“Today we delivered a set of three Ash counter stools to a fairy tale cabin in the woods on the South coast of Cornwall. The beautifully made little Oak framed cabin is being let out as a Cornish getaway, and the stools take pride of place along a waney edge Ash kitchen island!…..”
never eclipsed the Oracle of Apollo at Delphi, Dodona gained a reputation far
beyond Greece. In the Argonautica of Apollonius of Rhodes, a retelling of an
older story of Jason and the Argonauts, Jason’s ship, the “Argo”, had
the gift of prophecy, because it contained an oak timber spirited from Dodona.
In c. 290
BCE, King Pyrrhus made Dodona the religious capital of his domain and
beautified it by implementing a series of construction projects (i.e. grandly
rebuilt the Temple of Zeus, developed many other buildings, added a festival
featuring athletic games, musical contests, and drama enacted in a theatre). A
wall was built around the oracle itself and the holy tree, as well as temples
to Dione and Heracles.
“Few detail shots of the final stages of the tables and benches. Tops are attached to bases via self tapping, internally threaded fixings, which allow the connections to be almost invisible, and sit flush with the underside of the tops.!…..”
The treasure you’ll find at Blackbeard Island National Wildlife Refuge in Georgia comes in golden sunrise sparkles, glimpses of rare wildlife and 5,618 acres of precious forests, marshes and beaches. Only accessible by boat, the island was used by the Navy as a source of live oak timber for shipbuilding in the early 1800s. Now, the island is a source of joy and solitude for all who visit. Photo by Becky Skiba, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.
You turned to see one of your friends running towards you. When she caught up to you, she rested on her hands above her knees, hanging her head.
“Were you running?” You asked, gently, offering your water bottle that you had fished out of your bag earlier. Your friend took the water bottle, taking a swig before exhaling heavily. “Mr. Oh… Wants to see you…” She huffed.
Your ears perked up. Mr. Oh was your English teacher. “Oh, I just handed in that assignment. Okay, thanks.”
“Get some.” She breathed. You mock-laughed. Sure, Mr. Oh was hella attractive. But he did this weird thing with his face, like he was a vegetable. And all of your female class-mates tried to break that expression to get him to show his flawless smile. Even the tiniest smirk would drive them crazy. You would go crazy too. But you were countlessly reminded that Mr. Oh was a teacher. And relationships between students and teachers were practically taboo.
As soon as you had reached the staff room, you saw Mr. Oh sitting at his red oak timber desk with paperwork as the décor. His laptop was open too, it seemed to be playing some dance pop music. You smirked, Mr. Oh’s into Duck Sauce? Finally your eyes settled on his form. He was the image of perfection. His hair was pointing towards the roof, light brown at the tips before retreating into his dark roots. His black framed glasses set on the bridge of that thin, pale nose. His pale pink lips slightly parted under his loose fist. His posture was so relaxed, he looked too good-looking to be real. You quickly but lightly knocked on the door, before you could dissect the way his light blue shirt hung off his broad shoulders almost delicately. He turned slightly towards your form. “Oh, ______. Please come in.”
You took light steps towards you’re the chair set opposite his desk. You followed his gesture to sit after he turned off his pumping music, flipping your hair over your shoulder.
“Thank you for handing in your English Appraisal Essay.” He started. You nodded.
“I understand you are a straight-A student.” He removed his glasses and set them on a stack of other unmarked assignments. He looked up at you, you were trying to discern his expression, but you couldn’t.
“_______. Your Essay you just handed in is only worth a B.”
You expression darkened. “A B?”
“Yes. The structure of the essay is quite messy and some of the terminology used was… well, inappropriately used… dirty-like.” He handed your essay back to you. Your eyes scanned over the piece, there were writings in red and correction bubbles, under a big B.
You scoffed and gave him the essay back. “Why are you telling me this? You should’ve left it…” You crossed your arms, furious you were.
“________.I can understand why you are frustrated… but that’s why I didn’t leave it. Since English is a pre-requisite for your chosen pathway, you can’t really aff-“
“How did you know it was a pre-requisite I needed?” You questioned.
Your teacher coolly replied, like always. “I had a look under your name. I see you are taking History with Miss. Jung.”
You sat in silence for a minute before giving up. “Okay. What can I do?”
“I can give an extension until next Friday. Or…”
You saw the elder smirk. His eyes darkened as he stood from his chair and made his way in front of you. Wedging himself between you and his desk. You couldn’t help but notice a tent forming in his pants. You licked your lips as all the thoughts of getting Mr. Oh off flooded your mind. Abruptly you stood up, you couldn’t now. This is your teacher. You reminded yourself. Suddenly, strong hands pulled back. You were intimately close to your teacher. He tipped your chin up wards to face him. Strangely, when all you could think about was cumming with Mr. Oh, you wanted to lean into him and take him in your arms… Treat him like a boyfriend… Your boyfriend. Then it happened. Your lips crushed against his, molding into them perfectly. His lips fit yours flawlessly, as if they were just for you. Though it wasn’t long before the kiss heated up, you were quickly inhaling the breaths he gave to you. His tongue was lathering over yours as his hands travelled around your waist, pulling you closer. Your own hands laced themselves into his hair, lightly pulling. You were kissing your teacher. Your eyes popped open, you pulled away. “No..We can’t…” you breathed. “Y-you can’t.”
“Ssh… You want that A, right?” He nuzzled into your neck, attaching his lips to your skin.
“..No,” You let out shakily, you could feel the desire igniting inside you. “I think I want the D.”
He chuckled before exposing his tongue to the nape of your neck. “…That was terrible.”
“I know… I’m sorry…” You shamefully closed your eyes, your face heated like the air. Mr. Oh’s carnal presence was soon gone from you. He started laughing. “You’re red!” He placed both hands on the side of your face.
“It sounded smoother in my head, sir.” You mumbled, still embarrassed.
“Oh, baby girl… That’s as smooth as it’s gonna get.” He grinned, deviously. Your embrace suddenly was empty as your teacher closed the office door, and audibly locked it. And with that, you were against the wall with a thump. With his lips attached to your neck again, finger tips began playing with the buttons to your school blouse. Rough tugging popped the shirt open, earning a low groan from him. “Do you know how long I’ve want to do this to you?” He growled, his voice dripping with desire. “F***.” He pressed your chest against him, allowing him to unclasp your bra, (you internally fist-pumped for wearing a nice one). Another throaty groan filled the air the same time your intricately laced bra hit the ground. “F***in’ perfect.” His hands clasped over your breasts, clutching roughly. You responded in a high pitched whimper. His lips latched over the left while the pad of his thumb ran over your hardened nipple on the right. Harshly pinching and tweaking before switching, leaving them aching. He ran his tongue down the valley of your breasts before and after licking the up the underside to the nipple again and again. “M-Mr. Oh—“
You could feel the newly made wet trails drying up, becoming cold. “Say that again…” He directed, slightly stiffening.
“More Mr. Oh.. Please…” Your new found confidence growing, you brushed your knee against his growing bulge, producing a brewed groan.
“You F***in—ah!” He choked as you pressed your thigh harder into him. He hung his head as you began running your leg up and down him. You grinned at your own daring actions. “You like that?”
His head snapped up, his eyes dilated with lust. He pulled off your figure and dragged you roughly to the desk. Pushing you onto the surface length-wise, the plane against your back too cool for your liking. You watched him shamelessly pull down your school skirt and discard it onto the ground. His thumbs dug into your thighs, making you whimper, spreading—splitting them across the table, hooking the juncture of your knees over the edges of the desk. All too quickly, his long fingers dragged against your panty-clad core. You gasped in sudden debauchery. “You like that?” He leered, with thick teasing.
“A—ah!” You cried, his digits pressing deeper.
“So wet. You’re soaking those panties, baby girl.” He mumbled, lowering himself onto you. His face just under your breasts. “All for me?”
You squirmed under his grasp only to make him taunt his thumbs into your thighs deeper. You whined at the searing pleasure. “Keep Still. I’ll take care of you.” With one swift movement your panties had been ripped clean off and thrown somewhere. The temperature skyrocketed as your dripping core was wide-open to him. Your teacher, who was positioning his head in between your thighs. “N-no Mr. O—“ You started. A sharp slap came into contact with the inside of your thigh, clearly. Hands starkly holding down your hips. You propped yourself up on you elbows and looked down past your naked body to lock gazes with your teacher. He stared back with shady eyes before sinfully pressing his tongue flat against you. You cringed and fell back against the school desk. Quick little flicks against the sensitive bud of your clit were driven into you. Your toes curled and your knees raised. You could feel your end tightening.
“You like my tongue in there?” He taunted, receiving a heavy moan in response. “You taste f***in good, baby girl.” He hooked his hand in the joint of your knee throwing it over his shoulder, pulling you closer. Your bare back bowed of the desk, his nose rubbing against you clit, scandalously. “W-wait…” You managed. He didn’t stop lapping at you but he hummed thoughtfully in response. “You still h-have clothes on…” You could feel a smirk pressed into you before your teacher’s body retracted and stood over you. He pulled you up, so that you were sitting on his red oak counter. “Strip me.” He whispered, sensually. He pushed his neck into your throat as you pulled the buttons free. When his shirt flew open, your hands ran over his sculpted body, liking the trembling reaction that was earned. Your hands lowered to his pants, fumbling with the buckle before pushing the trousers down to the floor. You bit your lip, when you saw his bulge almost straining through his boxers. You forced him to turn, back facing the desk. He didn’t question when you dropped to your knees and pulled his boxers down, though a slight hiss filled the air when he was exposed. Your eyes widened at his surprising length, standing proudly in front of you. All at once, you took him in your mouth. A new expression of pleasure etched on his face. His hand laced and tightened in your hair, pulling lightly. “F***, _____.” He groaned. You used you hand to cover the base before receding and leaving a kiss on the crown and pulling him back in to your mouth. In the corner of your eyes, his grip tightened on the desk, knuckles whitening as you hollowed your cheeks. “S***S***S***S***S***.” He hummed for you to stop, instead you ran your teeth lightly down his length. You heard him choking and calling you. “You not gonna stop? You gonna swallow my cum?” He groaned angrily. In response you suddenly took all of him, deep-throating. He cursed before pulling his shaft out of your mouth and spurting his hot load on your face. You blinked in surprise at the sudden wad of his release that now painted you. You let your tongue travel to catch the slow drop falling towards the corner of your lips. Your Teacher quickly captured your lips again after a few minutes to regain his breath. “You’re so F***ing hot, you know..”
He let his hand roam down to your ass, squeezing – forcing out gentle moans, and smacking – forcing loud whimpers. You could feel his already hard staff poking against the inside of your thigh. You pulled him away and switched places with him, seating yourself onto the desk, opening your legs to welcome him. Countless moans were submitted as he sucked another tender bruise into your skin. “Mr. Oh… please..”
“Its Sehun, baby girl.” He smiled. You were taken aback. This was a genuine smile shining towards you. It was as if time had stopped for a brief second to let you capture the image of his unlikely smile. But it gone all too quickly as you were pressed back into the desk. You felt two fingers plunge into you heated pool, making you writhe. “She’s ready~!” He sang, happily. You couldn’t help but chuckle. He aligned himself against you. You twitched in anticipation, he noticed. He smirked, and swiped the bulbous head of his cock along your entrance, slapping it against your throbbing clit. “Sehun.. please.. just don’t tease any-“
You were cut off by his hungry lips taking purchase on your hip bone, creasing the skin with his teeth. “You think I’m teasing!?” He resumed his position over your body and grinned devilishly at you. Without warning, he pushed himself inside you. You groaned thickly, as he began ramming into you, with no time for adjusting. “I’m not the one who unconsciously reveals skin that begs me to be bruise and mark it. I’m not the one who bites their lip while staring at their teachers pants. I’m not the one who unintentionally moans in the middle of class. It’s you. You’re the tease.” He thrusted harder and faster. You gripped onto the edges of the table, pulling- almost clawing for stability. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to bite you, pull your hair, hear you moan my name…” He drove his length deeper.
You replied his name loudly. “and now that you’re all wet and needy, I’ll f*** you. I’m make you cum so hard, you won’t get enough…” His thrusts became wild, yet decadent. “How the f*** are you so tight? F***!!”
His name rang through the room, fuelling his lust. Your abdomen tightened censoriously, your back once again curving off the table, toes curling once more until your orgasm ripped through your whole body, sending you into a thrashing fit. Screams of his name and unknown sentences echoed, your walls clenching around him, hurling him into his own violent release. He cursed and collapsed on top of you. After several minutes of silence, you heard the smile in his voice as he breathed, “Yehet.”
You started shaking with laughter, “You call yourself an English Teacher…” He looked up at you and grinned, before pulling out. You whimpered as he helped you up and progressed around the room to collect the pieces of your uniform strewn across the floor. Sehun returned them to you before changing into his own clothes. He began to chuckle coarsely, still regaining his breath. You looked up, meeting the elder’s amused gaze. He pointed one slender finger at you school shirt, before collecting some tissues. You realized a large, wet, white stain on the left-side of your chest. It was stubbornly fixed onto the material, in fact, the cloth was absorbing it. Sehun approached you and started wiping down the stain. “It’s not gonna ‘cum’ out.” He smiled. Your face scrunched up in dissatisfaction, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous pun, yet to no avail when your teacher began posing with two fingers up, giggling. You abruptly jumped when the bell sounded, echoing through the room. “Hometime~~!” Sehun hummed.
“Mr. O-oh—“ You started.
“what did I tell you?” He responded, taking your fingers and bringing them to his lips. “It’s Sehun, the only name you’ll be screaming for a while..”
Finally after friggin’ 2 months, its out. So the anon whom requested “Creative Sehun Smut.” that’s as creative as it gets.
Ima have to upload some fluff or shiz after this to redeem myself
“A few shots of the final stages of the media unit commission. This was an extremely pleasing piece to design and build. Solid, honest materials and construction with particular emphasis on the character and beauty of the Euro oak!…..”
“Took my first trip to the fantastic english hardwood timber, in cocking last week to reccie some sycamore for an upcoming job. What a wonderful way to purchase timber; from people as passional, and far more knowledgeable about english timber. Had great fun searching through piles of stickered boules, and the guys working were beyond helpful. Came away with some lovely Oak, Elm and Ash as well!…..”
Writing Check-In: Bearskin and Gold (a belated Christmas treat)
I was hoping to finish and post this at Christmas as a little fairytale treat, but life is not obliging (in any way whatsoever). :( So here’s an excerpt, in case anyone would like a little Marko/Prim squee for their post-holiday doldrums. (I know this isn’t what you guys really want, and God willing, I hope to post another excerpt of that for you in the near future.)
Once upon a time there were Three Bears who lived together in a house of their own, in a wood… One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and poured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling… And while they were walking, a little Girl named Goldilocks came to the house. ~ Joseph Jacobs, “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”
I came to the cottage unwitting and seeking no more than shelter.
The day began like any other. Katniss made for the heart of the woods with her bow, knife, and game satchel and I went to the lakeshore with Mother’s largest rush-basket, but no sooner was I muddied to the knees from stirring up two days’ portion of my sister’s namesake from the lake bottom when a bitter wind struck, and a frigid rain hard at its heels. My harvest was scarcely begun and I wished not to make the trek home till I had finished, especially while my resilient sister remained in the woods. Katniss would hunt and gather in the cruelest of weather to bring food to our table, and while she never expected the same stamina of me, I knew she would worry if she returned to the lake to find me gone.
I meant only to seek a broad tree beneath which I might shelter till the worst of the storm had passed, but when I turned my steps toward the woods I saw before me a cottage that had surely not stood there an hour before, let alone a day or two previous. This wild place became market and garden for my family in the days of my huntress grandmother Ashpet and I myself gathered daily from it in my turn, harvesting from both lake and woodland shadows since I stood no taller than my father’s knee, and never before had I seen a human dwelling in these parts, nor heard of any such.
I peered through the blinding rain at what could only be the wishful construct of a shivering body coupled with a desperate imagination and squeezed my eyes shut again and again to clear them of such impossible fancies, but the cottage seemed only to grow more solid and radiant and welcoming with each blink. From its round windows streamed rich yellow light and from its chimneys pale smoke, and this was enticement enough for me. A mere quarter-hour beside one of those fires would be sufficient to warm my toes and lift the damp from my cloak, I thought, and perhaps the cottager’s sympathy would extend to a fortifying mug of wild onion broth with a little acorn bun or even a draught of hot berry-wine before they sent me on my way.
None came in answer to my knock, and as the rain beat against my back in barbed pellets of ice I forsook propriety and reached hopefully for the latch. To my surprise, it lifted without effort. The door gave at once beneath my touch, almost as though I were expected, and opened inward to reveal a very heaven of domesticity; all broad oak timbers and rounded stone, warm and bright as gold, where the very air tasted of honey and woodsmoke and freshly baked bread.
I crossed the threshold without hesitation and drew the door fast behind me.
Metric-Ganic represents the idea of our civilization imprinting our knowledge onto books and how we humans shaped the earth to create our own culture and history. Through this idea, the sculptural table is expressed through the study of natural and mathematical patterns.
The geometric appearance of the timber panels is the representation of human knowledge based on mathematical calculations to create form. This contrasts with the use of natural grain pattern of the chosen timber - White Oak, which represents the forest and the earth itself, demonstrating the difference between inorganic and organic forms.