#because without thinking Charlie defended her source in a way no one else does

[thattheater-kid]

Our Charlie fictive brutally tearing into our friend for insulting Hazbin Hotel has got to be not only the funniest thing, but the most Charlie thing. None of the other Hazbin Hotel fictives do that. None of the other fictives care to defend their sources like that.

[holyhellpod]

Heyoooo, it’s another episode of Holy Hell! This one is dedicated to the manchild himself, Dean Winchester. 

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Transcript below!

CW: discussions of child abuse, child death, suicide, alcoholism, family trauma, mental health

[Music]

Dean Winchester is, in a word, my soulmate. I started kinning him when the show aired in Australia on Fox8 and I have not been the same since. From his devil-may-care attitude to his undying love for his family that pierces the veil of death to save the day, he really is the most. I have to say at the beginning that this episode of Holy Hell will not include discussions of Dean’s sexuality and gender. I’m saving that for its own episode, so stay tuned my pals.

What we know of Dean as he develops over the course of the first episode is: he’s been hunting, and hunting alone, he’s 26 years old, he drives a sweet ‘67 Impala, he wears an old leather jacket, he listens to 1980s metal, and he has an arsenal of weapons and supernatural fighting talismans in his trunk. He’s also a smartarse, one of his most endearing qualities. He gets defensive about their mother and her death, and he defends their father over and over. He’s a loyal son and brother. The impetus to bring Sam back into the hunting life, after Sam decided for good that he was going to leave, is to bring his fambily back together.

The quality that defines Dean Winchester is how much he loves he loves his fambily. In the first episode, he is so worried about his father that he recruits Sam to help look for him, even though Sam and Dean haven’t spoken in two years, and Sam ran away to college rather than continue to live with their father.  He spends most of the first season defending their father, but when John comes back and starts arguing with Sam, Dean protects his brother from John. It’s one of the most significant examples of character growth Dean undergoes throughout the entire series, and it’s where his loyalty shifts from John to Sam.

In the episode of season 2, “Croatoan,” Dean decides not to shoot Sam when Sam contracts the Croatoan virus which turns people rabid and makes them kill. In the next episode, “Hunted”, Dean reveals that John told him to kill Sam if Dean couldn’t save him. But Dean doesn’t. He says that John begged Dean not to tell Sam, but it’s not John’s words that keep Dean silent. It’s his love for Sam and Sam’s wellbeing. And this brotherly love slash codependency is used by characters throughout the entire series, from the demons in season 1 to the literal character of God in season 15, to manipulate Dean and Sam. As many characters have pointed out, including Dean and Sam themselves, they are each other’s weak points.  

At the end of season two, when Sam dies from a stab wound in his spine, Dean trades his own life for Sam’s. He makes a deal with a crossroads demon—his soul for Sam’s life—and subsequently dies and goes to hell at the end of season 3. Dean literally dies a gruesome death and spends forty years being tortured in hell because he couldn’t live without Sam. At the end of Season 8, Sam is dying from the effects of the trials, which he undergoes in order to close the gates of hell, and Dean convinces him to stop because, again, he can’t live without Sam. Sidenote: this is where I stopped being interested in their brotherly dynamic to the point of losing interest in the show. It became clear to me that the showrunners were more concerned with rehashing the same tired storylines between Sam and Dean than focus on characters who could expand the world and make the show better. In fact, they killed a lot of the interesting side characters in order to keep the show solely focused on the brothers. The exception to this is Castiel, and the reason they kept Cas around is because when he died in season 7 the ratings tanked. If that wasn’t a clear enough sign that the showrunners needed to open up the show to more than just Sam and Dean’s caustic dynamic in which they die and kill for and then betray and lie to each other over and over, then I just don’t know what the fans could have done to convince them. Nothing, apparently, because they ended the show with just Sam and Dean.

Dean’s relationship with John is fraught with insecurity and codependency. Dean has so little sense of self that what he does consider to be his carefully curated list of likes and dislikes were inherited directly from John: his car, his leather jacket, his hunting abilities, and his music taste. He also throws himself into hunts without any regard for his own safety, because he doesn’t believe that he is worth saving, or that his life is worth living. His personality is crafted from both John’s reliance on him as a son, hunter and partner in crime, and the woman he assumes Mary to be. Dean’s sense of self-worth relies on how many people he can save. This is why, in season 2 episode “What is and what should never be,” Dean’s dream reality is one in which he’s a low life loser who disappoints his family—because without John pushing him to be a hunter, Dean doesn’t save people, and because he doesn’t save people, he isn’t worth anything. Bear in mind that this is the best reality Dean’s mind could conjure for him: one in which his father is dead, and he himself is not worth saving.

In one of the most famous exchanges, he asks Cas why an angel would rescue him from hell, and Cas replies, “What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” Twenty-nine years of bluster, insouciance, and a give-em-hell attitude crumbles in two sentences, wrought by a being Dean refuses to believe exists because, again, he doesn’t think that he deserves to be saved by them. He says, “[Why me? I don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties, let alone by God].” He thinks of himself so lowly that he accepted a one-year deal in exchange for Sam being alive. Dean cares so much about his family he lets it kill him.

But it’s not just Sam, Mary and John. Dean’s family grows to encompass a number of side characters: most notably Bobby their surrogate father, Charlie Bradbury the hacker, Claire Novak, Jack Kline, and Lisa and Ben Braeden. Even Mary makes another appearance in seasons 12 to 14. Unfortunately, because the show is the way it is, Dean puts Sam above all of these side characters, and then these characters are written out of the show. I should specify that Cas is not a side character; in most seasons, Misha Collins is billed as a main cast member, with his name appearing after Jensen Ackles in the credits. But he still dies in the third-last episode in order to have the show stay about the brothers. Even Jack, inarguably Cas and Dean’s son, is written out of the show in the second-last episode after dying multiple times. I say inarguably because I am not gonna argue with anyone about this. Claire and Jack are Dean and Cas’s kids. Dean and Cas are great parents who chaperone Jack’s prom and buy Claire her first hunting bow. They’re all one big happy, queer, neurodivergent family.

Dean loves the people in his life with reckless abandon. The times he’s excused Cas’s behaviour after Cas has done something ridiculous or foolish are too many to count. He grieves Cas’s multiple deaths, often succumbing to his alcoholism and entropy whenever Cas leaves him for more than a day. In a truly beautiful scene, Dean wraps Cas’s corpse in a curtain and watches, utterly and completely devastated, as his body burns. By this point, they have done so much for each other that it’s impossible to even envision the show without Cas, and indeed imagine Dean without his love for Cas. And we don’t have to for very long, as he always comes back a few episodes later. Even knowing this, the episodes where Dean mourns Cas are so heartbreaking and haunting that I cried for days after watching them.

Dean is great with kids, and every time he’s not is completely the fault of whoever is writing him in any given episode. We see him bonding with Lisa’s son Ben in season 3 and 6, Jesse in the season 5 episode “I Believe The Children Are Our Future,” and Lucas in the season one episode “Dead in the water”. With every child he meets, Dean gets on their level, empathising with them in a way most adults can’t. Like Claire and Jack, Dean has a complicated relationship with his father, who dies in the beginning of season 2 after bargaining his soul for Dean’s life to the demon that took their mother. Just like anyone else’s life, right? Must be Tuesday. This means Dean can relate to most children with traumatic backgrounds involving their parents, as a victim of parental abuse and having his mother die at age 4. I can’t find any sources to back this up, but a theory that rolled around in fandom was that Dean became mute after Mary died, which is what happens to Lucas after his father drowns. He says in “Dead In the Water” that he loves kids, and it’s true. As one tumblr user put it, Dean wanted to be baby trapped.

Dean carries the deaths and pain of his loved ones with him like Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. When Claire is bitten by a werewolf, the characters administer blood of the sire wolf that bit her in order to cure her of her lycanthropy. Dean has to leave the room while she’s in pain, because he can’t bear to watch her die. The same goes for when Jack dies. Thankfully, Claire lives and Jack comes back a few episodes later.

When thinking about Dean being a father, I’m reminded of that scene from Scrubs when Dr Cox says he’s worried about being a father because his own dad was an abusive alcoholic. The difference between Dr Cox and Dean is that Dean doesn’t have his reservations about raising kids. He fits into Lisa and Ben’s life easily, at least for the first year, and we see a montage which includes him teaching Ben how to fix cars. When Claire lets her guard down enough to hug Dean, he hugs back just as hard. When he finally deals with the trauma of Cas dying in season 13, he accepts Jack into his life, and even grieves Jack when he dies. Dean escapes the intergenerational trauma that plagues his family by being a fantastic dad to the random kids who happen into his life by chance. He was born to be a father, and the fact that this show took that away from him and us as the audience makes me want to kick the showrunners into the sun.

Until season 6, Dean’s family only included men. The concept of the nuclear family—two sons, a husband and a wife—was ripped apart in the prologue of the first episode when Mary dies. Dean doesn’t know family for the first 5 seasons of the show outside Sam, John, Cas and Bobby. I do consider Ellen and Jo to be important to the story, but they’re only in a handful of episodes and die in season 5 for a reason that is plainly ridiculous. Did the Winchesters have to lose every single person in their lives to the fight? Clearly Kripke thought they were going to be cancelled after the fifth season, because it shows. And honestly? Maybe they should have. Let’s retroactively cancel the whole show. It can’t hold power over us anymore, because it’s dead and we cremated it.

But when Dean moves in with Lisa and Ben, he discovers a new type of family he didn’t have before, and new family dynamics. Instead of the 28-year-old son that Sam is to him, he takes the opportunity to teach Ben about cars and spend time with him and Lisa without the need to hunt. He gets a job, he makes some friends, and he lives the safe, apple pie life he begrudged Sam for in the pilot episode. It’s only when Sam reappears in his life that Dean’s codependency strikes again and he realises that he can’t live half in the normal world with Lisa and Ben and half in the hunting world with Sam. Sam says this himself in the first episode of Season 6, “Exile On Main Street”. Despite the ways Dean tried to settle down throughout the rest of the 9 seasons, the showrunners ultimately decided a man who was healing from trauma and alcoholism, who had adopted two kids as his own, and was learning how to bake cakes for his son’s birthday, deserved to die at the ripe age of 40, a week or so after he’d learned that his best friend was in love with him. You gotta laugh. Instead of getting the ending both Dean and we deserved—which was Dean settling down, opening a bar, and living the next forty years in relative gay peace while he got fat and watched Cheers reruns—well, we got something else. And I will always be bitter about that.

While it’s clear from the first season that he has reckless and suicidal tendencies, he doesn’t stop fighting to the bitter end. Even when faced with his own impending death in the season 2 premiere, “In my time of dying,” he fights to stay alive for Sam and John, while working the mystery that is overcoming his own death. Devastated as he is by Sam diving into hell at the end of season 5 and seemingly gone for good, Dean still gets up everyday and makes a life for himself in Lisa’s home. While season 6 was overall a bummer of a season, just god-awful in every aspect, saved from my complete vitriol only by “The French Mistake,” it did show us how great a dad Dean can be, and readied us for what was to come—being Claire and Jack’s dad. The lengths he goes to for his family are immense and all-consuming. As Cas says in “Despair”, Dean is a being of love. He loves everyone else, even when he can’t find it in him to love himself. He really thinks that he’s just a killer, not a father or a husband.

I’ve never subscribed to the idea that we have to love ourselves before we can love anyone else, or before anyone else can love us. Sorry Rupaul, you old bitch. We are all deserving of love, because love sustains us and helps us grow. And when we don’t know how to, it’s through loving others that we can learn to love ourselves. If Dean knew what a great father and friend and husband and brother he is, if he could see himself the way others, in the show and out of it, see him, I think he’d burst. You don’t like getting singled out at birthday parties? Well tough shit, Dean Winchester, because I’m gonna devote an entire podcast to you.

I talked about Dean’s carefully curated list of likes and dislikes before but I’ll go into more detail now. Things he likes: guns; rock and roll; nice cars; women; fighting; scamming people at pool; back alley blowjobs, probably; pie; driving across the country; Ozzy concerts; cowboy movies; being in control of every little thing in his life. His dislikes are: flying on planes; hair metal; angels and demons; anyone who harms his brother, his best friend or his kids; boredom; and being jerked around.

Okay I literally cannot talk about the cowboy movies without mentioning that he makes Cas watch them with him, in his Deancave, and the implications of that make my head roll off my body and into the dirt. Like they literally have gay little movie nights and watch their gay little cowboy movies together and Dean says all the gay little lines. I said I wasn’t going to talk about his sexuality, but mentioning cowboy movies leads to Cas wearing a cowboy hat and saying “I’m your Huckleberry.” This makes me insane. Excuse me, I must have my daily scream.

Okay, I’ve collected myself. Have I? Let’s just move on. In the Winchester tradition of inherited family trauma, Dean gets all of John’s interests, and Sam gets all of John’s mistakes. Dean’s personality throughout the show is basically quippy remarks, pop culture references, laughing with food in his mouth, and grouchiness. In case you haven’t realised, he is amazing to me. Every time he fires a rifle or pistol? Couldn’t be better. Eating a burger made of out donuts? Fucking incredible. Even when faced with beings with untold power, he doesn’t lose his cool. One of my favourite exchanges is when Zachariah comes to Chuck’s house in the first episode of season 5, “Sympathy For The Devil,” and starts soliloquising at him, Dean tells him to “cram it with walnuts, ugly.” Cram it with walnuts, ugly. It’s been ten years and that still makes me laugh. Top ten Dean lines for sure. Like all of my main characters throughout the years of writing original fiction are just “Dean Winchester but girl,” and I’m a good writer, but I can never come close to the level of hilarity that he achieves. And every single writer on the show seems to get that. The only times I can think of where Dean’s characterisation has irked me on a writing level are in season 6—basically the entire thing—and the way he treats Jack in the later seasons, specifically late season 15. But it’s really rare for me to watch an episode and not enjoy Dean. Even throughout the Mark Of Cain era, which I loved, when things were very serious, he had such style and panache and held himself so confidently that I was like, wait maybe he made some points? Maybe he should kill everyone?

Dean is a hunter and a killer, but that’s not all he is. He’s very skilled in hand to hand combat, weaponry, and tactical manoeuvres. Even when something doesn’t go exactly to plan, he’s usually able to improvise something to end up with a win. Because he is the main character, his choices and reactions, while sometimes extremely problematic, are never questioned, and that’s to his detriment. In the last episode of season 14, “Moriah,” Dean is unable to kill Jack, but in early season 15, he treats Jack’s betrayal as Cas’s fault, because he can’t take it out on Jack. Cas leaves, but it’s framed as a good thing because Cas is Jack’s father, and has to take responsibility for what Jack has done. In this instance, I don’t blame Cas at all. Okay I rarely blame Cas for anything, including the things he’s done wrong, because no he didn’t and you can’t prove it. But he especially didn’t do anything wrong when Jack killed Mary, and he didn’t do anything wrong by killing Belphagor. But by the middle of the season, in the episode “The Trap,” Dean admits his wrongdoing in taking his anger out on Cas, one of the only people who loves him without conditions. You’d think this would be a defining moment of character progression, but then Dean chooses to act exactly the same way by throwing Jack under the bus. Like, throwing him harder, under a bigger bus. So what was the point.

Anyway, those are choices the writers made, and not Dean.

Going back to what I was saying about being neurodivergent, Dean has adhd. I know this because I have adhd, and I’m Dean-coded. He’s wildly creative, impulsive, has a touch of OCD, and he has a hard time making long-lasting friends, although this is mostly due to how all his friends die. His best friend is an autistic angel and the only reason they’re still friends is because they’re obsessed with each other, in like a really unhealthy way. One of the funny things about his and Cas’s relationship is that every time you see them in the same shot, Cas is standing perfectly still and Dean is constantly moving. They are almost complete opposites, aside from their queerness and neurodivergence. But then, I haven’t met a single queer person in my entire life who isn’t neurodivergent or disabled in some way. That doesn’t mean we can’t live perfectly functional and normal lives, it just means we’re better than everyone else.  

Dean also exhibits black and white thinking—to him all felons are redeemable and all monsters should be killed. Felons are redeemable because he himself is a felon, and monsters should be killed because they all do monstrous things. When faced with the possibility of angels being real, he refuses to believe it for the first two episodes, because, as he says, “he’s never seen one.” Eventually he learns how to see in shades of grey and not kill every monster he meets, but this is because of his time in purgatory with Benny, his Cajun vampire boyfriend.

Another sign of Dean’s ADHD is physical sensitivity. In the season one episode “Bugs,” he comments on the shower’s water pressure. Like it’s a big deal to him, when he’s only ever used 1-star motel room showers. In the later seasons, he’s also seen to wear a fluffy robe and soft pajamas with hotdogs on them and socks that say “Send Noods” but noods spelt like noodles. And so he should! Dean deserves comfort! He’s a special boy.

ADHDers often have problems with executive function—remembering appointments, cleaning up after ourselves, showering, eating, even going to the toilet when we need to pee. The hunting life excludes Dean from the normal functions of usual life, such as dentist appointments, dropping the kids off at school, meal prepping for the week, or turning up to a job on time. These were only factors in Dean’s life during the gap between seasons 5 and 6 when he lived with Lisa and Ben, and it’s not shown how his executive dysfunction impacted his suburban, settled life, but Lisa does mention that Dean drinks a lot. It’s another thing he inherited from John, much as I did my alcoholism from my father, and my adhd too. But Sam doesn’t drink to excess more than a handful of times over the entire 15 seasons, whereas Dean subsists on alcohol to get through the day. At one point in season 11, I’m pretty sure, don’t fact check me, he is shown to be drinking a beer at about 10 in the morning, because, as he says to Sam, “You drank all the coffee. What do you want me to do? Drink water?” Dean your liver must be quaking.

Excess is a common problem for people with ADHD. We have problems with limiting ourselves—because our dopamine machine broke, anything that gives us a little bit of high—such as sugar, sex, alcohol, stimulants, any kind of food that is bad for us but tastes real good—we usually have it in excess because we can’t help ourselves. In the season 4 episode “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester,” Dean eats the entirety of the candy in the Impala. The only reasons I don’t eat everything in my fridge every day is because, one, I don’t have the money, and two, it’s all ingredients I have to prepare and not ready-made food. Whereas Dean has only known fast food for the first 10 or so seasons until he starts cooking and baking and settling into domesticity. Like anyone who gets UberEats every day instead of cooking for themselves knows how expensive that is. He also engages in meaningless sex, although people have pointed that Sam actually gets more on screen action than Dean. But I know a lot of amab people who engage in casual sex with randos because it satisfies a base need. Dean could be classified as hypersexual in some regards, but I know what hypersexuality feels like and it’s like this overwhelming miasma where you can’t think about anything except how horny you are, and I don’t think Dean has that normally. Maybe when he was a demon in season 10, but generally I think he can control himself.

His settled life in the men of letters Bunker is a far cry from his flashbacks in season 8 to Purgatory. From what we know of purgatory, the land of gods and monsters, it was a year-long monster hunt, but without any of the boring paperwork. Dean got to fight and kill as many vampires, ghouls, leviathan, etc as came his way, which is why it’s absolutely ridiculous that he died by rebar in a vampire fight. He spent an entire year spilling blood and chopping off heads, day and night, and he dies by metal bar to the spine? And he’s not even coughing up blood? Andrew Dabb, I’m coming for you. Of course purgatory is the perfect place for Dean because it’s constant adrenaline, constant excitement, constant stimulation, which is what every day life lacks. Even Dean’s every day life is like, 20% monster killing and the rest is leg work. They go weeks or months between cases, and sometimes don’t find the monster at all. So I’m not surprised he gets bored easily and drinks. Would if I could too, my pal.

Which leads me onto Dwelling. Dean dwells on the horrors of his life in a way I do and my carefree older brothers don’t. In the season 4 episode “Heaven and Hell,” he reveals to Sam that he remembers his entire forty years in hell, and there are flashes of his memory littered throughout the season in creepy, split-second increments. He dwells on the people who die, doing his thousand-yard stare into the funeral pyre of everyone they cremate. In the most egregious display of dwelling, he rewrites history TWICE to deal with his grief — in season 8 he makes himself believe that it was his fault Cas didn’t come back from purgatory with him, and again in season 13 he invents the story of Jack controlling Cas to deal with his grief over Cas’s death. His PTSD twists the truth until it becomes another way to torture himself, because if someone gets hurt it’s on him; everyone who loves him is just one more person to disappoint.

On a lighter note, Hyperfixations, equivalent to Autism special interests, are a common trait of ADHD. Some of Dean’s hyperfixations include: hunting in general; cowboys and cowboy movies; the musical Rent; the movie Braveheart; larping. He loves dressing up and acting, and what is putting on a monkey suit and lying about being a Fed if not larping? Oh god the meta of that coupled with the season 4 episode “The Monster At The End Of This Book” is making my head hurt. And actually, the next episode of Holy Hell is on the subject of meta-textuality so stick around if that’s something you enjoy.

One of the amazing things about ADHD is creativity. Since we’re easily bored and easily amused, we’re constantly pushing the boundaries of our curiosity. In season three episode “Bloodlust,” Dean decapitates a vampire with a miter saw, something that even veteran vampire hunter Gordon Walker comments is a thing of beauty. Dean creates a Ma’lak box in season 14 episode “Damaged Goods” as a way to contain Michael if he ever inhabits Dean’s body again. Dean is always making up words like “were-pire” and “Jefferson Starships,” and he has an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of pop culture, which he references in almost every line of dialogue. Like tv and movies raised me, but even I don’t understand a lot of his references. It’s almost like he’s a character in a tv show being written by dozens of people. But that’s not right. He’s a real person and my friend. My friend Dean Winchester, who shouts me burgers and passes out on my couch.

Also, I’m bragging now but as of the day of writing this I got my ADHD diagnosis and it feels so good to have a doctor, a psychiatrist in fact, confirm my belief. After about three or four years of figuring out I have adhd and then trying to make everyone else believe me when I say I do, it feels like a huge weight off. Dean deserved to feel that. He deserves to put a name to his differences and be in charge of his life instead of letting his anger, confusion and impulses control him. If anyone is worried that you might have something and don’t know whether to pursue a diagnosis, my two cents are that it has only improved my life. I was diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder in 2014 and it allowed me to go on medication, which snapped me out of the worst period of anxiety I have ever gone through and also a psychotic episode that featured talking walls and a swarm of Christmas beetles. Trust me, we all need help sometimes, and some people like me need more help than others, but you can take control of the forces in your life that hold you back. As my mother used to say to me when I was a child, the world is your oyster. It really fucking does get better, and since I started on the right anti-depressants for me my life has improved so goddamn much. The world is fucked right now, and it’s impossible to even function on most levels. We all need therapy. I myself have a gp, a psychiatrist, and a psychologist and they keep me relatively sane. I would not be alive if I didn’t have years and years of ongoing therapy and good drugs. Plus I journal everyday and practice gratitude. I’m still crazy but the craziness is contained and doesn’t hurt me anymore.

Despite never going to therapy, Dean grows from being a loner with one friend (his own brother) to someone with a wealth of connections and family. He picks up new people to love like he’s velcro, and when he goes in he goes all in. He would die for the people he loves. He’s constantly putting himself in danger to protect his loved ones. In the Season 6 episode “Let It Bleed,” Dean captures and tortures demons in an effort to find out where Crowley took Lisa and Ben. He then has Cas wipe their memories so that they don’t remember him and can live their lives without him, at his own great distress. In season 5, he goes to Stull Cemetery to impinge on the fight between Lucifer and Michael, just to be there for Sam. As Dean says, he’s “not going to let him die alone.”

That being said, I do have to talk about Dean’s very few, but ultimately life-ruining, flaws. His emotional dysregulation makes his moods unpredictable at best. By virtue of his black and white thinking, he forces the people he loves to choose sides between him and other characters, such as Sam and Ruby, Cas and Crowley, Mary and the british men of letters, and Cas and Jack, and when they don’t choose him, he passively aggressively, and sometimes just aggressively, tortures them until something else usurps their betrayal. His anger issues are par to none, and often get him in a lot of trouble. But since he is the main character, he never really faces consequences for this, and neither does he mature. Even in the final season episode “The Trap,” while Dean admits how angry he is and how wrong he was for taking it out on Cas when Jack died, mere episodes later in “Unity” he turns Jack into a nuclear reactor to take out God, and Jack dies again. His characterisation in the last few seasons, especially in regards to Jack, is all over the place. I would have to start a murderboard to explain how Dean feels about Jack and how he reacts to what Jack does in every episode. Like, pictures and red string and everything. And even then I would not be able to comprehend exactly what the writers did and what they thought they were doing.

But unlike me, Dean always believes the best in people until proven otherwise, and he does always come around to the people who atone for their sins. Even when Sam refuses to get his soul back in season 6, Dean keeps trying until Sam is put right. Between seasons 7 and 8, He spends a year in Purgatory looking for Cas despite how Cas sent Sam insane, ingested billions of monster souls, and became God. When the people he loves choose him, he chooses them back.

But even when they betray him, lie to him, deceive him, and hurt the other people in his life, he can’t stop loving them. He never stops loving Sam or Cas or Jack or Mary or John or Bobby. He loves with everything he has. He is, as Cas says, a being of love.

Oof. That was a lot of words and I feel like I only just scratched the surface. Like realistically I just talked about fambily and ADHD. There is just so much to Dean Winchester that maybe I’ll make another episode sometime. But I am definitely making an episode purely about Dean’s gender presentation and sexuality in the future. You can find the show at holyhellpod on Tumblr where I post transcripts for the episodes and Instagram where I post memes.

I don’t see myself doing an episode about Sam any time soon, Not because I don’t like Sam, but because I can’t stand Jared Padalecki. He’s done some things that I can’t support, and I’m really bad at separating the art from the artist. Especially when it’s something like Supernatural, which is not art. Supernatural is an experiment. It’s not Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry. Like Jared Padalecki didn’t invent rock and roll, you know what I’m saying? However, if you really want me to do an episode about Sam, you can pay me 101 Australian dollars and 50 Australian cents at patreon.com/holyhellpod. I’ll talk to you next time.

Links

http://www.scififantasynetwork.com/dean-winchester-has-adhd/

[slurrmp]

not another info sheet.

                                        sasha o’neill (stargate sg1)

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: sasha maria o’neill PRONUNCIATION: SASH-ə MEANING: defender, helper of mankind REASONING: named after her mother’s grandmother NICKNAME(S): sash (most common), ash, asha, kid PREFERRED NAME(S): just her full name or sash BIRTH DATE: october 20th 1972 AGE: 33 (as of season 9) ZODIAC: libra GENDER: female PRONOUNS: she/her ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual NATIONALITY: american ETHNICITY: white CURRENT LOCATION: colorado springs, cheyenne mountain LIVING CONDITIONS: a little apartment in the city, but will mostly stay at jack’s home. TITLE(S): miss

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: san francisco HOMETOWN: fairfax SOCIAL CLASS: fairly wealthy, but not exactly rich EDUCATION LEVEL: almost finished college FATHER: angus o’neill (deceased) MOTHER: maria o’neill (nee barnes) (mia) SIBLING(S): none BIRTH ORDER: only child CHILDREN: none PET(S): a pet gold fish named bruce, however, is too busy with work to actually have the dog she always wanted. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: jack o’neill (uncle), sara o’neill (aunt), charlie o’neill (cousin) (deceased) PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: max turner (four years), jonas quinn (two years), cameron mitchell (??) ARRESTS?: when she was a teenager and her father passed away, and her mother basically disowned her - sasha rebelled against her aunt and uncle, doing petty crimes such as shop lifting and grand theft PRISON TIME?: spent two nights in the county jail for stealing a car from the mayor

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: working for the sgc SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: it’s really disguised as working for the air force TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: she writes a column in the local paper APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: uhhhh couldn’t tell you, but it’s enough to live comfortably CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: very much so PAST JOB(S): worked at a fast food chain until she was 17, then worked for a supermarket (but was caught stealing & was fired) SPENDING HABITS: she knows what she loves and will always buy what she needs MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: her father’s dog tags, which she constantly wears around her neck

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: she was a cheerleader in high school before her father passed - moving into senior year of high school, sasha locked herself away from others and herself - which meant that she wasn’t as physically fit as she used to be. she was never overweight, but she couldn’t do a cartwheel to save her life anymore. however, joining the sgc - she’s managed to gain back her fitness and once again can do that cartwheel. OFFENSE: no DEFENSE: yes. her fighting style is more protect her body than anything else. SPEED: she’s not incredibly fast, but if something is chasing her, she has the will to go faster. INTELLIGENCE: rather intelligent, however, it is less mathematical smart and more historical smart. ACCURACY: she grew up in a military family, she’s very accurate AGILITY: after working back her fitness, sasha’s very good at climbing walls and leaping across tall buildings. STAMINA: it’s fairly good but no where near as good as it should be TEAMWORK: she depends on her team to survive and they depend on her to keep them alive TALENTS: can translate a different language within an hour, rather good at the piano SHORTCOMINGS: she’s judgemental, snippy and can be rather short with people. all in all it’s that o’neill charm LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, german, russian, dutch and japanese DRIVE?: yes JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes, badly though SWIM?: yes PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: kind of, without practice she loses her skill PLAY CHESS?: no (daniel’s trying to teach her though) BRAID HAIR?: yes TIE A TIE?: yes PICK A LOCK?: yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: alyssa milano EYE COLOR: brown HAIR COLOR: brown HAIR TYPE/STYLE: there’s almost a different style each year. season one: short and almost in a bob. season two: it has grown out more and now reaches her shoulders - curls. season six: it was shaved almost completely off. season three, four, five, seven, eight, nine and ten: it remains at shoulder length and wavy. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: only for when she’s reading DOMINANT HAND: right HEIGHT: 5′2″ WEIGHT: 60 kg BUILD: athletic EXERCISE HABITS: spars with teal’c once a week, while also uses the gym equipment at the sgc twice a week SKIN TONE: pale, but is able to tan rather easily TATTOOS: one on the back of her neck and one on the left side of her lower back PEIRCINGS: both lobes, including seconds, has her nose pierced as well MARKS/SCARS: there is a birthmark over her left hip. a scar just on the right side of her upper lip (which she got when she fell over on the driveway of her family home when she was six), a scar through her left eyebrow - which eerily is like jack’s, however, it was given to her on a mission NOTABLE FEATURES: her eyes and the mirroring scar in her eyebrow, just like jack. USUAL EXPRESSION: she is beaming most of the time - bright and bubbly expressions CLOTHING STYLE: very modern, loves a crop top and low cut jeans, but while she’s on base it is the typical sg uniform. blue fatigues mostly, considering the green makes her look sick JEWELRY: nothing too fancy considering her line of work, a couple of rings and bracelets ALLERGIES: peanuts, bees BODY TEMPERATURE: a normal body temperature DIET: she’s lived with jack for most of her life, it mainly consisted of bbq steak and when she was old enough beer. donuts, and snacks. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: continuously breaks limbs, but nothing too serious to bench her from off world work.

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: enfj ENNEAGRAM TYPE:  the achiever MORAL ALIGNMENT:  chaotic good ELEMENT: air PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE:  logical-mathematical APPROXIMATE IQ: 124 MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: struggles with ptsd after the death of her father and the events that have occurred in her life so far SOCIABILITY: very out going and loves to meet new people EMOTIONAL STABILITY: she’s been hurt so many times that sasha has started to pull away from anything emotional lately, so not good, but she hides it well with her outgoing personality OBSESSION(S): making sure that everything is perfect, making sure that missions will go correctly and nothing bad will happen. PHOBIA(S): tight spaces, spiders, flying, ADDICTION(S): none DRUG USE: none ALCOHOL USE: limited, loves a good beer every sunday afternoon PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: if push came to shove

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE:  she’s very articulate with her words. when the occasion calls for it, she can speak in a rather professional manner. but when she’s around friends or family, she won’t talk quite as stiff ACCENT: very clearly a west coast accent QUIRKS: she bounces a lot when she’s excited or even happy. it’s absolutely because she’s the shortest of the group and it makes her feel tall HOBBIES: reading is a big one - basically what she does to escape the ‘real world’, mainly romance and comedy novels because horror/sci-fi and action is what she lives on a daily basis HABITS: she has a habit of biting her lower lip, usually when she’s thinking or worried.  NERVOUS TICKS:  bounces her leg up and down when nervous, she will also pace a lot DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: one is absolutely to save the world from the goa’uld, while the others is her family and her friends FEARS:  losing said family and friends. she has a terrible habit of latching onto people she’s met - which isn’t good in her line of work. however, it helps her  POSITIVE TRAITS:  loyal, strong willed, will fight for her family NEGATIVE TRAITS:  falls in love too easily, tries to see the best in everyone - which usually gets her into trouble SENSE OF HUMOR:  very dry, it’s that o’neill sense of humour though DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?:  on and off CATCHPHRASE(S):oh for crying out loud

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: reading ANIMAL: fox BEVERAGE: beer BOOK: pride and prejudice CELEBRITY: brad pitt COLOR: pastel brown DESIGNER: vera wang FOOD: fried rice FLOWER: sunflower GEM: diamond HOLIDAY: christmas MODE OF TRANSPORTATION:  mini cooper MOVIE: sleepless in seatle MUSICAL ARTIST: elton john SCENERY: snowy day next to a fireplace in the city SCENT: lavender SPORT: football SPORTS TEAM: 49ers TELEVISION SHOW: simpsons WEATHER: winter VACATION DESTINATION: bora bora

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: to see the goa’uld destroyed and to have her family safe GREATEST FEAR: to lose the planet and her family MOST AT EASE WHEN: things are going the right way, no matter the scenario - could be in the middle of a mission, but as long as she knows what’s she’s doing, sasha can breeze through it LEAST AT EASE WHEN:  everything is going wrong, mainly when missions stuff up. as well as when she has no control over a situation WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: one of the alternate world’s reality, becoming her reality. the goa’uld taking over the world and enslaving humanity BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: finally getting into college BIGGEST REGRET:  losing her daughter MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT:  it’s not everyday that you come face to face with a new species, it’s also not everyday that you decide to trip UP stairs when coming to greet them, falling flat on her face and breaking her nose BIGGEST SECRET:  max and sasha were expecting a baby - but they were not compatible and the baby died during the first trimester, she never told anyone besides janet TOP PRIORITIES: her job and her family

[gaysparklepires]

27. Travel Plans

Read on AO3 - Links up Top!

I took mythology a lot more seriously since I’d entered my new life.

Often, when I looked back over my first three months as… whatever I was, I imagined how the thread of my life might look in the Fates’ loom—who knew but that it actually existed? I was sure my thread must have changed color; I thought it had probably started out as a nice brown, something supportive and non-confrontational, something that would look good in the background. Now it felt like it must be bright crimson, or maybe glistening silver.

The tapestry of family and friends that wove together around me was a beautiful, glowing thing, full of their bright, complementary colors.

I was pleasantly surprised by some of the threads I got to include in my life. The werewolves, with their deep, woodsy colors, were not something I’d expected; Jacob of course, and Seth, too. But my old friends Quil and Embry became part of the fabric as they joined Jacob’s pack, and even Sam and Emily were cordial. The tensions between are families eased. Sam explained that the wolves felt a kinship towards me they couldn’t quite explain, and I wasn’t going to question it too deeply.

Sue and Liam Clearwater were interlaced into our life, too—two more I had no anticipated.

Sue seemed to have taken it on herself to smooth Charlie’s transition into the world of make-believe. She came with him to the Cullens’ most days, though she never seemed truly comfortable here the way her younger son and most of Jake’s pack did. She did not speak often; she just hovered protectively near Charlie. As I watched their interactions, I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I began to recognize the little gestures and actions that belied deeper feelings hidden beneath the surface. I hoped Charlie could see and understand Sue’s motivations as well as I could.

Liam was even less comfortable than Sue and was the only part of our recently extended family was openly hostile to the merger. However, he and Jacob had a new camaraderie that kept him close to us all. I asked Jacob about it once—hesitantly; I didn’t want to pry, but the relationship was so different from the way it used to be, and when I had been able to comb back through my human memories leading up to my change I found myself replaying the conversation between Liam and myself the day he had confronted me. What Liam had said, the passion with which he had defended Jacob had gotten me thinking, coupled with the little nuances I had noticed in how Liam acted around and responded to Jacob. Surely, when they were in their wolf forms, Liam’s thoughts and feelings would have been obvious to Jacob given their telepathy, but Jacob didn’t seem to quite catch on the way I thought he would so my curiosity won out. He had shrugged and told me it was a just a pack thing. Liam was Jacob’s second-in-command now, his “beta,” as I’d called it once long ago.

“I figured as long as I was going to do this Alpha thing for real,” Jacob explained, “I’d better nail down the formalities.”

“Mm,” I had responded, raising my eyebrow. “How does Liam feel about it? Like, truly feel about it?”

“What do you mean?” Jacob asked, puzzled.

“I mean, the whole wolf-telepathy thing,” I waved my fingers around my head to emphasize my words. “You probably know better than he lets on?”

Jacob had frowned at that, “Not really. Liam’s gotten really good at only sharing the thoughts he wants me to hear, which is weird. I don’t get why he’s being so careful.”

“Why indeed.” I stifled a laugh. Jacob would figure it out eventually.

Liam’s new responsibility as Jacob’s second, coupled with what my intuition informed me was a deeper desire, made Liam feel the need to check in with Jacob often, and since Jacob was often at the house…

Liam was not happy to be near us, but he was the exception. Happiness was the main component in my life now, the dominant pattern in the tapestry. So much so that my relationship with Jasper was now much closer than I’d ever dreamed it would be.

At first I was rather annoyed, though.

“Yeesh!” I complained to Edward one night as we were undressing. “If I haven’t killed Charlie or Sue yet, it’s probably not going to happen. I wish Jasper would stop hovering all the time!”

“No one doubts you, Beau, not in the slightest,” he assured me. “You know how Jasper is—he can’t resist a good emotional climate. You’re so happy all the time, love, he gravitates toward you without thinking.”

And then Edward hugged me tightly, because nothing pleased him more than my overwhelming ecstasy in this new life.

And I was euphoric the vast majority of the time. The days were not long enough for me to get my fill of my family and my friends—long phone conversations with Jessica and Angela included; the nights did not have enough hours to satisfy my need for Edward.

There was a flipside to the joy, though. If you turned the fabric of our lives over, I imagined the design on the backside would be woven in the bleak grays of doubt and fear.

We still weren’t entirely sure what I was. The best we could decide was that I was a half-vampire, though there was no precedent for such a thing. Jacob occasionally teased that I was one-fourth vampire, one-fourth werewolf, and two-fourths human. This, despite the fact that he meant it as a joke, didn’t seem out of the question.

For one thing, there was the strange connection I felt to the wolves—different from when I was human—it was something beyond friendship or caring. I had noticed it first when Sam and his pack had come to confront us when I had first changed. It was like I could almost hear their thoughts when they were in wolf form. It wasn’t mind-reading like Edward, though. It was like I could sense the feelof their thoughts. There was the one moment that stuck out in my mind with particular importance.

When we had been waiting for Sam’s decision, I had wished I could know what he was thinking—what the pack was thinking—and for the briefest, fleeting moment I could have sworn I had gotten that wish. It had truly been a millisecond, but I remembered the feeling with crystalline clarity; first, I had felt the sensation of something shifting in my mind, followed by a sudden burst of feelings that weren’t my own. It had ended as soon as it had started. But something else had happened in that moment; Alice had reacted to something at the same time I had felt that shift. So much had happened that I hadn’t thought about it much. It would be wrong to say I had forgotten; I forgot nothing now, I merely moved thoughts out of the forefront of my mind until I was ready to address them again.

When I had asked Alice what had happened from her perspective, she was hesitant to answer me at first. After some prying, she finally admitted what had happened.

“I didn’t want to mention it, and Edward agreed,” she began, “but there was a moment where… Well, where…”

“Where what, Alice?”

“I could see the wolves.” She said, barely above a whisper.

I stared at her, dumbstruck for half a second. Alice’s visions were blocked by the wolves, it had been an interesting dilemma to work around when they were involved in any of our decision making. “You mean you could see the wolves?”

“Yes, that’s why I knew everything would be alright,” her eyes became distant, like she was focusing on something. “It was just the one time, though. I could see their future. It was just a flash, and then it went dark again. It hasn’t happened since then.”

“What changed?” I asked.

She looked at me for what felt like a long second. “I’m not sure, Beau. But something tells me it had to do with you. What you are.”

“Me?”

“I see vampires because I am one, I see humans because I was one,” she had told me this before, “I can’t see the pack because I have no connection to them, but maybe you do. And maybe because I have a connection to you, and maybe you have a connection to them…” She trailed off.

“I could feel their thoughts, for just a second, that day.” I said quietly. “It was weird.”

She contemplated this for a moment, before shrugging. “Well, it hasn’t happened again. All dark when they’re involved.”

“All dark…” I repeated.

She watched me for a second, then sighed dramatically. “I swear, if you don’t let me teach you how to use your closet soon, I’m going to lose my mind.”

When I had discussed the matter with Carlisle and Edward, they had explained that they had already discussed it privately, to my mild annoyance. Edward told me they hadn’t wanted to worry me too much, perhaps it was a strange fluke, perhaps it was signs of some sort of extra power my vampire nature had given me. Either way, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Matters that had undercut my happiness.

The source of my chagrin was a journey that had to be made, a very important and potentially dangerous journey that I felt had to be a solo trip.

This was the only argument that Edward and I had gotten in since I’d changed. The main point of the contention was the “solo” part. But the facts were what they were, and my plan was the only one that made rational sense. I had to go see the Volturi, and I had to do it absolutely alone.

Even freed from my old nightmares, from any dreams at all, it was impossible to forget the Volturi. Nor did they leave us without reminders.

Until the day that Aro’s present showed up, I didn’t know that Alice had sent a wedding announcement to the Volturi leaders; we’d been far away on Esme’s island when she’d seen a vision of Volturi soldiers—Jane and Alec, the devastatingly powerful twins, among them. Caius was planning to send a hunting party to see if I was still human, against their edict (because I knew about the secret vampire world, I either must join it or be silenced… permanently). So Alice mailed the announcement, seeing that this would delay them as they deciphered the meaning behind it. But they would come eventually. That was certain.

The present itself was not overtly threatening. Extravagant, yes, almost frightening in that very extravagance. The treat was in the parting line of Aro’s congratulatory note, written in black ink on a square of heavy, plain white paper in Aro’s own hand:

I so look forward to seeing the new Mr. Cullen in person.

The gift was presented in an ornately carved, ancient wooden box inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl, ornamented with a rainbow of gemstones. Alice said the box itself was a priceless treasure, that it would have outshone just about any piece of jewelry besides the one inside it.

“I always wondered where the crown jewels disappeared to after John of England pawned them in the thirteenth century,” Carlisle said. “I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that the Volturi have their share.”

The necklace was simple—gold woven into a rope of a chain, almost scaled, like a smooth snake that would curl close around the throat. One jewel hung suspended from the rope: a white diamond the size of a golf ball.

The unsubtle reminder in Aro’s note interested me more than the jewel. The Volturi needed to see that I was immortal, that the Cullens had been obedient to the Volturi’s orders, and they needed to see this soon. They could not be allowed near Forks. There was only one way to keep our life here safe.

“You’re not going alone,” Edward had insisted through his teeth, his hands clenching into fists.

“They won’t hurt me,” I’d said as soothingly as I could manage, forcing my voice to sound sure. “They have no reason to. I’m a not human anymore. Case closed.”

“No. Absolutely no. You may not be human but you’re not a true vampire, Beau.”

“Edward, it’s the only way to protect everything. If Aro reads your mind, he’ll know how close we are to the wolves. If Aro sees that we’ve made alliances with the pack we could put them—and us—in danger. I’m the only one that Aro can’t read.”

And he hadn’t been able to argue with that. My logic was watertight.

Given my new connection to the wolves, I had dedicated myself to learning as much as I could about them. Billy Black obliged with more of the Quileute history than I had previously known, and Carlisle had told me everything he knew about werewolves. Most distressingly, was the history the Volturi had with werewolves.

The Volturi had never, to any of our combined knowledge, met the Quileute, but they had met werewolves in the past. Met them, hated them, and hunted them. The Volturi had tried to wipe them out in the past—a particular passion of Caius, destroying werewolves. I knew that if the Volturi found out about our alliance with the Pack, they wouldn’t be happy.

My status as a half-vampire was a concern, but the Volturi didn’t need to know it was Jacob’s involvement that had made me a half-vampire. We’d just have to come up with as good of a story as we could, and Aro wouldn’t be able to see the lie in my protected thoughts. Theoretically, a half-vampire was better than no vampire at all, right?

One of Edward’s concerns lay in something that even I knew about Aro in the short time that I’d known him. He was a collector—and his most prized treasures were his living pieces. He coveted beauty, talent, and rarity in his immortal followers more than any jewel locked in his vaults. It was unfortunate enough that he’d begun to covet Alice’s and Edward’s abilities. If the Volturi accepted my half-vampire status, Edward feared I would give Aro more reason to be jealous of Carlie’s family. By Edward’s appraisal, I was beautiful and gifted and unique—I was one of a kind.

But Alice saw no trouble with my trip, though she was worried by the indistinct quality of her visions. She said they were sometimes similarly hazy when there were outside decisions that might conflict but that had not been solidly resolved. This uncertainty made Edward, already hesitant, extremely opposed to what I had to do. He wanted to come with me as far as my connection to London, but I worried having Edward anywhere near the Volturi. Carlisle was coming instead. It made both Edward and me a little more relaxed, knowing that Carlisle would only be a few hours away from me.

Alice kept searching for the future, but the things she found were unrelated to what she was looking for. A new trend in the stock market; a possible visit of reconciliation from Ivan, though his decision was not firm; a snowstorm that wouldn’t hit for another six weeks; a call from Renée (I was practicing my “rough” voice, and getting better at it every day—to Renée’s knowledge, I was still sick, but mending).

We bought the tickets for Italy the day after the three month anniversary of my changing. I planned for it to be a short trip, so I hadn’t told Charlie about it. Jacob knew, and he took Edward’s view on things. He wanted to discuss it with me in private.

Jacob and I had gone out to the woods for our talk, and to get away from the business of the house for a little bit. He offered to change into his wolf form and hunt with me for a bit.

Hunting wasn’t as strictly necessary for me as it was for Edward and the other Cullens. I could still eat human food and it satisfied me very well, though I still needed blood. I had experimented with my diet for a few weeks. I found a lack of blood made me feel more sluggish. It dulled my more supernatural senses. I had gone the last three weeks without hunting and my thirst was much stronger, though still not unmanageable. Physically, we had discovered that a lack of blood almost seemed to lessen my vampire nature. I was slower and not as strong as I would have otherwise been. Looking at me, my skin was still pale and free of imperfections, but my eyes looked less luminous and more like they had when I was human. My heart was beating faster than it had before, closer to a human meter. It was ironic, abstaining from blood made it easier to pass for a true human, but the increased strain the thirst caused made it more dangerous.

“A hunt wouldn’t be the worst thing,” I mused. “I’m getting tired of being so slow.”

“You’re getting tired of it?” Jacob snorted. “I feel like I’m walking with a snail.”

“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes. “Before we hunt, let’s get it over with. Tell me all the reasons why you think I shouldn’t be going to Italy.”

Jacob tensed, he shifted uncomfortably, and I strange look passed over his face. “Well, about that…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think you should be going alone, for the record.” He said quickly. “I don’t like it. I get why you’re doing it, but I don’t like it.”

“Okay, well, you’re taking it better than Edward.” I chuckled. “But I thought you wanted to come out here so you could convince me not to go?”

He didn’t answer, shifting his weight again. I raised my eyebrow expectantly.

The narrow meadow we were standing in was very still, very empty. The fluttering snow was thinning above me, almost gone. Alice had seen that it wouldn’t stick for many weeks.

“Here’s the thing, Beau,” Jacob began slowly, “You’re my best friend. And we’ve been through a lot together…”

“Yes,” I said slowly, confused.

“And I’m happy for you, Beau. I’m really happy for you and Edward. You guys are great together, and I’m sorry it took me so long to see that.”

I blinked, watching him struggle through his speech.

“I hate that it took you almost dying for me to realize having you as my best friend was more than enough.”

“Be fair to yourself, Jake.” I sighed, “things were complicated and it wasn’t all your fault.”

“Sure, sure.” He said, then he paused for a long second. “Beau?”

“Yes?”

“You want me to be happy, right?”

A dim memory of a conversation between Jacob and myself came to the forefront of my mind; “I hope, beyond anything, that you find someone who makes you happy because you deserve to be happy, Jake. You deserve to find someone who loves you.”

The memory was dim, because it was a human one. Back when Jacob first found out I was dying, and I had tried to say goodbye to him. I had meant the words, and I still did. Nothing would make me happier than to know Jacob was truly happy.

“Of course I do, Jake,” I smiled. “You know I do.”

“Okay, right,” Jacob shifted again, “because, well, here’s the thing—”

“Liam told you how he feels about you?” I guessed, fighting a wide grin.

Jacob’s eyes grew wide with disbelief, his mouth went slack. “What?”

I furrowed my brows, “Liam! He finally told you how he feels about you, right?”

Jacob blinked a few times, “Liam… feels about me?”

Now I was confused, “Yeah, didn’t he…” Jacob’s surprised expression told me what his words did not. “Liam… didn’t tell you.”

“Liam hasn’t said anything to me,” Jacob swallowed, “But I… I mean, I don’t know, the last few weeks I just… I’ve been thinking about him a lot and, well, I don’t know. We’ve just been connecting and—Does Liam like me?”

“Oh, god, Liam’s going to rip me apart.” I groaned.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jacob grabbed my shoulders. “Did Liam tell youhe likes me?”

“Not exactly,” I winced. “But when he came to yell at me that day, the way he talked about you, Jake. I mean, if he doesn’t like you then he thinks the world of you.”

“So you’re basing this off of a rant from almost four months ago?” Jacob’s face fell.

“No, it’s not just that. It’s the way Liam is around you. The way he looks at you when you’re not looking. The way he gets… I guess it would be jealous when you tell me you love me or we’re spending a lot of time together.”

“Really?” a spark lit up Jacob’s eyes.

“That’s why I asked you a the other week how Liam feels about everything, if you heard anything when you were connected. I figured he would have let it slip in his thoughts—”

Jacob clapped his hand to his forehead. “That’s why he’s been so careful when we’re phased…”

I grinned. “Well, looks like you’re going to have to be the one to tell him how you feel.”

Jacob nodded slowly, then he stopped, and his eyes met mine. “Beau, are you… okay with that?”

I furrowed my brows again, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be, Jake?”

“Well, after everything that’s happened… After me being so, uh, stubborn about us being a thing… You don’t think I’m the worst because I like Liam, do you?”

I burst out laughing. “Jacob Black, you’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, come on, I’m trying to be honest and open here.”

I reached up to hold his face in my hands, “Jacob Black. You are my best friend in the whole world, I want nothing but happiness for you. If you like Liam I think you should tell him and see where things go because you deserve to be happy.” I laughed, “I mean, I got everything I wanted, didn’t I? I have Edward, the Cullens, I still have all my human friends and family. It’s about time you got some happiness, too.”

Jacob smiled and pulled me into a tight hug. “Thanks, Beau. I’m sorry about everything that went wrong. But I’m glad I’ve got you for a best friend now.”

“Now and forever, Jake.”

“Sure, sure.” He chuckled.

“Just don’t tell Liam I said he liked you.” I warned, pulling away from the hug.

Jacob laughed, “Yeah, that’s probably for the—” His voice cut off with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes went wild as he scanned the area.

“Jake, what is it?” I asked, sniffing the air. My senses really were dulled, I couldn’t sense anything.

“Vampire.” He growled, “I don’t recognize the scent.” He leapt back from me, and by the time he hit the ground again he was in his wolf form, the shreds of his clothes fluttering to the ground.

My eyes swept the area, searching for danger. First the trees, then the mountainside. As my eyes flitted across the edge of a distant cliff, standing out starkly blue-gray against the green-black forest, a glint of silver—or was it gold?—gripped my attention.

My gaze zeroed in on the color that shouldn’t have been there, so far away in the haze that an eagle wouldn’t have been able to make it out. I stared.

He stared back.

That he was a vampire was obvious. His skin was marble white, the texture a million times smoother than human skin. Even under the clouds, he glistened every so slightly. If his skin had not given him away, his stillness would have. Only vampires and statues could be so perfectly motionless.

His hair was pale, pale blond, almost silver. This was the gleam that had caught my eye. It hung straight as a ruler down to his chin.

He was a stranger to me. I was absolutely certain I’d never seen him before, even as a human. None of the faces in my muddy memory were the same as this one. But I knew him at once from his dark golden eyes.

Ivan had decided to come after all.

For one moment I stared at him, and he stared back. I wondered if he would guess immediately who I was as well. I half-raised my hand, about to wave, but his lip twisted the tiniest bit, making his face suddenly hostile.

Jacob growled at my side, his enormous body wrought with tension. Ivan’s eyes jerked reflexively to the sound when it echoed to him a few seconds later. His eyes narrowed, and I imagined what it must look like from his perspective. An enormous russet werewolf, perhaps the very one who had killed his Laurent. How long had Ivan been watching us? Long enough to see our affectionate exchange, I was sure.

Ivan’s face spasmed in pain.

Instinctually, I opened my hands in front of me in an apologetic gesture. He turned back to me, and his lip curled back over his teeth, his jaw unlocked as he growled.

When the faint sound reached me, he had already turned and disappeared into the forest.

“Crap!” I groaned.

I pulled out my cell phone and hit the speed dial. Edward answered on the first ring. Jacob remained tense at my side.

“Come, bring Carlisle,” I trilled so fast I wondered if Jacob could keep up. “I saw Ivan and he saw me, but he also saw Jacob phase and Ivan got mad and ran away, I think. He hasn’t shown up here—yet, anyway—but he looked pretty upset so maybe he will. If he doesn’t, you and Carlisle have to go after him and talk to him. I feel so bad.”

Jacob rumbled.

“Oh,” I added, “and bring some clothes for Jacob.”

“We’ll be there in half a minute,” Edward assured me, and I could hear the whoosh of the wind his running made.

We waited silently, listening carefully for the sound of an approach we did not recognize.

When the sound came, though, it was very familiar. And then Edward was at my side, Carlisle a few seconds behind holding a bundle of clothing. I was surprised to hear the heavy pad of big paws following behind Carlisle. I supposed I shouldn’t have been shocked.  With the threat of a strange vampire, of course Jacob would call in reinforcements.

“Ivan was up on that ridge,” I told them at once, pointing out the spot. If Ivan was fleeing, he already had quite a head start. Would he stop and listen to Carlisle? His expression before made me think not. “Maybe you should call Emmett and Jasper and have them come with you. Ivan looked... really upset. He growled at me.”

“What?” Edward said angrily.

Carlisle put a hand on his arm. “He’s grieving. I’ll go after him.”

“I’m coming with you,” Edward insisted.

They exchanged a long glance—perhaps Carlisle was measuring Edward’s irritation with Ivan against his helpfulness as a mind reader. Finally, Carlisle nodded, he handed me the clothes, and they took off to find the trail without calling for Jasper or Emmett.

Jacob huffed impatiently and poked my back with his nose.

“Oh, sorry, Jake.” I held the clothes out and he gingerly took them with his teeth, he turned to run back to the trees but not before giving me a pointed glance and nodding his head toward Seth and Liam.

I turned to face them. Seth had an odd, wolfish grin on his big face. Liam, however, looked like he wanted to snap my head off.

“Crap.” I said again.

I was wondering if I’d be able to outrun Liam, but then he let out a huffing sound like a laugh, shook his head, and winked at me.

“I’m sorry, Liam. I thought he knew.”

Liam rolled his eyes before turning to run back toward the house, Seth followed, still grinning.

Jacob joined me a second later. “How bad is it?” He asked, adjusting the waistband of his new pants.

“Liam? Or Ivan?” I asked darkly.

He didn’t clarify as we sprinted after Liam and Seth.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 30

Hancock and I reached Diamond City in the early evening. At the first sight of a guard outside the Wall, Dogmeat barked, eliciting from the guard a ‘welcome back, boy!’ and “Hey Mr. Holmes, how’s things?” I greeted him and ignored the look he gave Hancock as we walked past. Hancock simply smiled. It wasn't a friendly expression.

We stopped outside the gate. “Would you like to come inside?” I asked.

He frowned, “You know ghouls ain't welcome.”

“That's not what I asked.”

He smirked. “Heh. Seems we've had this conversation before.”

“We have,” I smiled. “You are always welcome in my home, no matter what Security may think.”

“I appreciate that,” he said sincere, and then he laughed. It was short and held an edge. He straightened his coat, and walked with a swagger. “Hell, ain't I always saying I could do with some more trouble in my life?”

Danny Sullivan was at his customary post at the entrance. To say he was surprised would be an understatement. “What the… Mr. Holmes!”

We kept walking. “I know, Mr. Sullivan.”

“But… wait!”

I took pity on the young man and paused, “Danny. If you tell me I cannot bring Mayor Hancock inside, I will comply, because I respect your efforts and to be honest I still feel guilty about Miss Wright constantly deceiving you. I am going to ignore everyone else.”

He sighed. “You walked right past me without a second glance. Couldn't stop you without leaving my post.”

I grinned, “Naturally. Have a good day, Mr. Sullivan. I promise not to start a fight.”

“Yeah, but does he?”

Hancock shrugged, “Haven't decided yet. Might be today's the day I go feral.”

“Hancock,” I scolded.

“Come on, can't a brother tell a joke?”

We made it down the stairs and past Nat selling papers when we were stopped. “Whoa, whoa, no ghouls in Diamond City. Get that thing out of here.”

Hancock bristled, but remained calm. “That thing is my guest,” I warned.

The guard frowned. “Come on, Mr. Holmes. You know the rules.”

“I do. However -”

“Easy, brother,” Hancock said, his hands up, “I'm just here on business. In and out, won't cause a fuss.”

“There, you see?” I said, “I will personally vouch for his behavior, and take full responsibility for his actions.”

The guard hesitated, “Well…”

“Excellent.” We swiftly moved past into the marketplace. “Business?”

Hancock grinned. “I just thought of a place I’ve been wanting to visit for ages…” his attention drifted, and I turned to see Piper approaching.

“Never thought I’d see my second least favorite Mayor inside Diamond City,” she said. After a moment, she amended, “Well, least favorite, now.”

I managed not to visibly flinch. She had no idea she was talking to her least favorite mayor’s brother, and it wasn’t my place to inform her. “Hancock, are you acquainted with Miss Piper Wright?”

“The reporter,” he said. “We get Publick Occurrences up in Goodneighbor. It’s a good rag, tells it like it is.”

Piper was pleased, but also skeptical of the compliment. “Then you won’t mind if I ask what's the brisk trade these days in Goodneighbor? Jet? Psycho? Mentats?”

Hancock leered with a grin, “Why, what’s your favorite? Happen to have all three on me if you need a little something to liven up the day.”

I rolled my eyes, “Oh for heaven’s sake.”

“General Trouble’s right, I ain't got time for an exclusive, but if you're ever in my town-”

“That won't be happening anytime soon,” she made a face, “Or hopefully ever.”

Hancock chuckled as we made our way out of the market. “Alright, Holmes. Where’s a brother go if he wants to get wasted on moonshine?”

I laughed, and showed him to the Dugout Inn. Everyone went perfectly quiet as Hancock strolled up to the bar. Even Vadim’s friendly boisterousness was subdued.

Hancock was thrilled. “You! You’re Vadim Bobrov. As in Bobrov’s Moonshine.”

Vadim was unsettled. “Uh, yes. I do not think I've had pleasure.”

“Name's Hancock. You ever thought about sellin' your product in Goodneighbor?”

“I…” it was as though a lightbulb went on over his head, “huh. Is good idea.”

“I'm gonna have one of my boys come talk to you,” Hancock grinned, “I think you and me are gonna get along swell.”

And with that, we left. “I can’t wait to hear the rumors around town after that display,” I joked.

Hancock laughed, “I’ve been wishing the Third Rail would keep a few bottles of that stuff in stock for years. Now it will.”

“That ought to make things interesting. Vadim claims it can act as an alternative fuel source to motor oil, you’ll have to convince Whitechapel Charlie to test the theory.”

Hancock beamed, “Holy shit, that’s a great idea! You think a Mr. Handy can get drunk? I know they can’t get high, don’t ask how, it’s a hell of a disappointing story.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I smiled, and gently pulled him along. “The guards are willing to overlook my blatant disregard for the rules as long as we aren’t drawing too much attention to our breach of protocol.”

“Let ‘em try to throw me out.”

“My honor as a gentleman would require me to defend you, and me being in jail would make things awkward for Valentine, not to mention my son.”

“Hmph. Well if you put it like that, I’m gonna need to get outta here or find a place to hide.”

A pair of guards were following our progress along the edge of the market. “There is one place no one will dare disturb us,” I opened my front door, and ushered him inside.

“Welcome back,” Valentine stood up from his seat at the table, his cigarette in an ashtray, and froze as his eyes focused on Hancock with suspicion. “What the hell are you doing in town, John?”

Hancock bristled at the sound of his first name, but answered flippantly, “Here on business.”

Valentine was skeptical, “Really?”

“Nah, but the guards bought it. Your boyfriend invited me in.”

“Partner. And I heard you were travelling together. Not exactly thrilled, considering what happened before.”

Hancock blinked. “Fuck, I was joking about the boyfriend bit. I mean, I sorta figured, but… huh.” Seeing Valentine hadn’t shifted even a fraction, he relented. “Relax, Nick, he asked me not to give him anything, so I haven’t. Even kept my own consumption down outta respect.” He shrugged, “A little.”

Valentine’s brow rose. “Oh. Well.” He glanced away a moment, “That’s alright then. I’m uh, sorry for assuming otherwise.”

Hancock waved a hand, “Eh, forget it.”

Codsworth soared in, “Mister Holmes, welcome back!”

“Hello, Codsworth,” I smiled at his impeccable timing. “This is Mayor Hancock, of Goodneighbor.”

“Welcome, sir. Is there anything I can provide? A drink perhaps?”

“Drink?” Hancock was bemused, “Now we're talkin’.”

Codsworth went about pouring a glass of whiskey for Hancock in the kitchen while I spoke softly to Valentine by the sofa. “I'm fine.”

“I see that,” he sighed, a bit embarrassed. “Just… worried.”

I took his hand, “I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you either, but you are going to have to trust me again at some point.”

His hand squeezed mine briefly, “I trust you. It's Hancock I was concerned about. Unnecessarily, apparently.”

“I wouldn't say that,” I grinned. “He has his reputation for a reason, after all. Is Shaun in the workshop?”

“Yeah, with our other guest.”

“Other…? Ah. How long has Danse been here?”

“Got here yesterday. Said you told him to meet you in Diamond City?”

“Yes, we’re going to the Castle together, he arrived sooner than I anticipated-”

My attention was drawn by Shaun running toward me, “Dad!!!”

I gladly returned his hug. “Hello, son. How are…” the sight of discoloration around his eye alarmed me, “were you injured recently?”

He sighed, “Dad, you just got home.”

Danse, out of his armor I was pleased to see, spoke from the hallway, amused, “He was struck while defending your family’s honor.”

Shaun was mortified his confidence had been betrayed. “Danse!”

“School yard fight,” Valentine explained, “local bully said some nasty stuff about us and Shaun got mad.”

Shaun’s panic grew, “Nick!!!”

“Good for you, kid. Didja win?”

All three adults scolded, “Hancock.”

“What?” He shrugged, “Defendin’ his family and standin’ up against assholes. Kid did good.”

“He should at least learn the basics of self defense,” Danse muttered.

“See?” Hancock gestured to him, “Even crew-cut agrees!”

“I don’t think he did, exactly,” I said, and knelt down next to Shaun who seemed about ready to bolt. “Did you think I would be angry?”

“You always say I shouldn’t fight.”

“Without knowing the details, I can’t determine if it was warranted or not. Was Nick angry?” Shaun shook his head. I smiled. “Then you must have had a good reason for your reaction. I don’t want you to ever feel like you need to hide anything from me, son. Alright?” He smiled a little, and nodded. “Good. I was planning on making a trip to the Castle with Danse, but perhaps I should stay home for a time-”

Shaun was alarmed, “No! You have to go, you have to go with Danse and Nick to the scientist settlement so Nick can be fixed!”

I stood, suddenly worried, “Valentine?”

He put his hand over his face with a groan. “I’m fine, just some internal piece that started making a noise it shouldn’t.”

Danse spoke, “We promised Shaun to see the Institute scientists in Murkwater in case they may have a solution.”

My brow rose. “We? Your trip just became significantly more dangerous, Lt. Col,” I said.

He grinned, “I’m looking forward to it.”

It was the first time I’d seen him out of his armor since the day I found him in that bunker, ready to take his own life for being a synth. Now he stood in the standard Minutemen uniform of a blue button down shirt tucked into jeans and brown boots, the tan jacket’s sleeves kept long instead of rolled up like the recruits. He was missing the hat, of course, but it was good to see him comfortable without being encased in steel.

I made formal introductions between Hancock and Danse, who acknowledged each other with thinly veiled suspicion, and asked Codsworth if we were equipped to host multiple guests for a night. He was mildly offended I’d even suggest he might not be up to the task of providing for guests at a minute’s notice. I apologized for the implication, and Shaun eagerly showed everyone his collection of projects in the workshop.

The night progressed pleasantly enough, with all parties remaining civil I suspect in large part thanks to Shaun’s presence. Danse took the couch for the night while Hancock is currently getting high on my roof. I should probably check on him before I go to sleep. It occurs to me I’m no longer certain when he intends to return to Goodneighbor.

[reformedkingsmanagent]

Hi hi, I was reading one of your post saying you were a sucker for Charlie's beard in TGC and well, an idea came to mind (cuz that beard? Hell yeah). Can I request a prompt where the reader loves having beard burn (on the neck, or inner thighs for a splash of NSFW), I'd love to see what you could make with all this... 👀 thanks love!

AN: This is very long. All I’m going to say is I guess I realllllllllly wanted to write some TGC!Charlie because once I started I just couldn’t stop. Prepare for some smut too. (nsfw)

Prompt: Gloriously-Beardy Charlie

Pairing: Charlie x reader

Word Count: 7165 (haha…yikes)

Warnings: Language, sex, Charlie with a beard (come on, it’s lethal)

Whenever Charlie needed anything, he came to you. You knew the things he requested most frequently, and you usually were able to order it in advance of him asking so he wouldn’t have to wait for it. Most people would just say you were very good at your job, which you were, but you had a special interest in Charlie. You frequently daydreamed about the bionic man, wondering what it would be like for him to pay attention to you. Sure, he talked to you whenever there was time, but he was always so busy with Poppy’s errands that you didn’t see him as much as you would like.

You were personally responsible for his current beard, and he didn’t have a clue. Well, at this point he probably did, but does it matter? Supposedly, you had been unable to receive the exact razor he liked, but you should be getting them “any day now” which wasn’t true at all. You could have ordered them anytime you wanted, but you hadn’t. You loved his beard, it suited him incredibly well. You would do anything to prevent its disappearance. Well, maybe not anything, but it was steadily becoming your favorite feature of his. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering what it would feel like brushing against the inside of your thighs and you’d have to scold yourself. You knew he was starting to catch on. It was inevitable, you just hoped he didn’t get angry with you. You didn’t think he was the type, but you didn’t really know him that well.

It was hard to get things here in Cambodia. For the crew stationed at Poppyland, getting anything themselves meant they would have to traverse a very active minefield and a large section of jungle before they reached any sort of civilization. That was why you did what you did. On Mondays, you usually received most of your orders from the previous week. That meant that after sorting through everything and conducting an inventory check, you spent the following day divvying everything up. Poppy’s items were always sent to her room, while everyone else got theirs as you saw them. You were friendly with everyone around the compound, save a few unsavory characters. This line of work didn’t attract the most model citizens, but a lot of them were quite nice.

“I’m not going to even set myself up for the disappointment.” You heard Charlie’s voice from behind you, and you suppressed the urge to smile. He walked over to you as you carried a bundle of various requests in a bag around the compound. He glanced into the bag as you dug around in it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You tossed a big bag of M&Ms towards Michael, who caught them and waved. Everyone was a bit less conversational with you whenever Charlie was around. You didn’t know if they were afraid of him, but there was some reason for it. Charlie found what he was looking for and clutched the container of tea to his chest as if it was the most important thing in the world.

“Oh I think you do.” He looked at you, suspicion evident in the way his eyes were narrowed and his eyebrows, normally straight across, were bent down in scrutiny. It was such a strong look that you had a hard time hiding your reaction to seeing him so close. “You like this?” He ran his knuckles along his jaw, along his growing beard. You heard something in his voice that gave you pause. You couldn’t place it, but it activated a primal emotion set that you did your best to bury.

“Why would I care about that?” You sounded less than convincing to your own ears. You quickly looked away from him and continued your rounds, passing along a new book to someone else. He surprisingly followed you. You had hoped he would drop it and head back now that he got what he came for. You had a hard time dealing with his intensity in person, and in such large doses. You would prefer to admire him from afar. It was safer for you, anyway. You didn’t know if there were consequences for falling for Poppy’s right-metal hand-man as the conversation had never come up, but you weren’t about to find out.

“You can’t hide the flush in your cheeks from me.” You felt your stomach drop. Doing your best to ignore him, you continued on. “I see how you react to me. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Oh shit. Hell no. Absolutely not. He seemed to take your silence as an invitation to continue. You saw the raised eyebrow of the guard in front of you as you passed him his requested items and tried not to think of how this must look. How dare Charlie do this to you in front of other people. “I don’t bite, you know.” Oh god, this can’t be happening. “Unless, of course, you want me to.” You widened your eyes at his last remark and whipped around, smacking him in the leg with the bag you had slung over your shoulder on accident. You pushed him back, away from the guard. You could feel the firmness of his chest beneath your hands, but that was irrelevant.

“Will you shut up!” You angrily whispered. He didn’t seem deterred in the slightest. In fact, he was smiling. You pointed a finger at his chest, pressing hard. “You don’t get to embarrass me in front of everyone.” His smile faltered, and he didn’t move as you turned around and walked away.

“Charlie, stop bothering that poor girl.” Poppy closed the computer in front of her, focusing her attention on the now-distracted man. He had wandered into the diner after his encounter with you, massaging the source of pain in the center of his chest and feeling a little unsteady. He certainly hadn’t meant to upset you. He was doing his best to flirt with you, but maybe he had come on a little too strong. “She’s the best employee we have. We would be a mess without her. It’s very important, giving them some creature comforts. They’d be too restless otherwise. We don’t have anyone who could possibly replace her.”

Poppy always had a plan, always had an explanation for everything. It was what he admired most about her. This current situation defied explanation, however. He didn’t know what to do. “I’m not bothering her, just…” He couldn’t explain himself to Poppy without feeling a little uncomfortable. She was practically a mother to him at this point, but he couldn’t talk to her about you.

“You’re bothering her. If she’s not interested, leave her alone. We need her.” Poppy reclined in her desk chair, resting her feet up on the corner of her desk. She glanced out the window next to her and observed her domain functioning as it should.

“But I’m pretty sure she is interested.” He sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk, resting his chin on his metal hand. Now that he was here, discussing it, he hoped Poppy could help him. He thought you were interested in him if your constant blushing and guarded behavior around him was any indication. Maybe Poppy could give him some good advice.

“Have you bothered asking her?” She glanced over at him, her hands neatly folded over her stomach. “You can’t guess at that sort of thing.”

“Well, no, but I-”

“So just ask her.” The thought of simply walking up and bluntly questioning her feelings didn’t feel right. Before he could say anything to Poppy, she let out a groan. “Look, here’s your opportunity to make up for what you just did. I swear, we need to get rid of him.”

Charlie followed her eyes and noticed that Sal had taken the bag you were carrying earlier and was going through it. You stood near him, arms crossed over your chest. If he weren’t twice your size, Charlie was sure Sal would be regretting that. But Charlie could certainly help with that. As he walked towards the doors leading out of the diner, Poppy called out to him. “Don’t break anything, please!”

“If you wanted something, you should have asked for it. You can’t take things from other people just because you’re lazy.” You stood, waiting for Sal to return your bag. “Come on, give it back. I actually have work to do, unlike you.” You held your hand out for the bag, watching him rummage through it with an annoyed look on your face. Sal was always a thorn in your side. Those unsavory characters you mentioned before? He was at the top of that list.

“You should listen to her.” Charlie’s voice was deep and threatening and you couldn’t deny the effect it had on you, but you were still aggravated at how he made you feel earlier. You weren’t glad he decided to intervene. You could handle this yourself. You did on days he wasn’t here. This wasn’t new behavior from Sal.

Sal looked up at Charlie, not at all intimidated. That was a mistake. “Look at you, metal man, coming out here to defend your girl.” Whoa, big mistake.

Both you and Charlie reacted immediately, though to different things. “I am not his girl.”

“Metal man?” Charlie nearly yelled.

Sal looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Better get your stories straight, eh? Everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows what?!” You reached out, grabbing Sal’s shirt in your hand. It probably wasn’t as threatening as you intended, but it got the message across. You weren’t messing around.

Charlie took a step forward, placing a shiny hand on your shoulder. You noticed it in your peripheral vision before he even touched you. “We should talk.” You let go of Sal and looked up at Charlie. Why today? Why did he have to do this today? This was more contact than you’d had with him in weeks, all rolled into one morning. Charlie held out his other hand to Sal, who dutifully handed over the bag but not before taking the only thing you had ordered for yourself.

“Not that, please-”

“Put it back,” Charlie growled, again putting his deeper voice on display. Sal sighed and dropped the item back in the bag. He walked away, grumbling about something under his breath. Once Sal was out of earshot, Charlie turned to you. “Hey, I-”

“I didn’t need your help, you know.” You took the bag from him and shrugged off his hand on your shoulder, replacing its weight with the strap of the bag. You moved some things around in the bag, trying to organize it again as you spoke. “I’m not some helpless little girl you have to protect, I can handle things myself-”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He stopped you from turning around by grabbing your upper arms gently. “I know you can handle yourself. I never doubted that.” You avoided looking at him, instead shrugging off his gentle grip and walking away. Charlie was at a loss. He didn’t know how to approach you without making you uncomfortable or upset. He turned to face the diner, where he spotted Poppy watching the exchange. He threw his hands in the air and she suppressed a smile.

You walked down the hallway, towel-drying your hair. You had changed into some cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt after your shower, hoping to have a chance to relax for a bit. On your way back to your room, you noticed Charlie headed your way, a towel thrown over his shoulder. You kept your head down, hoping he would keep walking. You were conflicted when he passed right by you, not saying anything at all. It was the outcome you had hoped for, but you still couldn’t deny that you wanted his attention. There was something about him that both pleased and vexed you. Perhaps it was that you didn’t know if you were even allowed to have feelings for him that made you angry with him, as if it was all his fault.

You got settled in your room, sitting up in your bed with a book open in your lap. Your bag sat on the floor next to your boots, finally empty. You had no other commitments for the rest of the day. Poppy had told you to spend the rest of your evening relaxing, so that’s exactly what you planned to do. You didn’t have the guts to discuss Charlie with her, and you weren’t sure if you ever would. Whenever you were speaking with her at her desk in the diner, you would catch the shine of the grinder out of the corner of your eye and get nervous. You yourself hadn’t been required to undergo the recruitment test that the other men had, and you were thankful, but you kept waiting for the day where she would ask that of you. You weren’t sure if you would be able to do it.

Unable to focus, you slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the desk, running your hands over your face in exasperation. You should have never agreed to come out here. Why had you come out here? You couldn’t even remember anymore. Maybe you needed to leave. You didn’t know if you even could. You reached over your shoulder to touch the ring of gold burned into your skin. You could feel the raised outline of it through your shirt. You wouldn’t be able to forget this place.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” You whipped your head around to see Charlie in the doorway, towel slung low around his hips. You could still see drops of water on his shoulders. The arm and its harness were gone. He must have just left the shower. Your mouth fell open in your attempt to reply, but you couldn’t form the words as your eyes roamed his bare chest for the first time. Thinking about running your fingers through the hair on his chest had you gripping the comforter tightly in your hands.

“Uh, maybe put some clothes on first?” You looked away from him and instead focused on the comforter you were holding on to. You started picking at it, pulling at a loose thread. A weight settling at the edge of the bed forced you to look up. You could see the muscles in his back as he leaned forward, his elbow on his thigh. You reached out and ran a finger across his shoulder blade and instantly recoiled once you touched his hot skin. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You brought your legs up to your chest to make yourself as small as possible. You didn’t think you could blush any harder than you currently were. You could see him smiling, and you got angry all over again. “What are you doing here, Charlie?”

“I wanted to talk to you, remember?” He looked over his shoulder at you, his blue eyes roaming over your face. He had a serious look on his face, and between that and his posture he somehow managed to appear vulnerable.

“O-okay then, talk.” You wrapped your arms around your knees, keeping them pulled up against your chest. You did that mostly so you didn’t accidentally touch him again.

“Why are you always so angry with me?” He asked. That was a loaded question. If you answered it honestly, you’d really mess things up. If you lied, then you’d only grow angry with yourself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to work on it.” You avoided his gaze as you sidestepped around his question.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Of course it wasn’t. What he was asking for you to explain was the root of all your problems with him. Your fear of your own feelings, and the possible consequences of making them known. Though it was certainly pleasurable, you didn’t want to be distracted by Charlie if you knew it couldn’t happen. And it shouldn’t. Maybe if you explained that to him, he would leave you alone.

You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned. “Alright, fine.” He sat up straight, turning to face you. You avoided eye contact and steeled yourself so you could focus on explaining it to him. “I only get angry with you because I am interested in you-”

“You are?” You ignored his interruption, opting to continue with what you were saying before you left some important detail out.

“But I know it’s not going to happen. Poppy would probably flip if she knew, and I kind of like living. I appreciate everything you do to try to help me, but having you around is a constant reminder of all the things I shouldn’t be feeling. So…maybe just keep your distance. That would probably be easier.” There, you finally said it. He would have to understand the consequences you would face. You could go back to your brief greetings, and things would stay the same. “I’ll still get you your stuff-”

“Poppy knows.” Those two words sent your comfort level rocketing down to depths you didn’t know you could feel. Instantly you felt your arms trembling and you squeezed them tighter around your knees. You had just spoken with her, and she knew? Oh god, how on earth had you- “She knows how I feel, anyway.” You looked up at his words, knowing none of that could help you. He wasn’t the one who would experience the consequences.

“Poppy is going to kill me for all this.” You mumbled it, but he still heard you. He reached out and laid his hand on your knee. You felt the roughness of his skin and you forced yourself to remain present and coherent as you thought about what his hand would feel like all over. You shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“No she’s not.” He gave your knee a squeeze and you forced yourself to move away from him, standing up next to the desk. “She’s more worried about me scaring you off than anything else.” He stood up, getting close to you. As his face neared yours, you turned your head. How had this whole situation transformed so quickly? You still couldn’t allow yourself to react to him. He still felt forbidden and out of reach. You didn’t like the confusing mixture of emotions running through you. Everything was at odds with each other in your mind.

“You should go.” You lifted your hands to create a barrier, but you came into contact with his abdomen on your way up. You felt him suck in a breath. You smoothed your hands up his torso, feeling his muscles tense underneath your fingers. You stopped at his collarbone, enjoying the feeling of him. You noticed his eyes fall closed, and you immediately dropped your hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?” You moved your hands to cover your face, but the brief memory of the way he felt under your palms prevented you from touching anything. You were absolutely overwhelmed and more conflicted than you had ever been in your life. “Charlie, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I-”

You felt his hand on your cheek and you jumped but then settled into his touch. He lifted your face to look up at him and offered you a gentle smile. “Just breathe. You need to relax. I can go, but I want you to think about this, to consider this. I’ll respect your wishes if you want me to leave you alone. Just say the word.” You nodded and he took a step back, releasing your face. Your skin burned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You nodded again, and offered him the best smile you could muster, which wasn’t much with how little control you had over your emotions at present, but he seemed satisfied. He backed out of the room and left you standing there, heart in your throat. What on earth were you supposed to do now?

You didn’t see him at all the next day, or the day after that. Or at all the next week, either. You let yourself feel responsible. Poppy had sent him away, you just knew it. And it was all because of you. The time without him around allowed you to attempt to sort out your feelings. You felt obligated to tell him, but he wasn’t around. Your frustration grew as more time passed without him making any contact. You had decided that night that you only had two options that wouldn’t slowly drive you insane.

You could either attempt to leave, praying you didn’t step on a landmine on your way out, or you could stay and come to terms with whatever it was that Charlie might feel for you. That also meant allowing yourself to admit what you felt towards him. Both options were intimidating, but you knew you would have a hard time going back to how things were, now that you knew you wouldn’t be decapitated by Poppy. She had actually been pretty nice to you in Charlie’s absence, but she avoided talking about him.

You still ordered his tea for him and left it in his room. You also finally ordered his razors and left them waiting for him too. You didn’t feel like lying to him anymore. After the second week and still nothing from him, you started to get worried. Had he left for good? Was that why Poppy refused to talk about him being gone from the compound for so long?

You marched over to the theater in the darkness and pulled open the door, ignoring the guard who attempted to stop you. You stomped down the aisle, blinking at the garish lighting effects as Elton John performed onstage. At your entrance he paused and the music was cut altogether. Poppy turned around in her large chair and brought the microphone up to her face. “Y/N, what brings you here?”

“Where is he? He’s been gone for so long, something must have happened to him.” You stopped once you were standing in front of her and she turned the microphone off, setting it in the empty chair beside her, a chair reserved for Charlie, you realized.

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to worry about him, he’ll be back soon. But don’t worry, I’ll let him know how much you miss him the next time I talk to him.” You frowned.

“The next time you- when is soon?” Now that you knew he was alright, you allowed yourself to calm down a little.

“I’m not sure exactly, but I would imagine within a couple of days. My plant in Italy should be entirely self-sufficient by then.” Italy. He was in Italy. He wasn’t in danger, and he was probably even having fun. It soured your mood a little bit. He couldn’t have found some way to contact you at all during the last couple of weeks? Especially after the last conversation you had?

There was nothing to be done about it. You would just have to keep waiting. You felt embarrassed for storming in there and disrupting things. “I’m sorry.” You stepped around the large chair and marched back out of the theater. You could hear her voice through the speakers as the door closed behind you. You stuck your hands in your pockets and headed back to your room. Soon was better than never, you supposed.

“What the fuck is this?” You felt the mattress dip and you turned over sleepily, trying to see in the dark. You couldn’t see much of anything so you reached over and turned on your bedside lamp which ended up being too bright so you shut it off again. You heard familiar laughter and felt the bed shaking. Charlie.

“It’s not funny.” You mumbled, irritated. But that was short-lived because he was back, and far sooner than you expected.

“You thought you were fooling me all this time? And now you give me these?” He dropped the pack of razors on your stomach and you felt in the darkness for it. “It’s not like anyone else started growing a beard. Why’d you hide these from me?”

“I like your beard,” you confessed in your groggy state. “And if you were so smart, why didn’t you take some from someone else?” You groaned and sat up, giving him more space to sit on the twin bed.

You could just make out his features in the light coming in through the window. He was smiling, but there was something else there that you couldn’t decipher, not yet at least.

“Because I figured there was a reason for all this. I just wanted to let it play out.” You felt cold metal against the side of your face and you leaned into it, putting your hand over his bionic one. “I wish I could feel that,” he breathed.

“Here.” You reached for his other hand blindly, coming into contact with his forearm in the darkness. You both chuckled for a moment before you placed his other hand on the other side of your face, covering that hand too. He smoothed his thumb across your cheek and let out a breath. “You were gone for a long time.” He paused his movements. “I thought I knew exactly what I would say to you when you got back, but I don’t even remember it now,” you confessed. “But, um, I guess it would be important to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me alone.” You could hear your own heartbeat in the silence that followed. You worried that maybe you misunderstood or that he might have changed his mind during his absence and you felt uneasy. “I’m sorry if-”

You felt him pull you in and you were cut off by his lips pressing firmly against yours. Your hands left his and traveled up his neck. You finally let yourself touch his beard with your fingers, scratching it a little, enjoying the way it scraped against your skin. You didn’t do a good job of suppressing your groan as he opened his mouth against yours, deepening the kiss you had imagined receiving for a while now. What you had invented in your mind didn’t even come close to actually having him there, his hot mouth and full lips proving to be the tools of your own destruction.

He got closer to you, releasing his hold on your face to throw off his thin jacket. He then let his hands rest on your sides, fingers teasing at the skin under the hem of your thin camisole. You held the back of his head, keeping his mouth firmly on yours despite your need for air. You let your other hand slide from his jaw, down the front of his neck, fingers gently trailing over the device on his throat as they made their way down to rest against his chest. He separated from you, both of you breathing heavily. “Does it bother you?” He panted, gesturing towards his throat in the darkness.

You sat up in the bed, throwing off the covers. “Why on earth would that bother me, Charlie? Of course it doesn’t.” You moved over to him and gently tilted his chin up, exposing his throat. You pressed a kiss to the cold metal there and you felt him swallow in reaction. You stayed at his neck, moving off to the side to press kisses there, continuing down until you ran into the collar of his shirt.

“Uh, here I’ve got to-” He reached for the straps of the harness and you moved his hands away.

“Let me.” You could see the vulnerability in his eyes despite the poor lighting as he hesitantly dropped his hands. He hadn’t recovered from this, not mentally. You felt for the buckles and shamelessly took advantage of being able to run your hands all over his chest. You felt him giggle at one point and you liked that you seemed to be putting him at ease. You gently undid the buckle along his abdomen first, followed by the one that ran across his chest diagonally. You didn’t want to mess them up, so you carefully bundled them up and reached over to set them on your desk. You had the wide strap left, which covered his shoulder. You ran your hand up his side and he let his head fall on your shoulder with a gasp.

“I should let you do this every day.” You smiled to yourself, leaning your head against his. It was somehow incredibly intimate. You would certainly do this anytime he asked. You unsnapped the largest of the buckles and followed the wider band up to remove the rest of the harness at the base of his shoulder. You were doing this blind, his head on your shoulder preventing you from actually seeing the harness. “There’s, uh, one more, it’s hard to find, I can do it.” He sat up and reached over with his left hand and you watched as he unclasped the smallest of the buckles which wrapped around the metal arm itself. Now that the harness was loose, he pulled it away and tossed it on the floor. “Do you want me to keep it on?” He meant the arm.

“What do you want?” You asked. He thought about it for a moment before he twisted the arm in an unnatural direction and pulled it away from his shoulder, looking around for a place to put it. “I can set it over here, on the desk,” you offered. You held up your hands and he gently lowered it into your arms. You stood up and walked over to the desk, setting it down with a gentle thud. When you turned around to return to the bed, he was standing, leaning to compensate for the missing weight on his right side.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You could see him better now that he was standing in front of the window. He stepped further into the light coming in from the window and reached down to pull his shirt off over his head. You watched his muscles flex as the shirt rose, exposing more and more of him until it was lying on the floor with his jacket and harness. He quickly undid his belt and pants and kicked them off as well. He kept his black boxer briefs on. He stood up straight, still leaning a little to the side, but you thought he looked perfect. You let yourself approach him, lightly running a finger along his collarbone. He let a smile flicker across his face and his breathing changed. “Now let me take care of you.”

He bent down and wrapped his arm around your thighs, picking you up easily. Your hands instinctively went for his shoulders to support yourself, but he was very careful with you. He carried you back to the bed and slowly lowered you down, staying over you. He supported himself with his arm as he kissed you again. You only got to taste him for a moment before he started pressing sloppy kisses down your neck. You kept one hand wrapped around his bicep, giving him gentle squeezes as he nipped at your skin here and there, and the other rested lightly on the back of his head as he moved lower. You noticed his right shoulder move and he looked down at the missing arm, a little distracted. You realized what he had tried to do and lifted your leg, wrapping it around his hip. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You cupped his cheeks with both hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that.” You were serious. You hated that he even felt the need to apologize in the first place. He looked down at you as if seeing you for the first time, a bit of wonder in his expression.

“How are you real?” You flushed and let go of his face. “What do I have to do to keep you happy?” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to your breast, biting down through the thin cotton camisole. You were not expecting that. The fluttery feeling low in your abdomen strengthened, and you arched your back, pushing your chest up harder against his mouth. You let out a moan and reached back up to hold his bicep again, squeezing tightly. “That? Is that what you want?” He spoke against the fabric, his lips brushing against your nipple. He bit down again once he was done talking.

“Oh, god yes,” you whispered. He moved lower, to the hem of the shirt you were still wearing. You wanted to squeeze your thighs shut, but he was between them already and you just ended up squeezing your legs tighter around him. His nose brushed against the skin of your abdomen and you jumped. You felt him smile into your skin as he pressed a kiss there.

His beard was comfortingly scratchy against your skin as he moved up, nudging the shirt up as best as he could. You realized he was improvising in the removal of your shirt due to him supporting all his weight on his good arm. You sucked in a breath as his nose nudged against the underside of your breast. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You let go of his arm and reached down to grab the shirt and pull it off over your head.  You hadn’t realized you were sweating until the fabric left you and the cold air replaced it. He took advantage of your momentary distraction and returned his mouth to your chest, sucking hard on the sensitive skin, intent on leaving a mark. You let your head fall back and you scratched your nails over his scalp soothingly, enjoying the feeling of the fuzzy softness of his buzzed hair under your fingertips.

He ground his hips down into yours and you felt him firm against you. You felt a dull ache between your legs, as well as the sensation of being profoundly hollow. “Oh, Charlie, please-” you moaned.

“Fuck yes, tell me what you want.” He did his best to catch his breath, chilling the moist skin where he had surely left a bruise. He brought himself back up so he was mostly level with you and pressed a firm, wet kiss to the side of your neck. “What do you want, love, what do you need from me?” You could feel his arm shaking a little, and you realized he had been supporting all of his body weight the entire time.

“Hey, relax.” You reached up and ran your hand up and down his arm. “Rest for a second.” He let his weight settle on you with a sigh and you could tell it bothered him. You ran your hands up and down his back as he breathed, his arm stretched out for a moment at his side. You loved the skin to skin contact, as sweaty as you both were.

“This is so frustrating,” you heard him say.

“Don’t,” you warned him. “Now turn over.”

“What?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I need you to turn over,” you repeated. He pushed against the mattress until he was sitting up, allowing you to get out from under him and stand for a moment. You caught him watching you as he settled down, flat on his back. You pushed your thin shorts and underwear down your legs, stepping out of them before returning to the bed. You pulled his underwear down his long legs with a smile, tossing them on the ever-growing pile of clothes in the middle of the floor.

He reached down but you got there first, wrapping your small hand around him, giving him a few experimental pumps. He let out what you would describe as a whine before letting his head fall back against the pillow. After a few more strokes, you added your mouth. His head shot up and you could hear his moans as he attempted to protest. His mouth hung open, but he couldn’t speak. You watched the rise and fall of his chest. His large hand smoothed your hair out of the way, holding it in a loose bun at the base of your head. He didn’t attempt to push your head down, though you felt his fingers flexing in your hair. You took your time tasting him, listening for his breathing to pause, learning what he liked.

“Babe, come here,” he managed, gently pulling at your hair. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” You released him reluctantly and wiped your mouth before sitting up. He was pink from his chest to his cheeks, and he still hadn’t recovered. You felt that ache again as you looked him over, seeing just how not composed he was.

He reached down and brushed his knuckles along the inside of your thigh. You jumped back, completely unprepared for the throbbing you felt between your legs as a result. “Come here,” he repeated. You raised an eyebrow at him, hand moving to your thigh where he had touched you, hoping to dull the sensation. It didn’t work.

He lost his patience and sat up, hand firmly grabbing your hip and pulling you down closer to the middle of the mattress, you naturally falling back. He spread your thighs and your mind went through all the times where you imagined what this would be like. “Is this what you were thinking of when you started hiding my razors?” He lightly ran his jaw along the inside of your thighs, leaving you speechless. You whimpered. You wanted to feel the rawness between your thighs when he was done with you. A reminder of what he-

“Is it?” He ran his tongue along your slit, applying light pressure once he reached that wonderful bundle of nerves. You could feel his beard scratching the sensitive skin along the insides of your thighs and you almost lost it right then. He flattened his tongue against you and paused to look up at you. You could feel the throbbing of your clit against the stillness of his tongue. You wondered if he felt it too. If you could have one picture, you wished it was that, him looking up at you like that. He kept his hand pressed into your abdomen, anchoring you so you couldn’t get up. “Is it?” He repeated.

You finally nodded. “Yes, yes exactly this.”

You watched him smile. “Good, me too.” Oh, fuck. Did he just admit to having the same fantasy as you?

You moaned loudly as he continued the expert use of his tongue, squealing when he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your hands went for his hair, but there was nothing to grab onto. He laughed into you and you wanted to hit him for it. He continued his slow but methodical teasing, and you felt everything all at once. The pull of his mouth on your hot center, the sweat practically dripping down the back of your legs, the irritation on the insides of your thighs, his hand forcing you down into the mattress. “Fuck, Charlie, I’m-”

“That’s it, come for me. You can do it.” He punctuated his words with more hot wet pressure and that was all it took. You mumbled a string of curses under your breath as his grip on you tightened. He alternated levels of pressure as your legs attempted to close around his head. He moved his hand from your abdomen to your thigh to prevent you from closing your legs as he made sure you finished completely. You fell back, completely limp and panting. He kissed the inside of one of your thighs and sat up. “You’re fucking amazing,” he spoke, looking down at you. He ran a hand across his chin.

You moved to sit up, wanting to reward him with a huge kiss but he leaned over you. He buried his face in your neck and relaxed. You let your hands explore his back, slowly raking your fingernails up and down. He gave you less than a minute before he pushed into you. You hissed, still extremely sensitive. He filled you easily as you were already swollen and slick.

“Fucking hell, Charlie.” You pulled his face up to yours and captured his open mouth in a searing kiss. You let one of your hands reach next to your head to rub his arm while you met his deep thrusts with a roll of your hips. He cursed to himself and rested his forehead against your collarbone, doing his best to maintain a steady pace. You were already close again as he picked up the pace, his thrusts quick and deep. He had to be close because he kept mumbling your name under his breath. You came again, your spasms bringing him right down with you. He grunted and was able to manage a few more good thrusts before he fell on top of you, weak and completely spent.

You ran your hands up and down his spine gently, teasingly, his body heat protecting you from the chill as the air hit the perspiration on every exposed inch of your skin. “I missed you,” you confessed. “I was worried you had left me here.”

He breathed deeply before replying. “It was only supposed to take a few days, or so I was told.” He moved onto his back and you rolled over to rest your cheek on his chest, keeping one of his long legs trapped between yours. He reached over and pulled the comforter up over the both of you. “Once I got there, it was clear that they had been embellishing their progress.”

He found one of your hands and threaded his fingers through yours. “But I realized something while I was stuck on that freezing mountain- without a sat phone, if you can believe it.” He smiled, smoothing a thumb over the top of your hand.

“What?” You asked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He looked down at you and kissed your swollen lips.

“I’m a little bit in love with you.” You were struck by his confession. He studied you, trying to see what your reaction would be. His blue eyes glowed. You didn’t expect anything like this from him, but you were definitely glad to hear it.

“I’m a little bit in love with you too.” You were certain of it. He had the biggest grin on his face. He kissed your forehead and you relaxed against him.

“Get some rest, love.” He kissed the back of your hand and settled in, keeping your linked hands on his chest. “We can talk more in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Hi guys, Brian here

I’m writing this post because we found out yesterday that Emily is allergic to pollen. Like, suuuuper allergic. Like, looking at her you’d think she’d watched “The Notebook” and the opening sequence from “Up” back to back. Her poor little lash-less eyes are so red and watery that she can barely see. Also she’s been so congested at night that she can’t sleep. So last night she took something to knock herself out, and she’s still out as I write this, which is 7:39 am on Friday. That’s crazy for Emily, she’s usually up at 5:30 writing posts for the blog. So now I’m up early writing for the blog. I’ll keep you posted on when she wakes up… Hopefully, she goes for a while, she needs it. Let’s start with a video so you can get the full scale and get Emily right before the pollen fully attacked (just wait for the ad to play). OK. I’m back. The garage. This has a special significance for me because there’s something innate in men to have a squared away garage. I think it’s because the garage is the one room in the house (or out of the house I guess) where function matters more than form. It’s kind of the only place where I can win some design battles. In a garage, you’re not trying to figure out which pouf would offset the muted tones of a chaise lounge, you’re trying to figure out how many rakes can we fit on that wall. And that’s my kind of design. The problem is, I’m lacking motivation to do things right now, which I think is a symptom of the whole quarantine thing. After home-schooling the kids in the morning, I find myself acting like an old British man, mumbling incoherently and stumbling around the house in a daze until cocktail hour. But Emily, pre-allergies, is ever-motivated and kept threatened to do the garage herself until I acquiesced. So off to the garage we went! Our garage here at the Mountain House is pretty small and has not been organized in about a year. Plus it was the storage site for the reader event we threw and photoshoots we did last year, so there’s a lot that needs to be sorted and donated or driven back to LA. Here’s Emily showing off the space before her face got attacked by pollen. As you can see, we never spent a lot of time thinking about the organization of this space. Emily and I are both kind of “I’ll just put this here and deal with it later” people, which isn’t a good combination when it comes to garages. We’ve got a shelving unit up, but it’s not being used very well. And we’ve got lots of random stuff near the shelves, but we just didn’t make it to the final step of putting them on the shelves, which is hilarious. Plus we have a bunch of stuff we need to find new homes for (not in our home) like the rugs, and some chairs, and some lampshades. We have a LOT of random lampshades. Anyone else have that problem? BTW, it’s 8:01 am, and still no Emily. It’s getting to that point where I might go check to see if she’s still breathing. So after Emily got the old British drunk to focus on the garage, we figured out some specific things that we needed: storage for our tools and yard stuff, space for our bikes, an area that we can rotate for seasonal things like beach stuff in summer and sled stuff in winter, a redesign of the shelving, and of course space enough to park my 6 seat “Ferrari” golf cart, which I will still defend as one of the best craigslist finds any human has ever made. I mean the best, right?? Ok moving along… It should be noted that there originally wasn’t access to the garage from inside the house so we put in that little stairway (it has to be that big for code, but we could certainly reduce its footprint). We love the access and we use it all the time but it does mean that we will never be able to put an actual car in here. But honestly, it’s so small that we don’t know if we would have been able to fit our big cars anyway. So yes, we need to be able to put the Ferrari in there, but that’s about it. Here are more pics of the whole original mess: We have a lot of Christmas stuff in those bins, which takes up a lot of space. We need to find a new spot for it though because it’s silly that something we only use for two months is dictating so much space for the whole year. First Round of Organization After everything was removed and cleaned it was much easier to see what might be possible in there. We gave some stuff to some neighbors up here, we drove some stuff back to LA, we relocated some stuff, and we learned that we had a lot of broken things that had to go in the trash. Emily just came out of the bedroom, it’s 8:11 am. I don’t think she’s slept in that late since college. She says she’s feeling better today. So here are some decisions we still need to make: We need shelving, but could certainly make it nicer than that. And while we love that staircase do we want to make it nicer than that? Paint the janky railing? Like I said, we could have made it just three steps down without the railing but not legally, so we put in this big guy. We aren’t terribly motivated to demo it out and likely will just work with it for now. The big black fridge came out of the kitchen during the remodel, and we were using it for secondary food storage, until someone accidentally unplugged it before we left for a few months. When we came back and made the mistake of cracking the door open, we were slapped with the most gag-inducing putrid smell and discovered a moldy sludge that had covered all the surfaces. We closed it back up and there it sits like the arc of the covenant, waiting to melt someone else’s face off. We tried disinfecting it, but it may be a lost cause. We need to make a call on this one. Like how much do we REALLY need a garage fridge?? Emily doesn’t think we need a garage fridge, because apparently she’s ok with pulling out 12 pounds of food to access the thing she wants in the back of our kitchen fridge. She says we’re doing fine without it now, but I’m less optimistic. Maybe things will change in a bit, but right now we are doing huge grocery shops to lessen the frequency of shopping, which means that every time we open the fridge it’s like that cliché scene in every comedy movie where the guy opens the closet full of stuff and everything falls on top of him, capped by a late bowling ball to the head. That’s our fridge, but it’s a jar of bread and butter pickles that rolls out last. I also think a garage fridge is a perfect pace for beverages, which take up a bunch of room. And our kids aren’t old enough yet to try to steal adult beverages out of the garage fridge, so we’re good right? I mean, once they turn 13, I’ll put a lock on it, like my friend Alan’s dad should have. But for now, we’re good. What do you guys think? Fridge or no fridge? I got a big-brimmed hat at the hardware store and I’m now super into yard work. I bagged 17 contractor bags of oak leaves last week and still have more to do, so I obviously need some space for my tools. We have this little nook that is a covered space for storage if need be (and another entrance into the garage), we may put the bikes in here if we can figure out how to get them in there and still have space to get into the garage from the side yard. It took hours for us to clean and it wasn’t pretty. It was full of so much extra tile, leaves, random paint cans, our friend’s kayaks we just inherited, and empty gross Pepsi bottles left over from the construction crew (from two years ago). We feel very accomplished that it looks like this now: We actually found some unused space up in the attic that we stuffed all the Christmas and winter stuff in, which was super helpful. The attic entrance is across from the kids’ play area, and the other storage space we have is behind a hidden door that goes to the guts of the house. What’s Now? We still have to figure out things like the shelving and the fridge. We also are going to find a way to hang the bikes because they take up an abnormal amount of space. Also, the ceilings are nice and high, so we’re trying to figure out if there’s a way to hang some stuff up there for storage. The Solutions We need some tool storage but I don’t know if we really need anything fancy. It seems like at least considering something like this (below) would be nice and may make me feel more manly. Like whenever I have to replace a battery in a kid’s toy I can make a big deal out of folding out my workbench and feel like a handy guy. image source I’m also worried that I would leave all my tools on the table instead of hanging them up in their right place. I think I may need a big box to throw them in. I know, I’m lazy, but it’s folly to think that I’m going to change. This person’s garage is dreamy. design and photo by simply organized I feel like this is good inspo for storage. The only problem for us is that the space between the wall and that big staircase is pretty narrow so I don’t think we could hang bikes and pull the golf cart in…. a sentence I never imagined that I would ever write. Sorry, I know these are all champagne “problems” but hey, we’re writing what we’re actually going through up here. But I really like how there’s two rows of storage happening, the shelf for bins and underneath for hanging things that get used often. These are some good broom and rake storage options that could work: 1. LETMY Broom Holder Wall Mounted | 2. Corner Double Tool Rack | 3. Koova Wall Mount Garden and Garage Tool Organizer | 4. Deluxe Tool Tower | 5. Goowin Broom Holder | 6. Stalwart Rolling Garden We thought about getting a small outdoor shed to house things like rakes and such, but I think it makes more sense to keep everything contained to the garage. Plus it’s been impossible to find a shed that has gotten Emily’s approval. image source We got into mountain biking up here, and Charlie is finally up and running on a peddle bike, so we definitely will be using them a lot. Right now, I think mine is laying in a pile of leaves on one side of the house while Emily’s and Charlie’s are sprawled out around a tree on the other side. That can’t keep happening, our neighbors must think that we’ve been raptured mid-bike-ride. So we will try one of these. Have you guys used any that you recommend? 1. TORACK Bike Rack Garage | 2. 6-Bike Storage Rack 2.0 | 3. Elfa Utility Vertical Bike Hook | 4. Copenhagen Wall Mount Bike Rack | 5. Delta Cycle Leonardo Da Vinci Single Bike Storage| 6. Bike Wall Mount And while we’ve found a way to clear out most of our bins, I’m sure we’ll accumulate more, so we’ll need a good vertical storage system. I’d love to say I could build one, but I’d also love to say that I can do a standing jump over a car or that I can run faster than a gazelle. I’m just not that handy y’all. design and photo by simply organized | design and photo by modern builds Here are some solutions we are considering… 1. Platinum Elfa Utility Basement Storage | 2. Bror | 3. Matias the Heavy Duty Storage System Ceiling Mounted Rack | 4. Shelf Steel Freestanding Storage Cabinet | 5. Chrome-Finished Tower Shelving | 6. LEXIMOUNTS WR24B Storage Rack Lord knows we go through a lot of storage here in Emily Hendersonland, and we’ve used lots of types of bins. Here are my tips – they can’t be hard plastic because they break, they have to have a good seal, preferably not the clip handle because those break, they should have good grips for when you move them a hundred times, and they should be stackable. 1. Tough Storage Bin | 2. Brute Tote Storage Container | 3. Heavy Duty 54 Gal. Storage Bin So that’s where we are with the garage so far. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s looking much better in there, plus we’ve kept it pretty clean since the organizing day. We’ll see how long that lasts. But at least for now, the garage is no longer a place to just dump stuff and go, it’s clean and organized and we can see the potential. Or at least I can see the potential, Emily may not be able to see much until spring is over. Stupid pollen. The post We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It appeared first on Emily Henderson. #Design101 #MountainHouse #Design101

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/hi-guys-brian-here

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: Hi guys, Brian here

I’m writing this post because we found out yesterday that Emily is allergic to pollen. Like, suuuuper allergic. Like, looking at her you’d think she’d watched “The Notebook” and the opening sequence from “Up” back to back. Her poor little lash-less eyes are so red and watery that she can barely see. Also she’s been so congested at night that she can’t sleep. So last night she took something to knock herself out, and she’s still out as I write this, which is 7:39 am on Friday. That’s crazy for Emily, she’s usually up at 5:30 writing posts for the blog. So now I’m up early writing for the blog. I’ll keep you posted on when she wakes up… Hopefully, she goes for a while, she needs it. Let’s start with a video so you can get the full scale and get Emily right before the pollen fully attacked (just wait for the ad to play). OK. I’m back. The garage. This has a special significance for me because there’s something innate in men to have a squared away garage. I think it’s because the garage is the one room in the house (or out of the house I guess) where function matters more than form. It’s kind of the only place where I can win some design battles. In a garage, you’re not trying to figure out which pouf would offset the muted tones of a chaise lounge, you’re trying to figure out how many rakes can we fit on that wall. And that’s my kind of design. The problem is, I’m lacking motivation to do things right now, which I think is a symptom of the whole quarantine thing. After home-schooling the kids in the morning, I find myself acting like an old British man, mumbling incoherently and stumbling around the house in a daze until cocktail hour. But Emily, pre-allergies, is ever-motivated and kept threatened to do the garage herself until I acquiesced. So off to the garage we went! Our garage here at the Mountain House is pretty small and has not been organized in about a year. Plus it was the storage site for the reader event we threw and photoshoots we did last year, so there’s a lot that needs to be sorted and donated or driven back to LA. Here’s Emily showing off the space before her face got attacked by pollen. As you can see, we never spent a lot of time thinking about the organization of this space. Emily and I are both kind of “I’ll just put this here and deal with it later” people, which isn’t a good combination when it comes to garages. We’ve got a shelving unit up, but it’s not being used very well. And we’ve got lots of random stuff near the shelves, but we just didn’t make it to the final step of putting them on the shelves, which is hilarious. Plus we have a bunch of stuff we need to find new homes for (not in our home) like the rugs, and some chairs, and some lampshades. We have a LOT of random lampshades. Anyone else have that problem? BTW, it’s 8:01 am, and still no Emily. It’s getting to that point where I might go check to see if she’s still breathing. So after Emily got the old British drunk to focus on the garage, we figured out some specific things that we needed: storage for our tools and yard stuff, space for our bikes, an area that we can rotate for seasonal things like beach stuff in summer and sled stuff in winter, a redesign of the shelving, and of course space enough to park my 6 seat “Ferrari” golf cart, which I will still defend as one of the best craigslist finds any human has ever made. I mean the best, right?? Ok moving along… It should be noted that there originally wasn’t access to the garage from inside the house so we put in that little stairway (it has to be that big for code, but we could certainly reduce its footprint). We love the access and we use it all the time but it does mean that we will never be able to put an actual car in here. But honestly, it’s so small that we don’t know if we would have been able to fit our big cars anyway. So yes, we need to be able to put the Ferrari in there, but that’s about it. Here are more pics of the whole original mess: We have a lot of Christmas stuff in those bins, which takes up a lot of space. We need to find a new spot for it though because it’s silly that something we only use for two months is dictating so much space for the whole year. First Round of Organization After everything was removed and cleaned it was much easier to see what might be possible in there. We gave some stuff to some neighbors up here, we drove some stuff back to LA, we relocated some stuff, and we learned that we had a lot of broken things that had to go in the trash. Emily just came out of the bedroom, it’s 8:11 am. I don’t think she’s slept in that late since college. She says she’s feeling better today. So here are some decisions we still need to make: We need shelving, but could certainly make it nicer than that. And while we love that staircase do we want to make it nicer than that? Paint the janky railing? Like I said, we could have made it just three steps down without the railing but not legally, so we put in this big guy. We aren’t terribly motivated to demo it out and likely will just work with it for now. The big black fridge came out of the kitchen during the remodel, and we were using it for secondary food storage, until someone accidentally unplugged it before we left for a few months. When we came back and made the mistake of cracking the door open, we were slapped with the most gag-inducing putrid smell and discovered a moldy sludge that had covered all the surfaces. We closed it back up and there it sits like the arc of the covenant, waiting to melt someone else’s face off. We tried disinfecting it, but it may be a lost cause. We need to make a call on this one. Like how much do we REALLY need a garage fridge?? Emily doesn’t think we need a garage fridge, because apparently she’s ok with pulling out 12 pounds of food to access the thing she wants in the back of our kitchen fridge. She says we’re doing fine without it now, but I’m less optimistic. Maybe things will change in a bit, but right now we are doing huge grocery shops to lessen the frequency of shopping, which means that every time we open the fridge it’s like that cliché scene in every comedy movie where the guy opens the closet full of stuff and everything falls on top of him, capped by a late bowling ball to the head. That’s our fridge, but it’s a jar of bread and butter pickles that rolls out last. I also think a garage fridge is a perfect pace for beverages, which take up a bunch of room. And our kids aren’t old enough yet to try to steal adult beverages out of the garage fridge, so we’re good right? I mean, once they turn 13, I’ll put a lock on it, like my friend Alan’s dad should have. But for now, we’re good. What do you guys think? Fridge or no fridge? I got a big-brimmed hat at the hardware store and I’m now super into yard work. I bagged 17 contractor bags of oak leaves last week and still have more to do, so I obviously need some space for my tools. We have this little nook that is a covered space for storage if need be (and another entrance into the garage), we may put the bikes in here if we can figure out how to get them in there and still have space to get into the garage from the side yard. It took hours for us to clean and it wasn’t pretty. It was full of so much extra tile, leaves, random paint cans, our friend’s kayaks we just inherited, and empty gross Pepsi bottles left over from the construction crew (from two years ago). We feel very accomplished that it looks like this now: We actually found some unused space up in the attic that we stuffed all the Christmas and winter stuff in, which was super helpful. The attic entrance is across from the kids’ play area, and the other storage space we have is behind a hidden door that goes to the guts of the house. What’s Now? We still have to figure out things like the shelving and the fridge. We also are going to find a way to hang the bikes because they take up an abnormal amount of space. Also, the ceilings are nice and high, so we’re trying to figure out if there’s a way to hang some stuff up there for storage. The Solutions We need some tool storage but I don’t know if we really need anything fancy. It seems like at least considering something like this (below) would be nice and may make me feel more manly. Like whenever I have to replace a battery in a kid’s toy I can make a big deal out of folding out my workbench and feel like a handy guy. image source I’m also worried that I would leave all my tools on the table instead of hanging them up in their right place. I think I may need a big box to throw them in. I know, I’m lazy, but it’s folly to think that I’m going to change. This person’s garage is dreamy. design and photo by simply organized I feel like this is good inspo for storage. The only problem for us is that the space between the wall and that big staircase is pretty narrow so I don’t think we could hang bikes and pull the golf cart in…. a sentence I never imagined that I would ever write. Sorry, I know these are all champagne “problems” but hey, we’re writing what we’re actually going through up here. But I really like how there’s two rows of storage happening, the shelf for bins and underneath for hanging things that get used often. These are some good broom and rake storage options that could work: 1. LETMY Broom Holder Wall Mounted | 2. Corner Double Tool Rack | 3. Koova Wall Mount Garden and Garage Tool Organizer | 4. Deluxe Tool Tower | 5. Goowin Broom Holder | 6. Stalwart Rolling Garden We thought about getting a small outdoor shed to house things like rakes and such, but I think it makes more sense to keep everything contained to the garage. Plus it’s been impossible to find a shed that has gotten Emily’s approval. image source We got into mountain biking up here, and Charlie is finally up and running on a peddle bike, so we definitely will be using them a lot. Right now, I think mine is laying in a pile of leaves on one side of the house while Emily’s and Charlie’s are sprawled out around a tree on the other side. That can’t keep happening, our neighbors must think that we’ve been raptured mid-bike-ride. So we will try one of these. Have you guys used any that you recommend? 1. TORACK Bike Rack Garage | 2. 6-Bike Storage Rack 2.0 | 3. Elfa Utility Vertical Bike Hook | 4. Copenhagen Wall Mount Bike Rack | 5. Delta Cycle Leonardo Da Vinci Single Bike Storage| 6. Bike Wall Mount And while we’ve found a way to clear out most of our bins, I’m sure we’ll accumulate more, so we’ll need a good vertical storage system. I’d love to say I could build one, but I’d also love to say that I can do a standing jump over a car or that I can run faster than a gazelle. I’m just not that handy y’all. design and photo by simply organized | design and photo by modern builds Here are some solutions we are considering… 1. Platinum Elfa Utility Basement Storage | 2. Bror | 3. Matias the Heavy Duty Storage System Ceiling Mounted Rack | 4. Shelf Steel Freestanding Storage Cabinet | 5. Chrome-Finished Tower Shelving | 6. LEXIMOUNTS WR24B Storage Rack Lord knows we go through a lot of storage here in Emily Hendersonland, and we’ve used lots of types of bins. Here are my tips – they can’t be hard plastic because they break, they have to have a good seal, preferably not the clip handle because those break, they should have good grips for when you move them a hundred times, and they should be stackable. 1. Tough Storage Bin | 2. Brute Tote Storage Container | 3. Heavy Duty 54 Gal. Storage Bin So that’s where we are with the garage so far. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s looking much better in there, plus we’ve kept it pretty clean since the organizing day. We’ll see how long that lasts. But at least for now, the garage is no longer a place to just dump stuff and go, it’s clean and organized and we can see the potential. Or at least I can see the potential, Emily may not be able to see much until spring is over. Stupid pollen. The post We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It appeared first on Emily Henderson. #MountainHouse #Design101 #Design101

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/hi-guys-brian-here

[coin-river-blog]

Freedom. Such a harmless word. Yet billions of people have died to defend those bloodstained syllables over the centuries. In the wake of the horrifying Christchurch shootings in New Zealand, Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison implored the G20 to discuss ‘crackdowns’ on the ‘ungoverned internet’. And Jacinda Ardern agreed.

Is it just me or does this feel like Gab all over again?

We Must Be Very Careful Before Taking People’s Voices Away

I never knew my Grandfather. He died before I was born but he spent several excruciating years fighting the Germans in North Africa. When his tank was hit by a shell instantly killing his 18-year-old colleague, whose entrails were spattered over my Grandfather’s face, it wasn’t live-streamed on Facebook.

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WWII tank hit by a shell in World War 2. | Source: Shutterstock

As the sole survivor of that harrowing incident, he would be the only person to replay the images over in his mind before taking them with him to his grave.

If social media wasn’t to blame for the Second World War that drew out the worst in humanity, then what was?

Without analyzing the causes or drawing parallels from one white supremacist to another, one common thread is human nature.

In the United States, freedom of speech is the First Amendment to the Constitution. But the problem is, humankind isn’t fit to say what it truly thinks. Start wielding around the wrong kind of words over there and you’ll be silenced pretty quick.

Whatever your ethnic, political, social, or economic background, most people agree that there are social codes and norms that don’t need to be written into law.

Most decent people aren’t going to load themselves up with firearms and rain down bullets on innocent people. They’ll probably just go on a rant after a couple of beers.

But, if we are a free society, is it right that they are silenced?

In France, a country famous for free expression where the Charlie Hebdo cartoonist team was gunned down by radical Muslims, one asks, should they have stopped drawing their caricatures?

Charlie Hebdo. | Source: Shutterstock

Who gets to say who plays, judge, jury, and executioner here?

Even if it makes us squirm in our private places, shouldn’t people be allowed to say what they think, whether it leads to a massacre or not?

In New Zealand, He Shall Be Nameless

New Zealand’s Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern delivered an emotional speech about the Christchurch shootings in parliament on Tuesday.

She claimed that the terrorist sought notoriety for what he did but when she spoke of him, he will be nameless.

I’m fairly new to this PM, I have to be honest. She got on my radar simply for being young, feisty, and female. But beyond that, I can’t say with any certainty what her reactions are to “regular” terrorist attacks. You know, the ones that don’t happen in nice places like New Zealand by people who aren’t radical Jihadists.

Whether New Zealand’s Prime Minister doesn’t speak their names or not has little impact internationally. Yet, these people certainly don’t remain nameless.

In fact, their names are often released before the authorities are even sure whether they committed a crime or not.

Sometimes, innocent people are blamed, their reputations tarnished, families threatened, and lives ruined. All because they wear a headscarf or spicy aromas fill the air around their apartments at dinnertime.

Because they aren’t suspected white supremacists, they are suspected Jihadists. That’s different. And they are certainly not nameless.

If we can’t put a name to the face, it’s probably because it turns our stomach. And it hits a lot closer to home.

No one asked New Zealand’s Prime Minister to comment on the latest terror attacks in Afghanistan, Tunisia or Syria. No one asks the New Zealand Prime Minister to comment on anything very much really.

I’d like to hope that she extends the same nameless policy to Muslim perpetrators, but I’d bet all my bitcoin she doesn’t.

Finding a Scapegoat for the Christchurch Shootings

Nameless or not, what’s now inevitably starting to happen is that white people racked with guilt and frustration are looking for a scapegoat.

After all, white people (especially nice Australian and New Zealand white people) don’t commit mass murders. That sort of thing happens in the U.S., where they give people free firearms at their local banking branch. What else do you expect?

But they don’t happen in the land of sheep and Hobbiton.

Someone must be to blame. And that scapegoat is social media. Whether it’s a prepubescent YouTuber with an ill-questioned sense of humor or everyone’s public enemy number one Facebook.

Ardern implored social media platforms to “do more” to combat terrorism after the gunman (who shall remain nameless) live-streamed his horrific rampage on Facebook to 4,000 viewers before it was removed.

We cannot simply sit back and accept that these platforms just exist and that what is said on them is not the responsibility of the place where they are published… They are the publisher. Not just the postman.

Australian PM Calls for ‘Crackdowns’ on the Internet

Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison wasted no time in joining the social media lynch mob. It makes sense. The killer was Australian after all, he probably felt some semblance of responsibility.

He wrote a letter to the G20 imploring that world leaders discuss crackdowns on social media at the next summit:

It is unacceptable to treat the internet as an ungoverned space… It is imperative that the global community works together to ensure that technology firms meet their moral obligation to protect the communities which they serve and from which they profit.

Is It Just Me or Is This Gab All Over Again?

Let’s cut through the BS, hypocrisy, and guilt by racial association. This is Gab all over again.

The repugnant platform in which the low-ranking echelons of society gather together to voice their hatred. Everyone knew that Gab was a breeding ground of racial hate. But they were happy taking the money until the culprit of the Pittsburg synagogue killings turned out to be a platform user.

Listen very carefully because I shall say this only once. If you are going to support freedom of speech, it’s too late to ask people to be quiet once the ground is stained with blood.

You either believe in free speech or you don’t. You are either a propagator of a free country or you aren’t.

Politicians, if you’re going to use platforms like Facebook to push and promote your political agenda, you can’t suddenly sever their vocal cords because you don’t like how other people use them.

There are plenty of New Zealanders (I expect) who didn’t watch Ardern’s electoral campaign gather traction in the media. And plenty of Australians who sidestepped Morrison’s claims as he came to power.

No one asked them to watch a live stream of a mass shooting either.

We Are Not Responsible for Horrific Human Beings

What do you do after such an incident as the Christchurch shootings? Inaction is the worst and most impotent feeling of all, particularly when you’re at the helm of a nation.

But calling on social media platforms and asking them to monitor their content, ban what they see as inappropriate, and censor what a handful of deplorable people can’t handle is hypocritical and dangerous. It’s also highly temporary.

Scottie, just a heads up if no one told you, your country’s getting right behind blockchain–a decentralized technology that you can’t shut down or censor whether you like it or not.

Blockchain is gaining traction in Australia. | Source: Shutterstock

By calling for more regulation on the internet you are crossing a tightrope over a 100-foot drop. It’s a dangerous path fraught with infringed civil liberties and fine lines.

After all, who decides what’s fit for the public to see and what isn’t? Should we set up some kind of internet police? That’s too much responsibility to place on Zuckerberg’s shoulders alone.

Remember Life Before Social Media?

Maybe some of you don’t recall, but there was a time when social media didn’t exist. When I went to school every day, the villains of the show were violent movies and video games. That’s what provoked the unsociable children into carrying out abhorrent acts or beating on each other in class.

They would write a handwritten note with a pen and paper and pass it around to meet in the playground and attack a certain kid for being different. They didn’t need WhatsApp, YouTube or Facebook.

I think back to my Grandfather and so many others who fought for us so we could be free.

They didn’t die so that we could curtail our own civil liberties. They died to let us live. And the fact of the matter is that social media is no more of an enabler of evil than the spoken word and the humans behind it.

Let’s just let Gab, Facebook, and Twitter show us angles on the world the way it really is and decide what we want to see.

Yes. Nameless white supremacists and Jihadists might end up being radicalized by Facebook or YouTube. But long before that, it was the Hitler Youth.

I would like to wrap this up by quoting some wise words, except I don’t know who actually wrote them. It was an episode of The Simpsons in which the intellectual young Lisa grew desperate over her father’s vigilante neighborhood watch group. She questioned:

If you are the police, who will police the police?

Let’s think very carefully before we start even planting the seeds of censorship in the internet. These things have a habit of growing out of our control.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in the article are solely those of the author and do not represent those of, nor should they be attributed to, CCN.

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: Hi guys, Brian here

I’m writing this post because we found out yesterday that Emily is allergic to pollen. Like, suuuuper allergic. Like, looking at her you’d think she’d watched “The Notebook” and the opening sequence from “Up” back to back. Her poor little lash-less eyes are so red and watery that she can barely see. Also she’s been so congested at night that she can’t sleep. So last night she took something to knock herself out, and she’s still out as I write this, which is 7:39 am on Friday. That’s crazy for Emily, she’s usually up at 5:30 writing posts for the blog. So now I’m up early writing for the blog. I’ll keep you posted on when she wakes up… Hopefully, she goes for a while, she needs it. Let’s start with a video so you can get the full scale and get Emily right before the pollen fully attacked (just wait for the ad to play). OK. I’m back. The garage. This has a special significance for me because there’s something innate in men to have a squared away garage. I think it’s because the garage is the one room in the house (or out of the house I guess) where function matters more than form. It’s kind of the only place where I can win some design battles. In a garage, you’re not trying to figure out which pouf would offset the muted tones of a chaise lounge, you’re trying to figure out how many rakes can we fit on that wall. And that’s my kind of design. The problem is, I’m lacking motivation to do things right now, which I think is a symptom of the whole quarantine thing. After home-schooling the kids in the morning, I find myself acting like an old British man, mumbling incoherently and stumbling around the house in a daze until cocktail hour. But Emily, pre-allergies, is ever-motivated and kept threatened to do the garage herself until I acquiesced. So off to the garage we went! Our garage here at the Mountain House is pretty small and has not been organized in about a year. Plus it was the storage site for the reader event we threw and photoshoots we did last year, so there’s a lot that needs to be sorted and donated or driven back to LA. Here’s Emily showing off the space before her face got attacked by pollen. As you can see, we never spent a lot of time thinking about the organization of this space. Emily and I are both kind of “I’ll just put this here and deal with it later” people, which isn’t a good combination when it comes to garages. We’ve got a shelving unit up, but it’s not being used very well. And we’ve got lots of random stuff near the shelves, but we just didn’t make it to the final step of putting them on the shelves, which is hilarious. Plus we have a bunch of stuff we need to find new homes for (not in our home) like the rugs, and some chairs, and some lampshades. We have a LOT of random lampshades. Anyone else have that problem? BTW, it’s 8:01 am, and still no Emily. It’s getting to that point where I might go check to see if she’s still breathing. So after Emily got the old British drunk to focus on the garage, we figured out some specific things that we needed: storage for our tools and yard stuff, space for our bikes, an area that we can rotate for seasonal things like beach stuff in summer and sled stuff in winter, a redesign of the shelving, and of course space enough to park my 6 seat “Ferrari” golf cart, which I will still defend as one of the best craigslist finds any human has ever made. I mean the best, right?? Ok moving along… It should be noted that there originally wasn’t access to the garage from inside the house so we put in that little stairway (it has to be that big for code, but we could certainly reduce its footprint). We love the access and we use it all the time but it does mean that we will never be able to put an actual car in here. But honestly, it’s so small that we don’t know if we would have been able to fit our big cars anyway. So yes, we need to be able to put the Ferrari in there, but that’s about it. Here are more pics of the whole original mess: We have a lot of Christmas stuff in those bins, which takes up a lot of space. We need to find a new spot for it though because it’s silly that something we only use for two months is dictating so much space for the whole year. First Round of Organization After everything was removed and cleaned it was much easier to see what might be possible in there. We gave some stuff to some neighbors up here, we drove some stuff back to LA, we relocated some stuff, and we learned that we had a lot of broken things that had to go in the trash. Emily just came out of the bedroom, it’s 8:11 am. I don’t think she’s slept in that late since college. She says she’s feeling better today. So here are some decisions we still need to make: We need shelving, but could certainly make it nicer than that. And while we love that staircase do we want to make it nicer than that? Paint the janky railing? Like I said, we could have made it just three steps down without the railing but not legally, so we put in this big guy. We aren’t terribly motivated to demo it out and likely will just work with it for now. The big black fridge came out of the kitchen during the remodel, and we were using it for secondary food storage, until someone accidentally unplugged it before we left for a few months. When we came back and made the mistake of cracking the door open, we were slapped with the most gag-inducing putrid smell and discovered a moldy sludge that had covered all the surfaces. We closed it back up and there it sits like the arc of the covenant, waiting to melt someone else’s face off. We tried disinfecting it, but it may be a lost cause. We need to make a call on this one. Like how much do we REALLY need a garage fridge?? Emily doesn’t think we need a garage fridge, because apparently she’s ok with pulling out 12 pounds of food to access the thing she wants in the back of our kitchen fridge. She says we’re doing fine without it now, but I’m less optimistic. Maybe things will change in a bit, but right now we are doing huge grocery shops to lessen the frequency of shopping, which means that every time we open the fridge it’s like that cliché scene in every comedy movie where the guy opens the closet full of stuff and everything falls on top of him, capped by a late bowling ball to the head. That’s our fridge, but it’s a jar of bread and butter pickles that rolls out last. I also think a garage fridge is a perfect pace for beverages, which take up a bunch of room. And our kids aren’t old enough yet to try to steal adult beverages out of the garage fridge, so we’re good right? I mean, once they turn 13, I’ll put a lock on it, like my friend Alan’s dad should have. But for now, we’re good. What do you guys think? Fridge or no fridge? I got a big-brimmed hat at the hardware store and I’m now super into yard work. I bagged 17 contractor bags of oak leaves last week and still have more to do, so I obviously need some space for my tools. We have this little nook that is a covered space for storage if need be (and another entrance into the garage), we may put the bikes in here if we can figure out how to get them in there and still have space to get into the garage from the side yard. It took hours for us to clean and it wasn’t pretty. It was full of so much extra tile, leaves, random paint cans, our friend’s kayaks we just inherited, and empty gross Pepsi bottles left over from the construction crew (from two years ago). We feel very accomplished that it looks like this now: We actually found some unused space up in the attic that we stuffed all the Christmas and winter stuff in, which was super helpful. The attic entrance is across from the kids’ play area, and the other storage space we have is behind a hidden door that goes to the guts of the house. What’s Now? We still have to figure out things like the shelving and the fridge. We also are going to find a way to hang the bikes because they take up an abnormal amount of space. Also, the ceilings are nice and high, so we’re trying to figure out if there’s a way to hang some stuff up there for storage. The Solutions We need some tool storage but I don’t know if we really need anything fancy. It seems like at least considering something like this (below) would be nice and may make me feel more manly. Like whenever I have to replace a battery in a kid’s toy I can make a big deal out of folding out my workbench and feel like a handy guy. image source I’m also worried that I would leave all my tools on the table instead of hanging them up in their right place. I think I may need a big box to throw them in. I know, I’m lazy, but it’s folly to think that I’m going to change. This person’s garage is dreamy. design and photo by simply organized I feel like this is good inspo for storage. The only problem for us is that the space between the wall and that big staircase is pretty narrow so I don’t think we could hang bikes and pull the golf cart in…. a sentence I never imagined that I would ever write. Sorry, I know these are all champagne “problems” but hey, we’re writing what we’re actually going through up here. But I really like how there’s two rows of storage happening, the shelf for bins and underneath for hanging things that get used often. These are some good broom and rake storage options that could work: 1. LETMY Broom Holder Wall Mounted | 2. Corner Double Tool Rack | 3. Koova Wall Mount Garden and Garage Tool Organizer | 4. Deluxe Tool Tower | 5. Goowin Broom Holder | 6. Stalwart Rolling Garden We thought about getting a small outdoor shed to house things like rakes and such, but I think it makes more sense to keep everything contained to the garage. Plus it’s been impossible to find a shed that has gotten Emily’s approval. image source We got into mountain biking up here, and Charlie is finally up and running on a peddle bike, so we definitely will be using them a lot. Right now, I think mine is laying in a pile of leaves on one side of the house while Emily’s and Charlie’s are sprawled out around a tree on the other side. That can’t keep happening, our neighbors must think that we’ve been raptured mid-bike-ride. So we will try one of these. Have you guys used any that you recommend? 1. TORACK Bike Rack Garage | 2. 6-Bike Storage Rack 2.0 | 3. Elfa Utility Vertical Bike Hook | 4. Copenhagen Wall Mount Bike Rack | 5. Delta Cycle Leonardo Da Vinci Single Bike Storage| 6. Bike Wall Mount And while we’ve found a way to clear out most of our bins, I’m sure we’ll accumulate more, so we’ll need a good vertical storage system. I’d love to say I could build one, but I’d also love to say that I can do a standing jump over a car or that I can run faster than a gazelle. I’m just not that handy y’all. design and photo by simply organized | design and photo by modern builds Here are some solutions we are considering… 1. Platinum Elfa Utility Basement Storage | 2. Bror | 3. Matias the Heavy Duty Storage System Ceiling Mounted Rack | 4. Shelf Steel Freestanding Storage Cabinet | 5. Chrome-Finished Tower Shelving | 6. LEXIMOUNTS WR24B Storage Rack Lord knows we go through a lot of storage here in Emily Hendersonland, and we’ve used lots of types of bins. Here are my tips – they can’t be hard plastic because they break, they have to have a good seal, preferably not the clip handle because those break, they should have good grips for when you move them a hundred times, and they should be stackable. 1. Tough Storage Bin | 2. Brute Tote Storage Container | 3. Heavy Duty 54 Gal. Storage Bin So that’s where we are with the garage so far. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s looking much better in there, plus we’ve kept it pretty clean since the organizing day. We’ll see how long that lasts. But at least for now, the garage is no longer a place to just dump stuff and go, it’s clean and organized and we can see the potential. Or at least I can see the potential, Emily may not be able to see much until spring is over. Stupid pollen. The post We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It appeared first on Emily Henderson. #MountainHouse #Design101 #Design101

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Agilenano-News/~3/ir30HvtxTW0/hi-guys-brian-here

[arplis]

Arplis - News: We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It

Hi guys, Brian here. I’m writing this post because we found out yesterday that Emily is allergic to pollen. Like, suuuuper allergic. Like, looking at her you’d think she’d watched “The Notebook” and the opening sequence from “Up” back to back. Her poor little lash-less eyes are so red and watery that she can barely see. Also she’s been so congested at night that she can���t sleep. So last night she took something to knock herself out, and she’s still out as I write this, which is 7:39 am on Friday. That’s crazy for Emily, she’s usually up at 5:30 writing posts for the blog. So now I’m up early writing for the blog. I’ll keep you posted on when she wakes up… Hopefully, she goes for a while, she needs it.

Let’s start with a video so you can get the full scale and get Emily right before the pollen fully attacked (just wait for the ad to play).

OK. I’m back. The garage. This has a special significance for me because there’s something innate in men to have a squared away garage. I think it’s because the garage is the one room in the house (or out of the house I guess) where function matters more than form. It’s kind of the only place where I can win some design battles. In a garage, you’re not trying to figure out which pouf would offset the muted tones of a chaise lounge, you’re trying to figure out how many rakes can we fit on that wall. And that’s my kind of design.

The problem is, I’m lacking motivation to do things right now, which I think is a symptom of the whole quarantine thing. After home-schooling the kids in the morning, I find myself acting like an old British man, mumbling incoherently and stumbling around the house in a daze until cocktail hour.

But Emily, pre-allergies, is ever-motivated and kept threatened to do the garage herself until I acquiesced. So off to the garage we went!

Our garage here at the Mountain House is pretty small and has not been organized in about a year. Plus it was the storage site for the reader event we threw and photoshoots we did last year, so there’s a lot that needs to be sorted and donated or driven back to LA.

Here’s Emily showing off the space before her face got attacked by pollen.

As you can see, we never spent a lot of time thinking about the organization of this space. Emily and I are both kind of “I’ll just put this here and deal with it later” people, which isn’t a good combination when it comes to garages. We’ve got a shelving unit up, but it’s not being used very well. And we’ve got lots of random stuff near the shelves, but we just didn’t make it to the final step of putting them on the shelves, which is hilarious. Plus we have a bunch of stuff we need to find new homes for (not in our home) like the rugs, and some chairs, and some lampshades. We have a LOT of random lampshades. Anyone else have that problem?

BTW, it’s 8:01 am, and still no Emily. It’s getting to that point where I might go check to see if she’s still breathing.

So after Emily got the old British drunk to focus on the garage, we figured out some specific things that we needed: storage for our tools and yard stuff, space for our bikes, an area that we can rotate for seasonal things like beach stuff in summer and sled stuff in winter, a redesign of the shelving, and of course space enough to park my 6 seat “Ferrari” golf cart, which I will still defend as one of the best craigslist finds any human has ever made.

I mean the best, right?? Ok moving along…

It should be noted that there originally wasn’t access to the garage from inside the house so we put in that little stairway (it has to be that big for code, but we could certainly reduce its footprint). We love the access and we use it all the time but it does mean that we will never be able to put an actual car in here. But honestly, it’s so small that we don’t know if we would have been able to fit our big cars anyway. So yes, we need to be able to put the Ferrari in there, but that’s about it.

Here are more pics of the whole original mess:

We have a lot of Christmas stuff in those bins, which takes up a lot of space. We need to find a new spot for it though because it’s silly that something we only use for two months is dictating so much space for the whole year.

First Round of Organization

After everything was removed and cleaned it was much easier to see what might be possible in there. We gave some stuff to some neighbors up here, we drove some stuff back to LA, we relocated some stuff, and we learned that we had a lot of broken things that had to go in the trash.

Emily just came out of the bedroom, it’s 8:11 am. I don’t think she’s slept in that late since college. She says she’s feeling better today.

So here are some decisions we still need to make:

We need shelving, but could certainly make it nicer than that. And while we love that staircase do we want to make it nicer than that? Paint the janky railing? Like I said, we could have made it just three steps down without the railing but not legally, so we put in this big guy. We aren’t terribly motivated to demo it out and likely will just work with it for now.

The big black fridge came out of the kitchen during the remodel, and we were using it for secondary food storage, until someone accidentally unplugged it before we left for a few months. When we came back and made the mistake of cracking the door open, we were slapped with the most gag-inducing putrid smell and discovered a moldy sludge that had covered all the surfaces. We closed it back up and there it sits like the arc of the covenant, waiting to melt someone else’s face off. We tried disinfecting it, but it may be a lost cause. We need to make a call on this one. Like how much do we REALLY need a garage fridge??

Emily doesn’t think we need a garage fridge, because apparently she’s ok with pulling out 12 pounds of food to access the thing she wants in the back of our kitchen fridge. She says we’re doing fine without it now, but I’m less optimistic. Maybe things will change in a bit, but right now we are doing huge grocery shops to lessen the frequency of shopping, which means that every time we open the fridge it’s like that cliché scene in every comedy movie where the guy opens the closet full of stuff and everything falls on top of him, capped by a late bowling ball to the head. That’s our fridge, but it’s a jar of bread and butter pickles that rolls out last.

I also think a garage fridge is a perfect pace for beverages, which take up a bunch of room. And our kids aren’t old enough yet to try to steal adult beverages out of the garage fridge, so we’re good right? I mean, once they turn 13, I’ll put a lock on it, like my friend Alan’s dad should have. But for now, we’re good. What do you guys think? Fridge or no fridge?

I got a big-brimmed hat at the hardware store and I’m now super into yard work. I bagged 17 contractor bags of oak leaves last week and still have more to do, so I obviously need some space for my tools.

We have this little nook that is a covered space for storage if need be (and another entrance into the garage), we may put the bikes in here if we can figure out how to get them in there and still have space to get into the garage from the side yard. It took hours for us to clean and it wasn’t pretty. It was full of so much extra tile, leaves, random paint cans, our friend’s kayaks we just inherited, and empty gross Pepsi bottles left over from the construction crew (from two years ago). We feel very accomplished that it looks like this now:

We actually found some unused space up in the attic that we stuffed all the Christmas and winter stuff in, which was super helpful. The attic entrance is across from the kids’ play area, and the other storage space we have is behind a hidden door that goes to the guts of the house.

What’s Now?

We still have to figure out things like the shelving and the fridge. We also are going to find a way to hang the bikes because they take up an abnormal amount of space. Also, the ceilings are nice and high, so we’re trying to figure out if there’s a way to hang some stuff up there for storage.

The Solutions

We need some tool storage but I don’t know if we really need anything fancy. It seems like at least considering something like this (below) would be nice and may make me feel more manly. Like whenever I have to replace a battery in a kid’s toy I can make a big deal out of folding out my workbench and feel like a handy guy.

image source

I’m also worried that I would leave all my tools on the table instead of hanging them up in their right place. I think I may need a big box to throw them in. I know, I’m lazy, but it’s folly to think that I’m going to change.

This person’s garage is dreamy.

design and photo by simply organized

I feel like this is good inspo for storage. The only problem for us is that the space between the wall and that big staircase is pretty narrow so I don’t think we could hang bikes and pull the golf cart in…. a sentence I never imagined that I would ever write. Sorry, I know these are all champagne “problems” but hey, we’re writing what we’re actually going through up here.

But I really like how there’s two rows of storage happening, the shelf for bins and underneath for hanging things that get used often. These are some good broom and rake storage options that could work:

1. LETMY Broom Holder Wall Mounted | 2. Corner Double Tool Rack | 3. Koova Wall Mount Garden and Garage Tool Organizer | 4. Deluxe Tool Tower | 5. Goowin Broom Holder | 6. Stalwart Rolling Garden

We thought about getting a small outdoor shed to house things like rakes and such, but I think it makes more sense to keep everything contained to the garage. Plus it’s been impossible to find a shed that has gotten Emily’s approval.

image source

We got into mountain biking up here, and Charlie is finally up and running on a peddle bike, so we definitely will be using them a lot. Right now, I think mine is laying in a pile of leaves on one side of the house while Emily’s and Charlie’s are sprawled out around a tree on the other side. That can’t keep happening, our neighbors must think that we’ve been raptured mid-bike-ride. So we will try one of these. Have you guys used any that you recommend?

1. TORACK Bike Rack Garage | 2. 6-Bike Storage Rack 2.0 | 3. Elfa Utility Vertical Bike Hook | 4. Copenhagen Wall Mount Bike Rack | 5. Delta Cycle Leonardo Da Vinci Single Bike Storage| 6. Bike Wall Mount

And while we’ve found a way to clear out most of our bins, I’m sure we’ll accumulate more, so we’ll need a good vertical storage system. I’d love to say I could build one, but I’d also love to say that I can do a standing jump over a car or that I can run faster than a gazelle. I’m just not that handy y’all.

design and photo by simply organized | design and photo by modern builds

Here are some solutions we are considering…

1. Platinum Elfa Utility Basement Storage | 2. Bror | 3. Matias the Heavy Duty Storage System Ceiling Mounted Rack | 4. Shelf Steel Freestanding Storage Cabinet | 5. Chrome-Finished Tower Shelving | 6. LEXIMOUNTS WR24B Storage Rack

Lord knows we go through a lot of storage here in Emily Hendersonland, and we’ve used lots of types of bins. Here are my tips – they can’t be hard plastic because they break, they have to have a good seal, preferably not the clip handle because those break, they should have good grips for when you move them a hundred times, and they should be stackable.

1. Tough Storage Bin | 2. Brute Tote Storage Container | 3. Heavy Duty 54 Gal. Storage Bin

So that’s where we are with the garage so far. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s looking much better in there, plus we’ve kept it pretty clean since the organizing day. We’ll see how long that lasts. But at least for now, the garage is no longer a place to just dump stuff and go, it’s clean and organized and we can see the potential. Or at least I can see the potential, Emily may not be able to see much until spring is over. Stupid pollen.

The post We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It appeared first on Emily Henderson.

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/we-tackled-our-non-functional-garage-and-these-are-our-ideas-to-maximize-it

[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It

Hi guys, Brian here. I’m writing this post because we found out yesterday that Emily is allergic to pollen. Like, suuuuper allergic. Like, looking at her you’d think she’d watched “The Notebook” and the opening sequence from “Up” back to back. Her poor little lash-less eyes are so red and watery that she can barely see. Also she’s been so congested at night that she can’t sleep. So last night she took something to knock herself out, and she’s still out as I write this, which is 7:39 am on Friday. That’s crazy for Emily, she’s usually up at 5:30 writing posts for the blog. So now I’m up early writing for the blog. I’ll keep you posted on when she wakes up… Hopefully, she goes for a while, she needs it.

Let’s start with a video so you can get the full scale and get Emily right before the pollen fully attacked (just wait for the ad to play).

OK. I’m back. The garage. This has a special significance for me because there’s something innate in men to have a squared away garage. I think it’s because the garage is the one room in the house (or out of the house I guess) where function matters more than form. It’s kind of the only place where I can win some design battles. In a garage, you’re not trying to figure out which pouf would offset the muted tones of a chaise lounge, you’re trying to figure out how many rakes can we fit on that wall. And that’s my kind of design.

The problem is, I’m lacking motivation to do things right now, which I think is a symptom of the whole quarantine thing. After home-schooling the kids in the morning, I find myself acting like an old British man, mumbling incoherently and stumbling around the house in a daze until cocktail hour.

But Emily, pre-allergies, is ever-motivated and kept threatened to do the garage herself until I acquiesced. So off to the garage we went!

Our garage here at the Mountain House is pretty small and has not been organized in about a year. Plus it was the storage site for the reader event we threw and photoshoots we did last year, so there’s a lot that needs to be sorted and donated or driven back to LA.

Here’s Emily showing off the space before her face got attacked by pollen.

As you can see, we never spent a lot of time thinking about the organization of this space. Emily and I are both kind of “I’ll just put this here and deal with it later” people, which isn’t a good combination when it comes to garages. We’ve got a shelving unit up, but it’s not being used very well. And we’ve got lots of random stuff near the shelves, but we just didn’t make it to the final step of putting them on the shelves, which is hilarious. Plus we have a bunch of stuff we need to find new homes for (not in our home) like the rugs, and some chairs, and some lampshades. We have a LOT of random lampshades. Anyone else have that problem?

BTW, it’s 8:01 am, and still no Emily. It’s getting to that point where I might go check to see if she’s still breathing.

So after Emily got the old British drunk to focus on the garage, we figured out some specific things that we needed: storage for our tools and yard stuff, space for our bikes, an area that we can rotate for seasonal things like beach stuff in summer and sled stuff in winter, a redesign of the shelving, and of course space enough to park my 6 seat “Ferrari” golf cart, which I will still defend as one of the best craigslist finds any human has ever made.

I mean the best, right?? Ok moving along…

It should be noted that there originally wasn’t access to the garage from inside the house so we put in that little stairway (it has to be that big for code, but we could certainly reduce its footprint). We love the access and we use it all the time but it does mean that we will never be able to put an actual car in here. But honestly, it’s so small that we don’t know if we would have been able to fit our big cars anyway. So yes, we need to be able to put the Ferrari in there, but that’s about it.

Here are more pics of the whole original mess:

We have a lot of Christmas stuff in those bins, which takes up a lot of space. We need to find a new spot for it though because it’s silly that something we only use for two months is dictating so much space for the whole year.

First Round of Organization

After everything was removed and cleaned it was much easier to see what might be possible in there. We gave some stuff to some neighbors up here, we drove some stuff back to LA, we relocated some stuff, and we learned that we had a lot of broken things that had to go in the trash.

Emily just came out of the bedroom, it’s 8:11 am. I don’t think she’s slept in that late since college. She says she’s feeling better today.

So here are some decisions we still need to make:

We need shelving, but could certainly make it nicer than that. And while we love that staircase do we want to make it nicer than that? Paint the janky railing? Like I said, we could have made it just three steps down without the railing but not legally, so we put in this big guy. We aren’t terribly motivated to demo it out and likely will just work with it for now.

The big black fridge came out of the kitchen during the remodel, and we were using it for secondary food storage, until someone accidentally unplugged it before we left for a few months. When we came back and made the mistake of cracking the door open, we were slapped with the most gag-inducing putrid smell and discovered a moldy sludge that had covered all the surfaces. We closed it back up and there it sits like the arc of the covenant, waiting to melt someone else’s face off. We tried disinfecting it, but it may be a lost cause. We need to make a call on this one. Like how much do we REALLY need a garage fridge??

Emily doesn’t think we need a garage fridge, because apparently she’s ok with pulling out 12 pounds of food to access the thing she wants in the back of our kitchen fridge. She says we’re doing fine without it now, but I’m less optimistic. Maybe things will change in a bit, but right now we are doing huge grocery shops to lessen the frequency of shopping, which means that every time we open the fridge it’s like that cliché scene in every comedy movie where the guy opens the closet full of stuff and everything falls on top of him, capped by a late bowling ball to the head. That’s our fridge, but it’s a jar of bread and butter pickles that rolls out last.

I also think a garage fridge is a perfect pace for beverages, which take up a bunch of room. And our kids aren’t old enough yet to try to steal adult beverages out of the garage fridge, so we’re good right? I mean, once they turn 13, I’ll put a lock on it, like my friend Alan’s dad should have. But for now, we’re good. What do you guys think? Fridge or no fridge?

I got a big-brimmed hat at the hardware store and I’m now super into yard work. I bagged 17 contractor bags of oak leaves last week and still have more to do, so I obviously need some space for my tools.

We have this little nook that is a covered space for storage if need be (and another entrance into the garage), we may put the bikes in here if we can figure out how to get them in there and still have space to get into the garage from the side yard. It took hours for us to clean and it wasn’t pretty. It was full of so much extra tile, leaves, random paint cans, our friend’s kayaks we just inherited, and empty gross Pepsi bottles left over from the construction crew (from two years ago). We feel very accomplished that it looks like this now:

We actually found some unused space up in the attic that we stuffed all the Christmas and winter stuff in, which was super helpful. The attic entrance is across from the kids’ play area, and the other storage space we have is behind a hidden door that goes to the guts of the house.

What’s Now?

We still have to figure out things like the shelving and the fridge. We also are going to find a way to hang the bikes because they take up an abnormal amount of space. Also, the ceilings are nice and high, so we’re trying to figure out if there’s a way to hang some stuff up there for storage.

The Solutions

We need some tool storage but I don’t know if we really need anything fancy. It seems like at least considering something like this (below) would be nice and may make me feel more manly. Like whenever I have to replace a battery in a kid’s toy I can make a big deal out of folding out my workbench and feel like a handy guy.

image source

I’m also worried that I would leave all my tools on the table instead of hanging them up in their right place. I think I may need a big box to throw them in. I know, I’m lazy, but it’s folly to think that I’m going to change.

This person’s garage is dreamy.

design and photo by simply organized

I feel like this is good inspo for storage. The only problem for us is that the space between the wall and that big staircase is pretty narrow so I don’t think we could hang bikes and pull the golf cart in…. a sentence I never imagined that I would ever write. Sorry, I know these are all champagne “problems” but hey, we’re writing what we’re actually going through up here.

But I really like how there’s two rows of storage happening, the shelf for bins and underneath for hanging things that get used often. These are some good broom and rake storage options that could work:

1. LETMY Broom Holder Wall Mounted | 2. Corner Double Tool Rack | 3. Koova Wall Mount Garden and Garage Tool Organizer | 4. Deluxe Tool Tower | 5. Goowin Broom Holder | 6. Stalwart Rolling Garden

We thought about getting a small outdoor shed to house things like rakes and such, but I think it makes more sense to keep everything contained to the garage. Plus it’s been impossible to find a shed that has gotten Emily’s approval.

image source

We got into mountain biking up here, and Charlie is finally up and running on a peddle bike, so we definitely will be using them a lot. Right now, I think mine is laying in a pile of leaves on one side of the house while Emily’s and Charlie’s are sprawled out around a tree on the other side. That can’t keep happening, our neighbors must think that we’ve been raptured mid-bike-ride. So we will try one of these. Have you guys used any that you recommend?

1. TORACK Bike Rack Garage | 2. 6-Bike Storage Rack 2.0 | 3. Elfa Utility Vertical Bike Hook | 4. Copenhagen Wall Mount Bike Rack | 5. Delta Cycle Leonardo Da Vinci Single Bike Storage| 6. Bike Wall Mount

And while we’ve found a way to clear out most of our bins, I’m sure we’ll accumulate more, so we’ll need a good vertical storage system. I’d love to say I could build one, but I’d also love to say that I can do a standing jump over a car or that I can run faster than a gazelle. I’m just not that handy y’all.

design and photo by simply organized | design and photo by modern builds

Here are some solutions we are considering…

1. Platinum Elfa Utility Basement Storage | 2. Bror | 3. Matias the Heavy Duty Storage System Ceiling Mounted Rack | 4. Shelf Steel Freestanding Storage Cabinet | 5. Chrome-Finished Tower Shelving | 6. LEXIMOUNTS WR24B Storage Rack

Lord knows we go through a lot of storage here in Emily Hendersonland, and we’ve used lots of types of bins. Here are my tips – they can’t be hard plastic because they break, they have to have a good seal, preferably not the clip handle because those break, they should have good grips for when you move them a hundred times, and they should be stackable.

1. Tough Storage Bin | 2. Brute Tote Storage Container | 3. Heavy Duty 54 Gal. Storage Bin

So that’s where we are with the garage so far. We’ve got a long way to go, but it’s looking much better in there, plus we’ve kept it pretty clean since the organizing day. We’ll see how long that lasts. But at least for now, the garage is no longer a place to just dump stuff and go, it’s clean and organized and we can see the potential. Or at least I can see the potential, Emily may not be able to see much until spring is over. Stupid pollen.

The post We Tackled Our Non-Functional Garage and These Are Our Ideas To Maximize It appeared first on Emily Henderson.

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/we-tackled-our-non-functional-garage-and-these-are-our-ideas-to-maximize-it