#and the drywall and ceiling work was done almost a year ago

[darkwood-sleddog]

Sigurd modeling the new flooring in the basement (trim and post staining to come)

[forever-rogue]

Hi! For the prompts could I please request Maxwell Lord + "it's you. it's always been you" from fluff & romance in the second prompt list? 🥰

Just some Maxwell softness. Enjoy!

Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What’s wrong, love?” you gently put your hand on the side of Maxwell’s face, drawing his attention back to you and away from whatever seemed to be troubling him. He offered you a small smile before shaking his head, causing a dark lock of hair to fall into his eyes, “what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” he whispered softly as you reached over and brushed the stray lock out of his eyes, “just tired.”

“You’ve had a busy week,” you agreed quietly, “and your class schedule is jam packed right now. You should rest and make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“It’s the last semester,” he reminded you as you nodded; the fact that your college days were soon coming to an end was enough to terrify you and excite you all at once. But soon you would be free from the confines of the institution and onto a whole new adventure, “I wanted to make the most of it.”

“But don’t let it push you over the edge either,” you grabbed his plate and kissed the top of his head, “you’re no good if you’re running yourself ragged and worn down. I love you, Maxwell.”

“I love you too, Hermosa,” he was already reaching for one of his books to carry on studying as you set everything in the sink, “soon we’ll be out of here and into the real world and I will have everything, and I will be able to give you everything you deserve.”

“You will build an empire Maxwell Lorenzano,” you grinned at him as you flounced over back to him, putting your hand under his chin to turn your face up to meet yours, “but I already have everything I want - you. That’s all that matters to me.”

“But you deserve so much more,” he whispered as you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft lips, “I will give you everything.”

“As long as you’re there,” you whispered softly “I have everything.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

You woke up with a sharp inhale as you stared at your ceiling, your heart beating wildly inside your chest. It was that same damned dream again - so sweet and happy, but just as horrid in reality. It served as a reminder that things had turned out very differently from the life you had once envisioned. 

It was all supposed to be so easy, so effortless - just you and Maxwell and whatever the world threw at the two of you. But oh - how wrong you had been. How very, very wrong. 

After graduation, it was like Maxwell had turned into a completely different person. Gone was the sweet, gentle, caring man you loved so deeply and wholly, and he was replaced with a man who barely knew - a workaholic only concerned with success, success, success. Money and making a name for himself came before everything else, and you were left to the wayside. 

It was never supposed to be that way. But life rarely worked as you’d envisioned, and while the reality was harsh and biting, it was something you came to terms with. 

You were gone one day, almost as if you were a phantom, making it appear as though you’d never existed. Every piece of you was gone from the apartment you shared, as were you. Maybe it wasn’t the best way to handle the situation, but at the same time, you’d tried to talk to Max about everything so many times, and he’d either ignored you, downplayed your concerns, or was so unpresent in the conversation that it was like talking to drywall. 

When you couldn’t handle it anymore you’d just left. Packed up your bags and left everything behind without so much as a single word - no note, no explanation, nothing. Rash? Yes. Wrong? Maybe. Needed? Yes. 

You’d never wanted things to end like this - to end up so distant and separated from the man you had once loved so desperately. And fuck - you’d still loved him, you knew you always would. But somewhere along the line things had changed and your Maxwell was no longer yours. 

But it didn’t matter - he never once looked for you or tried to come and find you, to ask why, why, why. He never came for you and you never looked back.

Just like that, everything changed. Most importantly, or perhaps worst of all, it was like neither of you had existed to the other. It hurt, but over time it got easier and easier and almost like he never existed.

But of course he had. Of course you'd loved him. Of course you still did. You always would, even if he didn't know it.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Alistair?" you asked as he sat at the table, coloring away with a little frown etched onto his, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Daddy was supposed to be here half an hour ago," he was dismissive as he started down at his paper, "he said he'd pick me up since he has time with his new job."

"He's probably just running late bub," you promised him, ruffling his dark hair, "it happens! Do you want to play a game or go outside? Its just the two of us left and we can do whatever we want!"

"Can we play on the jungle gym?" his eyes lit up as you nodded, watching in amusement as he packed up his bag. You'd always liked him, feeling more drawn to him than a lot of the other kids in your after school daycare. You'd never met his father; it had always been a nanny up until now, sent when he was with his mother or father. Looks like things were changing...maybe he wouldn't need daycare much longer. The thought made you sad for a moment...you really like the young boy and enjoyed his company. But that could all be figured out later; or now you were just going to enjoy his company.

"Come on," he called for you, holding out his hand for you. Nodding, you eagerly went over to him, taking his smaller hand in yours and letting him lead you outside. It was beautiful outside, and you took a large breath to take in some of the fresh air.

Alistair eagerly hopped on one of the swings, and it felt so natural for you to go and help him swing. He was such a fun, energetic child and his enthusiasm was infectious.

Even though he was a young boy still, he was wise beyond his years and spoke of anything and everything that crossed his mind. There wasn't a single dull moment behind the two of you, and before you knew it, the sun had started to go down and was painting the sky in brilliant crimsons and oranges.

"Alistair!" a warm voice called out to the boy and his face instantly pulled into a large grin. You slowed the swinging and let him jump off as he ran at the approaching figure. Remaining behind, you let the two of them have their moment. He held his son tightly, pressing kisses to the side of his you heard him say, "hi baby - I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Its okay, Daddy," he said as the man set down again, but not before taking his father's hand and leading him over to you, "I was worried at first, but we've been playing and having fun!"

"Good, I'm glad," he beamed at this son. As the man came closer, you couldn't help but think that he sounded familiar. But then, as he stopped in front of you with Alistair at his side, your jaw dropped as you were sure your heart stopped. At the same time, the man mirrored your actions before his dark eyes widened, "Hermosa?"

"Maxwell?" this couldn't be happening. No, no, no - out of all the people in the world...surely Maxwell couldn’t really be standing in front of you. Except...this Maxwell was not quite the man you once knew. Gone were the well loved and worn clothes, replaced by much finer garments. Out where the dark locks you use to love to run your fingers through; instead they were golden strands. Missing was the silly little imperfect smile you adored, replaced by only the best money could buy. 

But underneath the shiny exterior, you knew those eyes, along with that singular dimple that appeared when he smiled. He shook his head in amusement, amazed by this stroke of fortune as he held his hand out to you, "hi - wow that feels so wrong to say. Not quite good enough for the moment...but hi."

"Hi," you breathed back as you took his hand and shook it. The simple contact was enough to send shivers up and down your spine; even after all these years, his touch was ever the same, "I..umm...I had no idea you were his father. His last name…"

"Its the same as mine," he said as you gave him a surprised look but didn't question him. Somewhere along the line, Maxwell Lorenzano became Maxwell Lord. You wondered what else had changed...judging by looks alone, apparently many things were different now.

"Ahh," you said softly, the realization that he must have changed his name at some point hitting you. It was a momentary sadness as you realize what it meant; but it was no matter. What mattered was he here in the flesh and had been back in your life and you hadn't even known it, "I...umm...I guess I should let you both go. Don't want to get home too late."

"Of course," he said with a soft smile as he picked up his son again, "thanks for keeping him later - it won't happen again. New job and it ran late."

"Not a problem," you reassured him, "Alistair is a wonderful kid and we had a lot of fun. I guess I'll see you around, Maxwell. And you too, kiddo. See you tomorrow!"

"Good night," they chimed in unison as they started to walk away, stopping for a moment to grab his things before heading off.

You were positive you heard the big sleepily mumble onto his father's shoulder, "do know her?"

You had to turn around and hide your own grin, not wanting to get caught up in your excitement. It meant nothing, you kept trying to tell yourself, none of it meant anything. Sheer, simple continence was all it was.  But still...you had a lot of questions - when did he get married and have a son? What happened to his appearance? Who was he now?

Either way, it was all said and done and you were relative strangers. Your paths had diverged many years ago and yet...somehow life has brought you back tomorrow. Maybe it meant something after all…

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next couple of weeks were spent with many visits from Maxwell, none of which you minded of course. He was often on time to pick Alistair up, but would linger and talk to you. In some ways it was like no time at all had passed, and the conversation was easy and flowing, and despite the golden outer layer, you still saw the boy you'd fallen in love with.

It was easy like this, getting to know him again, and in some ways you felt like no time had passed. You learned about the ups and downs of his own life, more about his marriage and divorce, about his struggle to become everything he had dreamed - all while reassuring him that he was okay, and he would always be okay. But, he was eager to remind you, the best part of his life, the shining beacon, would always be his son. And it was easy to see how much he adored the boy. 

In turn, you’d told him all about your own life that you had created. That it was modest and lacked what most people would consider grandeur, but you still loved it. He listened to you, hanging onto every word as he felt like that same dopey college kid that had fallen head over heels for you. Gods, he had missed you, even when he hadn’t realized it. If only things would have been slightly different and...but it was no matter. You were here now and so was he, and really that was the only thing that mattered to the two of you. 

“Hermosa?” he had been halfway through walking out the door with Alistair hanging onto his hand. You turned and raised an eyebrow at him, indicating for him to go on, “would you...do you want to go to dinner sometime?”

“Yes,” you answered softly, unable to fight the giant grin on your face, “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Great,” he seemed relieved as the nervous look left his face, quickly replaced by one of joy, “it’s a date...I’ll call you later.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“What?” you asked as you found Maxwell watching you closely, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as he reached over and put his hand on your face. You leaned into his touch as your eyes fluttered closed, “Maxwell…”

“Hermosa,” his voice was gentle and still thick with sleep as he leaned over and nuzzled his nose against yours, “go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

“That’s what I was doing,” you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest as your tangled your legs with his, “but I’ve got someone staring at me and it’s kind of hard to stay asleep under such a watchful gaze.”

“Can one not admire such great beauty?” he asked quietly before pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing his own eyes once again, “everything I love is right here in my arms...and down the hall. Forgive me for being happy.”

“I’m happy too, Maxwell,” you promised, feeling like your heart might burst with joy, “I love you. I have always loved you, and I will always love you.”

“I love you,” he agreed, “it’s always been you. Even if it took some time to realize that. Now, rest and get some sleep. You were up last night…”

“I wonder why!” you laughed as he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, “no complaints though - never.”

“Good,” he grinned against your lips, “now sleep, Hermosa. The world can wait.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Permanent Taglist: @secretsweetscollectionblog  @sheridans-dynamos  @queenbbarnes  @persephonesnebula   @ah-callie  @blushingwueen  @thisis-theway @rosetophighlander  @rae-gar-targaryen    @hiscyarika  @readsalot73  @huliabitch  @ollyoxenfrees @coffeeandtodd  @beepbeepsephy   @scarlettwitcher  @nerdyknightwritersblog  @choicesarcade  @arrowswithwifi  @everythingaboutnothingstuff  @suckerfor-fanfics  @bestintheparsec @javihoney  @aeryntheofficial  @hail-doodles @engineeredfiction @aeryntheofficial  @asgardianvamp21  @keithseabrook27  @karmezii  @dearspacepirates  @thatsuitlooksgoodonyou  @paintballkid711 @mrpascals @lv7867 @artsymaddie @gooddaykate @rosiefridayrogersunday @heyitmelexie @criminalmind1927 @justanotherblonde23 @coni-martina @thewayofthemandalorian @phoenixhalliwell @lucifer @cosmoschick @kochamcie @linkpk88 @leaiorganas @nikkixostan @haley-the-comet @chibi-yuki

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 5

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

GET. READY. This is a bigger chunk but I really think it’s worth it. 

Title: Dreams, Chapter 5

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5343

Summary: Dean’s birthday proves easier than expected in some ways and harder in others. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol, s l o w  b u r n

           Sam pulled back from you, opening one eye drowsily. “Are you okay?” he says, voice gritty with sleep.

           “Yeah, I…he didn’t die,” you breathed, confused.

           He cleared his throat. “What?”

           “He always dies. He fell off of Bobby’s roof, but he just broke his ankle, he, he didn’t die.”

           Sam rubbed his face with his free arm, trying to wake up more in earnest. It was still dark, so it couldn’t have been later than 7:30. You hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours but suddenly felt beyond alert. “That’s good, right?”

           “I—yeah, it’s good. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

           “Do you want to talk about it?”

           The reflex was to say no, usher Sam back to sleep. But your reflexes had already been wrong once today. “Can we?”

           The way Sam kept the surprise off his face was admirable. It was the first time you’d agreed to talk about the nightmares that plagued you since losing Dean. He propped himself up on his elbows and flicked on the small lamp beside the bed. “What happened?”

           You told Sam all about the dream, sparing only the details you couldn’t really remember or only made dream-sense, like the way you knew it was 4th of July weekend without having been told. He listened thoughtfully, the focus obvious in his expression. He waited a long beat when you were done, sure not to step on your moment of vulnerability.

           “What do you think it means?” he asked gently.

           You thunked back onto your pillow to gaze up at the popcorn ceiling. “I don’t care, to be honest.” The almost-dark made fuzzy static pulse in your vision. “I think I’m going to write about it, actually,” you said, and startled yourself.

           “Oh, uh, okay,” Sam said encouragingly. “Do you want me to—” he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

           “No, no. I’ll be back in a little bit, see if you can go back to sleep.”

           Sam nodded with more than a little concern and you climbed over him, yanking an old sweatshirt out to throw over your wilted tee and scampering off to the kitchen table.

           The house was ice cold and dark aside from the ever-present Christmas lights and you could feel the needles that had begun to drop from the tree under your bare feet, rapidly cooling on the cheap flooring. You picked up the notebook and pens Sam had gotten you and sat down at the kitchen counter to write.

           In the days that followed, the constant and varied nightmares of Dean’s deaths returned. When you woke up, more and more often making it to the morning, you kept writing to Dean about them and sometimes your day as a way of processing. You never ‘told him’ about exactly what happened and tried to focus on the sweet things you remembered that made the worst dreams a tease, moving them to your daytime memory and trying to wash away the despair the nightmares left you clawing through.

            By the middle of January, you and Sam had fallen mostly back into old patterns. The Christmas lights were still up, a sort of night light against the long Midwestern nights, and you couldn’t help feeling a small sense of despair sweeping up loose pine needles when Sam was in the shower every day. You didn’t want the winter to end, as weird as that sounded with the ice and chill and fingertips that never warmed all the way. It felt like if you moved into spring that you were leaving the time-out that you’d created and would have to figure out a longer-term solution than this rented cabin, all thin drywall and poorly insulated ceilings. Even your jobs didn’t feel permanent, the summer vacationers sure to come back and reclaim their spots in the town as it came back to life with the plants.

           The ‘mostly’ was that the boundary you broke with Sam never truly came uncrossed. When you were washing dishes he would come stand behind you, the heat of his lips seeping into the shoulder of your old sweatshirts. You’d intertwine your fingers with his while he drove, realizing only when you went to open the car door and found yourself tangled, or running your hands through his hair while he read next to you on the sofa. You never met Sam’s eyes in these moments—somehow it felt like a secret, private thing that would collapse into dust if gazed upon, some sweet, small creature you were protecting. Neither one of you talked about it in the time since that tequila-soaked night.

           As much as you’d needed to be close to him before, you began craving Sam in a way that scared you. You’d always found him beautiful in the way you admire someone you love, but you caught yourself taking notice of the pillars of muscles along his back when he broke down stock boxes and the dark swoop of his eyelashes. The comments about how lucky you were to have him that used to make you nervous your cover was about to be blown started to make you ache a little with fear and something you couldn’t place. You felt a bizarre flick of jealousy when some twenty somethings drinking White Claw dragged their eyes over him at the bar before leaving on their snowmobiles, like he really was yours to claim. It seemed like a manifestation of your fierce attachment and unresolved grief not only for Dean but your old life with the Winchesters, when they sort of were: your teammates and no one else’s. You resolved it had to be and explained it away without inspection, even when these ‘isolated’ moments became less and less isolated.

           Before you knew it, you were hurtling toward Dean’s birthday.

           “What should we do on Sunday?” you asked early on a Thursday afternoon, trying to keep your voice light and easy while you and Sam got ready for your last day of work for the week.

           “I don’t, uh, I don’t know.”

           “Did you guys ever do anything when you were little?”

           “I mean, not really. Sometimes like a cake or whatever I guess, but Dean was always better at that stuff. By the time we were in our 20s, he only wanted to go meet girls and play up the ‘kiss for the birthday boy’ schtick.” Sam grinned sheepishly as though you didn’t know who Dean had been.

           You couldn’t help but smile, remembering the cocksure half-boy you’d met all those years ago. “Okay, well, if you didn’t have anything in mind, I have a couple ideas.”

           “Oh, yeah, I had only really come up with a cherry pie and a bottle of whiskey.”

           You stood up from the kitchen table and grabbed Sam’s empty plate, leaning into his drying hair for long enough to inhale the minty earthiness of his shampoo. “I mean, that’s a given.”

           In Sunday’s late morning you slipped out of the house while Sam was in the shower, leaving a note behind that said you’d be back in a few minutes. You careened down the road to the quaint main street, running through the list in your head. The grocery store was first for the only bottle of scotch they kept in a tiny plastic container and the fixings for bacon cheeseburgers, then the coffee shop had a cherry pie that looked better to you than whatever pseudo-Entemann’s they had in the limited grocery bakery section. The hardware store had everything else you needed and some extras; you praised the cold climate necessity of having multiple places in town to get gloves and thick woolen socks as you threw a couple on the checkout with the rest of the haul. It was awkward to get everything in the trunk, and you were thankful in this moment that you weren’t trying to drive the little sedan you’d had years ago when it was just you, even as annoying as it was to park the Impala sometimes.

           Back at the cabin Sam was solemnly cleaning up, his eyes red as he wrung out a mop. You took the pie and whiskey out of the bag and put the other groceries away without removing your coat. In truth you only took off the boots you were wearing as a concession to Sam’s mopping, feeling itchy to get back outside and let the complexity of your emotions explode into fresh air unencumbered.

           You tossed a pair of new woolen socks to Sam, who caught them against his chest. “You’re going to want these.”

           “What? Where are we going?”

           “Somewhere I think Dean would’ve liked. Put on some layers, too.”

           Sam obeyed with a crooked eyebrow, coming out of the bedroom a few minutes later looking like a lumberjack catalogue model. You didn’t say anything when you realized the hoodie he was wearing used to be his brother’s.

           “Ready?”

           “I’m not sure, I don’t know where we’re going,” Sam answered honestly.

           You gestured toward the door and he followed you out to the car. Thankfully it had snowed that morning, and tiny billows of powdery snowflakes blew up around each car that you passed on the way.

           The hill was massive. It was a little surprising considering the flatness of the majority of the Midwest, and you’d had to remind yourself that there were some small skiing outfits in the upper half of the state when you’d found it, sure that it was a garbage dump that had been covered lazily in grass seed and left to its own devices. Less impressive surrounding slopes reassured you when you’d scoped it out a few days earlier, and the fresh glittering snow made it look even more spectacular now than you’d remembered. You decided not to push it taking the Impala onto the snow, instead parking at the dead-end you thought was closest.

           “We’re here?” Sam asked, obviously still confused.

           “Yep. Come on,” you said, enjoying the surprise more than you’d thought you would.

           Popping the trunk made it obvious when the bright plastic sleds were wedged in alongside the miscellaneous weapons whose permanent home it was. You watched Sam’s face as recognition dawned, closely followed by a smirk you knew was in large part to humor you. Yanking them out in one big pull, you handed Sam the green one and one of the pair of gloves you’d gotten that morning.

           “These are huge, where did you even find them?” he chuckled, popping the plastic tie between the gloves and sliding his hands into them.

           “You’re huge, it’s not like I can put you on a kid’s one. Besides they must be pretty serious about their sledding up here, these were just from the hardware store.”

           Sam shook his head and waited for you to put your gloves on. They were comically big on you, but you knew you’d regret not wearing any and tried your best to grip the sides of the plastic sled through them as you took off toward the hill. After a few steps, Sam took the sled from you without a word, able to hold it easily with both his well-fitting gloves and the many extra inches between his arms and the ground.

           The walk up the hill was somewhat of a trudge but the way the crisp air sliced through your lungs was a welcome distraction. Snow dampened the ambient noise so all you could hear was Sam’s rhythmic breathing like a mantra, and with one foot in front of the other, by the time you got to the top you felt like you’d been meditating. The view was amazing from the top, a painting or old illustration with its tiny homes and cottages over meandering fields, the snow washing everything out as if you were watching someone else’s dream.

           “Should we race?” Sam asked, the swirled pigment of his irises lit up by the reflection off the snow.

           The next thing you heard was Sam’s laugh behind you as you took a few big strides and jumped onto the sled. Careening down the hill, your hair snapped around, tiny whips cracking into your wind-tenderized cheeks as you tried in vain to steer the sled in slices across the straight pass. Sam’s cackle was distant but comforting over your shoulder. You closed your eyes to feel the speed underneath you and the wind across your face; listen to that laugh that you’d heard so little recently, an old favorite song to be put on repeat. On January 24th of all days it felt like you were being baptized in the clear crystal sound of it.

           When you came to a stop, Sam was only a half second behind you. You fell over in a fit of giggles listening to him play-whine about cheating and “Totally not fair, after I carry your sled all the way up for you!”

           “I’ll beat you again with no head start! Unless you’re chicken,” you taunted, brushing snow off your legs to start back up the hill again. Sam scrambled to his feet, passing you up quickly with his huge strides as you started to run after him. Gasping with laughter and exertion, you and Sam half-wrestled and chased each other to the top, collapsing to your backs like snow angels. After catching your breath, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look over at him.

           “Rematch?”

           Sam’s smile, all straight pearl teeth and cold-flushed cheeks, was as breathtaking as the icy wind as you tore down the run, this time on your stomach with your head low like a bullet, trying in earnest to win again. The front lip of the sled in your fingertips rumbled against little imperfections in the snow. You glanced to check how much of a lead you had on Sam and had barely turned your head before you realized you were also dipping your shoulder, tilting the sled on its greased-lightning path and therefore you with it. Sam was right on your tail and narrowly missed crushing you when you fell off the sled by bailing out of his, your legs tangling together with misplaced velocity. You tried to hold still so you wouldn’t catch his face with a flailing limb, only moving after a beat when it seemed like the collision was over. Sam’s fall seemed to have been more graceful than yours, as he still had a hand on his sled and only a left arm and hair full of snow that he shook loose like a puppy.

           “Are you okay?” he said, getting to his knees to reach out to you.

           You could feel the scrape on your cheek before you got up, but Sam’s wince was only minor when he saw it which was reassuring. He snatched off his glove and brushed snow off your face gently, barely grazing the broken skin. The warmth felt so nice and you would’ve curled up in his palm like Thumbelina if you could. “What’s the damage?” you asked, trying to think about the way your breath puffed up in clouds around you rather than the snowflakes caught in Sam’s eyelashes.

           He was analytical as he took it in, tilting your head carefully in the light. “Doesn’t look too bad. Does it hurt?”

           “Nah. Did you think I’d get soft that fast? I used to get stabbed like once a month.”

           Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Do you want to go home?”

           It didn’t feel as odd as it should’ve, knowing exactly what home meant in this context. “And let you think I only won by cheating? Fat chance!”

           “You don’t even have a sled anymore!”

           You glanced around you and saw your sled sitting smugly an easy 30 yards past the base of the hill. “Gimme a ride?”

           It was a little awkward until Sam sat down on the sled with each heel straddled and digging into the snow, allowing you to crawl between his legs without unintentionally sliding down the rest of the slope. He seemed unsure of himself as he wrapped his arms around your torso, and you hooked your hands around each of his legs to do your part to hang onto him. “Ready?” he asked, his breath warm on your neck.

           When you nodded, he unstuck his heels and you shot like a racehorse down the hill. Sam’s chest was solid as a rock behind you, cushioned with his layers and fastened with his seatbelt arms. You could feel the muscles in his legs moving against your hands, trying to balance the weight of the two of you on the flimsy material. Despite your fall only moments ago, it was safe in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. The ride came to a stop only a few steps away from your cast off sled.

           You turned into Sam to get to your knees before standing up and slipped on a wet patch on the plastic, the melted snow turning the surface impossibly slick. It made you fall forward into Sam, his seated position not giving him enough stability to stay on balance—the sled shifted back underneath the both of you and brushed your lips across his as you ended up with your scraped cheek against the rough canvas of his jacket.

           “I—oh my god I’m sorry,” you stammered, springing back gracelessly.

           Sam looked somewhat like a little kid or a doll, sitting wide eyed with his legs still spread out around you. You stayed back on your knees feeling like you should move slowly, that maybe you could back away unscathed yet. Sam reached his hands out and you thought it was okay, he understood you wouldn’t cross yet another line with him, that it was a simple mistake and he was going to move past it or ask for your help up, and then his heavily gloved hand slid into your hair and he was leaning toward you, the breath that had felt so comforting on the back of your neck as you flew down the hill now on your bottom lip. Your needle-sharp inhale drew that air from him, and you started to feel dizzy. He waited for a moment, searching between your eyes for you to pull back, to turn it into a joke, but you couldn’t. Something in the light pressure of his hand was an anchor and you found yourself glancing at Sam’s lips and slowly, agonizingly, Sam closed the distance between you.

           His lips were so soft and gentle that it made you feel like you were going to cry and then you were crying, just one hot salty tear that stung the fresh abrasion on your cheek as you moved against him, this foreign and scary part of the person you knew the best on this earth. Somehow kissing Sam was exactly how you would’ve guessed it would be—tender and sweet and reverent. The sound dampening of the snow amplified your other senses: the feeling of the cheap Gore-Tex catching one or two hairs as Sam supported your weight, the small brush of Sam’s breath through his nose, the tight flick of the wind against your coats. It was over as quickly as it started, leaving you and Sam staring at each other bewildered while your hair tangled around you.

           You could feel that your eyes were as wide as Sam’s. Completely unable to formulate a thought or feeling, much less something to say, you silently extricated yourself from the sled. Sam did too, staring at it like it was some complicated spell, even turning away from you as you crossed over to your own store-bought chariot. You could read his tension even in his back, the tight stretch of his shoulders as he clutched at the scruff of his neck, and just wanted to make it better.

           “Okay, rematch for real this time? I would say I won’t fall again but, no promises.”

           Sam looked scared when he turned back to you, his voice gruff when he choked out a halfhearted, “yeah, sure” and followed you up the hill. He was far enough behind you that you couldn’t hear his breathing anymore and it took him a little bit to reach you at the peak. His body seemed like it was cracking around him, aging in moments as he shakily got into his sled beside yours. You wanted so badly to tell him it’s okay, it’s just some dumb mistake, we were just goofing off but you knew it wasn’t true and you didn’t want to lie.

           The only thing you could fix your mouth to say was, “Count us down so you can’t say I’m cheating again,” and hope he heard the apology and forgiveness in it.

           Sam obeyed dutifully and you kicked off down the hill, trying to use the speed you gathered and the clarity in the way it split open your lungs to try to understand what had just happened. The same trip that had felt like glorious ages before was over in a second and you were up out of your sled before you remembered you were supposed to be measuring whether you or Sam had gotten down faster.

           “Tie, we’re going again!” you yelled over your shoulder as you did your best to bound through the deep snow up the side of the hill, not waiting to see if he was following you.

           Once again at the top, ragged and out of breath and only a few steps ahead of him, you took a second to collect yourself before putting your sled back in the snow and holding it in place with one foot.

           “I’m sor—” Sam started before you cut him off.

           “Okay, third time’s the charm!” you said with panicked cheerfulness that you knew instantly was too much, but Sam stopped talking and dejectedly sat on his sled next to you.

           You and Sam spent probably an hour more sledding, your legs turning to jello underneath you as you ran up the hill over and over again and your cheeks getting more and more wind chapped, before Sam finally smiled, exasperated at some joke about still beating him up the hill with legs that were half as long. It was all the fuel you needed to keep chipping away at him until the sun started dropping and the chill broke through all your layers.

           The two of you plodded through the snow back to the car together. Gloves and sleds in the trunk, you flopped into the passenger seat with that sudden too-hot feeling of getting out of the wind and tore at your coat to desperately strip some layers. Sam threw his own jacket in the back. Without giving him a chance to protest or hook up his phone, you turned on the tape deck and Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here pounded out like rocky silk.

           “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you murmured. You looked over at Sam, who burst into a kind of frantic laughter that you completely understood. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing either, because of course this was playing during the tense peace on Dean’s birthday in Dean’s car, and then you and Sam were cry-laughing in the rapidly humidifying air of the Impala while Syd Barrett waxed poetic. By the time the second chunks of Shine On You Crazy Diamond started, you were gasping for air and clutching at your sides.

           You drove home after that in relative silence, the fatigue of fresh air and running all afternoon catching up with you. Sam took a shower while you put together burgers, switching spots with you to cook them while you washed up. They were pretty good due in large part to how seriously Wisconsinites take their cheese, bacon, and beef, and you wolfed yours long before your hair had stopped dripping onto the collar of the threadbare sweatshirt you’d changed into.

           The first shot of scotch burned like it always did, offsetting the sweet tang of the cherry pie and reminding you of the way Dean used to taste when you kissed him at the end of a long night. You looked out the window at the last purple glow of the sunset as it turned the evening into deep, endless inky blue.

           “I’ve gotta—I’m so sorry,” Sam spat out like the words were beating their way out of his mouth.

           “You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmured, unable to immediately meet his gaze and looking down at your pie.

           “I just—I can’t—I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he stammered.

           You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the whole thing. “Join the club.”

           Sam smirked but it was mirthless. “No, I know, but it’s just…I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He stabbed a deflated cherry with pursed lips, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. The fork clattered to his plate. “It’s not getting any easier. Every day I wake up and I’m so mad. It’s so fucking unfair that I have to stay here without him because I know that’s what he fucking wanted, and I feel like there’s no point in trying to have anything like good or normal because I’m just running out the clock. And then today’s Dean’s fucking birthday and I kiss his girlfriend—what is wrong with me?”

           The outburst hung in the air, a toxic smoke that excluded everything else. You slammed the rest of your glass of scotch, relishing the way it scalded. “So I’m just Dean’s girlfriend?”

           “No, that’s not what I—I mean I guess—it’s not like you aren’t—I don’t know, it just seems like you’ll always be his girlfriend.”

           “Are you still Jess’s boyfriend?”

           It was the absolute most cruel and wrong thing to say and you regretted the words as soon as they left your tongue and crashed into Sam, not even really knowing why you’d thought them. They distorted his face in incredulity and betrayal but you didn’t back down, maintaining eye contact until he snatched the bottle and refilled both glasses. When he spoke again his voice was gravelly and broken.

           “I guess I deserved that.”

           “Sam, this is fucking weird. It always has been, us being alive without Dean, and if you’re just now getting that then you’re not as smart as I thought you were. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s going on either, but I know that you’re the only thing that’s keeping me from ending up with a bullet in my skull or in a locked ward, so if you’re waiting for me to forgive you for something, for anything you’ve ever said or done, it’s already forgiven. But we’re too tied up together for every tiny redrawing of the boundaries to send us over the edge. Please.”

           “Tiny redrawing of boundaries? I kissed you!”

           “And I kissed you back, Sam! What do you want to do about it? What’s the absolution here? If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. Take the Impala and I’ll find some other car, I’ll borrow the Kaisers’ other one or something. Or maybe you want me to go and I’ll go; I’ll do anything you want me to. I’ll leave right now, you never have to see me again if that’s what you want but I know Dean loved you and loved me and I don’t think he would’ve wanted you to torture yourself all the time so what is it that you want?”

           “I want us to be fucking normal and I don’t want to feel like I’m cheating with my brother’s girlfriend! I don’t want to have a cover story and I don’t want to keep running away!”

           “Then fucking stop! Stop feeling guilty and talk to me about this stuff!”

           Sam laughed, hard and bitter and choked off.

           “I’m serious. We can’t keep doing this shit, at least I can’t. We need to start talking—about Dean, about everything. It’s like this lump of decay and we’re just spraying Febreze and not dealing with it.”

           Sam’s mouth popped open as he tongued his molars. He bit his lip in frustration before crumpling up his napkin and threw it on top of his half-eaten pie. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

           You weren’t expecting that. For all the ways it had seemed like Dean had been the more emotionally closed off, he was always much easier for you to read than Sam, who managed somehow to talk about things without actually communicating how he felt. It was good if you needed to be supported but made it extremely hard to be there for him. Refilling your glasses a bit more conservatively, you offered up an open palm to let Sam go first. His jaw tensed and he swallowed hard.

           “No bullshit?” he asked.

           “No bullshit. What’s the point of bullshitting anymore? After everything?”

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 6

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass​ @anxiousbarnes​ @deanwinchesterswitch​ @akshi8278​ @itsjensenanddean​ @flannellover67​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @tj-drinks-tea​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @winchestergirl2​ @winchest09​ @samwisethegr8​ @fawnxng​ @nurse-sarahrn​ @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love​ @deanwanddamons​ @stressedoutkitten​ @winchestershiresauce​ @tatted-trina6​ @percico-heronstairs​  @downanddirtydean​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @lyarr24​ @waywardwifey​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @wonder-cole​ @sergeantsea​ peachyafshawn

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

[bitletsanddrabbles]

WIP Wednesday: Writing At The Speed of Quick Before It’s Gone!

So last year, this trope mashup thread was going around, and I gave @o-rchidae a mashup which resulted in two ideas that both needed to exist. We each took one and mine resulted in a silly bit of fluff that I had loads of fun writing.

It also threatened to spawn a sequel. Of course, the sequel was full of stuff that was an even bigger mystery to me than the British medical system and I had other things to do, so it kinda foundered.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, someone happened to leave kudos on a completely unrelated work, which got me listening to my Go To Peter song on loop for the first time in ages, which...actually convinced the little photojournalist to come back and start chattering at me.

Since then I’ve been writing as fast as I can and peppering o-rchidae with questions in hopes of getting something worked up before Peter decides to wander off to Adamstown or something.

-

-

Peter listened to the rise and fall of his host’s voice, committing the words to memory as best he could, even though he was certain that, to the outside observer, he wasn’t paying the first bit of attention. He adjusted the focus on his camera, honing in on the words carved in the beam in front of him: Al + Bobby. There was a heart carved around them. The wood had clearly been refinished since they were carved, but the edges of the wood were surprisingly unworn. They could have been put there yesterday, rather than almost a hundred years ago by a pair of men who were undoubtedly dead by now.

“The police raided the place in 1927,” the building’s current owner, a man named Tim Bradley, explained. “It was bought again two years later by a company that used it as a furniture warehouse. It’s traded hands a number of times since then.” He waited for the snap of Peter’s camera, then walked over and ran his fingers over the carving. “Various owners tried to get rid of the graffiti. They had it filled and painted over. Finally, probably around the fifties, someone just drywalled over it.”

Peter snapped three more pictures while Tim was talking. He knew it hadn’t been the other man’s intention, but if the words themselves had been poignant, the sight of his fingers running reverently over them was even more so. “The whole building?” he pulled away from the camera and looked around him. Tim’s redecorating had done nothing to disguise the fact the place had been built as a warehouse: it was huge, with high ceilings, and no windows. Peter couldn’t imagine the cost and difficulty of putting sheet rock over everything.

“Not all of it. They only went about half way up, just enough to cover the graffiti. We found the original wood when we got the go ahead to pull the asbestos sheets off.”

“They still had asbestos in them?” This just got better and better. “The previous owners hadn’t dealt with that?”

Tim shrugged. “No reason to. It was already up and painted, so there was less health risk just leaving it than there was pulling it out. Besides, this place had been pretty much abandoned since the late eighties when I bought it. There have been several movements to pull it down, but it’s such a landmark the locals wouldn’t hear of it. A few other people have proposed buying it and putting it to use again, but it’s always fallen through.” He smiled and looked up toward the ceiling, which now boasted lights and fans, some of the only signs of modernization. “It just seemed right, you know, to honour it’s history and turn it back into a club.”

Peter looked back at the names carved into the wood. “You said that the carvings had all been filled and painted over. Did you restore them on purpose, then?”

“Yeah. Took plenty of time and effort, let me tell you, but it seemed the best way to recognize the men who were here before us…and give a big, postmortem fuck you to the cops who arrested them.”

[botanicials]

backpedal

... in which harry accidentally moans the wrong name

... word count: 4.4k

... theme: angst

Being memorable was one of Harry’s most redeeming qualities, you had figured that out early on in your relationship.

Not only would he remind you about plans you’d made with friends or meetings you were scheduled in at work; he’d remember the small things, like when once whilst telling a story from years ago, you’d mentioned that you could only tolerate cherry-flavored cough drops. Two months after the small comment, you’d caught a cold and amongst the care “basket” (large reusable grocery bag) he packed up was a heavy bag of cherry Ricola.

He knew that when your nose scrunched up, you were having a hard time keeping your thoughts at bay, which perfume you wore according to the season, which sweaters you preferred whenever you were over at his because “Harry it’s cold out why would you possibly need the A/C on at night?”.

One thing he happened to not remember however, at such an unfortunate time, was your name.

It wasn’t like he’d just gotten back from promos, recording, writing even, or that the two of you having sex was anything new for fuck’s sake. He was back from the states, the album has been done for months, and it wasn’t even fifteen hours ago that you two were in this very position.

There was no other reason for his mind to be elsewhere. No other reason for him to focus on anything other than you.

It happens when he dips his hips at a certain angle, the back of your head digs further into the pillow and he buries his face into the exposed side of your neck, warm breath sweeping over your skin as a groan escapes his lips.

You could feel nothing but him: the weight of his body, the thin layer of sweat on his back under your fingertips. His movements seemed so impulsive, habitual and that made the entire situation so much worse.

He brought his hand down to grip your waist, lips parting open. “Fuck, Cami-…” His throat closed up, body seeming to instinctively stop himself from saying her name as his eyes flew open in a panic.

Your hands immediately fly to his shoulders as you push and turn your head to the right, eyes unable to reach his. “Off. Get off, get off–”

“I didn’t..” His words die out and he removes himself from you and rests on his side, arm now supporting most of his weight. “Baby-” he whispers, reaching to try and grab at your wrist but you’re too fast.

One second you were under him, holding, pulling on his forearm to have him closer; and the next, you were pushing him as far from you as possible, grabbing the throw blanket sat at the end of his bed and wrapping it around your body before practically sprinting to the ensuite bathroom.

“Love, love, love, love, love…” his words are rushed as he quickly follows after you, not bothering to cover his lower half. The haziness in the room had dissipated, and he now found himself in panic mode trying his best to get to you as soon as possible.

Yet again, he isn’t fast enough, because the door slams right in his face and he has to snap his fingers from the frame so they aren’t caught. “Baby, I… shit.” He whispers to himself, grabbing at his sweatpants that were left tossed over the armchair.

None of this feels real to him. It can’t be because he couldn’t have possibly just done that. There’s no fucking way.

It’s as if he’s watching all of this unfold from someone else’s point of view. It’s as if he’s dreaming; his head is spinning and nothing makes sense- this can’t be real.

His fingers tremble as he ties the drawstring taut around his hips, shaking his head to himself as he moves over to the door.

“I don’t…” Fuck. Fuck. “Wasn’t thinkin’ about ‘er. I wasn’t. And I… I know that sounds like absolute shit, but I swear it. Baby, I… I wasn’t thinkin’.”

His heart is beating out of his chest as he explains because he loves you. He does. Told you that for the first time just four days ago. You’re easily one of the best things that have ever happened to him in such a long time and this wasn’t anything but an accident. There was no deeper meaning.

“Don’t know what else t’say, darling… I’m sorry. I am- and I know that might not mean much right now but I.. I’ve never been more sorry.”

It’s when he hears you sniffle from behind the door that his heart drops even further and tears sting his eyes. His hands rest on his hips and he tilts his neck back to blink up at the ceiling.

Things were just starting to become real with you-- not that they never were, but the two of you weren’t just dating anymore. He was getting ready to introduce you to his family, he had just started thinking about the thought of you two being together. The house and the kids and a ring and it’s fucking ridiculous, he knows that, but now it isn’t. Now, it’s borderline impossible. All because of tonight.

A slip-up.

He’s aware of how selfish he’s planning on being; preparing on asking you to look past his mistake, to forget that this had ever happened, but at this point he needs you. It’s desperate and pathetic but it’s all he could bring himself to be at this moment.

A handful of minutes pass of a teary-eyed Harry pacing back and forth in front of his bathroom door and you sniffling from behind it before he decides to finally sit on the wooden floor beside it.

You both stay like that for a while, quiet sitting nearly back to back on opposite sides of drywall and it’s not like you two, not knowing what to say, what to do, or how to act around one another. Not in so long, so the feeling is too foreign. Unwelcome.

Harry clears his throat. “Just… take as long as yeh need, love. M’right here.” He finally says and the thought of you wanting him anywhere but there makes him rest his head in his hands. A part of him knows he should leave to another room, give you some space. Yet that same selfish part of him wants to do nothing but hold you as close as possible and explain himself. Explain what happened those moments ago, even if he didn’t know how. He just wanted a chance. 

About fifteen minutes go by before he speaks again. It’s nearing two in the morning and you’ve been quiet for a while so there’s a possibility you’re asleep, but he decides to gamble.

“I love you.” He starts. “I meant it when I said it the first time and I mean it now. So.. so much, angel. Yeh have no idea like… really s’just– this whole thing is..” He runs a hand over his face before resting his elbows on his bent knees. There’s no way this was good for his back. 

He’s frowning to himself as he prepares. “When I said- When I almost said Camile’s name I–”

His apology is cut short when the ensuite door practically slams open and his head snaps over to catch a blur of navy blue fly past. You’re still wrapped in the velvet soft blanket, nothing too out of the ordinary, only you’re not half asleep asking him to “Please stay a little longer?” with a soft pout at your lips.

No. Right now you’re fast and focused, throwing his white comforter around in search of your clothes. You aren’t begging him to get back in bed until the sun comes up, you’re trying to remove yourself from the room as quickly as possible.

Harry’s standing now, lingering as he rubs at the knot growing in his neck, eyes on you.

“Baby-”

“Please.” You breathe out, hand spread out in front of you. “I can’t right now, Harry.”

The sound of your voice makes him freeze, arms falling to his sides as you resume searching for your bralette, he’s assuming, considering you’ve already snatched up everything else.

In these last twenty to twenty-five minutes, you’re clearly exhausted; and if his mind is running miles a minute he can only imagine what scenarios you’re thinking up. He understands, really he does because if he was on the other end of things he’s not sure what he’d be presuming right now.

It’s just that he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sit back and watch someone that’s made him look forward each day leave without putting in any effort. He’d beat himself up over this entire situation even more if he didn’t at least try.

“I wasn’t thinkin’ straight–“, he decides to repeat. Everything he rehearsed in his head is long gone and he finds himself unable to elicit what he’d already said from the other side of the door. “Wasn’t thinkin’ at all because it’s just you. S’all you. Just sit and-” He panics when you finally grab the white lace that was twisted in his comforter and make a beeline back to the bathroom. “Woah, woah, woah.”

He’s able to catch you before you can make it this time, his hand wrapped loosely around your arm, eyes trying to find yours. “Love…”

“Let go.”

He murmurs your name and his shoulders sag. “Look a’ me. C’mon-”

“I said let go.”

The room goes quiet as he stares at the side of your face and you realize how heavily your actions affect your future; what effects these next few moments would have on what could be the remaining of your relationship. Every decision you make right now is going to alter whether you and Harry will end up together or not. And that’s all too much right now.

You reluctantly turn your head to look over at him; with your red-rimmed eyes and in a raw voice you whisper, “.. I really can’t right now.”

Harry’s lips are rolled into his mouth when he nods his head, eyes falling to the ground before removing his hand from your skin.

He has to take in a shaky breath when you close the door behind you, sniffling as he wipes at the wet under his eyes. He’s realized that you leaving tonight was the only option for right now, no matter how much he wished it wasn’t.

Harry Sunday 4:36 AM I love you so much, darling. I wish I could apologize a million times over. I understand if you need time but whenever you’re ready to talk to me, I’m here. I’ll wait for you.

Harry Monday 11:12 AM Just woke up. I’ve got a meeting at 1 until 3 or so, but if you need me please don’t hesitate to call. I love you.

Harry Yesterday 9:02 PM Know it’s late, didn’t forget about you. I was at another meeting. Still here, love you so much.

It’s past-noon now, however many days later, and Harry is sat on the lounge he had on his backyard patio, a thick blanket heavy on his shoulders. The outdoor fireplace was lit in front of him, warming mostly his legs and the mug of hot chocolate he sat on the small table beside it. Flurries in the air confirm the fact that he should not be outside, but he’s always found the sounds of the river a few meters down to be therapeutic, icy ripples that weren’t yet frozen over resonating as the sky turns into a hazy purple.

He’s able to think back on how much you enjoyed laying up with him out here. There was usually a book in both your and Harry’s hands, maybe a homemade drink if Harry was feeling particularly generous.

He brought you out here the first time you visited his house, it was around the same hour it is now; the sunset, the snow wind, the ripples. You’d both gotten into such a spellbound conversation that he’d forgotten to give you a full tour; the two of you stayed out there all night just… talking and Harry doesn’t think he’d ever appreciate such a simple moment more.

Speaking with you was always effortless up until now, where he’s only been in contact with you once a day for the last few. Through text.

He didn’t want to overwhelm you, he knew you wanted-- needed space, so he succumbed to daily texts, so you knew that he was still fighting. The last thing he needed was for you to think that he gave up. 

Flowers or edible arrangements… they crossed his mind, but this wasn’t something that could be fixed with something materialistic; you deserved so much more than that.

Harry Today 6:58 PM Hey.. I hope you’re doing well. Our coffee place has a special on the cinnamon bagels you like. x

“That was cordial,” he says to himself, reading it over a couple of times before tossing his phone on the cushion beside his leg.

You hadn’t answered the last three messages, he doesn’t even know if you’ve read them-- and a part of him wonders if he isn’t trying hard enough. Are you expecting the flowers and chocolate covered fruits? Him on his knees begging at your front door?

Deep down he knows he knows you, and any other day he wouldn’t second guess you needing your space, but you seem much too far away than he’s used to and his confidence in his knowledge of you is beginning to slip away. 

His phone dings and he jumps, heart buzzing as he looks at the notification.

Mitch Today 7:06 PM You still going to Los Angeles next Thursday?

“For fuck’s sake…”

Harry Today 7:06 PM Don’t know yet, I will by Wednesday. x

It’s a second after sending that he receives another message.

Today 7:07 PM I’m doing okay, thank you for the exposé.

Harry’s heart stutters as he rereads your name at the top of the notification. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. 

Okay? Much better than bad, so he takes that as a positive, just like how he took the fact that you’d left your toothbrush at his as a good sign as well.

Harry Today 7:09 PM Course. x

Harry Today 7:10 PM I could grab you some? I’m on the way out to the store.

Lie.

Today 7:12 PM it’s okay, don’t want you to go out of your way.

Harry Today 7:13 PM It isn’t, really. I don’t mind.

Harry Today 7:13 PM And I’d really like to see you.

It’s the longest you two have gone without seeing each other whilst being remotely in the same area. He’s convinced himself that the sniffles he’s had for the last few days are allergies and not from him being a bit lovesick.

He stares once a grey text bubble pops up on his screen, taunting him almost as he tries to anticipate your response.

No.

Too bad.

Fuck off.

Fuck you.

Those replies all seemed pretty rational to him, it’s what he expected; so when the text bubble disappears, his eyebrows pull together in a nervous furrow. His thumb reaches up to pull the screen up as if the messages would refresh, and flinches when you resume typing again.

He figures that a short message would be better than a long one, but a long one would be better than nothing; so he settles.

Today 7:16 PM is that a good idea??

Harry Today 7:16 PM It’s all up to you, love. I didn’t mean to force anything,

Today 7:17 PM you aren’t, I appreciate you giving me the space you did.

Today 7:17 PM if there’s a sale, do you think there will be any bagels left at this hour? haha

At that, Harry finds himself smiling.

Harry Today 7:18 PM Welllllll, for your sake I would hope so.

Today 7:19 PM if they don't, I'll take a cinnamon roll then.

Harry Today 7:19 PM Cinnamon roll or cinnamon bagel. Noted. See you in 15?

Today 7:19 PM yeah, the complex gates should be open

Harry Today 7:19 PM :)

“Don’t stress about it, you’re just gonna make yourself cry again.”

“Shut up, Anais..” you mumble, frowning at your laptop screen. Your friend only smiles, applying more of the mellow green face mask to her cheeks. “It’s just… not gonna be the same, I could feel it through the fucking screen, it’s weird now. And I know I’m being dramatic--”

“No, no, and no, I’m joking. You can’t be sorry for feeling hurt. He’s thinking about an ex, of course that hurts, it’s a problem.” Anais was the only person you could bring yourself to tell about the entire situation, far too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone else. That, and the two of you are the polar extremes of the same personality so you balanced one another out. “Whether it was an innocent mistake- which is what I’m leaning towards the most -or if there’s even the slightest possibility that he’s still got more feelings for the girl than he should.. babe, you have every right to feel upset either way.”

“See, and what’s fucked is that I figured as much in the beginning. They’ve only been broken up for like a year, but he went and wrote like.. almost an entire album? There’s got to be some kind of-” You circle your hands in front of you. “- deeper connection there. You know?”

Anais twists her lips. “Yeah, I know.”

“I can’t be upset with him for feeling how he feels, but I can be upset about him stringing me along.”

“Mm! That’s good, write that down.” She points at your phone through the screen. “Just not the stringing along part. Too harsh. Say… upset about him being with you when he doesn’t know what he wants.”

You get as far as typing doesn’t before you sigh, setting your phone down on the couch beside you. “This isn’t gonna work, I feel like I’m prepping for a presentation.”

The two of you conjured up a bullet list of highlights to mention ever since Harry said he was on his way, as of now, all you had was:

don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry

“I’ve decided that I deserve more because I do”

try to bring up feelings?? somehow?

talk about how you’re feeling and then how it affects the relationship?

“You don’t have to read it right in front of him, just reference it before you open the door so you have like, some idea of what to say. Do you know what you want to say?”

“No, and he could get here literally at any minute now, fuck.”

“Okay, okay. New plan.” Anais starts, and your face is buried in your hands. “Ditch the phone. Just.. when he’s in front of you, you’ll think more clearly. You said that once, right?”

“It’s different now.” Your words are muffled.

“You’ll figure it out. You figure everything out.”

With another sigh you drag your hands down your face and leave them covering your mouth and chin, Anais sees easily through the screen that your eyes are watered over. “I’m so fucking scared, Ana.”

And it’s true. Clearly.

In the small number of months you’ve been together, Harry had become someone you couldn’t quite imagine life without. He was so warm and inviting, homey. Once one of the easiest people to talk to and now somehow you couldn’t fathom him sitting on your couch in a few minutes, a place he’s been more times than you could count.

You didn’t want to lose him and right now that seems like the only resolution.

Your best friend watches you from her own apartment, her face turned down into a frown. You’re cuddled up with your biggest throw at the very left side of your couch, laptop sat on the console you situated in front of you. The lights were dim, curtains and blinds wide open displaying the snowfall. You should be sipping on Stella Rosa from the bottle with that cliche ABC movie Snowglobe playing, but here you are on the verge of tears over something so minuscule yet complicated.

“I don’t know.. it all just seems so inevitable-” You pause when three solid knocks sound at your front door. “He’s here.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I’ll…” You take in a deep breath and move the blanket from your lap. “I’ll call you back?”

Anais nods, a small frown on her features. “Text me if I’m not awake. Love you.”

You try to smile. “Love you.”

You didn’t realize how much the white noise of Anais’ call filled the room. Everything went quiet, and Harry’s presence from behind the door is evermore distinct.

Your sock-clad feet pad lightly upon the wood floor, your nerves seemingly pulling you in the opposite direction. Thoughts of you sat on his bathroom floor reappear in your memory; the embarrassment of not feeling like enough, the regret of deciding to go over to his in the first place.

If he never invited you over for homemade soup none of this would’ve happened, you’d be tucked under his arm trying not to fall asleep-- but it then makes you wonder if this was something that needed to happen. That you were only a temporary fix before he could go back to the one that still held onto his love strung heart.

With your fingers on the deadbolt lock, you twist and push down on the nickel door handle. A rush of frosty air slips from outside and into your foyer, the wind shifting the baby hairs off of your face.

Once the door is fully open, you find Harry’s stood in a thick white sweater and navy coat, a soft blush has grown upon his nose and cheeks. His hair is much curlier than usual, toppled over to one side thanks to the unpredictable weather. He’s holding a bag from Coldwell’s in his right hand and under his scent of vanilla and pine, was the sugary smell of cinnamon bagels. He’s squinting ever so slightly and his lips are a deep shade of pink.  Despite it all, you find yourself admiring your boyfriend and for that small moment, everything that happened that night is forgotten.

“Was gonna knock again, wasn’t sure if you’d heard.”

“No, yeah, I did. Sorry, I was-” You clear your throat. “Sorry.”

Harry frowns and you realize then that he’s been outside for a bit too long now. “S’fine, no need ‘t apologize.”

“Um, come in.” You say, stepping behind the door and Harry moves to shuffle through. You shut and lock the door as he toes of his boots. 

There are a few tiny snowflakes still sat in his hair and any other time you’d brush them away and bring him in for a kiss.

Now, you only glance up at them and quickly advert your eyes before finding your way down the hall.

The two of you end up on your couch, you on one end (where you’d been bundled up majority of the week) and Harry in the middle. There was an incredibly odd amount of space between the two, but him being here isn’t as incredibly off-putting as you imagined it would be beforehand.

His coat is hung up in your front closet, and the bag of bagels he’d promised you sit on your coffee table, the heat of them creating moisture on the wooden surface.

You shift to tuck your foot under you, moving a stray hair from your cheek. “I’m not really sure where to start,” you admit, focused on the fluff of your blanket.

Harry sniffs and clears his throat, gaining your attention. “I love you. And I know I’ve said it countless times now I just.. Me saying her name that night was.. nothing but an honest mistake-- wasn’t actively thinking about her I-I know that Mark asked me a question about her maybe the other day? Like, beforehand and.. tha’s the only like, reason I could think up of why I said it.”

You’re silent, allowing him to explain himself the best he could, so he continues.

“Know s’not something you could just.. forget about and move on from-- I’ve hurt you in one of the worst ways possible. Know that completely and I.. I can’t apologize enough, love.. I just want you to that I’m recognizing that I was in the wrong, you know? Not that you.. are putting any blame on yourself-- fuckin’...” He sighs, running a quick hand over his face and it’s clear that there are tears gathering in his eyes. “I dunno, I’m like, ramblin’ now-”

“No, I um.. I think it’s more humiliation than anything. Not that I shouldn’t feel the way I do, it’s just.. fucking embarrassing.”

“I’m sorry. I am so so sorry.”

“I know-”

“No, y’really don’t because I.. really don’t want to lose you over this, you’re.. undoubtedly the best thing that’s happened to me in so long.”

“That doesn’t mean that there might be lingering feelings for her, H.”

“But there aren’t,” he nearly cuts you off. 

“I care about you,” you start. “I do. And this.. entire situation kind of just made me.. think about my worth. Um... I promised myself that I’d never let someone have that much of an effect on how I view myself because I’m always going to be me, you know?”

Harry nods, eyebrows drawn into a frown and you continue. 

“So I.. I thought about it and reevaluated what I deserve and I know that it’s a bit more than that.”

“It is. S’so much more.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about the two of you.” You advert your eyes for a second. “When you love, Harry you give so much and... not that I can tell you how you feel, but I’ve... I don’t know.”

Harry blinks. “I don’t have any other reason as to why I could’ve said it. I don’t but what I do know is that I don’t feel the way I did before about her now,” he pauses. “I know with everything in me that I’m in love with one person, and she’s sat right in front of me.”

It dawns on you then (not that it hasn’t crossed your mind already) that this could indeed be nothing but a mishap with no hidden meaning. You aren’t an expert on how brains work, and this thought doesn’t submerge the ache and betrayal you felt, but ending such a potential relationship over a genuine mistake makes your stomach turn.  

“Camile and I were together, yeah? I wrote some songs, we broke up, I wrote some more and yes, I was in love and then heartbroken but all of those feelings are so minuscule to how you make me feel. To how you’ve made me feel the last few months I’ve known you. You’ve got no idea how much I mean that. Baby, you have me. I don-”

You take his hand that was outstretched towards you- him being ever adamant on speaking with gestures - and rise to your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

He wraps his around your back right away, pulling you closer into his chest.

“I love you,” he mumbles into your skin. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am. I love you.”

“I love you,” you finally say, eyes burning with tears. “I know I sound stupid; asking you for reassurance I-”

“No, hey, no. You deserve all of the reassurance in the world after that, darling. I can’t apologize enough.”

“It’s just gonna take me a little time, okay?”

“I know, love.. I’m sorry.”

Another one of Harry’s redeemable qualities was his integrity. You were aware of his morals and how authentic he was and despite the hurt and embarrassment you went through, you knew his heart.

There is no doubt that the two of you would be taking baby-steps for a spell; the important thing was that Harry was willing to wait as long you needed. And luckily for him, with the snow still brushing your window, there was an excuse for you to stay cuddled up with him for the remainder of the night.

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

as discussed gary is grown up jack from magic tree house

(Been mulling this one over for a while and finally got something)

AO3

“We need to get out of here!”

"No, not yet!”

He heard an explosion before he felt the floor he was on shake. A few pieces of the drywall crumbled from above. His sister was still paging through her book of spells.

“What are you two still doing here?” Kathleen’s hand was pulling him back. “We have to go.”

“She’s not done yet! Kathleen, please!”

The ceiling came down between them and his sister. Her shocked face was the last thing he saw before the dust and rubble obscured his vision.

“ANNIE!”

Gary inhaled sharply as he woke up. For a few moments, he was paralyzed from the nightmare he’d relived yet again. Once his muscles relaxed, he reached out to grab his glasses and put them on his face. With the world a little more clearer, Gary sighed and sat up.

He hated that nightmare more than anything. Losing his little sister had been the worst day of his life. They’d been thick as thieves for years through all their adventures. Having to leave her behind and then lying to his parents about her getting separated from him in the woods had been awful. He remembered every police interview, his parents’ pleas for their daughter to come home, and all the questions kids kept asking him.

When he was old enough, he decided he needed a fresh start. He was done with those days. Not even Morgana’s offer to become an apprentice was enough to lure him back. He changed his name, became Gary Green, and set out to find a way to get back to his sister. But years passed, and his efforts proved fruitless. He was ready to throw in the towel by the time a man in a suit sat across from him the library as he poured over yet another history textbook.

When Rip Hunter had talked to him about the Time Bureau, he’d selfishly seen it as a chance to find his little sister. The job also sounded pretty simple to him. He’d been traveling through time and completing missions since he was eight. Yes, it was more complicated now and he’d made mistakes, but Gary knew what he was doing. Even with all the paperwork and assignments, he still found time to visit where he had lost Annie. However, there had been no body.

She was still out there, but the question was where?

Gary finally rose from the bed and shoved his feet into slippers and pushed open the door to get to the bathroom. Yesterday had been the anniversary of their separation, so it was weighing on him heavily. He was another year older and wiser from magic and time travel, but no closer to finding Annie. Maybe this coming year would be different. Perhaps he’d finally find her, just like he told himself every year.

He had to wait for Nate to get out of the bathroom before he could head on it. Once the historian was out, Gary stumbled in and pulled out his toiletry kit and clothes. HIs wallet slipped out of his pants. He bent down to pick it up, staring at the Master Librarian card he’d received so many years ago. Behind it was Annie’s, which was all he had found when he visited the place where he’d last seen her.

“How long have you been hanging on to that old thing?”

Gary looked up in the mirror to see he was no longer alone. It took all his might not to yelp at the sight of the stranger behind him. He whirled around to face the woman who’d been standing behind him. It took a moment to place her face and account for the years that had passed. But her eyes gave her away. He only knew one person with eyes that he could never tell were green or blue.

“Kathleen?”

The selkie smiled and stepped forward to hug him. “Hello, Jack.”

He embraced the old friend instantly. In an instant, he was a boy again on another adventure, happy to see his friend and someone he had once had a crush on. Then reality caught up to him. Gary took a step back from her, earning a head tilt from Kathleen.

“It’s Gary now,” he told her, knowing his expression was harder than he wanted it to be. “I changed it. I needed a fresh start.”

“I remember,” her tone become much cooler. “I still remember the day you decided to quit working with Morgan and Merlin.”

"I’m not going on another mission for you.”

Morgan and Merlin were gaping at him. In the background, Kathleen nearly dropped the stack of books she’d been ready to file. She caught them just in time, but made no move to shelve them. Her eyes were solely on him.

“What do you mean you’re not doing another mission?” Merlin asked roughly. “I know your treehouse is gone, but we can find a replacement for-”

“It was our treehouse,” Jack spat back at the wizard. “And there’s not replacement for it. Kathleen and I almost didn’t make it back after it caught fire when you sent us to that horrible place! Annie and Teddy didn’t!”

“I know,” Morgan nodded. “And we are so sorry, Jack. The loss of a sister is...awful.”

“My parents aren’t going to be letting me out of sight again!” Jack shouted. “They think Annie got kidnapped and I can’t tell them the truth again! I tried and they made me talk to someone because they think I’m making it up! Everything is different now but you think it can still be the same!”

“Time will pass and-”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m done. I’m out of this. I quit.”

The books fell from Kathleen’s hands.

“Now see here-”

“Merlin,” Morgan glared at him, then approached him. “Jack, are you sure about this?”

He nodded. “It’s not the same without Annie, or the treehouse. But I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I understand.”

“Morgan, we need all the help we can get!”

“But we will not force it,” she hissed before turning back to him. “I’ll send you back. If you ever reconsider-”

“I won’t.”

Gary looked at the cards again, thankful Morgan had at least allowed a memento of his childhood. “What have you been up to since then?”

“Well, I did succeed in becoming an enchantress,” Kathleen said proudly. “I’m still working with Morgan and Merlin sometimes. The rest of the time has been exploring time or taking care of my family.”

“Good,” Gary nodded. “So...what are you doing here? And in the bathroom no less?”

“I used magic to track you down,” she shrugged. “You’re a bit hard to pinpoint on a time machine from the future, but I found it in the end. Although I did end up in the stall as the other guy was leaving. A graceful entrance and all.”

A chuckle escaped him and she laughed in return. Then the feeling of two old friends was back again. The only two left from their childhoods.

“Good thing Nate didn’t catch you. But again, what are you doing here?”

Kathleen took a breath. “I know you said you moved on, but I still can’t forget that day. You lost a sister and we both lost Teddy. I haven’t been able to let it go. It doesn’t matter how much time passes. I keep trying to search for what happened after the ceiling caved in and the fire broke out.”

“I already looked. This was all that I was able to find.”

Gary pulled out Annie’s card from his wallet and handed it to Kathleen. To his surprise, she smiled.

“What?” he asked.

“This is all you found,” Kathleen explained. “Just a card. No bodies.”

“No bodies,” Gary repeated. “I know. They were still alive when we left.”

“Uh huh,” Kathleen nodded vigorously. “And I think I know where they are.”

“Wait, you think they’re still alive.”

The door’s handle turned. Gary realized in a panic that he’d forgotten to lock it when he first came in. He’d been too caught up in his thoughts to do so. Now it was swinging open to let Ava enter the bathroom in her pajamas.

“Gary, if you’re gonna stay on the ship, you-”

Her eyes fell on Kathleen and he face contorted into a frown directed at Gary.

“Oh man,” he groaned.

[qqueenofhades]

12 for Garcy? Only if you want to of course:)

The house is not far from where Flynn grew up, not far from his late grandmother’s apartment off Ilica, one of those big old places with overgrown vines on the walls, gables, rambling turrets – looking straight out of a gothic novel, for all that it’s five minutes from bustling downtown Zagreb. It is obviously a fixer-upper, and Lucy broke through a floorboard in the basement the other day and discovered a nest of mice. (She’s not proud of the fact that she, having coolly faced down ruthless secret societies and all manner of nasty villains throughout history, ran upstairs screaming at Flynn to call the exterminator now, but hey, they all have their secret shames.) But it’s the kind of house that bookish little girls dream about while reading under the sheets at night, and it’s theirs. They’re working on, or rather Flynn is working on, rebuilding it, and it looks better every day. Real. True.

Both of them are not sad to be out of America for a while, and they have no definite plans to return immediately. Lucy finally sold her mom’s house and doesn’t exactly have an academic job to leave behind, and it was time for a new beginning. She’s doing some work in state archives over here and guest lecturing at the University of Zagreb, and Flynn – well, it’s a lot stranger for him to be back here, especially without the NSA job that was the reason for his presence last time. But he seems happier, in a way she’s never seen him, or maybe that’s just because he’s finally starting to shed the iron-hard shell in which he has lived by necessity for so many years. Lucy does love Zagreb. It’s a charming little town-city, there are plenty of side streets, square, churches, cafes, museums, markets, gardens, galleries, and other places to explore, and everyone either speaks English or is vastly patient with her stumbling attempts at Croatian. It’s so different from the crammed crowds, the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, the on-the-go-go-go Bay Area, where everyone is always worrying about money or bathrooms or traffic. She can walk everywhere, or take the tram. Shopkeepers have made an effort to remember her name. It’s weird.

Lucy gets home tonight with an armload of groceries, unreasonably proud of herself for having navigated the aisles of Konzum without having to pull out her phone to Google Translate product packaging, and sets everything on the counter. There’s still a faint haze of sawdust floating in the air – Flynn must have been busy today – and a fresh coat of paint drying on the living room wall. He’s good with his hands, not that that’s surprising. Building things, building places, building a house, a home, and she glances around for him, but he’s not here. Probably had to run out to get more drywall or whatever it is.

Lucy opens some cans and valiantly sets about cooking dinner. She is, of course, very far from a culinary maestro, especially in a second language, but she’s working on it, and she likes to have the ritual of eating together. Once she’s slapped together something resembling cordon bleu and put it in the oven, she glances around for Flynn again. She thinks about texting him, but decides she can wait a little longer. They’re living together, they are together, they’ve been like this for almost eight months now and left California five months ago, but she worries about being clingy.

At last, as the timer is going off and she hunts in the bare drawers until she finds an improvised oven mitt, the door opens and Flynn appears, looking fresh-scrubbed and oddly furtive. He sticks his nose in, clears his throat, and says, “Uh, smells good.”

“Thanks.” Lucy eyes him curiously. “Big line at the hardware store?”

“No.” Flynn backs out of the kitchen and zooms up the stairs at warp speed, forbearing to offer any more details about his afternoon adventures. Since this is fairly standard for him, Lucy rolls her eyes tolerantly, but when he comes back downstairs, clearly having tackled his unruly dark hair with a wet comb, he seems even more skittish than usual. When she asks him if he wants to sit down, he jumps, then nods gravely, as if invited to a state dinner by the President. He perches in one of the undersized chairs, then says, “Thank you. Ah, for dinner. It looks, ah – my grandmother used to make this, it’s – nice.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucy says, dishing them up and sitting down across from him. They eat in silence for a few moments, Flynn looking twitchier than ever. Then finally she says, “Garcia, is everything all right?”

“I…” Flynn debates the answer to that question. He gets up, jostles the table, grabs some matches, and determinedly lights some of the candles they keep around for atmosphere, as if gosh darn it, something will be romantic around here. Then he says abruptly, “Lucy, do you – do you like this? Here? Us?”

“What?” It’s Lucy’s turn to be surprised. “Yes. Of course I do. I love it.”

Flynn coughs. He can’t seem to meet her eyes. “I just thought,” he says, to the ceiling fan rather than her, until he wrenches them down to face her. “Well, my mother came over here – rather haphazardly, admittedly – to be with my father, and you – and I’ve been waiting… I hoped…”

“Garcia,” Lucy says again, not entirely sure where this is going and feeling obliged to offer a helping hand. She loves this man to her very soul, but my god, the density. “What are you saying?” A sudden spear of anxiety goes through her, turning her cold. “Is it that you don’t like this?”

“What! No!” Flynn looks aghast. “I just – I wanted to be sure, I thought about doing this some other way, and maybe it’s not what you want, you don’t have to, I can live, I just – I had to, I want nothing more in the world, and… ”

And with that, as Lucy finally cottons on where this is going and can’t breathe, Flynn reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small box, and goes to one knee on their half-finished kitchen floor. He looks up at her with those devoted, drowning, unbearable eyes, the ones that want more than anything, and can sometimes struggle, to put it charitably, with turning it into words. “If you wanted,” he says. “We could have our books here, and our nights in bed, and the windows open, and go up to the roof to look at the stars. We could have – this could be our house. It could be like this. Mice and all. It could stay. You could have it.” He pauses. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “And me.”

“You…” Lucy is laughing and crying and laughing all at once, as she gets out of her chair and faces him on the floor. “Garcia, are you asking me to marry you?”

Flynn realizes he hasn’t done that yet, and looks chagrined. He pauses, and then at last, he nods. “Yes,” he says. “But if you don’t want – ”

The rest of his sentence is cut off as Lucy flings herself into his arms, knocking him backward, and the ring flies out of his hand onto the floor. Neither of them care, because she’s landed on top of him, she’s kissing him senseless, he’s kissing her back just as savagely, and neither of them say anything until they’re good and damn well ready to, which takes several minutes. “Yes,” Lucy Preston says, and it is the easiest thing she has ever said, the best decision, the deepest and most desperate desire of her heart. “Yes, yes, yes.”

(They finally hunt down the ring, and he puts it on her finger looking like a man in a dream, and they go upstairs to their bedroom, in their house, and she does not mind in the least that her dinner has been entirely forgotten.)

(september prompt list)

[ftb-writes]

It's here! The Hellboy fic!

So I looked up Bethmoran Elvish, and it turns out that the team that made Hellboy 2 based their language on Gaeilge, more commonly known as Irish. So I used Gaeilge myself for the Bethmoran spoken in this fic, however we all know how Google translate can be. So for any native speakers out there, let me know if I got something wrong!

*leannán - lover, Bethmoran Elvish

**mo stór - my darling, Bethmoran Elvish

***mo ghrá maith, ná fág mé arís - my good love, never leave me again, Bethmoran Elvish

****Claíomh - lit. sword, the name given to Nuada's bladed weapon, Bethmoran Elvish

The smell in the place is atrocious. The whole building reeks of death; no one is missing from the other units, and this empty, destroyed apartment seems to be the epicenter of the stench. Hellboy wrinkles his nose in disgust, and glances across the room to where Liz is picking through the trash with Abe. "Hey, sweetheart, remind me why we agreed to come back to the BPRD?"

"We need money," she sighs, "and the kids need an education." She tosses a piece of torn metal onto the steadily growing pile of fake clues. The pile of real clues is still non-existent, so far, and Hellboy can tell it's frustrating the three of them as much as the agents milling around in the other rooms. "This place is a dump," Liz continues, tossing a chunk of drywall onto the pile. "You're sure this is where whoever was trying to resurrect the elf twins was staying?"

"Oh, most definitely," Abe assures. "Their magical signature is quite incredible." The fishman tosses a ball of string onto the side of the fake clue pile, and Hellboy watches it tumble lazily down to the floor. "Almost as demonic as yours, Red." He shudders and rejects another chunk of drywall almost as soon as he picks it up. "I don't enjoy the thought of just what they are. I especially dislike the thought of them being anywhere near Princess Nuala."

"Don't worry, Blue, we'll protect your girlfriend," Hellboy assures, gazing through a few holes in the ceiling toward the cloudy night sky. "Found anything?"

"Not yet," Abe starts to say, as his webbed fingers land on a discarded bottle. "Oh!"

Manning stomps into the room then, frowning. "Well," he demands, "can we hurry this up? Please?"

Abe motions them closer. "You will all want to see this."

Liz and Hellboy lay their hands atop Abe's, and Manning cautiously places his hand on Abe's shoulder. "Go on, Blue," Liz tells the fishman. "Show us." The room seems to rewind in a blur of color and motion before fading into darkness. When the light comes back they see--

Sitting on the floor, leaning over and scribbling frantic calculations upon large pieces of parchment, is John Thaddeus Myers. The room is much cleaner now, not destroyed, but still empty save for John himself. The parchment is covered in scrawling Latin phrases, runes, diagrams, and occult symbols, and John swigs from a half-drunk bottle of Mexican Coke -- the bottle Abe now holds.

He is muttering to himself. "Almost there, leannán,* I'm so close, soon," he whispers, the Bethmoran language seeming to come like second nature to him. Myers sounds crazed with his fervor. His pen flies across the parchment. "Yes!"

John sits back, triumphant, and the watching agents know enough about the occult to recognize an incredible revival spell -- complex, unique to the situation. The agents shiver.

"Well, not half-bad," John tells himself. "'Specially for a rush job." He reaches into the front of his coat and gently extracts an old sepia photograph. It's bent slightly in the upper right corner, and as John carefully, lovingly, straightens it out, the agents can see the subject.

Prince Nuada glares out of the photo, hand raised as if to block his face. "Need to get a better shot of you," John says to the photo. "You look so grumpy in this one." He chuckles. "But you'd be secretly proud of me, I think. It took me a whole week of calculations, but I got it done. Oh, you'll be so disapproving over this. 'Sleep, John,'" he grumbles, clearly attempting to imitate the prince. "'Eat, John. You need to take better care of yourself, John." John sighs. "It's your fault," he tells the picture sullenly, "worrying me when you suddenly go quiet. I get home and find out you tried to kill all humans and got yourself knocked off instead."

He tucks the photograph away and gathers all his work into an orderly roll and stands. He glances around the room and clutches the roll to his chest. "Now, lovelies, think you could trash the place for Daddy?"

John darts from the room as a veritable swarm of tooth fairies erupt from the vent in the wall.

Abe looks horrified and intrigued in equal parts when he sets the bottle back down. "Either Agent Myers has never been human, and was just hiding it well," he breathes, "or something alarming has taken his place. We must find him. Now."

"We needed to find him three weeks ago!" Manning glowers and heads out of the room, motioning his scurrying underlings out of the way. "He never reported in when he returned to the states. We wrote him off as just taking a break to recover from Antarctica."

"You think Voodoo could be involved?" Hellboy looks between Abe and his wife. "Kid sounds cookoo. I mean, he can't honestly think that elvish prick likes him."

"It could be a possibility," Abe allows, "but Voodoo would leave its own magical signature. Either this is a side of Agent Myers we did not know existed, or John has been possessed by a powerful demon."

"Let's go," Liz says, worry in her voice, and Hellboy frowns at the spike of jealousy he knows by now is irrational. "Whatever's going on, he obviously needs help."

"I'll admit," Hellboy sighs, "this doesn't look good from any angle. I just hope whatever's happened, boy scout isn't in any pain. I'd feel a bit bad about that."

Abe, on his way out of the apartment behind everyone, notices a red line half-buried under some dust and rubble. He clears the drywall and blows away the dirt to discover a cracked handmirror -- the glass has a pentagram carefully drawn on it, surrounded by runes. It was clearly old, as the cracks marring the glass also cracked the paint of the pentagram. The runes are ones Abe recognizes, a spell meant to disguise true form.

He picks it up and gets an impression of Myers smashing the mirror himself, his face contorted in fury, his surroundings hazy, tears streaking down his face. What events led to John destroying this mirror did not matter as much as the act of destruction itself, and the reminder that it was his choice, not the person who had made the spell. Ending the spell on the mirror had been freeing, and it was a defiance John had felt necessary with his whole being. John hates being lied to, and Abe can feel the betrayal John had felt.

"Blue?"

Abe blinks up at Hellboy and offers up the cracked mirror in explanation. The fishman tucks the mirror away and looks around one last time. "It's strange," he comments, realizing something that should have been niggling at him the whole time. "This particular apartment unit has no windows, and none of the other tenants' units had tooth fairies inside. Where did they all go?"

Hellboy shrugs. "Maybe they followed Myers?"

Abe swallows. "For all our sakes, let's hope they went to the nearest entrance to the Troll Market."

Northern Ireland proves just as grey and windy as the last time Hellboy's team had been there nearly a year ago, but they're surprised and relieved when they find Nuala waiting outside the cave housing the dormant Golden Army. Abe embraces her tenderly, and she smiles softly and touches his arm, a silent communication passing between the two before she turns yellow eyes on the other agents.

"I know not who he is to my brother," she tells them hurriedly and motions them into the cave. "But my brother has not attacked him."

The gears on the floor are still, and the trio of agents are shocked to see Nuada cradling the Crown in his hands. Myers appears to be pleading with the prince. The former agent has his hands outstretched, and Nuada's elegant fingers quake, just for a moment, and he shakes his head.

"I'm not upset," Myers murmurs, voice soothing.

"You should be," Nuada whispers, hoarse. "You have every right."

"Nuada," John whispers back, fonder than any of the agents have ever heard from him, and when John reaches the last few inches and lifts the Crown out of Nuada's hands, the elf does not stop him. Tears are rolling slowly down Nuada's cheeks. John tosses the Crown away, hard, and the elf winces as the artifact shatters, tiny pieces skittering away amongst the gears. John lurches forward to embrace Nuada, and the elf trembles in John's arms, his own stiff at his side.

"If anyone can see how terribly cruel humans can be," John breathes in the prince's ear, "it is me, but this isn't the way. I swear, I'm a good seventy-five percent of your impulse control."

"Eighty," Nuada counters softly, and John laughs quietly. "I apologise all the same; I worried you."

"I am a bit upset about that," John groans. "You're half-feral, truly. But I put up with it, don't I? Just like you put up with all my little idiosyncrasies."

"Such as leaving your partially-devoured meals on the couch?" Nuada leans his head into John's and hums contentedly. "I did not believe I would ever miss that, mo stór,** but I did miss you, quirks and all."

John purrs at the admission. "Mo ghrá maith, ná fág mé arís."***

Nuada lifts a shaking hand to cup the back of John's head, and John preens and curls closer to the elf. Nuada swallows and loops his other arm around John's waist. "Can we go home, mo stór?"

"Of course, leannán," John says and moves back, but not far enough to completely seperate. "But first, may I borrow Claíomh?"****

Nuada snaps his head toward his sister and the agents, as if just noticing he and John are no longer alone. His arm tenses around John's waist, tugging him near-imperceptibly closer, but he releases the former agent to draw the weapon.

To the agents' shock, Nuada passes the blade to John. Nuala frowns, settling a hand on Abe's arm once more.

John turns fully to face them, Claíomh held up in warning. It's not very effective; Myers is, at his core, a good man with a pure heart. Hellboy can see in his eyes that he doesn't really want to fight old friends, not to mention that the elf John moves to protect is much more intimidating than the human.

"Agent Myers," Abe calls over the gears. "Please, just come quietly." John's face twists, his gaze hardening, and in a flash of hellfire, John's form rips free of its humanity.

Huge demon horns arch up and away from John's head, grey at the base and shifting to red about halfway up. His skin has turned the same slate-grey, his eyes blink open to reveal purple slit irises and deep red sclerals and bright blue pupils. His nails have lengthened and sharpened, and his fingers turn red at the last knuckle, like his horns. A long tail, also turning red halfway down, whips back and forth behind him, though John's tail is nearly twice as long as Hellboy's. His clothes, too, have changed, and the demon John has become wears nothing more than an overlong breechcloth and golden body jewelry.

This is too much skin for Hellboy's comfort and he reals back and chokes. "An incubus, boy scout? I wouldn't think you had it in you."

John, for his part, looks terribly flustered, ducking his head and flushing lilac. Behind him, Nuada slips out of his armored overcoat and drapes it around John's shoulders.

"I forgot my clothes always change, too," John whines, turning to hide his face against Nuada's chest. The elf mumbles understandingly and reaches around to pat John's back.

"You are still new to this," Nuada reasons, "and you are getting much better. Remember when you would completely lose your clothes and be naked as a babe?"

John pulls back to smack the elf's side. "You said you wouldn't bring that back up!"

"I lied," Nuada chuckles, and the agents are shocked to realize he's teasing Myers. Liz sputters and steps forward.

"John--" she starts to scold, but Myers cuts her off.

"Liz, please, don't say something I'm going to hate you for."

His tone has turned harsh, and his expression's stony when he turns back to them. "Please. You won't have anymore trouble from Nuada again, you won't hear anything from either of us. Just leave, and don't look back."

Nuada coughs lightly. "I might be wont to cause some trouble for them."

"Try again," John sighs.

"I will not cause anymore trouble," Nuada mumbles, pouting, and it's such a strange look on her brother's face that Nuala laughs.

"If you keep him out of harm's way," she calls, motioning the agents away from her brother and John. "Then we will leave you two to go. I do not wish anymore strife between my brother and I. But know this, John Myers: if you hurt my brother, I will not stop the BPRD again."

John's eyes narrow, mistrust evident in his expression, and his tail twitches as Abe moves forward and holds out the cracked handmirror.

John freezes at the sight, and he slowly moves across the gears to stand in front of Abe. Delicate fingers gently take the mirror from the fishman, and Myers lifts it to gaze at himself in the cracked glass. "You found it?"

"I thought you would want it back." Abe looks John over and swallows. "Your human parent didn't tell you until much later in life, correct? They used this to keep you from changing form and discovering the truth." Abe sounds hurt, his eyes sympathetic. "John, I can't imagine -- I'm so sorry, that someone you should have been able to trust could cause you so much torment."

John's eyes water, and he presses the mirror over his heart. "Thank you, Abe."

Nuada is suddenly behind John, and Abe is proud that he manages to keep from jumping like Hellboy and Liz do. Nuada draws Myers back into his own chest, presses a tender kiss to the demon's temple, never taking his eyes off Abe.

"Abraham," he greets tersely. "You will look after my sister. Or I will not hesitate to kill you."

John pinches Nuada's arm where it's looped around him, and Nuada growls softly. "I will not, John, do not dissuade me."

Nuala bows and leads the three BPRD agents out. "I am glad that ended bloodlessly."

"I don't like this," Hellboy growls. "We need to drag them both back--"

"Hellboy, please," Abe holds up a hand to settle the man. "In his human disguise, John's magical signature was dulled. When he revealed himself, I felt John's true power. If John had wanted to, he could have thrown all of us into Hell itself without batting an eye. Despite hiding them from the outside world, John has truly mastered his demonic abilities. He is a dangerous being to cross. We would do best to let him be if he is willing to behave."

Liz frowns and shrugs. "I guess we don't really have much of a choice, then. But hey, at least now there's proof that Myers was never trying to steal me, Red."

"What?" Hellboy frowns himself. "What do you mean?"

"He's gay," Liz snickered. "So if he'd been trying to split us up, it would be to get with you." She smirks and turns to head back to the trucks.

"Don't even joke like that," Hellboy grunts and follows her.

Abe and Nuala giggle between the two of them, and Abe can't be angry at Myers's strange loyalty to the prince if it means Abe can have Nuala back in his life. He has missed her, and he touches her arm so she can feel how deeply he cares for her. The princess beams at him and takes his hand.

"Shall we," she asks, motioning after their friends.

Abe looks over his shoulder as they walk away, and sees John and Nuada peering out of the cave at their retreating backs, John's human form carefully in place. A single tooth fairy sits on John's shoulder.

[hecallsmehischild]

Okay guys it’s here. This is the house walkthrough. I didn’t show you the walkthrough we did a year ago ‘cause it was broken up into three parts and in the dreaded portrait phone format. This time we turned the phone sideways. But below the cut are all the fixes we’ve done so far in the year and a half we’ve been here, as well as the things that still need doing. We do what we can ourselves, but often we have to call professionals. This house was neglected for decades and everyone in the neighborhood seems to know it. I can’t tell you how excited I am about the progress we’ve made and the decor I’ve gotten to put up. We made this originally for Sergey’s family in Russia but I wanna share it with you guys too because, again, excited about all the progress. It looks like a HOME.

Long list of done/not done items or at least all the things Child can remember at the moment there’s probably more, so it goes under the cut.

Outside issues taken care of:

One dead tree and one dangerous leaning tree removed

Deck: rotted planks replaced, properly stained.

Rotted decorative gates removed

“Dog shed” bleached & power sprayed clean, it’s a proper storage shed now.

Water main shutoff replaced (previously unable to turn off the water main, afraid the valve would break)

Outside issues still to fix: 

One fence is collapsed in multiple places, needs replacing

Rip out all old fencing around the garden, remove old garden boxes

Get pumps working in both ponds

Replace bridge to front door: shows signs of decay

Under consideration: fence around whole property

First floor issues taken care of:

Removed 1 year supply of dental floss from the sink drains

Wiggly toilet properly bolted down.

Worst water-damaged baseboards replaced.

Fridge, oven, microwave, dishwasher, washer and dryer all replaced (the ones that came with the house were all on their last legs).

Fixed fridge water line, which actually gives us water and ice now.

Repainted, cleaned, and furnished the back bathroom with shower curtain, shower caddy, and fitting blinds.

Blinds for all windows in the TV room

Caulked dining room chimney to get rid of water seepage, fixed damaged wall interior, had wall fixed and repainted.

Replaced ceiling fan in the office.

Repainted almost every room

Put up shelves in the garage and organized “keep” junk, got the real junk hauled away.

Removed wood wine racks from closet under the stairs, swept out tons of mouse droppings, repainted the room, put up shelves. (thank you to Sergey’s mom, I could not handle the mouse droppings)

Replaced all light bulbs with LED lights.

Laid thin rug by front and back doors

Dusty’s art room: Formerly a junk dump room. Cleaned out, termite and damp rot damage torn out and replaced, shelves and desk and outlets and lights and small AC unit installed.

Garage doors both fixed. They open/close properly now.

Several broken doorknobs replaced.

Evicted termite nest by the Great Hall fireplace

First floor issues still to fix: 

Caulking gaps between baseboards and the floor in almost every room (in progress)

Great Hall fireplace needs three major fixes before it’s usable

Wall in the Great Hall is buckled from water damage, drywall needs repair/replacing.

Former dog-door needs to be patched (half done).

All sliding glass doors need to be replaced, they’re not properly sealed.

Install vent fan in the laundry room

Fix water damaged kitchen window framing

Stove vent needs fixing

Second floor issues taken care of:

Two super ugly bathrooms repainted (and in one case, stripped of wallpaper, replastered, and then repainted)

Temporary roof “patch” that had been left in place for years is now properly repaired

Very ugly spiral staircase repainted by hand.

GUTTERS INSTALLED. There were NONE when we came. On a Houston house. No gutters. Why.

Roof leaks fixed or caulked properly.

Wiggly toilet properly bolted down.

Roof extension built over biggest balcony, which prevents water from leaking down into Dusty’s art room (as was happening before). Gutters added on THAT too.

Broken house heater replaced.

Replaced a bunch of nasty rusted/molding vent plates

Caulked guest bathtub, as water was leaking through the ceiling of the bathroom directly below it. Issue fixed by caulking.

Second floor issues still to fix: 

Master bedroom needs ceiling replaced, soundproof walls/window, and reducting.

Whole house needs reducting.

Replace/install bathroom vent fans in two places.

Install another entrance to the attic so it has two points of entry.

Repair/repaint balconies and outside stairs.

Fix hot water pressure in guest bathroom

Fix “ugodly mess” of incorrect plumbing left to us

Replace all fire/carbon monoxide alarms

An enclosed patio room we have can’t be used until we install a drain in the floor and plumbing for a hose, so it can be sprayed clean.

Smokestack on the water heater is apparently a fire hazard that needs to be fixed.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

If These Walls Could Talk (Girls Talk Boys Part 34)

Some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard So if I tell you, just keep it and don't say a word Yeah, when the doors are all closing, it's bound to get loud 'Cause all these bodies are hoping to get addicted to sound

If these walls could talk, I'd hope they wouldn't say anything Because they've seen way too many things 'Cause we'd fall from grace, we're falling

New to this series click HERE

Camille and hurried down to the security gate with Luke in tow, as she'd insisted Calum stay behind. 

"Babe, I promise he won't hurt me, but we're probably going to argue and you get so protective," Camille insisted.

"That's not a bad thing," Calum protested but he could tell Camille had made up her mind and she could be incredibly stubborn when that happened. 

"Fine," he sighed, "Can you at least take Luke?"

Camille spotted Benji sitting on a bench outside the security gate, and everything about him repulsed her. Not that he was ugly or gross. He was average height and a bit pudgy with a tan complexion that was a bit darker than Calum, jet black hair and light brown eyes. He was a preening peacock, full of himself and always impeccably  well dressed and groomed. Even Camille had to admit he was decent looking. 

Just then he caught sight of her and scowled before catching himself and plastered a huge fake smile across his face.

"Camille, sweetheart, it's been too long since I've seen you," Benji called out. 

"What are you doing here?" Camille tried to sound light and friendly to keep the situation calm.

"I've come to find my wife," he smirked. "She disappeared almost a year ago and then suddenly she sends me papers that I'm just supposed to sign without even talking to her?" 

"So you drive across the country for a chat?" Camille wasn't buying that at all 

"I didn't come all this way to talk to you," Benji's tone turned condescending. "I want to talk to my wife or I don't sign the divorce papers. I can wait here all day."

"Okay, okay," Camille tried not to sound as annoyed as she felt. "Cher isn't even home right now and I don't know when she's coming home today."

"Text her, I can wait," Benji's smile was slipping. He didn't like Camille anymore than she did him.

"We both know Cher is terrible about checking her messages. She might not respond for hours, and then you're just hanging out in guest parking? No, no, no, besides she reacts poorly to surprises. Let me talk to her and she'll contact you," Camille was pleading with him now. She knew Cher and Ashton could drive up at any moment, and that she would freak out if she saw Benjamin. 

"You're not wrong, but I don't trust you two. After all, you ran away from your problems just like she did. You left Shaun stuck with the lease and all the bills. He's doing better now, by the way. He's with Melanie now, which I think is a huge upgrade, no offense," Benji was trying to goad Camille into losing her temper. 

Camille felt a surge of rage the mention of her ex boyfriend's name, the man who had done so much to tear down her self esteem. Melanie was one of the girls he'd cheated on her with, and Shaun had always blamed Camille for his infidelities. Comparing her to other women, criticizing everything about her, but Camille stopped herself. None of that mattered right now. Shaun couldn't hurt her anymore and she knew she'd upgraded more than her ex ever could. Camille smiled thinking about Calum before returning her attention to Benji. 

"You can't just wait here," Camille was serious.

"I'm not leaving until I see Cher," so was Benji.

"How about a compromise?" Luke had come up behind her startling Camille when he spoke.

"Who are you?" Benji was polite but guarded.

"My name is Luke," he gave Benji a friendly smile but stood up very straight. Camille almost giggled as the boots caused Luke to tower over the other man. "We're having our annual open house and neighborhood picnic tomorrow. Why don't you come by, Dale will let you in and you can come have a drink and we'll sort this out." 

Benji saw the incredulous look Camille gave Luke and nodded walking over to where Dale was waving a clipboard with a list at him. Luke ignored Camille's glare and the elbow she poked into his ribs. Luke could tell these two weren't going to come to an agreement, and Luke didn't want to stand here all day. Besides anything that would postpone a huge argument was fine by him. They needed to form a plan and both Camille and Cher had to answer some questions if they were going to work together to solve this. Luke watched Benji walk past Camille smug in the idea he'd gotten one over on her. 

Camille opened her mouth to say something and Luke squeezed her shoulder and shook his head mouthing, "let it go."

When Benji drove out of sight Camille spun on him, "what the hell Hemmings?" 

"Ashton is on his way home and unless you want them to drive up and everything goes to shit I had to get rid of him," Luke's face was serious. 

"You could've run it by me first," Camille grumbled. 

"That guy is an asshole. He wasn't going to agree to anything you wanted," Luke rolled his eyes. "So I some questions," he put his hands on his hips shaking his head, but Camille saw a tiny smile.

"Let's head back Peanut," Camille linked arms him. "I'll explain it all at once." 

Camille called Cody and he came over barely beating Cher and Ashton by fifteen minutes and Camille texted Cher. 

Just so you know Luke and Cody are here

That was a standard warning as there was no telling what those two were getting up to and both Camille and Cher had accidentally caught the other having sex.

Cher pulled her underwear back up before getting out of the car. She knew something was up the second she walked in the door. The room was vibrating with tension and everyone was staring at her. 

"What's going on?" Cher looked at Camille getting scared at how nervous she looked.

Camille stuttered and stammered unable to properly form words all of a sudden.

Calum walked up and handed her a shot of whiskey, "Benji showed up, he'll be here tomorrow." 

Cher grabbed the shot, downed it, and nodded at Cal. "Good man," she nodded him. "Okay so what the fuck?" 

"Who's Benji?" Ashton asked, completely confused.

Cher looked at Camille in a panic, "I can't do this right now. I'm not ready, I can't..." She started hyperventilating.

"Okay okay Cody," Cam jerked her head towards the stairs. "You take care of our girl and I'll explain what's going on to the guys." 

Cody nodded and grabbed the bottle Calum held out and headed up the stairs with his arm wrapped around Cher's shoulders. 

Camille found herself facing Luke, Calum, and Ashton all waiting for answers. 

Luke handed her a glass of wine and Camille say in her chair. Calum took his seat on the arm of her chair with the other two on the couch.

"Is Benji her ex husband?" Ashton guessed.

"Not exactly ex yet," Camille replied.

"She's not divorced yet?" Calum asked.

"No..."

"She just sent him divorce papers. That's why he's here," Luke cut in, piecing together all the bits he'd heard from Camille's earlier confrontation 

"Yeah it seems like," Camille took another sip.

"This whole time she's been married," Ashton shook his head.

"Separated," Camille tried to do damage control.

Ashton sank back into the couch, lost in thought.

"So what's the big deal," Calum asked. "This guy must be a real asshole." 

"That's obvious, but you know Cher hates being surprised. Especially shit like this," Luke told Calum.

"Is this why she's so weird about relationships?" Calum asked.

"Part of it, Cher never intended to get married, ever, but then Benji talked her into it at a time when she'd really hit rock bottom."

"Talked her into it?" Luke asked. "So she wasn't in love with him."

"Oh GOD no," Camille exclaimed as she got up and began pacing back and forth. "They worked together, well actually we all did, and Benji was here on a student visa. When he dropped out of school to become a sales rep for one of our vendors, his visa got fucked up, and he was facing the threat of getting sent back. Cher was in a really bad place at the time. She was dating this guy Xavier and it wasn't serious at all. However one night he got fucked up, on what? no one is exactly sure, but he broke into her apartment and fucking TRASHED the place. He punched holes in the drywall, kicked the bathtub faucet out, threw every bit of food out of the refrigerator and cabinets and into the living room before grinding it into the carpet. It was a disaster, when we walked in after it was over the first thing I smelled was the maple syrup he poured onto the couch, followed quickly by the smell of blood from the family size pack of ground beef he'd slung everywhere. There were even chunks of hamburger clinging to the popcorn ceiling. Eggs, sugar, cooking oil, shrimp fried rice, it was disgusting," Camille shuddered and Calum started to get up but she shook her head and kept going. "Cher was at work when this was all happening. She had no idea anything was going on until the police show up at her job because Xavier had been arrested after crashing her car. Apparently he found her spare set of keys in her apartment and no one noticed the sketchy little shit in the parking lot."

Camille finished her wine and Luke refilled her glass while she nervously fixed her ponytail.  Calum was now in Camille's chair leaning forward, listening intently. Luke hung on every word while Ashton sat with his head in his hands trying to take it all in. 

"So where does the getting married part come in," Luke prodded her to keep going.

Camille sighed, "Benji straight up offered marriage as a business proposal. If she'd marry him to help him stay in the country he would pay the cleaning bill her landlord stuck on her, buy her a new used car, and get her back on her feet. It was supposed to be just friends conducting a business transaction." 

Ashton leaned back and looked up at Camille and she noticed he looked less angry than before. 

She took a deep breath and continued, "the first few months were fine. They got along, went out to dinner once a week, and eventually they hooked up. Turns out that was a big mistake, he has a mediocre dick, and this is when he started acting weird. Suddenly he's acting like they are married for real and starts trying to tell her who she can't talk to, and trying to cut off all contact with all of her male friends, most of them are industry guys and her contact is work related, so instantly she was pissed. They start arguing more and more, he's trying to use his money against her but what he doesn't know is she's starting to make money off of Vexxed. However, Cher is not a self absorbed materialistic little fuckwit like he is. So his posturing about all the shit he could buy her, didn't impress her at all.   That was when he was sober, drunk Benji is a mean little cunt." 

Calum watched her get more and more outraged, more worked up and as much as he felt bad for Cher the moment he couldn't help but think Camille was so fucking sexy right now.

"He started calling Cher when he was drunk, starts talking crap  why was she even talking to these guys who didn't have money like him. He called her a whore, a slut, white trash, and said she was too ignorant to appreciate how great he was and basically being an insufferable arrogant abusive asshole. He and Shaun, my ex, teamed up trying to keep Cher and I from getting to talk or see each other. Our boss kept scheduling us together on the weekends and between the three of us we came up with a plan. I slowly got my stuff out of his house, Cher packed up her belongings under the pretense of her lease being terminated and our boss stored some things of ours in a storage unit. Finally, Benji had a work visa, and my aunt helped me buy this place. I picked a fight with Shaun knowing he'd pack up all my shit and tell me to leave, and so we did."

"Damn that's crazy," Calum shook his head taking it all in. "Okay, I have questions."

Ashton stood up abruptly and they all looked at him. He rubbed his temples and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Please just tell me what we need to do to get rid of this asshole. Why is he even here? How did he find you?" he asked.

"She's got a licensing deal in the works that will set her up quite nicely, Cher doesn't want Benji to have any claim to anything Vexxed including that money and the new characters she's going to copyright. California is a community property state, he could technically get half. Not only that she promised him a year and it's been longer than that. It's time for a divorce, he needs to sign those papers." Calum pulled Camille into his lap as she sat down 

"Can she get a divorce if he doesn't?" Camille could see the wheels turning in Ashton's head.

"The lawyer says it will take a bit longer, especially if he counter sues," she replied.

"So everybody just needs to play nice tomorrow?" Luke got up, stretching his long legs while he looked down at Camille.

"Try and keep him distracted and hopefully we won't drink too much. I'm gonna give Cher a Valium and see if I can keep her from losing it." 

Cher was hitting her vape pen when Camille stuck her head in the door to tell her it was showtime. Cody had convinced her to talk to Benji so maybe they could get this over with. Everybody was being so supportive and positive Cher didn't feel like she could back out, but deep down she knew this man was just here to start shit. 

She'd passed out on Camille's bed somewhere after shot number seven. She'd woken up before dawn and taken a quick shower before sneaking over to Ashton's and waking him up with a blowjob. As nervous as Cher was she couldn't help but smile at the lingering soreness of her ass. She'd been sassy and Daddy had to punish her. 

Following Camille out towards the pool she spotted Cal talking to Harry and Benji so she headed to the other side to grab a beer. Luke saw her coming and fished one out of the cooler for her. He was talking to Tom and Lucy, filling them it on the divorce drama. Lucy gave Cher a big hug and smacked Camille on the ass the way she always did. That got the guys attention and Benji spotted Cher. He made his way over to their little group flanked by Calum and Harry.

"My sweet wife, I'm so glad to see you're looking healthy," Benji's smile did not reach his eyes and everyone could feel the tension.

Cher glanced at his tummy pudge, "I'm glad you're in good health as well. I'm surprised you traveled all this way just to chat with me." Her voice sounded strange in her own ears. 

"Couldn't just sign away what we had without discussing it first," Benji's tone of voice was giving her the creeps. Cher saw him glance behind her and his eyes almost popped out of his head. A couple of Lucy's friends had arrived and were peeling off their cover-ups to cool off in the pool.

He turned to Calum, "you have girls that look like that around here? You are a lucky man. I bet you get an eyeful all the time," he turned back to Cher "must be hard living here around some really hot girls." 

Harry intervened before it got any worse, he threw an arm around Benji's shoulder leaning in with a laugh, "oh, you wanna talk hot girls lemme tell you about this redhead I met in Belgium," as he led him away. 

Calum looked disgusted as Cher handed him a drink, "dude fuck that guy, what a prick." 

Luke looked at Camille, "wanna take bets on who hits him first?"

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @wildhearthood @cal-pal-cuddles @rosettesofhappiness @5sos-ficssmut @unabashedlymyself

[angelccake]

Her, Chapter Two (M)

You and him have some dark, twisted history. You’ve spent the last two years of your life trying to forget it all. What’ll happen when all of it’s thrown back at you all at once?

Prologue

Chapter One

Word Count// 2139 

WARNINGS// strong language, blood/gore, torture, desecration of human remains, stalking, obsession, unhealthy relationships, character death, hints of anxiety disorder, mentions of substance abuse, rated m for future smut and grisly details

I’M IN NO WAY ENDORSING ANY OF THIS, IT WAS ALL WRITTEN FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. IF YOU ARE BOTHERED PLEASE DO NOT READ

******************************************************************************

I woke up to everything hurting, especially my neck. I reached up to try and rub the pain away, only to realize I couldn’t move my arms.They were bound behind me and I could feel the distinct, cold metal of handcuffs around my wrists. Dread began to fill me and my mind began to replay all of the current, or past, events that I remembered. 

“You were looking for Changmin, you found him, some guy was stuffing him in the back of a car, the guy got a hold of you too, and you’re not dead. Yet.”

My mantra kicked my fight or flight instinct into high gear, I needed to find a way out of where ever the hell I am. I hoisted my upper body up, ignoring the pain of the handcuffs cutting into me, only to have the putrid smell of mildew and rotting wood hit my nostrils.

While gulping down the bile threatening to come up, I focused my eyes and saw that I was in a fucking cage. Not exactly a cell, but a damn five by ten dog kennel. The fear that ultimately consumed me dulled for a moment and allowed me to feel one other emotion, anger. Not only was I going to be restrained and have whatever done to me for someone’s amusement, I was going to kept up like a fucking pet as it all happened. I looked past the chain link walls of the cage to find the source of the stenches currently assaulting my nose.

The cage was in some type of building that looked like it hadn’t seen its prime in at least sixty years. This particular room, or floor, had a column of concrete  pillars that ran down the middle, leading up to a ceiling covered in mold and water stains poking through the white drywall. Hanging from the ceiling were rows of beam lights, but half of them were busted out. Those remaining seemed to illuminate the mold that covered nearly every square inch of the place. The walls were made of what was once bright red brick, but had then faded so much that only rusty colored globs remained. The floor was the same concrete as the pillars, but had broken wooden crates scattered all over and a lot more mold. The only appealing feature of the room was a wall covered in huge bay windows across from me. Unlike the rest of the room, all of the windows were kept intact and showed a beautiful dawn poking through tree tops. I wanted to just sit and enjoy the view, but a sickening feeling snatched me back to reality. Changmin was in the car before me, but he wasn’t in the room with me.

I started to whip my head to all corners of the room, I managed to get to my feet and walk back in forth in the cage, just trying my best to make sure I didn’t miss a single inch of the room. I was praying that he was slumped over behind one of the pillars, that he just hadn’t stirred awake yet. But it was in vain, I was completely alone. Just then an ear piercing, ungodly scream echoed through out the building.

Present Day

It had been nearly a month since I saw Tao, and Mrs. Kwon was still apologizing to me. I had told her everything that happened at the jail the day after, and she had the audacity to blame herself. She claimed that that she should have never asked me to go, that there was no way that I could have been ready for it. It broke my heart to see her beat herself up, I wanted to ingrain into her mind that she had no control over the situation. I thought I had took it all pretty well considering how I would have reacted in the past, and there was no way she could have controlled him. But I wanted to make her feel better, so I had been trying to show her that I was alright. I was making myself go out more, I actually made plans now, I was putting myself back into the world again. My friends certainly enjoyed it, especially Bokjoo. She was the closest out of all of them, but even she only saw me as some private homebody. But I was determined to change that, I was starting to feel like myself again. The Y/n before Tao, before everything.

Somehow during my quest Bokjoo had convinced me to start dating again. It had been a few nights ago when I had invited her for a wine night after work. I was surprised she had even agreed, she was so shocked that she had to sit in stare at me to make sure she heard me right. But after about two bottles we were acting like we had always been this close. I remember her slurring out,

“You know what Y/n? I don’t get why you don’t get out more, you’re fucking fun. You act like an old lady that’s scared of the outside world. You should go out and meet someone, let loose.”

I tried to look serious through my own drunkenness, and before I realized it said,”Oh yeah? I’ll show you I can get out. I bet you that I’ll have a date by this weekend.” And all she did was burst out laughing as I proceeded to download the best dating app I could find.

That’s how I ended up where I am today, at work with Bokjoo laughing her ass off, and me trying to glare at her with my own smile breaking through. She calmed herself down to a not so quiet giggle and sighed, “Y/n if I knew it would come true, I’d make drunk bets with you all the time.”

“Well in my defense, I’m used to things not going my way.”

I watched her lean all the way back in her “chiropractor recommended” computer chair, that I swore was going to snap any given day now, and start to chew a once undamaged ball point pen. And while blatantly ignoring all of the glares our desks mates were surely giving us, she pressed on. 

“So where’s he taking you?”

Now I leaned back in my “non recommended” chair and huffed, “He’s not taking me anywhere. I’m meeting him at some uppity restaurant on Main St.”

That got her attention, she discarded her savory pen and leaned over on her knees to get her face closer to mine. “What do you mean by “uppity”?”

“I mean I can’t even pronounce the name, and when I google it the price range is four dollar signs,” I watched as her eyes began to fill with excitement and mischief.

“You know what that means? He. Got. Money.,” she made sure to punctuate herself by poking me in the arm at the end of each sentence. 

“Or he got’s a credit card,” I snickered to myself.

“No just think about it, you seduce him long enough to get his bank info, transfer all the funds to yourself, and then split it with me,” she flicked her hand to herself and had so much pride in her plan, I couldn’t help but humor her.

“Okay I’ll try, but for now I think we better get back to work before someone calls HR,” I had noticed the glares had intensified and at least two people were contemplating who should start dialing. So she turned to face her keyboard, found her pen again, and probably started looking for some overdue data sheets.

I pulled myself up to my keyboard and tried to find something to work on, but I couldn’t focus. I was just too happy, Bokjoo’s antics seemed to lift all my fears for this date away. It reminded me why I agreed to it in the first place, I would be in control. I wouldn’t have someone telling me what to wear, what to eat, and I didn’t have to worry about what he would do after the date. Because it was all left up to me, I got to be my own person. I felt like a bird flying for the first time after a lifetime in a cage. I felt myself start to grin down at my keyboard, this was going to be the best date in long, long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I drove a serrated knife back into him as deep as I could, this time in the abdomen. Pulling out the blade painfully slow, I noticed how his excruciating screams had turned in to just loud gurgles of his own blood. And how his attempts to fight had begun to still, he still had a pretty good grip on the arm I was using to hold him up, but the other hand he was using to try and block the knife was limp at his side now. He honestly may not be able to use it anymore, I had almost severed it in half during one of his unsuccessful blocks. But alas, I was getting bored of him.

I decided to step back and actually take a look at him, only to figure out that his grip on my arm wasn’t part of a fight. It was his only way of keeping himself on his feet. He slid down the wall to the ground, his breathing becoming more labored. I had to admit he was handsome, he had dark brown, almost black, hair that matched his eyes perfectly parted to the side. Thick lips, a strong square jaw, and honey toned skin that made a strong contrast to the crimson covering the rest of him. He looked like the kind of guy you took home to your parents. I looked down to a thin neck covered in blue and purple splotches, following it down to narrow shoulders and a heaving chest, I made it down to his diaphragm that took most of damage. I had ran the knife through that area so many times that the shirt covering it was practically nonexistent. I noticed how each individual slit had fleshy shreds of tissue hanging from the cavernous entry wounds. That was the thing about serrated knives, they went in quick and clean, but did ten times more damage when they came out. But the wounds were beautiful in a way, they looked like blots of cerise with streaks of scarlet paint dripping from them.

As I was trying to take in every little detail, he started to convulse and his broken body started to lift. Now that I’d thought about it, he had never begged me to stop, or let go of him. He had fought me until his body wouldn’t allow him anymore, now that was admittedly admirable. I crouched down to him and ran the knife across his throat, watching how he didn’t even have enough blood in him for the artery to pour out like normal. I didn’t feel like dragging this out any longer, he wasn’t for sport, he was just an obstacle. After he finally took his last breath, I pulled out my phone and clicked the first number on my contact list.

“Hey Kris, its me. I’m finished over here, so start heading my way. And don’t forget my suit, I got a date to get ready for,” I said while looking down at the now black blood nearly my whole lower body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was sitting in the back corner looking over scattered oak tables with white table clothes and stained glass flower vases full of lilies, up to the Parthenon inspired archways that lead to a service table with mini potted trees on either side, and past the gigantic lobster tank over to the French styled entry doors. After eyeing the couple of passerbys that trickled in, I decided to give up again and check my phone. I scrolled down to my messages from “Moon Taeil” and there it was, the exact message saying he’ll be here by 7:30. It was now 8:30, and the only thing keeping me here and not going home to binge on ice cream, was the bread sticks.

I put my phone down and reached to my purse for a compact to check my lipstick, it was a beautiful red that fit me perfectly, just like the dress I was wearing with it. While holding the compact up I glanced at my phone and saw that it was now 8:40, deciding it was time to leave I snap the compact shut and lean over my purse to pack up. As I was digging out my credit card and a tip, I heard the cushions on the chair in front of me squish as someone sat down.

“Hey, Y/n.”

***************************************************************************

WHEW. Ok I know that I took forever with this chapter and if any of yall were planning to stay on board yall prob given up by now. But if you do read this I HOPE YOU ENJOY EVEN THOUGH ITS LONG AS FUCK. And yall get ready somebody’s back and ready to fuck shit up :)

All gifs belong to their original owners

[externally-upset]

1-100

Alright going all in I see. Let's do this

1. I mainly use Spotify

2. I try and keep it clean but somehow always winds up messy

3. I've got brown eyes

4. y'know I've got a really generic name but I do like it. Why, I have no idea

5. I'm currently single

6. Scatterbrained, happy, adventurous

7. I've got natural black hair

8. So I don't drive because it actually hurts my leg to drive. Also I can't sit still for longer than 5 minutes

9. I shop everywhere that has toys lmao. I'm a toy collector so I'll go anywhere that has em

10. I don't really have a style. I try and live my life as cozy as possible

11. I don't really have a favorite social media account

12. I have a full/queen size bed

13. I've got lots of siblings. In all, I've got 6 sisters and 2 brothers, but some are step family. I've got 1 bio sister and 1 bio brother, both younger than me.

14. I've been looking into moving to Washington recently, but I think I'd rather travel the world than settle down somewhere, for now at least

15. I don't use the filters myself so I can't speak on that

16. I don't use makeup so I don't have a fave brand to talk about

17. I shower everyday, I get really sweaty so I gotta

18. I don't have like a definite fave TV show. It varies from month to month. Although this summer it was Nisekoi, which is an excellent anime

19. I wear a size 11.5/12 shoe

20. I'm 5'11

21. I wear almost strictly sneakers

22. I don't go to the gym, I should though. I really should

23. Dream date would be to have one lol, um I guess to go up to the mountains together and star gaze or something to do with the mountains. I just enjoy being outside

24. Too much to count 💸💸 lmao jk I've got $60

25. Ain't wearing any but if someone came through right now, I'd put some black ones on

26. I had four, but my mom stole 2 of them

27. I was working in drywall for awhile but I hopped out of that and am currently applying to places. I specifically was a taper, so like when drywall is put up in the house, there are gaps between the pieces put up. I covered those gaps up, all over the house. It doesn't seem like a lot but when you've got 15-20 feet ceilings, it gets hard

28. I've got quite a lot of friends and I love them all

29. I've know I've done bad stuff that others remember me for but I can't think of anything

30. Oh man I loooooove lavender scented candles. Lavender scented anything is the best

31. I honestly can't think of any boy names that I like

32. 3 girl names: Sochi, Lavender, and Laurie, which is actually the name of one of my best friends

33. Anthony Hopkins is my favorite actor by far

34. Fave actress is definitely Meryl Streep, I fell in love with her when I first saw the Devil Wears Prada years ago and it just snowballed from there

35. My celeb crush is either Bonnie Wright or Jessica Keenan Wynn

36. Fave movie has gotta be The Great Mouse Detective

37. I used to read a lot, not so much anymore. Of everything I've read though, Christine by Stephen King has been my favorite read

38. Everyone wants to say brains are more important and they are, but unfortunately in the world we live in money rules over all

39. I used to be called Chancho but not any more

40. I've been to the hospital more times than I'd like to think. I had a heart condition that flared up in high school so I spent a lot of time at the hospital. I'm still not even sure what it was and am sure the doctors made it up to take my money

41. TOP TEN SONGS:

Beauty and the Beast - Angela Lansbury

Beauty and the Beast - Celine Dion, Peabo Bryson

Higher - Creed

Eres Mi Droga - Intocable

Crossing Field - LiSA

Don't Blink - Kenny Chesney

Junkhead - Alice In Chains

Your Decision - Alice In Chains

Losing A Whole Year - Third Eye Blind

Forever Halloween - The Maine

42. Nah, no meds for me

43. I think I have an oily skin type

44. Biggest fear is leaving those I love behind when I pass along to the next life

45. I don't know how many kids I want

46. I always have my hair either in a bun or braided

47. I live in a medium sized family home

48. My grandma has been and always will be my role model

49. It was being told how wise I am

50. Last text I sent was to my homeboy, telling him "this school shit is wack"

51. I was 6 years old when I found out Santa wasn't real

52. A nice Truck is my dream car or maybe a souped up Subaru, with an anime wrap for shits and gigs

53. I'm cool with smoking weed, but no cigarettes and only smoke outside, don't need my stuff to smell

54. Yeah, I'm here in college, but I don't like it

55. Rural areas by far. I've always wanted my own farm

56. I wanna be a high school history teacher and that requires a degree, so that's why I'm in college

57. I don't like the shampoo and conditioner from hotels, don't like the way they feel. That being said, yes I'll take them

58. I've got freckles but you can barely see them unless were face to face

59. Yes and no. It really depends on my mood. I try to take more smiling pictures now

60. I've got quite a few, mostly memes though

61. Of course I've peed in the woods, with the amount of times I've been hiking and camping with no bathroom in site, you gotta

62. I watch almost strictly cartoons, if we're being completely honest

63. Chicken nuggets smack, no matter where they're from

64. If it calls for it, honey. If not, then sweet and sour sauce

65. Alright, so it depends where I'm at. If I'm home alone, just my underwear. If there are people here, shorts. If I'm at someone else's house, I wear whatever I have on

66. Never participated in a spelling bee in my life

67. My hobby is collecting. I've been collecting things since I was a kid. I've switched between many things in my life. I've gone from Wrestling figures, to sports cards, to vinyl records, to Funko Pops. I actually collect a little of everything I've mentioned now

68. I can't draw for shit

69. I don't play any instruments, although I've tried learning how to play the Ukulele

70. Last concert was seeing Four Year Strong and Seaway like 2 years ago

71. I prefer tea over coffee

72. I guess Starbucks as I've never had Dunkin before

73. Marriage sounds nice, but I don't need to. Like if I'm dating someone and they said they don't wanna get married, I wouldn't have a problem with it. As long as we're in love, that's all that matters

74. Aha, I'm not answering this one

75. If ever I get married, I don't know what the last name situation is gonna be

76. Burgundy and blue look absolutely fantastic on me

77. Yeah there are a few people I miss

78. I always sleep with my door closed and my closets too

79. I belive in ghosts, although I prefer to call them spirits. Used to see them frequently as a child, still do sometimes

80. Biggest pet peeve is when people try to tell me what to do. Not like suggestions but actually tell me what to do. Irritates me to no end

81. Last person I called I think was my Dad, but that's because I couldn't find him in the store

82. Black Cherry Vanilla is the best but no one sells it anywhere

83. Golden Oreos are pretty damn good so I'll go with those

84. If I have to choose, probably rainbow sprinkles

85. Just a plain white tank top

86. My phone background is a picture of Ricky from Trailer Park Boys saying "Man, maybe I am gay."

87. I can be outgoing, it kinda takes a bit for me to open up though

88. I fucking love when people play with my hair

89. My neighbors across the street are very nice, but next door neighbor is a dick, always judging shit

90. I usually wash my face in the mornings

91. I used to get high a lot, not so much anymore, although I'd really like for that to change

92. I spent a good portion of this year drunk, so that's a problem. I actually only started drinking when I turned 21 last September. Never been hungover either, so I've been blessed

93. Last thing I ate was some chips

94. "Thank you to the miracle that we are able to meet in a dirty and ugly world, even like this" My Song - Girl Dead Monster. This is from Angel Beats and these are rough English translations

95. I prefer winter over summer, but spring is my fave season

96. I love night time, always will

97. I will always pick dark chocolate over all other chocolates

98. September is my favorite month, not because it's my birth month, but it's the one month where everything feels right

99. I'm a Virgo

100. Last person I cried in front of was my homeboy Mason, albeit I was drunk as fuck and don't remember it but he does. Says I scared him

Goddamn that took forever, but I did get over being bored, so bless you Anon

[dekored]

Roof might have a drip, I think the new attic insulation might need to be replaced, and there might be mold in the vents. Which do I fix first, and what type of contractor do I call?

House was built in the late 50s. I think some work was done in the 90s. We bought in the early 2000s.

tldr: I hear a drip in attic when it rains. How do I find out where leak is? How do I know if insulation should be replaced? I see mold on vent near new AC -- just clean off vent with bleach or get vent inspected? I'm trying to figure out who to call (and who to call first).

Quick sketch of my house

Longer:

Roof was partially replaced in 2012. We had 2 trees fall on our roof 9 years ago, and had the roof partially replaced (we wanted the whole thing replaced but the contractor didn't want to do it). At that time, it seemed there was some 'borderline' areas that would need to be replaced eventually.

Blown-in insulation may not cover east side of attic. When they were replacing the roof, the guy said he noticed the fiberglass blown-in insulation was unevenly applied. He said some areas on the east side of my attic had no insulation at all.

Access to attic is cramped and only on west side. Our attic space is very cramped, and there are two access panels on the west side of the house (near the AC, which is newly installed), but seeing anything/getting over the vents is pretty impossible. Every AC guy I've ever called has commented how cramped it is up there.

I hear a drip when it rains in ceiling on east side. On the east side of the house, I can hear a drip in the ceiling when it rains. I don't see any water damage to the ceiling drywall. I'm wondering if there are leaks in shingles, but I don't know how to check other than cutting a hole in ceiling drywall next time it rains because there is no access panel.

The blown-in insulation looks old (to me) and gets everywhere. The blown-in insulation looks dirty to me although I don't really know what it is supposed to look like. And whenever I open the access panels, pieces of it fly out everywhere (which happens to be all over my bed).

One of the vents in the ceiling has mold on it. We had a new AC installed this spring and it works really well, but I notice it makes a lot of water drops in the vents. And then yesterday, I noticed the vent nearest to the AC has a bunch of mold growing on it. Just clean with bleach or is this a bigger problem? Pic of moldy vent.

Also there are mice in the attic. Oh, almost forgot that I heard some mice running around in the attic. I put about 10 traps up there, but haven't caught anything.

So there's a lot going on, and it all seems chicken-and-egg. I assume I would need to have the roof fixed before anything else? Who do I call for all these things and what should I tell them?

submitted by /u/readyjack [link] [comments] from The Hivemind Improving Homes https://ift.tt/3cjYJiU

[arplis]

Arplis - News: In this episode…

Adding a backyard deck is one sure-fire way to increase your home’s living space but is building a deck a DIY project? Tom & Leslie share some guidelines. Plus… Do you have really long room in your home that’s about as appealing to decorate as a bowling alley?  Learn a few painting tricks and furniture tweaks for the layout, that will leave you with a room that feels cozy and comfortable. Do your electrical circuit breakers of fuses trip more than they should?  If so, it may be your electrical service panel isn’t up to snuff. We walk you through five signs that show when it’s time to UPGRADE your service panel for your safety – and your sanity! Plus, answers to your home improvement questions about, installing a trench drain, eliminating sink odors, stopping squeaky wood floors, repairing bowing basement walls, cleaning rusty tub stains, clean tips for wood paneling, installing an installing a programmable thermostat. Do you have a home improvement or decor question? Call the show 24/7 at 888-MONEY-PIT (888-666-3974) or post your question here. !doctype> Read Transcript TOM: Coast to coast and floorboards to shingles, this is The Money Pit Home Improvement Show. I’m Tom Kraeutler. LESLIE: And I’m Leslie Segrete. TOM: Happy Pre-Spring. That’s the new season that we invented, because we can’t wait to get to the warmer weather. And so many folks are thinking about the projects they want to take on when it gets warmer out. We decided why wait? We’ve created a new season called “pre-spring.” So if you’ve got a pre-spring question about a project, you’re in the right place. Call us now with that question at 888-MONEY-PIT, 888-666-3974 or post it to our website at MoneyPit.com. On today’s episode, adding a backyard deck is one surefire way to increase your home’s living space. But is building a deck a DIY project? We’re going to share some guidelines to help you figure it out. LESLIE: And also ahead, do you have a really long room in your house that’s about as appealing to decorate as a bowling alley? Well, we’re going to share a few tricks and tweaks for the layout that will leave you with a room that feels cozy and comfortable. TOM: And if your electrical service panel isn’t up to snuff, you could get a shock of another kind. We’re going to have the five signs that show it’s time to upgrade that panel. LESLIE: But first, we want to know what you want to know in this pre-spring season. That’s right. I’m just going to make it official with you, Tom. TOM: Alright. Let’s go for it. LESLIE: Pre-spring. Get out there. What are you working on? Let us help you get that house in tip-top shape so you can really just enjoy yourself. TOM: 888-666-3974. Let’s get to it. Leslie, who’s first? LESLIE: Dot, you’ve got The Money Pit. How can we help you today? DOT: A couple of years ago, we had a driveway put in. We have a house with an attached garage. And they had, oh, graded the driveway, they said, properly so the water would drain away from the house and into the lawn. And we get standing water in our driveway still. And I was just wondering the steps to – the proper steps to put a trench in our driveway and possibly a drain. TOM: OK. So, it would seem to me that if – you’re talking about water that’s collecting on the driveway itself or on the side of the driveway? There’s a distinction. DOT: In the driveway and also close to the house and where the driveway meets. And then there’s an attached garage there, also. TOM: If we were to stop the water from collecting on the side of the driveway, would the top of the driveway still be flooded? DOT: I think so. Apparently, they graded it … TOM: Alright. Because it’s easier to put in a curtain drain along the side of the driveway than it is to slice the driveway and insert a drain. Because if you want to try to drain what’s on the driveway, essentially you have to cut a slice into the driveway. It’s not something that you could do; it requires specialized tools. And then a drain is inserted and it’s kind of like a very narrow grate, almost like a box, that’s dropped into the driveway. The driveway is graded to the top of it so that the water can sort of roll in and then fill up the drain and then run out. If, in fact, that this water is collecting along the side of the driveway, it would be easier, kind of from a do-it-yourself perspective, to add in a curtain drain. The way that works is you would dig a trench that was maybe a foot wide, maybe a foot deep. You’d put some stone in the bottom of that and then you’d put a perforated PVC pipe. You continue to fill that up with stone all around it. You’d add some filter cloth over that and then you would regrade and you would be – it would be completely invisible when it’s done. And of course, it has to be pitched properly and discharged properly, as well. So, the curtain drain on the side of the driveway is easier than sort of the trench drain where you have to cut the driveway. I would tend to say do the curtain drain first and see how it goes. Dot, I hope that helps you out. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. LESLIE: Wayne in Iowa is on the line with a septic issue. Tell us what’s going on. WAYNE: Well, when I take a bath, I have odor when I drain the tub. If I take a shower, I have no odor when I take – when I take a shower, obviously, I don’t plug the drain. But everything runs through down to one pipe, which goes out to a septic tank. I do know the line is good from the house to the septic tank, because I had to dig that up before I ever did any of the plumbing in the house. I did not replumb the drain on the tub but otherwise, the house has new plumbing throughout. TOM: So we don’t think that it’s in the drain line. For example, when you talk about sewer odors, the first thing you think of is a missing trap. But if the plumbing has been redone, it’s not likely that that’s the case, correct? WAYNE: No, it has a trap. And it doesn’t leak into the basement but I – whenever I take a shower, it works fine. But if I take a tub bath and pull the plug on the drain, I get a sewer odor in the hallway outside the bathroom. TOM: Because the other cause of those odors is something called “biogas” – is when you get a lot of bacteria that can form in a drain. And it may not even be the drain of the tub; it could be the drain of the sink. I presume there’s a sink in that same bathroom. And sometimes, even in the overflow channel of the sink, you get this bacterial buildup that can have just an awful odor to it. And the solution there is to thoroughly clean it with an oxygenated bleach so that you kill that bacteria, flushing out the overflow channel, scrubbing the drain with almost like a bottle brush to make sure that all of that bacteria is eliminated. Biogas can be very pungent and unpleasant to live with but relatively simple to get rid of once you get to the spot where it exists. Will you give that a shot? WAYNE: Yes, sir. I most certainly shall. TOM: Alright. Good luck with that project. Thanks so much for calling The Money Pit. LESLIE: Now we’ve got Charlene in Tennessee with a flooring question. What can we do for you? CHARLENE: Well, we built our house in 2006 and we purchased, from the mill, solid-oak hardwood planks that we were going to put down for flooring. And it’s 6 inches wide, tongue-and-groove. Underneath that, we put – my husband thinks it’s called AdvanTech. It was a 50-year warranty and the mill told us between that and the tongue-and-groove solid oak to put 6 mil of plastic. TOM: Alright. So what’s the problem we’re trying to solve here? CHARLENE: The problem that we’re solving is in a few areas, one which is mainly the bath and the other is the kitchen, there’s a squeaking noise. It’s like you can’t sneak in that area. It’ll make that noise. TOM: So when you go on a diet, your husband can hear you when you try to sneak into the kitchen to get to the refrigerator, huh? CHARLENE: Yeah, something like that. TOM: Alright. So, look, this has little to do with what is underneath the floor and more to do with just sort of normal wear and tear and expansion and contraction. The reason those floors are – those boards are squeaking is because they’re moving. And so, what you need to do is to tighten them up. Now, since it’s a finished floor, you can’t just go willy-nilly throwing nails and screws into it; you’ve got to be a little more strategic. So what you want to do is find the place where there’s a floor joist underneath. And you can do that with a stud finder. And once you identify that spot, you drill small holes through the floor and you use what’s called a “trim screw,” which is only a little bit bigger than a finish nail. You screw through the finished floor, into the floor joist, and that will pull that floor down and make it tighter and reduce the amount of movement that it’s capable of. And that’s what’s going to quiet down your squeak. A little harder to do when it’s a finished floor but that’s the way to do it. CHARLENE: OK. It sounds like it might be an easy fix. TOM: Good luck with that project. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. LESLIE: Alright. Now we’ve got Gary in Maryland with some wall cracks. Tell us what’s going on. GARY: The cracks are along the one outside wall – or the one wall on the short side, on a 26-foot side. And they’re both on either side of the bathroom, which is between two bedrooms. TOM: So what you’re describing is a pretty normal scenario. We typically get movement in walls of homes and where you have seams between walls and ceilings, one wall and another wall or above a window or above a door. That’s where the movement tends to evidence itself. Now, the solution here is going to require that you redo the seam between the cracked areas. What you’ll do is you’ll pull off the old drywall tape, if it’s loose. If it’s not loose, you could probably leave it in place. But if it’s loose or if it’s wrinkled or anything like that, I would pull it out. And I would replace that with fiberglass drywall tape. Fiberglass drywall tape kind of looks like a netting and it’s sticky, it’s easier to handle. And so you press it into the seam. And then once it’s pressed in place, then you’re going to add three layers of spackle on top of that, making each one as thin as possible. So you start with the first one, try to keep it pretty narrow and just cover the tape. And then the subsequent two, you go a little wider and a little wider and try to feather out the edges. And that actually will bridge that gap between the two surfaces and the crack will not form again. If you try to spackle over a crack without doing that, it’s just going to show up. I mean you could spackle it and paint it but it’s going to come out every winter or every summer, depending on whether it’s swelling or shrinking that’s causing the crack. It’s going to pop open again. GARY: Good. Thank you very much. Good show, too. TOM: You’re welcome, Gary. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. LESLIE: Well, adding a backyard deck is one surefire way to increase your home’s living space, at least for considerably more than half of the year. Depending on what part of the country that you call home, it can be an integral part of summer, barbecues, get-togethers, not to mention a really great spot for just chilling out in a lounge chair or a hammock, enjoying those warm breezes, maybe sipping on an iced tea or a cold beer and listening to the birds. That said, guys, adding or perhaps even replacing a backyard deck requires some planning and certainly some skill to pull off, which really begs the question: should I do this myself or should I hire somebody? So, we’re going to talk about the pros and cons of each. TOM: Well, if you do the job yourself, you stand to save just by virtue of the labor costs. However, building a backyard deck could eat up a number of weekends, depending on how quickly you work and how many mistakes you make along the way. Also, the DIY option could be perfect if you’re planning on a fairly simple square or rectangle. But things get dicey if you choose a more complicated, multilevel deck design. LESLIE: Mm-hmm. Now, let’s think about it. Hiring that pro obviously is going to result in a pricier deck since you’re paying for that labor. But on the plus side, a professional contractor – at least one who’s reliable – is likely to finish that project faster than you would. And a pro is also going to take care of the permitting process and will already know what’s up to code, what isn’t. And that’s going to really ensure that your new deck is going to be A-OK with your city inspector and of course, for your family. TOM: Yeah, I’m really glad you mentioned permits, because a lot of people don’t love the idea of having to shell out extra money and take the time to obtain a permit. But it is really important, because those professional inspectors are your eyes. They’re going to make sure the deck, as you say, is safe and well done. You do not want to build a deck only to find out that there’s some critical flaw in it or maybe that you weren’t even allowed to build one, or you built it too high or too low or too this or too that and have to tear the whole thing down. If you want to do it right, get a permit, get an inspection. And then you’ll know you’ll have a very safe, secure and valuable space that you’ve just added to your home. LESLIE: Alright. Now I’ve got Trish in New Jersey on the line who’s got a remodeling question. What are you working on? TRISH: I have a wall that goes between the kitchen and there’s a set of steps that go down to the basement. TOM: OK. TRISH: My question is – that it’s also a bearing wall. Is it worth it for me to go through the expense of taking this wall out? And then what do I do about the – when you take the wall out, it’s going to drop down to the basement steps right there. TOM: Right. So, OK, it’s a big project, Trish. Really big project. Because when you take a wall out like that, you have to reinforce all the structure above it first. And you build the reinforcement, then you take the wall out. You reassemble it with different types of structural members – like laminated beams, for example – that run that span and allow you to have that sort of open space. Now, you raise another good question, like, “OK, what happens to the basement stair?” Well, obviously, you’re going to need a railing there. So, it’s a really big project. I don’t know if that’s going to be worth it for you in terms of what you’re going to get out of this. What are you trying to achieve, from a design perspective? TRISH: To have an open concept. But here’s another idea. There’s another wall that goes between the kitchen and the dining room and that’s just a small wall, because there’s a doorway there. LESLIE: Trish, there are some other ways that you can actually make the rooms feel larger. Considering I don’t know the exact floor plan or the situation of the space – but if you’ve got some windows in, say, your dining room, on the wall opposite it, why not put a really large mirror over, perhaps, a service area or some sort of great storage cabinet? Because the mirror will sort of help bounce the light around and open up the space and make it feel larger. Using paint-color tricks, where you slightly change one wall color to a lighter hue in the same family, can make the space feel larger, as well. Mirrors really are a huge help. I’m not talking about mirroring an entire wall but I am talking about – perhaps some strategically placed, really decorative mirrors will do the trick, as well. These are all ways – furniture layout. If you can sort of keep the flow more open to encourage a good pass-through, that can help make the space feel larger, as well. So there are ways without taking on major construction projects. TOM: That’ll make it look so much bigger. Trish, good luck with that project. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. LESLIE: Carl in Arkansas is on the line with a thermostat question. How can we help you? CARL: I bought an older house and it’s – the thermostat that’s in it now for the heating and air conditioner is an old mercury switch. And what I bought is a Honeywell 5-2 switch, a programmer for 5 weekdays and then 2 weekend days. And what I’m wanting to know is, can I – is that something I can change out myself or is that something I need to hire an electrician to come do? The package says easy to install but I’ve looked it over and it doesn’t look like it’s that easy to me. TOM: Well, look, if you’re uncomfortable with it, I would not hire an electrician. Kind of heat do you have? Is it gas? Oil? What is it? CARL: It’s electric. TOM: Oh, it’s electric heat. What kind of furnace do you have? CARL: Trane. TOM: Is this a heat pump? CARL: No, no, no. It’s not a heat pump. That’s one thing I didn’t want was a heat pump. TOM: It’s a straight electric furnace? CARL: Right. Straight electric furnace and it has an outside unit, which is also a Trane. TOM: Uh-oh. Wait a minute. Listen to me. If you’re telling me you have an outside condensing unit that works with this, you’ve got a heat pump. You’ve got the compressor outside and then the furnace inside. Now, a heat pump is a combination heat pump/electric furnace. That’s the way they’re designed to work. And the reason that that’s important is because the thermostat that you chose – and I don’t know that this is the case or not but it has to be rated for a heat pump. Because the way heat pumps work is when you set your heat – let’s say you set your heat at 68 degrees. It starts getting cold outside, right? Then inside the house, it falls to 67, the heat pump comes on. Still cold, falls to 66, heat pump stays on. Still cold, falls to 65, now it’s at more than 2-degrees split between what it was set at and what it is. The heat pump says, “I can’t keep up with this. I’m going to bring on my friend, the electric furnace.” So now the electric-furnace coils kick on and then bring the house up to temperature. But by you not having the right thermostat, what can happen is you can run more of the electric furnace and less of the heat pump, which will significantly increase your electric bill. So, the thermostat you choose has got to be designed for a heat pump. So I would say your first thing to do is to confirm – I don’t know if you have an HVAC contractor that you work with but get that system serviced. All these compressors have to be serviced once a year. If you haven’t done it, get it serviced, get the refrigerant checked out. While that guy is in the house, have him install a heat pump-rated thermostat. Because you’re obviously uncomfortable with it and we don’t want you to have all those wires apart and just have a problem where you’ve got no heat or no air. So I wouldn’t do it myself, because you’re uncomfortable with it. And when in doubt, don’t do it. But make sure you use the right thermostat. Otherwise, you may drive up those costs unexpectedly. OK? CARL: OK. Well, I appreciate it. TOM: Good luck with that project. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. You know, even if you can do it yourself, it doesn’t necessarily mean that you should do it yourself. And just like Carl said, if he read the instructions and it still seems confusing to him, then don’t do it. If you’re not comfortable with it – and especially if it’s something like your furnace where if you hook up the wires wrong – you’re probably not going to break it but you’re not going to have heat and that could be very unpleasant. LESLIE: Now we’re heading over to Virginia where Margaret has a question about a bathtub. Tell us what’s going on. MARGARET: We have an old, cast-iron tub and it’s real rusty in spots. And I’m wondering what we could do to restore it. LESLIE: Now, when you say real rusty in spots, are we talking about big spots or are we talking about small, little ones from a chip here and there? MARGARET: No. We’re talking about big spots because the water – it was not good water when we first moved here. And so it had a lot of wear and tear on it about 40 years before we moved here. And we’ve been living here, probably, about 45 years, so … TOM: So your tub is almost 100 years old, huh? MARGARET: Exactly. TOM: Yeah. Well, look, it served the house well. It’s not going to last forever. It needs to be reglazed at this point. And I’ve had some experience with folks that have tried to reglaze these tubs inside the house. And it can be done but it’s an awfully messy and intensive job. And unless it’s done professionally, it doesn’t seem to last very long. There are home reglazing kits. Rust-Oleum makes one that’s for tub and tile but I wouldn’t expect it to last all that long. The best way to do this is to have the tub taken out and reglazed. But if you’re going to do all that, you might as well replace it and not just have that – not just not have that reglazed unless it’s particularly beautiful. I think those are your options. It’s not easy to do a touch-up to something like this when it’s just got so – it’s got almost 100 years of wear and tear on it. MARGARET: Oh. Yes, yes. OK. That was my question. I appreciate that. TOM: Unfortunately, Margaret, there’s no easy way to remove 100 years of wear and tear on that tub and so you’re probably better off just replacing it. Well, if you have a really, really long room in your home that perhaps is as appealing to decorate as maybe a bowling alley, it could be really hard to make that space feel cozy and comfortable. But with a few layout tricks and tweaks, you can learn to love your long and narrow room. LESLIE: Yeah. I think, first of all, people get stuck because they feel like, “Ugh, it’s got to be one space. What is it? What do I do here?” But you have to think about long rooms as a blessing in disguise, because they can serve as a very popular open-plan kind of space. So instead of having one large but really strange living room, you can have a smaller living area plus more of a cozy den or a study or maybe a little breakfast nook. The trick here is to zone those areas into separate spots by using your furniture. Now, rugs can sort of land a spot. You can create a lighting area around that one little spot. All of it playing with color, so it feels like its own individual space. And that really helps to set the tone of “I planned it, I’ve made a lot of usable spots.” TOM: Now, the next thing you want to think about is to not line things up, because you don’t want to accentuate the fact that it’s already long. So try to avoid having all your furniture along the walls, like you might see in a doctor’s waiting room. Instead, you want to alternate the furniture groupings. So this is going to force that traffic to take on kind of an S-shape and avoid half the room just feeling like a straight hallway. It’s basically a sneaky way to make you actually use more of the space. And you also want to arrange things crosswise when possible. And that’s going to visually kind of push those walls outward. And that’s going to make that room seem wider, as opposed to being sort of narrow. LESLIE: Mm-hmm. And I think the other thing people want to do is they see a big room, so they buy big furniture. But instead of getting that one big sofa and then getting – you know, put it there on the longer wall, think about getting two smaller ones and place them facing each other, with a small coffee table in between or maybe even an L-shaped sofa or one with a small chaise lounge. And that can really use that space in a long room very, very well. TOM: And lastly, do not overfill this with furniture. Just because the room is long doesn’t mean you need to fill it all. It works particularly well in a symmetrical room when the furniture can be sort of centered around an object, like a window or a fireplace. So, if you follow some of those steps, this room can really become a very popular space. Everybody likes these open floor plans these days. Well, that’s exactly what that is. It’s an open floor plan where you set the groupings for the activities that are to follow. LESLIE: John is on the line and he’s dealing with a mold situation. Tell us what’s going on. JOHN: I have a mold problem around my shower door. I bought the house two years ago. I stripped all the caulking out when I had the mold problem. I’ve put caulking in with a nationally known brand. I even used a Saran Wrap-type thing on my finger to eliminate any contamination. Before I did that, I cleaned it, I stripped it out with a plastic scraper. I also used mineral spirits to clean it out. I put it in and I still have problems with it. God, I’m just at my wits’ end here. I run the humidity in my basement between 40 and 50 percent. I leave the shower door open. I even shut the furnace vent off in there to try and keep it so it doesn’t have a breeding of bacteria or anything or mold in that. You’ve got to tell me what I need to do. I don’t know if I have an off-spec caulking that I used, which is nationally known, or if I have an off-spec aluminum frame and door that causes the mold. I have no idea. TOM: Well, look, you’re going to get mold when you have moisture and organic material. And in a shower, that organic material can be soap and dirt and that sort of thing. So you’re doing the right thing but let’s just back it up and try it again here. You want to remove the old caulk. You mentioned mineral spirits. I usually recommend a bleach-and-water solution because this kills – this is a mildicide that kills anything that’s stuck behind. After you get that all dried out and cleaned out really, really well, then you can apply a caulk with mildicide. I would use a caulk that has Microban in it. DAP caulks are available with Microban and it’s a good antimicrobial additive that will not grow mold. Now, the other thing I would do is I would also make sure that you have – obviously, have a bath exhaust fan and that you have an exhaust fan that’s hooked up to a humidistat, which takes sort of you and anyone else that’s using that bathroom out of the equation. If it’s on the humidistat, it’s automatically going to kick on when the humidity gets high enough to cause mold problems. And it will stay on for some number of minutes when that humidity goes down, to make sure that the room is thoroughly vented out. That’s the best way to handle that. And I think if you do those steps, you will find success. JOHN: Hey, thank you very much. TOM: Good luck with that project. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. LESLIE: Well, your home’s electrical panel is made up of circuits that provide electricity to your home. Now, you probably never think about it until that circuit trips and then you have to. TOM: Yeah. But if you find that happening more often, it could be a sign that you need to upgrade your electrical service panel. So we’ve got five signs that service panel is ready to be replaced, in today’s Pro Project presented by HomeAdvisor.com. First off, let’s talk about faulty wiring. It’s the leading cause of residential fires in the U.S. And those signs would include dimming or flickering of lights, sometimes a slight shock sensation when touching an appliance or a persistent burning smell and of course, any sparking or discoloring of the power outlets. But what about fuses? Because a lot of folks don’t have circuit breakers; they still have fuses. The thing is they pretty much function the same. They do prevent short circuits and circuit overloads. The circuit breaker interrupts the circuit. A fuse can actually melt and become a potential fire hazard. But they’re not illegal. They are outdated. They’re actually pretty accurate at blowing when they’re supposed to but the problem is you have to know what size to replace it with. So, sometimes you find that folks will put the wrong size fuse back in. And that means that the wire is not properly protected. So if you’ve got fuses, I think that’s a definite sign it’s time to upgrade your panel. LESLIE: Mm-hmm. I think another good sign that maybe you don’t have enough service to your home is that you’re using extension cords and you’re using power strips all over the house, because you don’t simply have enough outlets. I mean that’s really when it’s a good idea to upgrade. You know, you can install multiple electrical outlets and a circuit where they’re needed. And that’s going to minimize fire and tripping hazards. So you’re going to find way more convenience plus, also, a better-operating home. Now, what about when you add an appliance? Think about a major appliance: maybe an A/C unit or a hot tub/spa, something like that or another thing that uses a ton of energy. You have to make sure that your panel can handle that. Because standard electrical panels provide 100, 150, 200 and 400 amps of power to your home. Anything less is going to be illegal. And if you find that your breakers are tripping when you turn on the A/C or that hot tub, you need an upgrade. We upgraded the panel to 200 service when I put in the central air. You need it. And it’s great because now there’s outlets everywhere and everything works and it feels fantastic. TOM: So, finally, if you’re planning ahead on a big project like a remodel, it’s a good idea, while everybody’s there and doing the work, to add on replacing and updating that panel. And certainly, if you plan on selling, it’s a good idea, as well. But only a licensed electrician can take on that project. LESLIE: And that’s today’s Pro Project presented by HomeAdvisor.com. With HomeAdvisor, you can get matched with top-rated home service pros in your area and book appointments online, all for free. TOM: No matter the type of job, HomeAdvisor makes it fast and easy to hire the best local pros. LESLIE: Now we’ve got Jackie in Colorado on the line with a wood-paneling question. How can we help you today? JACKIE: Well, I’ve got this old, medium-colored, wood paneling, which is really light, that was put over concrete walls. It’s one that’s got the black stripe in it. TOM: OK. JACKIE: I just want to know how the best way to clean it. Years ago, I used Murphen (ph) Oil. TOM: You mean Murphy’s Oil? JACKIE: Uh-huh. TOM: Yeah, Murphy’s Oil Soap is the best way to clean wood. Have you used that again? JACKIE: Well, I just used maybe a tablespoon with a bucket of warm water. Would that be OK? TOM: Yeah, I think you can actually use a little more than that. Follow the label directions. But when you’re trying to clean old, wood paneling like that, Murphy’s Oil Soap is really the best way to go because it’s not going to dry out the wood and damage it. It’s very, very gentle. Just follow the instructions but I think that’s the best product to use for that situation. JACKIE: OK. I really enjoy your program. It’s just very enlightening for me and I’m not – you know, if I need to find something else, I’ll just call you guys. TOM: Alright, Jackie. Thanks so much for calling us at 888-MONEY-PIT. LESLIE: You can always email or post your question at MoneyPit.com. And I’ve got one here from James who’s in Texas. And he writes: “I’m considering buying a home with textured walls. It looks like plaster was blown onto it. How hard is it going to be to smooth it out?” TOM: Hard. Really, really hard. Look, textured walls, textured ceilings were popular for a very short period of time. And I think there’s been more effort put in by homeowners to get rid of it than there was ever to apply it to begin with. So, I would not try to make it perfectly smooth, because you are definitely setting yourself up for a disappointment. You can take some of the sort of spikiness out of it but I would get it back to a place that you like. And then I would tell you to paint it with flat paint. Do not use anything with a sheen because it will only make it look worse. LESLIE: Alright. Tommy in Nebraska is up next who writes: “I’ve got central air conditioning that works great but I have a couple of rooms I really don’t use. And I’m wondering if I should just close up those vents and shut the doors. Is that going to help me save some money on cooling?” TOM: Yeah, it’ll help you save a little bit of money on the cooling. So, you could completely close those vents. You might want to wrap them with some, say, cellophane, some Saran Wrap, something like that. Because the vents themselves don’t really totally seal it out. It’ll have some impact on the cost of cooling your entire house but I doubt it will have a dramatic impact. And if you do hear that the system is short-cycling – if the air conditioning is going on and off and on and off – then open them back up again, because that means the system is too big for the remaining rooms. LESLIE: That’s smart. That’s a good tip because you sometimes think bigger is better; not with A/C. TOM: Not always. Yeah, that’s right. Well, are you a first-time homeowner wondering what you need to know that us seasoned money pitters already do? Well, Leslie has got the lowdown, in today’s edition of Leslie’s Last Word. Leslie? LESLIE: Hey, guys. First, congratulations. You’re the proud owner of your very first home. Well, then the question is: now what? It’s like a kid. No one gives you instructions. TOM: Right. LESLIE: You’ve got to care for it, you’ve got to love it and you’ve got to figure out what it needs to survive. So, as this first-time homeowner, you’ve got to remember it’s your job to maintain your home year-round. So, first thing you need to do is get some tools, things that you’ll have around just to help you when you come up with a little project here and there. Nothing crazy. I’m talking about a basic toolbox, like a hammer, assorted screwdrivers, a pry bar, level, adjustable wrench. If you want or you’re feeling daring or it’s a holiday, you can get some power tools. Maybe a drill, circ saw, some simple things that’ll help you just advance going on with the things going on in your house. Now, you’ve got to also understand the basics of your home’s mechanical system. That’s a must. So you need to know where your water-main line is and how to shut it off. Because if there’s an emergency, you’ve got to know where to turn that water off. And learn to use your fuse box. Check it out, find it. Keep a flashlight nearby so when the power goes out, you know how to get to it. Those are things that are going to be super helpful when and if an emergency occurs. And you have to remember that home ownership puts you in charge of covering all of those utilities. So if in the initial months in your new home, maybe you’ve got some sticker shock over how much power and water actually costs, then start looking into taking some steps to manage those energy dollars. These are all things you’re not going to be familiar with right off the bat because renters, a lot of that stuff is already taken care of. And finally, even if you’re in a brand-spanking new home that maybe has a warranty, it’s wise to have a contingency fund to cushion those curveballs that life can and definitely will throw at a homeowner. So, make sure you’re ready. If you want some more tips, just Google “money pit first-time homeowner tips.” TOM: This is The Money Pit Home Improvement Show. Coming up next time on the program, we’re all getting ready to plant some bushes and trees and flowers. And you’re probably going to be throwing down some mulch. It is a great way to insulate newly planted trees and shrubs but too much can starve them. We’ll have a tip on how to do this job the right way, on the very next edition of The Money Pit. I’m Tom Kraeutler. LESLIE: And I’m Leslie Segrete. TOM: Remember, you can do it yourself … LESLIE: But you don’t have to do it alone.   (Copyright 2020 Squeaky Door Productions, Inc. No portion of this transcript or audio file may be reproduced in any format without the express written permission of Squeaky Door Productions, Inc.) our transcript here. The post Episode #1979: DIY Deck Projects | Decorating Long Rooms | Solutions for Small Electric Panels appeared first on The Money Pit. #HomePage

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/in-this-episode

[cessanderson]

How I Created My Own She-Shed – Reader Story https://ift.tt/2QzhFjt

Did you update your bathroom? Revamp your kitchen? Install new flooring? We would love to share your project, big or small! Send us what you did and our editorial team will consider it for our “My Fresh Home” series, which will be published every Thursday. Check out our submission instructions at the bottom of the page.

Today we want to share a story from TPG reader Krissy, who built her own she-shed in her backyard:

The over-sized shed in our backyard that was made over into a home office.

My husband would likely die if he read that headline, especially because he is using our new she-shed too. We should really call it a “We-shed.” This is the story of how we turned our over-sized shed into an amazing work space for two!

Why do we need a she-shed?

This project all came about when we found out we were expecting our third child.  While absolutely thrilled with this news, it meant that our 4 bedroom home no longer included a home office. During my maternity leave, my husband took a new job and his commute changed from taking the train into the city to sitting on our bed working from his computer. I also work from home and have been doing so for about two years. When maternity leave was up, and I needed to reclaim the bedroom as my office, we thought that this house might not work for us anymore. 

We considered a couple of options for our home office. This included everything from buying a new house-not in the budget, to renting an expensive office space, to converting our garage into an office. Then one day I said what about our shed?  When we bought our house two years ago, it came with a huge shed used by the previous owner as a woodworking space. We literally only used it to store a lawn mower and a canoe, so we thought this may be a viable option. The shed already had electricity, and we thought it would only need heat and a WiFi signal to be all set. If only it were that easy!

Manland in the fall.

Prior to this, my husband had initially claimed this shed and its land as his own and called it ‘Manland.’ Since the kids play area took over our basement, he had no man cave space to claim for himself. So he moved to the wood near our shed and built a fire pit area. He strung some lights, added some Adirondack chairs and made a really cozy little campground dubbed “Manland.” This space stayed Manland for about 2 months and now has been turned into our We-Shed…with a cozy fire pit for s’mores breaks.

Laying the plans to build a she-shed

The minimal interior of the shed allowed us to determine its viability as an office pretty easily.

Deciding to convert our shed into a home office was the easy part; figuring out IF we could convert it took a lot more work.  Living in the Northeast, our weather conditions played a big role on the development of our shed. If you live in San Diego or any other comfortable 74 degree location, you may be able to skip the insulation and heating/cooling portion of this process. Here in Pittsburgh, PA, we knew insulation and heat was a must. 

Creating a comfortable space

We added insulation to the walls, ceiling and beneath the floor boards to keep the external elements outside.

To determine if the shed could be a warm and comfortable space in the dead of winter, we hired a contractor to come out and check out our space. It was easy to figure out what we needed to do because the space was just framing, no drywall or really anything but the bare bones of a structure. The contractor recommended that we add insulation to the walls and ceiling to protect from the exterior elements. He also ripped up the plywood floorboards and added a water barrier to protect the floors from the bare ground below. This would ensure warmth but also serve as a moisture barrier. On top of the barrier he laid more insulation before adding new floor boards.

It’s starting to come together. The shiplap paneling is getting installed.

Because a shed is more exposed to the elements, we opted for wood paneling walls vs. sheets of drywall. This would also help to protect against moisture. Now I’m sure when you think wood paneling you are thinking your grandfather’s 1970’s television den, but paneling has come a long way people! Perhaps you have been living under a rock and aren’t familiar with the term “shiplap,” but thanks to the influence of Joanna Gaines we fell in love with the white shiplap look. So that is exactly what we selected.  (PS taking three kids to Home Depot to pick out your She-Shed materials isn’t exactly an enjoyable way to spend a morning.)

Three kids in Home Depot, not a relaxing way to spend a Saturday.

At Home Depot we also selected our floor covering. Now if you thought paneling was dated, wait for this term… VINYL. I promise, this was a great option for our space and like wood paneling it’s evolved a lot since that 1980’s kitchen look we all remember. The vinyl comes on a big roll 12 ft wide and cut to whatever length you need.  Our space is an 11 foot box, so this meant we wouldn’t have any seems in our floor, another way to protect from moisture. It was also super affordable.

Vinyl has come a long way since my childhood 1980’s kitchen.

Power, internet and flipping the switch

We really thought that insulating and making the shed feel comfortable would be the extent of our work. When our contractor came out to inspect what we were working with, however, we learned that we needed to add some additional elements. I mentioned earlier that there was electricity to the shed, but the voltage was too low to power all of our office equipment and we needed to beef up our panel with the necessary voltage.  Unfortunately, the conduit that ran the power from our house to the shed was too small to hold the additional wire. This meant we needed to retrench our yard.

Thanks to the new wiring run up to the shed, we have a TV that we can use indoors as well as outdoors.

We had our friend who runs a landscaping business rent out the necessary equipment to dig an 18 inch deep trench in our yard the 120 feet from our house to the shed.  Luckily we knew that we had a fairly large gas line buried in our back yard so we made sure to reach out through 411 to have the team come out and mark where the line was.  To be sure we didn’t cut this line, we hand dug the trench in this area. After we dug the trench we were able to run a new conduit to the shed with the appropriate power needed as well as the lines needed to have ethernet, cable and phone service in the shed. My husband was thrilled with this addition because it mean he could have a television in Manland.  Football and firepits all fall long!

The additional power capacity was an added expense and something that we didn’t really anticipate, but was necessary to make the space function for our needs. The trench and electrician work nearly doubled our initial budget. This did not make me happy at the time, but I can now say I’m so happy we did it the right way.

All the little details

We have walls, floors, baseboard heat and lights… it’s looking like an office!

We are still in the midst of adding details to make the office shed feel really comfortable, but here are some of the things we’ve done so far to make it workable. We added two matching desks from IKEA.  We already had one desk so we added another and put them right beside each other to allow us to make the best use of our space. This also allows us to enjoy the sunshine that comes through our screen door. Come summer we will have to think through ways to keep our space cool (an HVAC unit was not in the budget at this time), but having a screen door should allow for some nice breezes. Speaking of temperature, we added two baseboard heating systems. These run off electricity and keep the space super warm. We keep them on all day to make sure the space is super comfortable as soon as we arrive every morning.

Screen door added for extra sunlight and a warm summer breeze.

We also added LED can lights that have various colors of brightness. Sometimes LED lighting can be too white, almost like fluorescent lights, so we like that we can adjust the softness of these lights to make sure the lighting is just right.  We also added a place to put our shoes, hang our coats and wipe our feet so that we don’t trek mud, dirt and moisture into the space. We are in the midst of hanging whiteboards and bulletin boards and hope to add some art to the space to punch up the color.

Cost and evaluation of our shed renovation

Desks and computers are in and the space has been fully functional for about a month.

All in we spent nearly $9,000 to renovate, rewire, insulate and furnish our shed office. It’s way more then we had hoped to spend, our original budget was $6,000, but totally worth it. The space has been a huge boost to our productivity and has allowed us a space to escape for work.  Oftentimes, when you work from home it’s hard to separate work and home life.  Having this separate space has really allowed us to leave our work in the office shed at the end of the day to come back down to our house and enjoy our lives with our little family.

How to Submit User Stories

1: Include “My Fresh Home Project” in the subject line. Then, in the body of the email, please provide an explanation of why you chose to do the project, an outline of steps you took to get it done, and any advice for readers considering similar projects. Make sure to include your name and any before/after images you have! 

2: Email your story to team@mail.freshome.com. (note: link)

And that’s it! Easy, right? If selected, your story will be shared as an article on Freshome!

The post How I Created My Own She-Shed – Reader Story appeared first on Freshome.com.

Freshome Team

[jovialsoulinfluencer]

How I Created My Own She-Shed – Reader Story

Did you update your bathroom? Revamp your kitchen? Install new flooring? We would love to share your project, big or small! Send us what you did and our editorial team will consider it for our “My Fresh Home” series, which will be published every Thursday. Check out our submission instructions at the bottom of the page.

Today we want to share a story from TPG reader Krissy, who built her own she-shed in her backyard:

The over-sized shed in our backyard that was made over into a home office.

My husband would likely die if he read that headline, especially because he is using our new she-shed too. We should really call it a “We-shed.” This is the story of how we turned our over-sized shed into an amazing work space for two!

Why do we need a she-shed?

This project all came about when we found out we were expecting our third child.  While absolutely thrilled with this news, it meant that our 4 bedroom home no longer included a home office. During my maternity leave, my husband took a new job and his commute changed from taking the train into the city to sitting on our bed working from his computer. I also work from home and have been doing so for about two years. When maternity leave was up, and I needed to reclaim the bedroom as my office, we thought that this house might not work for us anymore. 

We considered a couple of options for our home office. This included everything from buying a new house-not in the budget, to renting an expensive office space, to converting our garage into an office. Then one day I said what about our shed?  When we bought our house two years ago, it came with a huge shed used by the previous owner as a woodworking space. We literally only used it to store a lawn mower and a canoe, so we thought this may be a viable option. The shed already had electricity, and we thought it would only need heat and a WiFi signal to be all set. If only it were that easy!

Manland in the fall.

Prior to this, my husband had initially claimed this shed and its land as his own and called it ‘Manland.’ Since the kids play area took over our basement, he had no man cave space to claim for himself. So he moved to the wood near our shed and built a fire pit area. He strung some lights, added some Adirondack chairs and made a really cozy little campground dubbed “Manland.” This space stayed Manland for about 2 months and now has been turned into our We-Shed…with a cozy fire pit for s’mores breaks.

Laying the plans to build a she-shed

The minimal interior of the shed allowed us to determine its viability as an office pretty easily.

Deciding to convert our shed into a home office was the easy part; figuring out IF we could convert it took a lot more work.  Living in the Northeast, our weather conditions played a big role on the development of our shed. If you live in San Diego or any other comfortable 74 degree location, you may be able to skip the insulation and heating/cooling portion of this process. Here in Pittsburgh, PA, we knew insulation and heat was a must. 

Creating a comfortable space

We added insulation to the walls, ceiling and beneath the floor boards to keep the external elements outside.

To determine if the shed could be a warm and comfortable space in the dead of winter, we hired a contractor to come out and check out our space. It was easy to figure out what we needed to do because the space was just framing, no drywall or really anything but the bare bones of a structure. The contractor recommended that we add insulation to the walls and ceiling to protect from the exterior elements. He also ripped up the plywood floorboards and added a water barrier to protect the floors from the bare ground below. This would ensure warmth but also serve as a moisture barrier. On top of the barrier he laid more insulation before adding new floor boards.

It’s starting to come together. The shiplap paneling is getting installed.

Because a shed is more exposed to the elements, we opted for wood paneling walls vs. sheets of drywall. This would also help to protect against moisture. Now I’m sure when you think wood paneling you are thinking your grandfather’s 1970’s television den, but paneling has come a long way people! Perhaps you have been living under a rock and aren’t familiar with the term “shiplap,” but thanks to the influence of Joanna Gaines we fell in love with the white shiplap look. So that is exactly what we selected.  (PS taking three kids to Home Depot to pick out your She-Shed materials isn’t exactly an enjoyable way to spend a morning.)

Three kids in Home Depot, not a relaxing way to spend a Saturday.

At Home Depot we also selected our floor covering. Now if you thought paneling was dated, wait for this term… VINYL. I promise, this was a great option for our space and like wood paneling it’s evolved a lot since that 1980’s kitchen look we all remember. The vinyl comes on a big roll 12 ft wide and cut to whatever length you need.  Our space is an 11 foot box, so this meant we wouldn’t have any seems in our floor, another way to protect from moisture. It was also super affordable.

Vinyl has come a long way since my childhood 1980’s kitchen.

Power, internet and flipping the switch

We really thought that insulating and making the shed feel comfortable would be the extent of our work. When our contractor came out to inspect what we were working with, however, we learned that we needed to add some additional elements. I mentioned earlier that there was electricity to the shed, but the voltage was too low to power all of our office equipment and we needed to beef up our panel with the necessary voltage.  Unfortunately, the conduit that ran the power from our house to the shed was too small to hold the additional wire. This meant we needed to retrench our yard.

Thanks to the new wiring run up to the shed, we have a TV that we can use indoors as well as outdoors.

We had our friend who runs a landscaping business rent out the necessary equipment to dig an 18 inch deep trench in our yard the 120 feet from our house to the shed.  Luckily we knew that we had a fairly large gas line buried in our back yard so we made sure to reach out through 411 to have the team come out and mark where the line was.  To be sure we didn’t cut this line, we hand dug the trench in this area. After we dug the trench we were able to run a new conduit to the shed with the appropriate power needed as well as the lines needed to have ethernet, cable and phone service in the shed. My husband was thrilled with this addition because it mean he could have a television in Manland.  Football and firepits all fall long!

The additional power capacity was an added expense and something that we didn’t really anticipate, but was necessary to make the space function for our needs. The trench and electrician work nearly doubled our initial budget. This did not make me happy at the time, but I can now say I’m so happy we did it the right way.

All the little details

We have walls, floors, baseboard heat and lights… it’s looking like an office!

We are still in the midst of adding details to make the office shed feel really comfortable, but here are some of the things we’ve done so far to make it workable. We added two matching desks from IKEA.  We already had one desk so we added another and put them right beside each other to allow us to make the best use of our space. This also allows us to enjoy the sunshine that comes through our screen door. Come summer we will have to think through ways to keep our space cool (an HVAC unit was not in the budget at this time), but having a screen door should allow for some nice breezes. Speaking of temperature, we added two baseboard heating systems. These run off electricity and keep the space super warm. We keep them on all day to make sure the space is super comfortable as soon as we arrive every morning.

Screen door added for extra sunlight and a warm summer breeze.

We also added LED can lights that have various colors of brightness. Sometimes LED lighting can be too white, almost like fluorescent lights, so we like that we can adjust the softness of these lights to make sure the lighting is just right.  We also added a place to put our shoes, hang our coats and wipe our feet so that we don’t trek mud, dirt and moisture into the space. We are in the midst of hanging whiteboards and bulletin boards and hope to add some art to the space to punch up the color.

Cost and evaluation of our shed renovation

Desks and computers are in and the space has been fully functional for about a month.

All in we spent nearly $9,000 to renovate, rewire, insulate and furnish our shed office. It’s way more then we had hoped to spend, our original budget was $6,000, but totally worth it. The space has been a huge boost to our productivity and has allowed us a space to escape for work.  Oftentimes, when you work from home it’s hard to separate work and home life.  Having this separate space has really allowed us to leave our work in the office shed at the end of the day to come back down to our house and enjoy our lives with our little family.

How to Submit User Stories

1: Include “My Fresh Home Project” in the subject line. Then, in the body of the email, please provide an explanation of why you chose to do the project, an outline of steps you took to get it done, and any advice for readers considering similar projects. Make sure to include your name and any before/after images you have! 

2: Email your story to team@mail.freshome.com. (note: link)

And that’s it! Easy, right? If selected, your story will be shared as an article on Freshome!

The post How I Created My Own She-Shed – Reader Story appeared first on Freshome.com.

from https://freshome.com/how-i-created-my-own-she-shed/ via How I Created My Own She-Shed – Reader Story