may also be very simple, like flowers on the roadside where an accident had occurred.

Indeed, some shrines are built without religion or spirituality in mind. A couple of great examples of public shrines are the 9/11 memorials and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. They are non-denominational shrines dedicated to the memories who have lost their lives in combat or in acts of terror. 

Where is the Line or Distinction?

If my description of shrines and altars sounded very similar to one another, this is because both are closely related. Both altars and shrines: are used for meditation or worship or honoring, are spiritual places, and can be very complex or very simple. Some shrines double as temples, and some altars double as churches.

Ultimately, we can use the terms interchangeably in many situations. But what I’ve discovered is that altars are generally practical and used for magic in addition to worship and may or may not be permanent. Meanwhile, I’ve found that shrines are usually permanent, used exclusively for meditation or worship, and usually to only one or two people or deities.

How Can I Use Them?

First, one of the most important things to consider is how you plan to use a space. Is it for ritual or is it for worship? Is it for honoring ancestors or for worshiping gods?

For me, I consider something an altar if I plan on tearing it down regularly for various reasons (my altar which I frequently picture is an altar because I sometimes tear it down for coven work) and if I plan to use it for magical workings. A shrine, on the other hand, is more permanent and may be used for worship more often than magic in my particular brand of paganism. 

If you plan on constructing a shrine, who is it devoted to? I particular god or spirit? An ancestor? Then use materials on it that are appropriate for that individual and tradition. For instance, if I were to construct a shrine to Cernunnos, I may construct it of wood and place plants on and around it. Then, I may incorporate ethically sourced antlers or bones, as well as a candle or two, and possibly an offering bowl. It may also have an image or statue of Cernunnos, depending upon whether it feels right to do so or not.

If I were erecting a shrine for an ancestor, i would consider that ancestor’s beliefs. For instance, if I were to build a shrine for my grandfather, I would have Christian imagery on or around it, as my grandfather was Lutheran. This is out of respect for him and who he is.

In these two instances, I would have shrines for two different purposes - a shrine of worship to Cernunnos, and a shrine honoring the memory of my grandfather.

In Conclusion…

Regardless of the subject of devotion, shrines can add a particular bit of spirituality to any tradition. Throughout history, we have seen both altars and shrines erected just about anywhere humans have lived. We have a natural tendency to assemble images or symbols in one spot in order to more easily pray or honor someone or some spirit.

Perhaps a shrine is right for your practice? Or maybe an altar is best for your work. Work with what helps you most in  your life!

Blessed Be! )O(

He’s Dangerous, But Not Around You: Part 3

A/N: This sort of ends abruptly, but if I didn’t end it here the imagine would have been extremely long so I’ll be posting part 4 within the next three days x 

Part 1 Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


Three months after Harry called off his relationship with Y/n, it was his birthday, and just like every other year for the past five, the boys decided to spend his birthday weekend at Louis’ family lake house. It was one of the few times a year they’d go- only saved for special occasions. It’s secluded, far from the city, but close enough so that it’s not too much out of their way.

Their tradition when it comes to Harry’s birthday weekend has remained the same for years now. A bonfire, a couple of poker games, countless amounts of beer, and occasional midnight skinny dipping. However, this year, the only change in tradition is Y/n not being there.

The second Harry steps foot out of his car, the whole idea of spending his birthday without Y/n makes him feel sick to his stomach. This was their favorite place to be together. They didn’t know why, but something about the privacy and the exclusiveness of it enhanced their relationship in unimaginable ways. They have had many occasions where they would flee from London without a word and spend a couple days alone here. 

The guys scurry out of the car in excitement, absolutely stoked to be back in the grand Tomlinson lake house. Harry sighs, slamming his car door shut before half-heartedly making his way inside.

He can’t blame their excitement when it came to the celebration weekend, however, they hadn’t seemed to notice how off Harry became the first couple of hours upon their arrival. But what else did he expect? He didn’t tell them, he didn’t tell them any of it. He didn’t want to. He knew they knew, anyways, but he had constantly beat himself up, blaming himself for destroying the one thing in his life he felt was genuinely worth fighting for. If he had told them what he did, he would never hear the end of it. He didn’t need anyone else to remind him of how much he had fucked up.

But ever since Y/n had left, something in him changed. He had no desire to fight anymore. Three days after he broke it off, he was worse than ever. Getting himself into numerous fights multiple times a day. It was his way of coping the loss of her, the loss of his only true humanity. However, when the fourth day came, and Harry started to really understand the fact that he was never going to see Y/n again, was when the pain really set in. He felt himself suffocating in a horrendous amount of guilt. 

She had tried so hard, she pushed him harder than anybody else had. Nobody put as much faith in him as she had. She stayed with him in times he truly didn’t deserve it. Hell, there were even days where she was so mad at him that all she could do was yell and yell and yell, and even then she still slept in the same bed as him. He couldn’t live with letting all of that go- letting her go- so he decided to prove himself wrong

It was the biggest fight of his life, the one against himself; when half of him wanted to inflict his pain onto other people and the other half wanting desperately to change himself for the sake of his relationship with Y/n. But he knew he was stronger than the monster inside of him, even though he believed he was weaker. What made him strong was Y/n’s relationship with him, he would stop at nothing to get her back.

It didn’t take Y/n more than a couple days to tell Zayn what had happened. He called her, asking what was going on since Harry had been a complete wreck with no sign of her in his life. She explained, in the best that she could between her harsh sobs and broken whimpers that Harry had left her. He broke up with her, tried to convince her that they didn’t belong together, and eventually confessed that he wasn’t willing to change for her. 

Y/n made him promise not to tell anybody else because she felt that this was Harry’s responsibility, not anybody else. Of course, Zayn kept his promise and never said a word about it to anyone. 

The rest of the guys tried to get it out of him, though. They never forced it, but occasionally mentioned her to see what he would say or do, but he just ignored them. The mention of her name killed him on the inside, and he, truthfully, still couldn’t face the reality that they aren’t together anymore.

To say the guys have been concerned for him is an understatement. Yeah, he’s stopped fighting, but he’s still not the same Harry he was when he was with Y/n. He’s constantly thinking, his mind always somewhere not where it’s supposed to be. He drinks more, too, which used to spike up his anger, but now only spikes up his sadness. He has no motivation to do anything besides stay in his house and dwell on the guilt he’s carried.

Getting him to the lake house is one of their ways of getting him to heal. They just don’t know how much this place kills him, though. God, he can’t even look at a single square inch of it without seeing her in his head. How the hell is he going to get through the weekend?

The boys begin to notice how hurt Harry is when he begins to prepare for the bonfire they planned on having later that night. This is Harry’s first birthday after his break up with Y/n, and instead of telling them how truly heartbreaking it was for him, he avoided that topic of conversation completely. He was already depressed enough, he didn’t need to bury himself in it on his own birthday.

While Harry sets up the firewood needed for the bonfire, he’s distant. He’s distracted, not consuming himself in any of the boys’ conversations. They know Y/n’s already on his mind, she’s the only one who gets him daydreaming.

Harry sighs, lifting heavy piles of wood and constructing them into a setup for later. He’s finished now, has been finished for a while, but he just can’t stop. All he can think about is how Y/n isn’t with him, how she’s probably in her new home, sulking, hating him for ruining her life. It’s his birthday, and she probably hates him.

He sighs, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward, eyes trained on the ground. He just can’t get her out of his head, no matter how much he tries to distract himself, almost every waking moment he’s thinking about the first time they met.


They were at a party Zayn’s aunt decided to host. It was a casual-formal event, just something special for her close friends to feel welcomed to upon their return to London after being in the states for a while.

Zayn was, obviously, invited. His aunt even insisted on him bringing his best friends, which he probably would have done anyways because he wasn’t too familiar with the family the party was for. The only member he’s ever really talked to was Y/n. She was super shy, very introverted, but was extremely sweet nonetheless. She had talked to Zayn a couple times when they stayed at his aunt’s house simultaneously. Other than that, they didn’t talk much.

“C’mon, you’re just gonna stand in the corner all night?” Zayn approached Harry, a glass of vodka held loosely in his hands.

Harry was pissed he was even in the situation he was in. Social events weren’t his thing, never something he found entertaining. He didn’t care about this stupid family’s return, he didn’t even know them.

“This is the last goddam place I want to be right now” Harry seethed, “I’m pissed off at you for even fucking forcing me here, don’t force me to try and mingle too.”

He let out a slight grumble in Zayn’s direction before making his way to the mini bar. On his way, in the midst of his aggravation, he felt a body collide with his. He groaned, a slight growl in the mix, definitely not in any mood for people to get in his way.

“Watch where you’re-“

“Oh, sorry” the girl gasped, “didn’t see you there.”

Harry’s body immediately froze at the sight of her. She was the most stunning woman he’s ever seen. Her eyes were sparkling with sorrow, lips parted slightly due to the impact. Her outfit complimented her body shape beautifully, leaving him absolutely speechless.

“I- It’s okay” he stuttered, eyes never leaving her, “are you okay?”

She nodded slightly, completely captivated by the most handsome man standing in front of her. God, how he was so beautiful, she would have never known a man like this could ever exist in this world.

“I’m okay” she softly spoke, “thank you.”

Harry insisted on buying her a drink as a way to apologize for not exactly paying attention to where he was going. They chatted for a while, mainly about the party. Come to find out, she was the daughter of Zayn’s aunt’s friends. She hadn’t gone to the states with them, however, she didn’t really make too much of an effort to go and see her in her stay in London.

They were talking quite well, considering Harry definitely did give her an attitude at times and somehow made her feel extremely intimidated whenever he did so. But he had to admit, it was one of the best conversations he’s had in a while, despite his unfriendly character.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Harry finally asked.

She blushed slightly.

“I’m Y/n. And you?”

“Harry.”

“Oh, you’re Harry.” Y/n said quietly, a hint of realization in her tone of voice.

Harry didn’t like the way she said it, as if insulting him in a way. Which, for him, was a bit of a let down considering there was a moment where he genuinely believed she was different.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped, his voice somehow rougher and more raspy than how it was before, “Like you’re any better?“

His fierce stare upon her made Y/n feel belittled. When he spoke to her, he made her feel as if her existence was the dirt beneath his shoes. No wonder Zayn had warned her, no girl like Y/n could survive five minutes with such an intimidating man.

“Oh- um- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that Zayn had told me to stay away from you.” She stuttered, her voice barely above a mumble.

She still refused to make eye contact with him, only for the sake of her safety. She was too afraid to look at him now, when his body seemed tense and eyes filled with aggression. She was an easy pray for people like him to feed on- to get a good kick out of.

“I should go” she muttered, “It was lovely to meet you.”

Almost too quickly, she grabbed her bag off the bar and began to make her way back to where she was before. However, before making it too far, she felt a hand grab ahold of her wrist.

He didn’t know why, but when he had seen the fear set in Y/n’s eyes, an overwhelming feeling of guilt set upon him. It was strange, to feel so much of it hit him over one girl’s reaction. He had done this many times to many people, all of which having a moment of complete vulnerability during his encounters with them. But they didn’t necessarily make him feel anything more than the slightest bit of regret.

“Hey” he whispered softly, delicately pulling her back to where he was standing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Y/n looked into his eyes as he spoke, giving her the reassurance she needed. He was genuine, she could tell, his eyes screamed sympathy.

“It’s oka-“

“But Zayn is right,” Harry continued, slowly letting her arm go “you should stay away from me.”

Before she had any time to react, he had walked away from her.

The rest of the night, Y/n was determined to speak to him again. After meeting him for the first time, she had an innumerable amount of questions she pressed Zayn to answer. Why is he always angry? Is he dangerous? But why was he so nice to me when I walked away?

Zayn explained that Harry wasn’t someone she should be concerned about. All he told her was that he had been hurt one too many times and it caused him to become violent towards those who threaten potential pain. He doesn’t apologize to anybody, and told her that it was quite strange how he had to her.

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about her. He didn’t know what it was, exactly, that intrigued him so much. Besides the fact she was the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on, she was so easy to talk with. She was quiet, and apart of him liked that about her. The moment he hurt her, he just felt so bad, like it was the last thing he ever wanted to see.

Which is why he walked away from her.

When he saw Zayn later that night, he had asked about her. He asked how they had known each other, asked about her life and where she lived. He was determined to know more about her. It wasn’t even that he just wanted to, but it felt like he had to, like he was being compelled to feel this way toward her.

Right as he was about to leave the party, he had heard her voice behind him

“Harry?”

He slowly turned to look at her. She was looking as shy as ever, fingers fiddling together, cheeks blushed, eyes unsure. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to say, but she wanted to try.

“I want to get to know you.” She spoke softly, her hand reaching up to tuck some of her loose hair behind her ear.

He swore his heart melted. The second the words fell from her lips, he was willing to do whatever it took to get to know her.

“I know you said I should stay away from you, but I don’t want to.”


“Harry,” Zayn mumbles, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, “do you want to talk about it?”

Harry didn’t realize he was near tears until Zayn snapped him out of his trance. He didn’t look at them as he returns to placing the logs in piles, contemplating whether or not to disregard his statement or not. Of course he wants to talk about how much mental pain he’s in from not being with Y/n anymore, but he just can’t talk about it. They know that, too, because if he were ready, he would have already.

“Can you stop asking about her, please?” He groans, tossing the last piece of wood onto the top of the pile, “I know you guys know, so please, don’t make me say it.”

He doesn’t bother to look at them, instead, wiping off some of the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his flannel before making his way inside the house to change out of his sweaty clothes. He didn’t want to seem rude, but he’s completely and utterly broken, if he has to be questioned about her again he swears he’ll actually become ill.

Half-heartedly making his way to the bedroom, Harry opens up the duffle bag that sits on top of the bed, that he has yet to unpack, searching through the folded clothes to find his plain gray t-shirt he plans on wearing for later that night. Slipping off his flannel and sliding off the now dirty white tank top underneath, he puts on the t-shirt, throwing the dirty clothes into the laundry bin.

Once changed, Harry begins to unpack the remaining clothes out of his bag. His hands are shaking as he does so, breathing heavy when he sets his clothes down on the bed. His stomach twists with sick at the idea of sleeping in this goddamn room.

This was the first place they made love. It was within the first month of being with each other, filled with beautiful romance and bliss. It was the best night of his life. It was the first time he had touched someone so delicately before. The first time his violent hands spread love throughout her body. He said words he never thought he’d say again. Words that he actually fucking meant, words to express how his once cold heart felt warm for what felt like the first time in his life. 


It was her first visit to the lake house. She had just finished cleaning up the remaining dishes, insisting that even though she was the guest, she had to contribute to the clean up after having a barbecue. Harry was sitting by the kitchen table, just watching her, observing her as she hummed an unknown tune, her hair messily tied up on her head. He could hear the boys playing poker in the living room, which he would have played if Harry hadn’t already planned on taking Y/n out near the lake after she had finished cleaning up.

“Alright, Harry, all done.” she smiled, “Now what was it you wanted to show me?”

She made her way toward his sitting frame, taking a seat right on top of his lap. Combing her fingers through his hair, she planted a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose, making Harry’s face blush the color of roses. He reached his arms around her waist, nuzzling her body against his.

“Hm,” he hummed, kissing the exposed skin on her shoulder, “was gonna show you the lake, but almost considering just cuddling you all night long.”

Y/n smiled as Harry leaned in to press a hard kiss against her soft lips. She breathed out heavily, fingertips moving to caress his cheeks, his unshaved stubble scraping against their pads.

“Gross!” they heard Niall call from the living room, “I call the room farthest from yours!”

They both laughed, Harry rolling his eyes at the comment.

“As fantastic that sounds” Y/n smirked, raking her fingers on his back under his shirt, “this is my first time here, and it’s your birthday weekend. I want to explore it with you.”

She leaned down to quickly peck his chapped lips, which soon turned into a wild smirk. His green eyes looked into her brown ones, his fingers dancing along the nape of her neck.

“I can do that for you.”

Once they were by the lake, they sat in silence together. She was cuddled into him, sitting in between his legs, her head rolled back onto his shoulder, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. They admired the nature they were surrounded by, overwhelmed by the feeling of each other’s company under the moon. It felt like a dream, every bit of it did. It was such a surreal moment for them. They didn’t need to speak about anything for a while, being this close to each other, feeling each other’s bodies against one another was enough for them. They felt closer than ever.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. So much so that Y/n ended up on top of him. Her legs were straddling his waist, hands roaming under his shirt, nails scratching at his ribs. Harry had his hands all in her hair, as if trying to pull her closer to him, as if it were even possible.  Her lips traveled down to his neck, kissing every bit of the exposed skin. She just couldn’t get enough. They both couldn’t.

“Y/n.” Harry whispered.

“I love you, Harry.” She muttered against his skin.

“So in love with you.“

It was the first time it was said. They both knew they loved each other once they met. Hell, it was obvious. It didn’t need to be said, but she said it anyways. She said it like she meant it, too, like her heart was blooming as she spoke. God, he even felt her tears against his neck. She was so overwhelmed by their love, the words just slipped out in the moment, but oh how she meant them.

In that moment, he was a weak man. He completely surrendered himself to her love. He was willing for it to have all control over him. He made a promise to himself, to devote his life proving his love for her, proving that he will be the man she deserves in her life, not the man he had other people see.

“Y/n,” he whispers again, fingers gliding down her waist, “I’m so in love with you. I always will be.”

That night, once he had taken her to their room, they made love over and over and over again. It was their first time, opening up to each other in a completely different way than they usually did. His lips captured hers perfectly, his hands fit in hers as if they were, quite literally, made for each other. His name became a mantra, her body became a temple. It was an entirely new level of trust. It was a night that they could have re-lived every day for the rest of their lives, easily, with not a complaint in the world.



Fuck” Harry spits, reaching the back of his hand up to eyes in an attempt to wipe the tears threatening to spill.

He can’t sleep in here, there’s no way he could, not without Y/n. Not without her in his arms, not without making love to her beforehand. His bed at home made him sick enough, but here? He just can’t fathom it.

He begins to shove the clothes he’s started to unpack back into his suitcase. He can’t stay in here another minute. He’ll lose his goddamn mind.

While zipping up his bag, he hears the front door open. Niall’s laugh fills the silence in the house upon his entrance, which gives Harry an idea on how to fix his sleeping situation without raiding the couch.

“Niall!” Harry yells, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

Niall makes his way up the steps toward his voice.

“Yeah?!”

“We’re switching rooms!”

“Oh hell no!”

Niall goes into the room Harry’s in, his face strict and serious.

“You and Y/n have fucked on that bed way too many times. I don’t even think you washed the sheets last time you guys did it on there, either. Pretty sure this room has a permanent stench of sex because of you two.”

Harry’s jaw clenches. Normally, he’d have a rational conversation until he got his way, but he isn’t taking this situation lightly. So, instead, he grabs Niall’s wrist harshly, eyes narrowing down at him as he takes a threatening step closer to him.

Niall’s eyes widen as he looks up at him. Not even because a small part of him felt intimidated, but because this is the first time Harry has shown aggression toward anybody within the past couple of months. There is a chance the part he’s been hiding is becoming unleashed, but Niall knows it was easily set off by Harry’s many failed attempts to get Y/n out of his head.

“I don’t think you understand, Niall” Harry seethes, “I may have not laid my hands on anyone in months, but missing Y/n doesn’t only make me sad, it makes me dangerous. I will not hesitate to do whatever it takes to be as far away from this room as possible. Now I will not tell you again, we are switching rooms.”

Niall rips his hand out of Harry’s grip, shaking it around a bit from the amount of pressure Harry was gripping it with.

“Alright, Jesus,” he groans, “but you better wash those fucking sheets. I refuse to sleep in a bed full of sex.“

Harry lets out a breath he was holding in, somewhat relieved that he doesn’t have to be spending three nights in his own personal hell. 

Adjusting the strap of his bag onto his shoulder, Harry slowly nods as he continues to look at Niall. He feels bad for treating him in the way he just did, but the idea of becoming more hurt than he already was is something he wouldn’t be able to live with. 

“Yeah, yeah I will.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, by the way, for that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I can’t be in this room for another second without losing my mind. I really can’t.”

Niall sighs, slowly reaching up to wrap his arms security around Harry. Being like his brother, he really has felt so bad for what he’s been going through. He can’t imagine the heartbreak, or how he’s even surviving the breakup as well as he has. 

Harry reaches his arms around Niall’s body, hugging him back.

“It’s okay, bud. I get it, you don’t have to apologize. I’ll even wash the sheets for you.”

Harry lets out a slight laugh, shaking his head briefly before detaching himself from Niall and making his way into his room.

Once settled, Harry makes his way down to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and take some time to himself. If this weekend is going to haunt the living shit out of him, he might as well try to make himself relax the slightest bit.

With a bottle of beer held loosely in his hand, he opens the sliding door that leads to the porch. Leaning his body against the doorway, Harry admires the sun setting on the lake, watching as the wind moves the leaves in small dance.

For the first time since the breakup, he actually feels at peace.

“She broke up with you, didn’t she?” Liam asks, suddenly joining Harry on the porch as he sips on a bottle of beer, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry rolls his eyes, the accusation of her leaving him must have been the topic of all their conversations. Of course that’s what they thought, it must have been so convenient for them to think Y/n could live a great life without him while he would be a danger to the streets. That’s how much he needed her, but they never seemed to notice how much she needed him, not how Harry noticed.

“Why is everyone so convinced that if we were to ever break up, she’d be the one that called it off?” Harry snarls.

“I was the one who ended it.” He continues, “It wasn’t working out.”

He takes a swig from his beer, eyes still trained on the view of the lake. He doesn’t want to continue this conversation, doesn’t want to relive the night that tore his life apart. Most of all, he doesn’t want to talk about it here, at this stupid fucking lake house, and have to dwell on the pain he wishes he could erase. He doesn’t want to be reminded that he was the one who did this to them.

“C’mon,” Liam sighs, “she was the only thing you had. She was the only one to get this Harry back. You were just afraid she’d leave you first.”

Harry decides not to answer, not knowing how to respond. Of course that’s why he ended it, that’s how he operates. He pushes those away just so that nobody pushes him away. He could deal with anybody else doing it, but if Y/n had left him first, there was no way he’d ever make it through that. Not a fiber in his body doubts that for even a second.

“Have you spoken to her at all?” Liam breaks the silence.

Harry looks down at his beer, circling it in his hands. Why does he keep asking him questions he clearly doesn’t want to answer?

“She said she never wanted to see me again.” Harry mumbles, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left.”

Jesus, Harry.” Liam whispers. “Are you okay?”

Something about that question makes something inside of Harry twist. Is he okay? How can he be okay? He hasn’t seen the love of his life, hasn’t talked to her, hasn’t even heard the sound of her breathing in months. Every part of his body hurts every time he thinks about her because the feeling of being away from her is the most painful feeling in the world.

His life was consumed by her love. His entire world changed when he met her. Nobody else could he lay his hands so sweetly on, could his voice speak so softly to, could his heart swell so greatly for. She changed him, even though he was too scared to admit it to her, she changed him. She gave him hope- gave him a reason to hold onto himself.

Since she’s left, in times when he’s at his all-time low, all he can think about is how his arms felt holding her, how his lips felt kissing her, how fucking relieving and beautiful it was to talk to her, and how he let all of that go.

How can he be okay?

Tears cloud his vision, his hands begin to shake. Oh, God. He thought he was over this. He thought he was over the emotions, he didn’t deserve them. He did this, he caused all this, this was his decision. Yet here he is, again, fighting back the tears that have been so desperate to be released.

“I mean” Harry begins, his voice shaking as he speaks, “I mean, I fucked up everything. I had everything I ever needed and I was the one who let it go. I was starting to think that her leaving me would be worse but now-”

He’s choking back sobs, face wet with unwelcomed tears, “now I can’t stop thinking about how much she hates me right now. She has a home without me, she lives her life without me, she is falling asleep at night without me. And the worst part is that she didn’t want it that way. That was all me, everything is because of me!”

Liam rushes to wrap his arms around him, pulling Harry’s head down onto his shoulder so that he has a place to cry. Harry’s holding him like it’s his ever last bit of hope, almost as if grasping for reassurance for his relationship with Y/n.

“Harry.” he whispers.

“Trust me, Liam, I didn’t want this, either” he continues, words scrambling out of his mouth, “but what else was I supposed to do? And now I’m at this stupid fucking lake house where we talked about getting married and she’s not here with me and I can’t do this anymore!”

He’s completely helpless now. His body is weak, shaking against Liam’s tense frame. He’s in so much pain, so much heartbreak that he’s almost screaming, begging God for some mercy because he can’t take this anymore. The constant thought of her, the constant reminder that he’s never going to see her again rips his heart out every second of every day.

“I just really don’t want to know what it’s like to live another day without her” his voice quivers, “I never do.”

Harry’s wet eyes meet Liam’s sympathetic ones. Liam opens his mouth, preparing to say something, but Harry simply shakes his head. He can’t do this anymore. 

He pats Liam’s shoulder- thanking him for being by his side- before turning around to walk away. He slides the glass door open, walking inside the kitchen to replace his now empty bottle of beer with a new one.

“Wait,” Liam mumbles, “wait, Harry, I have to tell you something.”

Harry stops in his place, slowly turning his body around to look at him. He cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed, seeming confused.

“Y/n- she’s- she’s coming here tonight.”  

5

Chicago mega mansion for sale!

A handcrafted mega mansion that draws on the finest designs and details from a variety of cultures. This massive estate boasts over 30,000 sq. ft of spectacular living and entertaining areas plus 15,000 sq. ft of covered terraces envelope the entire house. Six stately bedroom en-suites with marble baths & organized closets. 

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…..and you thought Woodworking was boring? #baileighradar from @whistlepigwhiskey
・・・
The final touches to the Winding River Coffee Table from @waywardgrain 🌲👌🏻 Incredible work primed for a WhistlePig tasting. 🥃👌🏻

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2

Caricias Mountain. San Isidro de Heredia, Costa Rica

Constructed with local wood and materials. The terrace is the perfect place to have a coffee while you get an incredible central valley view.

Submitted by Esteban Rodriguez

I have questions. 

how do you lose part of pavement? I mean I believe there was purpose in cutting it out but what purpose and generally WHY? why replace it with wood? where did you get ideally shaped piece of wood? I mean its from some sort of cheap furniture not from usual construction plank. why not use concrete? or asphalt? or just anything else? and why someone cut perfect square but diagonally? its like cutting triangle peace in the middle of the pie. who did it? person responsible for cutting or someone else? is it incredibly genius or incredibly stupid?

I am confused.