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thebirdsandthebats · 2 years ago

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Okay @s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e I’m sure you know plenty BUT I’m going to use your wonderful and hilarious comment on this as an excuse to talk about Bernard, bc I realized recently that there are plenty of ppl who haven’t read most of the comics he’s been in. So get ready for my long overdue:

UNPACKING BERNARD DOWD + HIS TRAUMA (for those who cannot keep up with comics but want to get to know him)

So to start, Tim met Bernard years ago ofc, when they were in high school. It’s established pretty quick that Bernard is an extremely Unserious guy LMAO, the first thing he does is literally circle Tim and try to feel him out socially, see what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind of guy who gets himself in trouble with his big mouth, and seems to enjoy poking at Tim and testing his patience. By the time we meet Bernard again in the recent years, he’s grown a lot, but at his core he’s still the light-hearted, fun, goofy guy with very strong opinions. Just less stand-offish, maybe

Throughout the time Tim spends at this school though, Bernard does experience some wild shit. He lost Darla (somebody he really cared about), he experienced a shooting at his school, and then Darla came back from the dead, kind of scared the hell out of him, and used him to contact Tim again. It was kind of played for laughs, but like. That’s gotta fuck you up. (Robin #140)

Obviously this is the kind of thing that maybeee has a lasting effect on you. And BECAUSE Tim Drake: Robin got cut so short and the writer had to rush to wrap up the series, we’re left to fill in a lot of gaps and draw conclusions about the years we didn’t see Bernard ourselves. But we absolutely get some insight as to his life after Tim left that school and we stopped seeing him in the comics. Spoiler alert: it was hard.

In TDR, Bernard discusses the the cult that he’d been in that Tim saved him from in Urban Legends. He says that “he’d accepted himself”, but others hadn’t. Obviously there’s the natural reading that he means his queerness (which has me chewing through drywall), but I think that he’s speaking very broadly too. Bernard is a very odd example of a civilian, because he’s always getting dragged into things much bigger than him. And even before that, he had his big ideas, his conspiracies, his loud personality. He tended to rub people the wrong way in high school. Then in issue #7 of TDR (the Bernard pov issue my most beloved, weird pacing aside) Bernard refers to this “oozy, sticky feeling” that he ALWAYS feels when Tim isn’t around. He says when he’s alone it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. To keep GOING. To wake up every day.

I think that Bernard has always felt like an outcast. (Robin #121, he doesn’t fit into any clique). He wasn’t as okay with it as he acted. And I think he wasn’t getting any attention from his parents. (Batman: Urban Legends #5, Bernard’s parents nonchalance to the days leading up to his kidnapping)

So just like Bernard explained to Tim, that feeling got bad. and he wanted to let go. The chaos monsters, the cult, all of it was a means to an end. But then Tim agreed to see him again, and I think that sparked something in him. Because he started learning to fight. When he was tied down to that alter and Tim was saving him, I think it fully sank in to Bernard that he didn’t want to die. Reconnecting with Tim gave him hope and made him really feel something good for the first time in ages.

So now that they’re dating after the cult fiasco, we get to know this current Bernard. A less goading, maybe calmer Bernard. But he’s still himself, of course, rambling about his ideas and making bad jokes and sticking to his guns (he has NEVER been a pushover, no idea where people get that idea?). I think a lot of people complained that Bernard mellowed out too much in terms of attitude, but I think if he seems “nicer” it’s because 1) he’s grown now. It’s been a while since we last saw him, and he’s clearly changed a lot. And 2) because he’s dating Tim now. He likes him a lot, and he’s an affectionate partner. He wants to lift Tim up.

But the fact that he was pulled into a cult still remains. And as lighthearted as Bernard tries to be, that traumatic experience still happened. It said in Urban Legends #5 while Tim was searching for him that Bernard had welts on his arms and legs and had been acting different, so it’s not like he was just snatched up on a whim. He’d spent significant time there. For those who haven’t read much abt the ways cult trauma specifically can fuck you up, I recommend doing a search if you’re in a good headspace for that and want to understand him more. because it’s pretty bad.

And then! yeah. you guessed it. Bernard gets kidnapped again. Chained up next to a BOMB that’s counting down. RIGHT WHEN HE’S WORKING ON HEALING FROM ALMOST BEING SACRIFICED BY A CULT.

And surely this can’t get crazier. He’s almost died twice in the past 6 months. except, remember his parents? In TD:R #7, we really see a little more of his relationship with his parents. He doesn’t live up to their standards, and his dad specifically seems to just want to argue with him. The restaurant they’re at is attacked, and everything goes to shit, and. you know, I think these panels really speak for themselves.

And for the record, when it’s revealed that everyone is seeing their worst fears, Bernard’s parents fears are not about him.

So now Bernard has to deal with that. And we start to see that Bernard is really not as okay as he’s tried to be. He keeps a baseball bat by his door because he’s been kidnapped twice now. And just when he’d likely thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the Chaos Monsters were back. I can’t imagine he feels safe. He lashes out for the first time since all this has happened and yells at Kate and Tim, because while they’re doing what they feel is necessary to save more people (AND I DONT BLAME THEM AT ALL), Bernard can’t talk about it.

And I will forever be sad and insist that TD:R got cancelled too soon, just before we could get into the really juicy stuff, because things had to be wrapped up pretty quick and this was the only comic Bernard was consistently appearing in. But when Tim is giving himself up to the chaos monsters, Bernard goes out and rallies anyone he knows can help. Things were rushed because there was no more time to flesh out the story the way it could have been, but I’m including these panels just because I love Bernard Audacity Dowd using a fucking flashlight and shadow puppet to call Batman. geeking out for a minute. And then leading the battalion to save Tim with a SLEDGEHAMMER. gay people rule.

So yeah! While I see the vision of how a lot of Bernard’s trauma was meant to be semi-resolved and let him come to peace after saving Tim back, we just didn’t have the time for him to heal properly. I’d give anything to get inside his brain again. UHH IF YOU READ THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE BERNARD NOW and don’t come at me if I left something out, some of my comics aren’t with me rn. Bonus TimBer for the road:

#WHEW IT TOOK A WHILE TO ORGANIZE THESE PANELS #Hes NOT BORING he is SO FASCINATING TO ME #i think his character is just not being utilized the way it could be #I didnt source every panel so just ask if you want to know where something is from!#bernard dowd #batfamily #dc comics #tim drake #timber #timbern

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dioslesbianwife · 10 days ago

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Hehehe im so happy your reqs are back up😈😈😈

Can i ask for jofoes x reader who gets insane cuteness aggression from them?! like omg especially with pb dio, pucci and diego they all look like sopping wet cats at times and i want to bite large chunks out of them or grind them into dust,,, diego could have unmatched levels of moe if he tried like that is a face painted by the hands of god himself with watercolors activated by the tears of angels omfg but i digress <3

lol yesss diego is def the most beautiful jofoe imo, even if he's not my fav, u gotta give credit where credit is due hahaha i hope u enjoy and thank you for requesting ^^

Phantom Blood Dio

You see him lounging with his stupid dramatic pout, one boot propped up like he owns gravity itself, and something in your brain just SNAPS.

“Dio,” you whisper. “Dio, I’m going to chew your face off.”

He’s like, “...Excuse me?”

He gets so smug when he realizes it’s because you find him cute. You swear that just makes it worse.

His princely smirk, his wavy hair, his high-collared shirts- it activates something violent and primal in you.

“You look like a little Victorian babygirl. I’m going to fold you like a napkin.”

Dio: “I am a god.”

You: “You are a VICTORIAN VALENTINE. Get in my mouth.”

Stardust Crusaders Dio

He thinks he’s being all sultry and powerful, descending the stairs in those slutty boots with The World behind him.

You? You're gripping the couch cushions trying not to BITE him like a rabid dog.

“You look like a freshly bathed sphynx cat in mesh.”

“Do you know what it’s like being in love with a man who looks like a JoAnn’s mannequin trying to seduce me through interpretive dance?? I’m going to combust.”

Every little "WRYYYY" noise? It sends you into a rageful spiral of affection.

He lifts an eyebrow like he knows he’s pretty. That’s it. That’s what does it. You tackle him.

“Do that again and I will SLAM you into drywall like a goddamn cartoon character.”

Kars

This man… this sculpted, glowing bioluminescent jungle Barbie...

He swishes his perfect hair and you gnash your teeth.

“You’re not even real. You’re definitely CGI. Stop existing or I’m going to launch you into space- with kisses.”

He hums to himself while working on something else and your jaw clenches so hard it pops.

He tries to explain complex biology while posing and glittering like a Lisa Frank sticker.

You’re foaming at the mouth. You want to shake him like a ragdoll.

Yoshikage Kira

This man trims his nails. That’s all it takes. You black out.

He looks up over his stupid little tie with his perfect little hands and says, “Everything in its place.”

You: “I am going to peel your skin off and use it as a blanket. Affectionately.”

He thinks you’re insane. But also… he’s kind of flattered?

When you finally get your hands on his face, gently squishing his cheeks like dough, he turns red.

“Why are you like this,” he mutters.

“Because you look like a haunted paper doll and I’m in love with you,” you growl, shaking him gently.

Diavolo

He appears in your room all mysterious and edgy, hair drifting like a jellyfish and voice deep like a cryptid.

You scream. Not in fear. In AGGRESSION.

“You’re PINK. AND MYSTERIOUS. AND GOTH. I’m gonna BITE your TITS off.”

He tries to be serious. But then you lift him by the armpits like a naughty cat and make little mlem mlem noises at him.

You are the only person alive who has ever made Diavolo flustered.

“Put me down, you ludicrous gremlin- ”

“No. You are my sexy evil hamster. And I will bite you.”

Doppio

The king of cuteness aggression triggers.

He smiles? You scream.

He picks up a bug and talks to it? You shake uncontrollably.

“YOU ARE TOO PRECIOUS. TOO CUTE. I’M GONNA SMACK YOU WITH LOVE.”

He holds the phone to his ear with those wide, earnest eyes and you feel your soul LEAVE your body.

“I could take you apart like soft bread,” you whisper.

He doesn’t understand but he loves the attention.

“..Uh…. You okay there?” he asks one day. You die. You literally die.

Pucci

THE PIERCING GAZE. THE SAD CATHOLIC ENERGY. THE LUXURIOUS LASHES.

You see him praying in a sunbeam and just lose it.

“You look like a tragic anime nun who gave up everything to protect her girlfriend.”

“...Please be quiet.”

He tries to be composed and holy and pious, but you crawl across the floor like a beast to get to him.

“You’re the hottest wet cat I’ve ever seen. Get in the oven. I’m baking you into a pie.”

Pucci is baffled, but lowkey smug when you cling to his robes like a toddler with a blanket.

“I am a servant of God.”

“You’re God’s most edible little meow-meow and I’m going to devour you whole.”

Funny Valentine

He sits there with his grandpa coat, looking like George Washington’s pretty-boy great-grandson.

He takes a slow, thoughtful sip of bourbon.

You: shaking “You better watch yourself before I THROW you through a drywall. With love.”

He’s like, “...Is this some sort of custom I was…unaware of?”

“No. This is a YOU custom. You make me feel like an enraged teacup chihuahua.”

He honestly gets a little bashful when you call him cute. He’s not used to that.

You once threatened to fold him up like a paper fortune teller and keep him in your wallet.

Diego Brando

The WORST OFFENDER. You don’t even want to be this way but look at him. LOOK at him.

His smug little lip curl. His stupid perfect bone structure. His little sharp teeth.

“You are what Sanrio would design if they made a tsundere velociraptor.”

You try to stay normal and then he huffs and stomps off angrily and you fall to your knees like a churchgoer.

“Diego. I’m gonna punch you through a brick wall out of lustful rage. Stop looking like a BL manga cover.”

He gets flustered easily and it only makes it WORSE.

“Stop calling me babygirl.”

“Then stop being the MOST babygirl.”

Tooru

Looks like a perfectly curated sad boy Spotify playlist.

“You wanna act all awkward and sweet and soft and expect me NOT to chew your arm off like beef jerky? THINK AGAIN BITCH.”

He does one little guilty smile and you scream into a pillow.

“You are cotton candy dipped in betrayal and I want to compress you into a diamond.”

When he fake cries? When he apologizes with big sad puppy eyes?

You’re about to put him in a blender and sip him through a straw.

“Uh…are you okay?”

“NO. YOU LOOK LIKE A MANIPULATIVE BAKED SWEET POTATO AND I WANT TO DEVOUR YOU.”

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funeralpartyclown · 9 months ago

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I think Dale would always want his partner on his lap, like will give you any excuse to come sit on him and give him some friction

Yes..

Also. I see a bunch of my mutuals on here liking beetlejuice posts.. I just saw the new one should a write a bj x reader.. I feel like I could really do him justice I’ve read a lot of the fics on ao3 and nobody makes him sleazy or dirty enough for me. He is dead make him nastier 💔

Can I just say. I think he would be SO comfortable to sit / lay on he looks soft and he’s huge. Arms wrapped all the way around you pulling you tightly against him and refusing to let you move for hours. The warmth of his body the way he smells the texture of his clothes I am going to chew a hole in the drywall thinking about it.

Every time you’re sitting together he’s pulling you into his lap or at the very least pulling your legs over his. As much contact as possible. Hands on you, just paying attention to the slow rise and fall of your chest. Your heartbeat. Playing with the ends of your hair.

If you’re in a relationship with him I think he’d be overly obsessed with you and practically trying to get inside your skin always on you and against you.

I think he’d find a lot of comfort in that position really. Having your full weight on him, pressed together, hands around you in your lap to make sure you aren’t going anywhere. Pressed against you focusing on the vibration of your voice when you speak and the smell of your skin.

Or, leaning over you with his hands up your shirt and his face against your neck whining in your ear while you shift your hips. Trying to grind upward into you for any friction. Too caught up in chasing the high to even consider moving to a position that would feel better because he doesn’t want to stop. Holding you there and pathetically trying to get off. Cumming in his pants and making a mess because he just can’t help himself.

#dale kobble #longlegs #dale kobble x reader

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concreteangel92 · 1 year ago

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no you don’t understand sub noah is so personal to me 😵‍💫 oh god i just need to rant for a min excuse me while i go off in your inbox friend

there are two wolves ok

in one corner you’ve got your bestest boy :(( he just wants to be good for you and wants needs you to tell him that he is. when i say he is so eager to please :// if he had a tail it would be wagging. he will have you coming on his tongue, hips arching into his mouth, already on your nth orgasm and still ask if he’s doing good for you????? big brown almond eyes looking up at you from between your thighs????? oh and his sounds are going to be the death of you!!!! he’s humming and groaning and whining and it feels so good when it’s into your pussy but also it’s so hot when his moans are echoing around the room and it’s clear he’s thoroughly enjoying himself 😵‍💫 he is a simple man ok he’s just a big bad scorpio with a praise kink. oh he’d fold so fast i’m telling you!!!!!!!! uber affectionate, just wants to snuggle after :((

and then you’ve got yourself a brat, acting out just to get a reaction. he likes to push your buttons to see how you’ll rein him in. wants to challenge you so you can put him back in line. so what if that includes edging him to the point of or almost the point of tears until he’s soft and pliant and obedient; he’s done the same to you :// he gives me such switch energy ok. oh you have your hands so full when he feels like being a brat. he is such a smartass i said it !!!!! “get on your knees” “make me” oh but he has met his match because you can spit that sass out right back at him. not to mention you know 101 ways to have him begging for it

(i am maybe writing something 🫠)

anyways thank you for putting up with my late night thoughts this has been fun i’m gonna go chew on some drywall now

How have I only just seen this???

Anon this is just pure art 🥵🥵🥵

Sub Noah would have me on my knees….if that wasn’t where he belonged that is 😏

#noah sebastian #bad omens #concreteangelasks #sub!noah

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moodycarcass · 4 months ago

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"ten people I'd like to get to know better" tag game participation as requested by local vermin sorcerer @wurmwizzard

Last Song: Here by VAST (visual audio sensory theater), ive had their self titled album on loop recently tbh highly recommend.

Last Book: i am still goddamn reading "The wizard of sun city" by Gerry jenkins its been literally like 6 months. i only get reading done when i can sit outside while it rains or my power goes out and its just now getting back to the appropriate weather for it here. it is a good read and im almost to the end just fighting brain soup hurdles to finish it. the next one on my list is picking either "the dead zone" by stephen king or dracula back up again.

Last movie: of my own volition i think it was a failed attempt at stomaching the itchi the killer movie after binging the manga months ago, otherwise im pretty sure it was sitting in the living room half paying attention to one of my moms favorite movies for the 500th time (any one of the following: 16 candles, casino, goodfellas, my big fat greek wedding, or the color purple)

Last TV show: Beat bobby flay w my mom while making dinner (nightly ritual)

Last thing searched: it was double checking if goodfellas was the right movie, actual last search was "pygmy possum skull" while looking for comm work reference material.

Favorite color: lime green obvs but after working on custom design stuff ive been thinking about the combo of dark bluish grays and raspberry together a good bit recently.

Current obsession: ghhuh project brain as of late tbh. the taur spore infestation on my dashboard has had me thinking about the big manticore guys from my thing beneath a lot. also minor fixation on chota dorohedoro currently. i need to pick up the drhdr manga again but its one of those pieces of media where if i look at it too long i start chewing the drywall again bc /i need to make art that looks like that or im going ape mode/ yknow.

tagging ??? idk whoever reads this (🫵) also standard mutual invite fair of @/dexaroth @/snommie @/krembearry & @/enby-creature-feature if yall want an excuse to do it

#mort.txt #tag game #thank you 4 the tag don im using this as an excuse to make myself wind down 4 my insomnia meds

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robinyourcreator · 4 months ago

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2, 9, 30, 32, 33 fic asks!

aaaa thank you rowan beloved friend and mutual <3333333

this got kinda long bc you landed on my trap card: giving me a space to ramble. under the cut we go!

-2- Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

oh god so. I haven't updated it in two years because I got really burnt out by going on an updating spree while I was out of my mind fever dreaming with covid, and it's for an extremely tiny fandom for a manhwa which is really just an excuse for angsty lesbian omegaverse matriarchy in pretty traditional korean clothing. it's. i cannot recommend it without listing a bunch of trigger tags but the characters really fucking got me. im a sucker for a good plucky protagonist. anyways i set about to fix the love triangle with polyamory, as i am wont to do. now that i have given my here be dragons spiel, here it is: like a shadow loves the light

I was in no way prepared for the outpouring of love that fic has received, but that's what happens when you write something for a fandom that (at the time) had only one (1) page on ao3. it's terribly self-indulgent and I have a fantastic time every time I work on it, and I think it shows.

shit. wait. was i contractually obligated to say the fic i wrote at 18 that i met my spouse because of? no. fuck. dont read that i wrote that as a TEENAGER--

-9- How did you get into writing fanfiction?

there was a brief stint in middle school where i would toy with writing fanfiction for things like hp or the various magical girl anime i was obsessed with, and, despite knowing the existence of ffn, believed i was doing something terribly new and cool. none of those things were ever actually written, much less posted. i just doodled for them.

ANYWAYS, the real answer here is i, at 16, got sixteen year old lesbian socked SO HARD in the gut by Star Wars: The Old Republic's Light Side Jaesa Willsaam storyline that I went looking for fanfiction for her and found explicit femslash (big no no for innocent mormon teenager!) for her written by my now-internet-auntie/mum/mentor wrote and realized i was gay. I started engaging with the swtor and kotor fandoms and making my own shit for my ocs for funsies. this got me two significant others and one spouse as well as most of my mutuals here on tumblr.hell.

-30- Have you noticed your style change over time?

god, i hope so. teenage me's things have therapy speak. but those things also got me a spouse soooooooooo. I like to think I've gotten a little better over ten years. One hopes. matured a little.

-32- A character you enjoy making suffer.

any character i am remotely attached to? which means, currently, my bg3 polycule girlies. sorry girlies.

-33- A character you want to protect.

IGNORE ALL PREVIOUS ANSWERS I WOULD KILL AND DIE FOR SHADOWHEART i was chewing through drywall for MONTHS before i got the game bc i knew i was going to get got SO BAD and i was right and 0% disappointed and my girl deserves all the peace and happiness in the world--

-sweeps current Bad End WIP under the rug- nevermind that,

#robin vs gates

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finsterhund · 2 years ago

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the only thing you seem to "take and take" is abuse and pain from everything and everyone including that crazy woman. Just from reading your blog once in a while it's clear to me that you have a hard life but keep fighting through it. Even if you never hear this from anyone else I'm proud of you

Thank you anon. 🥺🥺🥺 I'm trying to make myself feel better about this. It's hard when I'm literally only drywall and shit away from her. I really want to run away and hide. I'm getting people telling me she might be some form of mentally deranged and that she's old enough for things like dementia or even that she did something to the birds herself but I don't want to blame mental illness for her being cruel and mean. Obviously my roommate said we can't move so I guess the only thing to do is wait for her to die as cruel sounding as that is. I see no way that any form of real civility or friendship can come back after this. It's a complete violation of trust. My roommate wanted to chew her out and get mad at her for it being "slander" and "harassment" I don't really know if it's either but I do know that if he confronts her she's going to get worse because that always happens. I miss the nice lady who used to live there. She was nice to Cazza and her cats would say hi to Cazza and she died of cancer just like Cazza. I wonder why this person started off being nice and giving me things only to then do this. I kept trying to tell her not to give me things but she insisted. Was that just her making it so that she could say I take and take? That's another thing that happens. Adults will "give" you things and then expect things from you. But she doesn't seem to want something from me so it's not just yet more grooming like usual. I'm so burned up and exhausted. I told my roommate I'm too scared to leave the house so he's gonna walk Scott from here on out. Hoping that if I buy myself treats and toys it'll comfort me enough to not want to die anymore but no promises. My brain has just been going "Andy die Andy want go thrift store" on loop all night which I guess is preferable to most else.

I kept trying to think of what I actually did to make her do this to me and treat me this way but my roommate said I didn't actually do anything to deserve it and it's a problem with her and she wanted an excuse to be bad and all that which in theory I understand but unlike weirdos on Twitter this is somebody that is right fucking there in the flesh.

She actually early on brought up unprompted how she hopes birds around here stay safe and nothing bad happens to them because "people are horrible" and I have to wonder if that's some sort of weird projection. I have no idea. But as someone who helped a downed nest of baby crows when I was younger and who would shoo off outdoor cats when they were outside my window chasing things up trees it's very insulting to have the blame thrust on me.

#text post #negative #anon #what was that saying about how we're not reaponsible for the versions of us that exist only in other people's heads?#that's hard for me to internalize because I grew up being punished for versions of me that existed in my parents heads

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secretobsessionstuff · 5 years ago

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Could I request a fic with your sweetest, softest male character? He has a really terrible stomach flu (fever, shivering, cramps, cant stop throwing up or retching even when he's empty) and is trying his best to hide it from his friends-- maybe afraid of being a bother. Bonus points for eventual comfort and lots of belly rubs.

Dude this is such a good request! I love when characters hide being sick!! thank you. This ended up being rather long, for me anyway, so I couldn’t add in everything you wanted. But I would be willing to write a second part to this fic if anyone was interested.

---------------------------

Alexi felt disgusting, but he looked pretty darn good for someone running a 102.2F temperature. He didn’t have much choice; it was either admit to feeling like absolute garbage, thus ruining the whole day for his friends, or keep up the façade and pretend that his eyes weren’t melting inside their sockets.

So yes, Alexi looked perfectly normal…he hoped. Though his cheeks were flushed, the convention center was insanely hot and crowded for anyone to think something was wrong. He just pushed through the mass of people, knowing that in such tight quarters he was spreading his flu…well like the plague.

It felt like the plague anyhow. His head was throbbing, as if his brain were trying to escape through his ears; that unnatural chill that only came from a fever was causing goose bumps to pop up all over his arms and down his back; and his belly was roiling.

As Madix, Riley, and Micah were all waiting in line to get pictures with obscure, second choice and therefore affordable actors, Alexi snuck away to the bathroom for what felt like the billionth time that day. By noon, he was very aware of where every single bathroom was located in the building.

This trip to the toilet was like all the others. He locked himself in a stall and gave himself permission to express the pain he felt clear across his face. Hugging his aching stomach, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take slow breaths through his mouth. Alexi had no way of knowing how high his temperature had gotten since that morning, but he could tell he was feeling worse. Breakfast was sitting heavily in his gut which he knew wasn’t going to be there for much longer.

The nausea was intense, so much so that he needed to brace himself against the stall walls to keep himself upright. This time he was lucky that there was no line to get into the bathroom, because he felt dangerously close to seeing partially digested waffles fill the toilet. Alexi’s Adam's apple was bobbing up and down like a buoy on the choppy ocean. He continuously swallowed down waves of saliva. As he shoved the bottom of his palms into his eyes, his knees gave up and he slumped to the tile flooring.

With his elbows on the dirty toilet seat, he spat sticky tendrils into the bowl. Deep and guttural burps echoed in the small space around him, and could probably be heard by every other person in that bathroom, but he couldn’t find the effort to care.

A gag suddenly took him, and he found himself leaning into the toilet, prepared to catch anything his stomach was going to send up. His jaw felt tingly and heavy, but still nothing came up but wet belches. One harsh heave interrupted the burps, but it was dry. The second heave came soon after and this one was much wetter. It brought up gush of thick pale vomit that made Alexi shiver as it rushed up his throat. Tears leaked from his eyes from his eyes and his arms felt weak as they supported his body. A deep groan was heard from his stall as Alexi flushed the toilet and left while rubbing his face. The few stares from the witnesses didn’t bother him, not while his stomach was bothering him so much more.

Alexi returned to the line after having cleaned himself up. He washed his hands, gargled water in his mouth, and splashed his face so that he didn’t look so ashen and sweaty. Of course, as he met back up with his friends, a new wave of sweat had broken out across his nose and a new chill shot down his back. He wrapped his arms around themselves, partly to stay warm and partly to hide the goose flesh that any sane person would question in this scorching room.

Alexi ducked under the rope and joined his friends halfway through the line. He plastered his happy-go-lucky smile on his face and said something random. That was one of the downsides of always being chatty and bright – it was so much more obvious when something was wrong.

His boyfriend seemed to relax slightly once Alexi had returned. Micah took Alexi’s hand and swung it against their legs. He gave Alexi a quick peck on the cheek, but he moved away rather slowly. The smallest trace of worry crept across Micah’s features, though it dissipated as soon as Madix changed the topic of conversation.

The lineup took ages. Thankfully, it gave Alexi time to rest. He wanted so badly to sit down but he knew that would draw attention to himself. So, he stayed standing, shifting his weight back and forth on his legs. Alexi soon rested his chin on Micah’s shoulder, hoping that it came across as boredom and not fatigue.

Micah gave him a strange look. Though before he could question it, Alexi excused himself to the bathroom once more. As he turned to leave, Micah grabbed his wrist.

“You just went, Lexi,” Micah remarked. “Besides it’s almost our turn.”

“I know, but I’ve been drinking a lot of water.” Alexi looked around nervously. “I’ll be quick I promise.”

Alexi wasn’t quick. In fact, he stayed in the bathroom even while the three other boys got their pictures, autographs, and merch. Micah was getting worried. As the three of them left the line, Micah’s eyes were darting in all direction, looking for his boyfriend. There weren’t even any bathrooms in sight.

“Micah, slow down,” Riley said as he struggled to keep up with his cousin. Madix was trailing behind as well.

Micah bit his lip worriedly. They were stopped in the middle of the room, with booths and people all around them. “We have to find Alexi. He won’t know where we are.”

Madix urged the group to the side of the room where the likelihood of being trampled was far less great. “He has been gone a long time. Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.” Micah started to chew on his thumbnail. “I’m gonna go look for him, you guys stay here so we can meet back up.”

Micah embarked on his mission. He pushed through slow walkers and squeezed past people in amazing yet impeding cosplay. The first bathroom he saw was his destination. He made a beeline for it, and just as he came upon the door, Alexi emerged. He hadn’t spotted Micah yet. Micah noticed the way his boyfriend held his stomach and the way he staggered slightly as he walked. He called out to him.

Alexi jumped, but quickly composed himself. Before the pair could head back into the madness of the con, Micah pulled Alexi to the wall.

“You were gone forever, Alexi.” Micah said, sounding a bit annoyed, though he changed his tone to something softer as he carried on. “What’s going on? Are you feeling alright?”

Alexi slumped his shoulder against the wall. Apparently, he wasn’t so good at hiding his pain. In that moment, he was sure that his face was sickly green and betrayed the truth of how he was feeling. The sour taste of vomit was fresh on his tongue, but he tried to ignore that while he spoke. Micah didn’t need to know that he was throwing up, because then he would surely make them all go home, and Alexi couldn’t do that. They’d all been waiting a year for this con. He could keep up the semblance of health.

Alexi’s face turned red. “My stomach was a little upset, but it’s better now.” That was lie…but Micah didn’t know that. In truth, Alexi’s stomach was killing him. He would have loved for Micah to take him home.

“You sure? It’s okay if you need more time, I was just worried before.”

“Yeah I’m sure, let’s go.”

“Okay…” Micah said hesitantly. He wasn’t entirely convinced, especially with the way Alexi was holding his belly, but he didn’t want to press the matter and make Alexi embarrassed.

It was easy enough to find Madix and Riley. They were pulled off to the side of the room, casually watching the cosplayers walk by and gawking at their favourite characters come to life.

When Alexi approached them, he looked less alive than he had seconds ago. His belly was still so upset, despite having just thrown up; apparently, he rushed himself a bit too much. He stumbled to the wall and caught himself, narrowly stopping his aching head from colliding with drywall.

“Whoa Alexi,” Riley said, reaching his hand out to grab his friend’s shoulder, “you look rough.”

Madix got closer as well, which Alexi wasn’t too thrilled about considering that he was pretty sure he was about to heave his stomach into his hands.

Madix looked back and forth between Alexi and Micah, wondering if Micah had noticed his boyfriend’s state. “Lex, you look like you’re about to pass out. Your face is grey.”

Micah wanted to jump in and relieve Alexi of everyone staring at him, but he really did look awful. Perhaps it was worse than what Alexi was letting on. “Babe, I thought you were feeling better. Tell us what’s wrong so we can help.”

As if he were drunk, Alexi’s vision darkened and he swayed where he stood. There was no denying it now, not when his friends were interrogating him like this. “I feel awful,” he admitted, while dragging his back down the wall and sitting on the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and groaned.

At the same time, the three other boys all crouched down as well. When Alexi’s eyes focused, he found both Micah and Madix staring at him worriedly. But they were so close, too close. He only wanted Micah. Just Micah and no one else. He wanted to be away from all the noise, the people talking, the bright lights, the crowds.

He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I tried to ignore it, but my stomach is a mess, I can’t stop throwing up, my head is killing me, my –”

Micah put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “What! You threw up?”

Alexi nodded miserably.

“Oh Alexi,” Madix added, “you should have said something.” He gave a sympathetic look to the sick boy, seeing the way his nose dripped with sweat.

Madix instinctively reached his hand up to touch Alexi’s forehead, then paused with his hand hovering halfway in the air. “May I?”

Alexi nodded weakly, already aware of what Madix was going to find. His golden curls were brushed back by Madix’s cool hand that felt nice against his burning skin. He leaned into the touch, momentarily letting someone else support the weight of his head.

“Shit, man.” Madix pulled his hand away slowly. “You’re on fire. No wonder you feel like crap.”

Alexi moaned and curled in on himself. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“Yeah, we’re going home right now,” Micah said decidedly. “Lexi, can you stand?”

Alexi probably could not have stood up in that moment, but he didn’t need to try because it was then that his stomach decided to spasm again. He retched emptily at first, succeeding only in making his body lurch forward. Everyone took a step back out of shock, and everyone except Riley moved back to keep Alexi from falling forward.

The second heave burst from his chest, sending up a thick wave of vomit that covered his legs and dripped down his chin. Alexi choked out a sob and squeezed his eyes shut as a felt his stomach do another flip. By this point, Micah was rubbing his back and muttering something sweet he couldn’t hear. Blood was pulsing in his ears, making him dizzy and drowning out any attempt at comforting him.

God, he felt so sick. His stomach continued to contract painfully, even when he had nothing left to throw up. He clutched at his chest while he heaved dryly in the crowded room. Thankfully, Micah and Madix were partially covering him from view. This privacy, however, did nothing to lessen the gut churning sensation in felt in the pit of his stomach.

By the time he finished, his cheeks were streaked with tears, his chest was tight, and his hands were shaking. The worst part was that he still felt like hell.

Micah was soothingly brushing his hair away from his face. “Alright, take it easy, babe. Try to catch your breath.”

“I feel so sick,” he moaned while looking at the mess drying on his crotch. “I want to go home.”

“I know you do.” Micah said, still gently massaging Alexi’s head. “Madix and Riley went to find the car, so you don’t have to walk as far.”

Alexi wanted to thank his boyfriend. He wanted to apologize for being sick. He wanted to do so many things, but he couldn’t even keep his head from lolling around. He simply closed his eyes and wished for the day to be over. He wished to be lying in bed while Micah played with his hair. If it was any consolation, part of that wish came true.

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harderandlesspopular · 7 years ago

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Day 4: Secret Agent Thriller (Sorta)

Little less thriller...

“Be still and listen, nena.” Her mother had whispered just before the family gathering at Christmas. “We all know how smart you are, but your father wants to talk to his brothers. Why don’t you and I play a game while they talk?”

“A game?” Sofia asked, straightening at once under the suggestion. “What will it be, mama?”

“A noticing game,” her mother whispered. “We will be very quiet, like spies, and see what we notice. And then when they are all snoring, you will tell me all the things that you saw.”

Years later, Sofia would wonder for the first time if her mother had intended the game at all, or if she had just hoped it would keep her quiet. She liked to think it was her mother’s often-smothered sense of adventure and curiosity. That perhaps she had wanted to see just how keen her daughter was.

“Mama,” Sofia had whispered as she helped her mother clean dishes while half the men slept and the other half complained about the latest football game. “Do you want to know what I noticed?”

“Of course, nena.” Her mother whispered, an air of playful conspiracy about her. “What do you know?” “Uncle Phillip has fallen in love with someone,” She whispered, lifting a hand to her mouth. “And I think her name starts with an ‘N’. He pronounces them differently. More softly. He used to say them harder. And he touches his ring finger like he wants something there. I think he’ll be married soon.”

“Oh?” Said her mother. (Phillip would elope with Nina two weeks later) “Uncle Ernesto has ash on the bottoms of his shoes. He’s smoking again but doesn’t want anyone to know, so he’s been chewing that cinnamon gum, but he still steps out his cigarettes.”

(Aunt Amelia would throw her chancla at Uncle Ernesto when she found out, but they patched it up in the end.)

“And papa—”

“No unkind words about your papa I hope?” Her mother had asked, sounding suddenly anxious.

“No,” Sofia laughed. “Papa is afraid of me when I am quiet. He kept glancing over all night like he was wondering what I was thinking. What will he do when I am smarter than him?”

“I don’t know,” Her mother had said. “I really don’t.”

Years later, as Sofia unlocked the door to doscientos-veintiuno Panadero Street, she knew. Her father had sent her to school. Had funded two degrees and an insatiable hunger for knowledge. Had given her all he had to give and more.

And Sofia Humenez? She was going to make it worth every penny for him.

Armed with her official consultant position with the police, and her new license to practice as a private investigator, she set to her new life with the enthusiasm and fervor. First, she had to remake her home.

It was a beautiful building. Traditionally built, like the buildings in Tapalpa. White plaster and red border and wooden interiors. And her first task, as always in a new place, was learning about who had been there before. Becoming a spy in her own home. She paced around the empty rooms, her items in boxes at the door and the new furniture not yet arrived. She found scuff marks on the floor (repetitive, centralized, chairs at the dining room table, well used, adult weights from the depth of the scratches. Sloppy, but multiple chair scuffs indicated a family with a routine. Her own dining room back at home would have looked similarly if not for the wider, softer feet of her family’s dining room chairs.)

One of the rooms had two types of drywall. Damage at some point. Extensive. Deep dents in the carpet where the beds had been. In the two bedrooms. Hastily filled pinholes in the walls from posters. “Hm.” Said Sofia, and settled cross legged in the middle of the floor of what would be her room as she started to think through how she’d organize it. The house was perfect. Dull and boring on the surface, with all the small details of a normal life for her to uncover day after day. The soft scent of cigarette smoke lingering even over the scent of a heavy cleaning. And of course, the empty space, hers to remake. What little marks would her new life leave. She glanced over to the doorway of the open room beside her own. A second bedroom. She hadn’t decided yet what to do with it.

She built her room like a crime scene in reverse. Placed things where they ought to go as they arrived. Perhaps it wasn’t the most standard of rooms. Her dresser took up a little space, but the small closet became a three-walled bookshelf. She took the doors off it.

She added floating shelves around the room. Loaded them with the small curiosities she’d collected over the years. Her abuelita’s hand-stitched dolls (their careful lines had taught her so much about the movement of hands, the patience of a person at work, the dedication of a quiet woman) She had the standard small bone collection had its own shelf now, rather than being hidden from her mother in a desk drawer. Her anatomical model she set in the corner. Her tia had knitted him a scarf years ago that he still wore. She occasionally used it to map blood splatter on the floor, but her tia didn’t need to know that.

Slowly her home came together. And slowly the calls came in. She made herself an extra closet out of the hall closet, and filled it with her disguise pieces. It was simple enough. She was a plain woman, and with a little effort? No one gave her a second glance. She used it thoroughly to her advantage. A cleaning lady’s uniform, with small touches for the places she was infiltrating. A three piece suit with a pencil skirt and some carefully applied contouring changed her into an office worker. She had work boots, heels, waterproof galoshes, comfortable working woman shoes (a nurse in heels was a dead giveaway)... It was a thorough collection. The second bedroom stayed empty. First for the first week, and then for the second. Then for the first month, then for the second. She didn’t realize she was waiting for a partner until she met her. Dr. Watts caught her off guard. Which was unusual. People usually didn’t. But she was in her most invisible outfit. Hair tied back, thick and curly, sweat beaded on her brow. It helped the illusion to look a little smelly. She was mopping. No one ever questioned anyone mopping. “Excuse me,” the woman said, her accent starkly foreign though her spanish didn’t sound unpracticed. Sofia looked up at once. Took her in in a glance. A three piece suit as blatantly boring and store bought as Sofia’s costume was, but much more interesting on the woman wearing it. Her prosthetic leg was on display in the short skirt. Below the knee amputation. Sneakers. Not enough ankle articulation on the prosthesis to wear heels with her look, so she hadn’t bothered finding matching flats. Not someone used to three piece suits, but not shamed. Shoulders back, back straight. Blatantly foreign. She picked the accent apart and settled on british. As she thought, she was speaking. “Can I help you?” Sofia asked, careful to keep her accent thick, slurring the words just a little, blurring them together. Being hard to understand usually made foreigners give up. “I heard the victim in the attack last week was part of the cleaning staff,” The woman said. “They brought me in to ask some questions about the injuries, but I just…. Wanted to know how you were holding up, I suppose. It must have been traumatic for you all. And I can’t imagine they brought in another cleaning team to pick up the mess.” Sofia gaped. Flicked her eyes over the woman. Visitor badge, not a doctor in residence, but not untrained. Empathetic. No one had questioned the staff beyond looking for the guilty party. Gentle. Kind. Her eyes quick and dark and her smile cautious and concerned. The shocking display of humanity. Sofia struggled with things like that. Found the details compelling, understood the actions and motions, but if she had been a real janitor… “I’m on the case too,” Sofia said, straightening out of her character hunch and setting her mop aside so haphazardly it clattered to the floor. “You are marvelous. Will you confer with me?”

It was not the first impression she would have chosen to make, but it did to make an impression. Moreso when she pulled open the janitor’s clothing and pulled free her official badge. She was as certain as she’d ever been of any conclusion she’d drawn, though it had only been a moment. Though it was based on a prosthesis displayed and a show of kindness. Though it was before even she’d noticed the dirt under nails, and the shadow of tissues carried in her pocket. Before Dr. Watts had agreed to talk, but not before she’d checked in with the actual janitorial staff. “None of them did it,” said Sofia frankly. “The police are only investigating because they’re afraid of offending a doctor.” “I’m not looking for a culprit,” Dr. Watts had told her. “I just want to help.”

And Sofia knew. The two of them would be… A truly marvelous happenstance.

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yeats-infection · 8 years ago

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here is an evil, angst-laden prank story for kindly philanthropist, lovely @megisla. i am sorry, but also thank you, and thanks too to @ababelofprose for inspiring much of this.

When he woke up he didn’t remember what had happened. It started hurting in waves like it normally did but then it kept coming. Eventually he realized something was wrong. When he tried to sit up, it became clear that the chief thing that was wrong was that he could not feel his hands, which looked as though they had been put through a thresher.

He wondered if he was dreaming. He was alone in the room and he wondered where they were. Perhaps they had gone for help. He tried to call out for them but it was as though he had swallowed something that had burned his entire mouth and throat and chest in the night.

It was the worst it had been in his memory. Eventually he could feel it hammering a red-hot stake down through the back of his neck just beside his spine blow by blow like a dull nail into solid drywall. And yet even in this state his bruised mind wrapped around this uncertainty like an oyster around a bit of sand and in so doing it began to harden and calcify: Something very bad had happened.

Pomfrey came scampering in after about nine thousand eternities of helpless suffering and knocked him out pretty much instantly with magic which dissolved the rough tearing fabric of reality into a soft velvet darkness in which untold evil things moved silently.

The next thing was, it was full dark again in the high window above his customary bed in the far back corner of the hospital wing, and James’s untamed hair was manifesting frizzily from the folds of his Invisibility Cloak. The curtains, which were equipped with powerful silencing charms, had been pulled tightly around the bed and so James was sitting cross-legged at the end of it. He looked as though he had not slept in days and had spent 90% of his waking time engaged in weeping out of anger. “Don’t try to talk,” he whispered before Remus could say anything. “When old girl was talking about your throat she said shredded.”

It took Remus a minute to disentangle his hands from the blankets. They were bound in a quantity of bandages that may have struck him as comical if they were on anyone else, and they felt like clubs.

“Don’t try to move your fingers either,” said James. “In fact it’s probably best if you just lie still and don’t do anything at all.”

Remus tried to point his nose toward the cup of water at the bedside, which Pomfrey had stuck a multicolor twirly straw in out of some charming motherly attempt to distract him from whatever would soon be obvious. James leaned over him and brought the cup close to his mouth and angled the straw so Remus could reach it. There was something in the water which soothed his throat. James smelled like something charred and his eyes were red and wet in the corners. What happened, Remus mouthed at him when he’d sat back down again.

“I hardly want — Jesus. Of course it bloody has to be me.”

So Sirius had done something. This, Remus thought, should have been altogether obvious from the beginning.

James took a deep breath and sighed dramatically.

In the same manner that the whole thing happened on November 1, 1981, Remus did not think it would be as bad as it was, and he had not even considered the actuality as something that might be remotely possible.

“He told,” James said. Then he stopped. He looked up into the window above the bed as though seeking strength. Remus painfully swatted him with the club hand he had freed from the blankets. “He told Snape,” said James.

Remus thought nothing at first. Then he thought, I am dreaming.

“Luckily he told me about it. So I went running after him but he’d got, you know, he’d got to the door. So.”

He tried a word. He wasn’t even sure what the word was but it felt like he’d swallowed a razor.

“Don’t try to talk,” James said again. “He saw. But I got him. It was all just fine.”

The razor had a sentence carved on it which was: I’M NOT ALL JUST FINE.

“The problem is,” James went on, pointedly looking at the headboard of the bed past Remus’s ear, “you — well, it. It got ideas. You know like, when a dog sees you’re eating food… and it just — ”

His stomach twisted and he pressed the club fist over his mouth. The acid was like about twenty more razors. James had leant over him again to clasp his shoulder manfully in some display of sympathy or shared strength. For a moment they attempted nonverbal communication which resulted in not much gained, except that James’s eyes had welled up a little again.

“They’ve talked to him,” James said, “to Snape. He won’t tell anyone.” A choking kind of breath escaped Remus’s mouth as a farce of laughter. “And Sirius has got detention for the rest of his life. The only reason he’s not expelled is because Dumbledore knows if they sent him home he’d probably be vivisected by his French cousins. Or worse, join them.”

Remus looked up past James into the high window where the waning moon cast an itchy silver light through the frosted glass. Perhaps it was good that he could not speak or write because if he could he might’ve said something extremely regrettable. Chiefly: I fucking hope he gets vivisected, and/or, your making bullshit excuses for him is potentially your tragic flaw.

James sat with him for a while and eventually fell asleep lying at the end of the bed like a dog with the invisibility cloak uncannily covering his entire body except for his head. Remus didn’t sleep again and at dawn he was obliged to wake James with his foot so that he would not be caught and subjected to detention with Sirius.

The man himself visited the evening following. He looked, as was customary under pressure, like some feral child mystic consulted for augury by the ancient Celtic tribes on the eve of battle with the Romans. He looked as though he had been running for hours and like perhaps he had thrown up very recently. Remus hated him with the heat of a thousand suns. A few hours previous Pomfrey had taken the bandages off his hands, because most of the bones had healed. A few others would take longer, and all the skin would take longest of all, because he had literally chewed it off. She had replaced the bandages with lighter ones and as such Remus folded his arms across his chest so that the damage was more visible. Go away, he mouthed.

“What?”

This was so powerfully stupid, completely ridiculous, and overwhelmingly Sirius that Remus was suddenly certain he had the faculties to get to his feet, forego magic entirely, and deliver a powerful right hook directly to the jaw. “Go,” he croaked instead, like an animate corpse through the blood-slaked wasteland of his throat, “away.”

“Jesus,” said Sirius. He sat down at the edge of the bed entirely uninvited and scrubbed a hand over his face. The invisibility cloak slipped over his shoulders to reveal he was in rumpled Muggle clothes, connoting the obvious reality that it had perhaps been days since he had gone to class or showered. “Jesus fuck,” Sirius went on.

“What in heaven’s name did you think would happen.”

“Stop bloody talking,” Sirius said, “you sound like death.” This of course made Remus want to scream at the top of his lungs until it woke up everyone in the castle. “I wasn’t really thinking, if you must know,” Sirius went on.

It was so obvious, and in fact so applicable to just about everything Sirius did, that Remus refused to address it.

“I would’ve been sentenced to death,” Remus told him.

“No you wouldn’t’ve.”

“Says you.”

“No, I looked it up. Azkaban, actually.”

“Worse then.”

“Yeah.” Sirius sighed. “Maybe different ‘cause you’re underage.”

This was a pretty lie. Remus coughed to clear something disgusting from his throat. Sirius watched him have a sip of the water at the bedside through the twisty straw. “It isn’t you,” Sirius said, “in my mind. That’s why.”

“What?”

“That thing. It isn’t you.”

He could feel his voice cut his throat. “It bloody well fucking is me!”

“Well I know that, like, I know that now,” Sirius said. “I just. Well I thought it would be funny.”

No one, Remus didn’t say, tried to say, couldn’t say, in fact would never say (because he himself was potentially one of the worst culprits), though he’d wanted to say it for years and would want to say it for many more years, no one ever did you the favor of telling you no. And what a fucking massive tragedy for us all. He lay back upon the ecstasy of fluffed pillows thinking if perhaps he ignored the rest of it from here on out Sirius might just go away.

“I didn’t mean for. Well I didn’t know you’d — ”

He was looking at the limp bloody mess of Remus’s left hand which appeared against the pristine white blankets like some terrible roadkill. At first Remus felt sort of vengeful about it but then it all faded into embarrassment and he tucked it around his side to hide it from view.

“I thought it might just scare him,” Sirius said. “Take him down a notch you know. So he might leave us alone.”

“Well he won’t now.”

“He said — ”

Sirius seemed to realize for the first time, somehow, that it didn’t quite matter what Severus had said. He scuffed a bare foot against the floor. “Have you been sleeping in the kitchens,” Remus asked him. This was what had happened last time Sirius and James had had a fight, though that time it had been about which of them would do the Arithmancy homework and which of them would copy it. In the end, of course, they had both copied Remus’s Arithmancy homework.

“The house elves kicked me out.”

“Wise. Wise creatures.”

“James will kill me if I go back there without you forgiving me.”

So this, unsurprisingly, was the crux of the motivation. “You want me to sign an excused absence note or something for you to give him?”

“A what?”

“A — they had them at Muggle school. An excused absence — never mind. Go up to the room of requirement then.”

“I tried. I think the old man’s done something. It was like a greenhouse full of yellow roses. I’ve gotten thorns all in the cloak.”

Sirius showed Remus one, which was embedded in the fine silvery fabric. It had scratched a mess of runic patterns beading blood at his elbow. Probably he had gone in the dorm when James wasn’t there to dig it out from wherever he was hiding it these days.

“What are you supposed to say when you hurt your friend,” Remus hinted after a while.

Sirius looked up like a dog having smelt something on the draught through the high window. “Oh — well I won’t do it again. I won’t do anything like it again. Like I said I know now, I know — ”

“But what — Jesus Christ. There’s a bloody word for it.”

Sirius was watching him now very closely and the silver in his eye was like the moon upon the floor. Remus had the feeling, which he customarily did in circumstances at all familiar, that he was doing himself some kind of disservice he could not yet name and that one day he would regret this and indeed this entire relationship with a consuming hellfire fierceness. Which of course was true. And that as such at the end of it more than a fraction of the complete endeavor would be his own fault. His father, a sometime criminal prosecutor who worked closely with the Wizengamot, was very fond of the idiom it takes two to tango. “Sorry,” Sirius said, “I’m sorry.”

He might’ve said, how could you. Never speak to me again. You spoiled evil brat. You equivalent monster. Or any number of similar invectives. He would’ve meant, he thought, all of them, to the core of his bones; of course he said nothing, or rather he said, “Go get me those flowers.”

“What?”

“Go get me like a bouquet of the bloody yellow roses.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Go on. And a treacle tart.”

Sirius got up and scrubbed a hand over his face again. Remus did not doubt that this was a fiction so as he might pretend to have been crying. As a kind of impulsive afterthought he leant over the bed and embraced Remus so tightly it hurt all the jostled pieces, and for some reason kissed his cheek. His hair was soft and smelled unwashed and like a cookfire. Why Remus returned this embrace he could not be sure. Or rather he thought later he could be sure and this was the worst part of it. Sirius pressed his face against Remus’s neck. His heartbeat was swift and shattering in the back of his shirt against Remus’s palm. Then he pulled away and covered himself with the cloak and disappeared.

Remus lay back in the bed against the pillows and tested one by one the functioning of the bending of his knees. He watched through the gap in the curtains the door to the hospital wing open and shut around nothing. Already he had begun as was customary to question everything that he had said. And already one of the several wounds had begun to fester, but he would not understand how badly for several years, by which point it would be too far gone to heal.

#my fic #wolfstar #rs #occ

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billydmacklin · 7 years ago

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So I Re-Did the Back of the House (Again).

Here is a shocking bit of information that you have likely already deduced if you have read this blog for any amount of time: I’ve been chasing my tail a bit with my own house renovation. I’m not proud. A couple of years ago, I bit off more than I could chew. I should have known better. I did it anyway. Unsurprisingly, it bit me in the ass.

Let’s talk about it.

I bought a house with an old and truly yucky kitchen. The kitchen was the very first thing I tackled, and ya know? That was a good renovation. The improvements were inexpensive but impactful (new paint, a little subway tile, and VCT floors for the win!), and the kitchen worked fairly well.

It wasn’t the dream kitchen but it was a fine, serviceable space, and one that could have easily lasted several more years. The kitchen took kind of a beating as other renovations unfolded throughout the house, but I’d renovated it with that in mind! It would all get torn out someday but, I figured, when everything else had been done, by which time this kitchen would certainly be falling apart.

Fast forward less than two years, and I found myself single. One night, I also found myself a little drunk (related: pls excuse the quality of these photos). With the contents of my kitchen cabinets now significantly slimmed down as a result of the break-up, I was suddenly overcome with the urge to slim down the cabinets themselves. I didn’t NEED all these cabinets! And if I just took down the upper cabinets, then I could also just rip out the enormous soffits above them, and then my kitchen would be brighter and more open and happier and maybe I’d put up a nice shelf or just a cool piece of art and HOW GREAT WOULD THIS BE?!?!

Don’t drink and demo. Or do, but with supervision so you don’t do anything stupid. Like meeeeeeeeeee.

So I took down the uppers and the soffits. Briefly this felt good.

I had to re-route the electrical for the little over-the-sink light, and drywall the area that had been behind the soffit because the plaster was too far-gone. I just had to do some more patching, sanding, repaint a couple walls and the kitchen would be good as new!

I really should have taken a bath or something that night. I never did patch and sand and repaint. Instead, a few months later I seized the remainder of summer and demolished the rickety old addition off the back of the house.

Boy was that exciting.

This, in turn, prompted replacing the window and vestigial fire escape exit door in the second floor room above the kitchen and insulating and re-siding the back of the house—it was a huge job and one that I wasn’t totally ready for. One of the casualties ended up being the kitchen window, a cute casement that got split up into two casements for the second floor, like so:

So I ripped the kitchen window out, put in a “temporary” vinyl window, still thinking I’d patch up the kitchen and continue to use it for another 5-10 years and this would be good enough for now.

I never did patch up the kitchen. The wall surrounding the new window just remained open to the studs and insulation for the next several months. Elegant!

Then I designed and built an entire house (I. will. show. it. to. you. I. swear.), and at the tail end of that little gig, I circled back to my own. I did this with great excitement because I hadn’t been able to put any real work into my own house for a while, so naturally I took on the biggest and most involved project this house will ever see under my care: the enormous restoration of the side of the house.

This saw the removal of two more additions and the installation of five(!) new windows—two of them in the kitchen, but a different wall than the one from the year before. Round and round we go.

In order to install these new windows, we first had to frame in the openings for them. We probably could have gone about this a couple of more intelligent ways, but instead at that point it just felt like…fuck it. Just gut it. So that’s what we did, and suddenly my kitchen and pantry were reduced to a few remaining cabinets and a sink. Which I then also removed because it felt like they were in the way of completing the next steps, which I was sure I’d be addressing imminently.

So dumbbbbbbbbb, omg Daniel.

But at least I had two windows where I needed them to be…you know, for the kitchen that still has not manifested.

Before I could really even address the kitchen, I had to actually wrap up that whole side-of-the-house-restoration project on the exterior before winter hit. I ran out of time and didn’t totally finish, and shamefully still haven’t, but I finished enough that things have been fine.

I ran out of something else around that time too, though! The money in my bank account! That exterior project was more involved and costly than I’d given it credit for, and it cleaned. me. OUT.

THIS, my friends, was a bit over a year ago, and it was truly a low point. The house was a wreck. What was left of the kitchen (appliances, some cabinetry) had overtaken the dining room. The living room was mostly just exceptionally dirty from the renovations but literally felt unsalvageable at the time, like it might after a flood. The bedroom was missing a wall. The den was missing a wall and a ceiling. I hadn’t managed to get a plumber to come cap a couple of radiator lines and get the boiler going, so I didn’t have a real heat system that winter. I couldn’t figure out how to get hot water running either (turns out the motherboard of the boiler had died!) so I took frigid showers or sponge baths with water from the electric kettle, since I no longer had a stove to heat it. This went on for months.

Guys, it was fucking horrible. In the summer, cold showers and doing my dishes on the front porch had felt kind of quaint and folksy, but now it just felt like I could not be more of a disappointment to myself and to this house. And it was my fault. Decisions I had made myself had led me here. To Grey Gardens, my new home.

We ain’t done.

I guess it was kind of OK to not have the cash to do the kitchen a year ago, in part because there were plenty of low-cost projects to keep me occupied, like the bedroom and the den. You can do a lot with joint compound and paint between bigger projects, so I just focused on that kind of stuff. Besides, there was another huge roadblock in front of really even getting the kitchen renovation started, aside from the money part: re-doing that back wall…again. Already. The one that I already did two years prior, when I thought I wouldn’t have to think about it again for a decade or so. The kitchen design kind of hinged (pun def intended) on moving the location of the exterior door, and replacing the temporary vinyl window, so the chimney could be flanked by two matching windows to the new ones on the other elevation.

I’d hoped, I think, that this would somehow just happen. Like I’d wake up and find windows and doors where my computer renderings had placed them, and then I could move ahead into the rough-ins and the finishing work!

Sadly this did not come to pass. So at the tail end of this past summer, with the goal of being able to really work on the kitchen this winter, I bit the bullet and Edwin and Edgar and I took a week and did it (followed by a few weeks of me working alone every evening/weekend…). I had a better idea of what I was getting into, so it wasn’t as bad as the first time around, and I had a bit more help. So we took out the door and the vinyl window.

Then we removed the siding from the first floor (again) because it seemed a bit easier than all the patching that would have been required otherwise.

All of this pretty much sucked, by the way.

Once that kitchen wall was framed and the windows installed, we moved on to putting the wall back together.

One thing I never loved about the first revamp of this wall was that I hadn’t taken the opportunity to expand the corner boards. The original corner boards are 4″ on this house, which feels kind of dinky below such a substantial cornice and eaves returns, so we popped off the corner boards and cut another 4″ or so off the ends of the remaining clapboard with a circular saw. Inside the house, we added new nailers so the new ends of the clapboard would be affixed to something stable. The new corner boards are 7.5″ wide on this back kitchen addition, and 11.5″ on earlier parts of the structure. It’s a small thing that makes a big difference! And doesn’t really complicate anything if you’re doing all this work anyway.

Boom! Someday I’ll trim out the tops of the corner boards to really finish it off, but for now they look fine.

MOVING. RIGHT. ALONG! Next came the new exterior door location and the windows for the planned pantry space and the first floor powder room. Just rebuilding every goddamn wall. The new door is off-center to accommodate cabinetry in that room, and I think an exterior wall sconce to the right of the doorway will be a welcome addition and balance things out.

By the way, yeah—that new door is in what was my laundry room. Also gutted to make space for this big ambitious kitchen plan. In case you thought things couldn’t get worse! They got worse. They’re getting better again, though!

I swear all of this is in the service of someday being able to live a normal life in this house and NOT just destroying everything on a biannual basis.

That little crooked window on the left was the laundry room window. That little skinny window on the right was the first floor bathroom window. They were a funny weirdly proportioned pair, and now they are history. Down came the vinyl, down came the clapboard, out came the brick nogging and old windows, and in went some new framing and new insulation and sheathing and windows.

This is definitely the most awkward (and, thankfully, least visible!) elevation of the house, and I think it’s just always going to be something less than gorgeous. I hemmed and hawed a lot on how to make this window arrangement feel natural inside and outside the house, but ultimately the architecture is just weird—it’s always going to look like an addition, and that’s OK! I love to tear off additions, but sometimes you need them. Like, say, when they contain the only bathrooms!

So with these new windows, I aimed to make it look like a slightly more elegantly planned addition than before, like maybe a porch that was enclosed at some point. The windows themselves are the same proportion as most of the other windows on the house, but smaller (larger than what was there, though!), and the top of the windows align with the top of the newly installed adjacent back door. I also chose 2-over-2 windows, which I kinda pulled out of my ass because it just felt right and a 6-over-6 in that size is a bit much with all that lite division.

I can kinda dig hanging something between them and planting some fabulous climbing rose bush or something? That feels like a very distant goal so we have time to brainstorm.

Annnnnnnd, this is as far as I got out there! Clearly there are various things that still need doing, but all the big stuff is done. A little odd, but I’m pleased with it!

Do you like my little deck? It’s fancy. I built it in an afternoon out of scrap wood. The post rests on a piece of bluestone from the yard. Obviously I want to do something better but I had to get rid of that big drop ASAP and “something better” is not in the existing time or money budgets.

So to review, in the space of 4-ish years, we have now gone from this:

to this:

Clearly there is some finish work to return to in the spring (we don’t need to start listing it, do we?), but HEY! I know I seem crazy. My neighbors would probably concur on this. But NOW the kitchen/pantry/half-bath work can continue and—good lord willing and the creek don’t rise—I should never have to redo this again for as long as I am alive and kicking.

Let us pray.

So I Re-Did the Back of the House (Again). published first on https://carpetgurus.tumblr.com/

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interiorstarweb · 7 years ago

Text

So I Re-Did the Back of the House (Again).

Let’s talk about it.

Don’t drink and demo. Or do, but with supervision so you don’t do anything stupid. Like meeeeeeeeeee.

So I took down the uppers and the soffits. Briefly this felt good.

Boy was that exciting.

I never did patch up the kitchen. The wall surrounding the new window just remained open to the studs and insulation for the next several months. Elegant!

This saw the removal of two more additions and the installation of five(!) new windows—two of them in the kitchen, but a different wall than the one from the year before. Round and round we go.

So dumbbbbbbbbb, omg Daniel.

But at least I had two windows where I needed them to be…you know, for the kitchen that still has not manifested.

I ran out of something else around that time too, though! The money in my bank account! That exterior project was more involved and costly than I’d given it credit for, and it cleaned. me. OUT.

We ain’t done.

Then we removed the siding from the first floor (again) because it seemed a bit easier than all the patching that would have been required otherwise.

All of this pretty much sucked, by the way.

Once that kitchen wall was framed and the windows installed, we moved on to putting the wall back together.

Boom! Someday I’ll trim out the tops of the corner boards to really finish it off, but for now they look fine.

I swear all of this is in the service of someday being able to live a normal life in this house and NOT just destroying everything on a biannual basis.

I can kinda dig hanging something between them and planting some fabulous climbing rose bush or something? That feels like a very distant goal so we have time to brainstorm.

Annnnnnnd, this is as far as I got out there! Clearly there are various things that still need doing, but all the big stuff is done. A little odd, but I’m pleased with it!

So to review, in the space of 4-ish years, we have now gone from this:

to this:

Let us pray.

So I Re-Did the Back of the House (Again). published first on https://novaformmattressreview.tumblr.com/

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additionallysad · 8 years ago

Photo

Beach House Progress: The Outside Is (Almost) Done & The Inside’s Just Getting Good http://ift.tt/2pgDdlP

Slowly but surely we’re making headway on the beach house. In fact, in the next few weeks we’re going to see BIG progress as the house gets all new electrical, plumbing, and a fully functioning HVAC system (just in time for those sweltering beach days). We’re so excited to be able to shout from the rooftops that there’s no more sketchy knob & tube wiring, the furnace will no longer be “accessorized” with cardboard and bedsheets (not sure what those were for), and there’s actually going to be running water in the house again, which hasn’t happened for who knows how long (the old sewer line got busted up by tree roots in the back, so we have to MAKE A HOLE IN THE ROAD to get a new line out front – yoinks!).

But apart from a few shots here and there on social media, it’s been a while since our last big update. Since then, we’ve gotten a whole lot of major stuff check off outside, like a new roof (no more leaking into the house!) and new pink HardiePlank siding (more on that material and color choice here). IT’S GIVING ME ALL THE HEART EYES, and yes I’m having a full blown love affair with pink right now (even started this Instagram account to prove it). The painfully slow hanging chad dangling checklist item is that creamy yellow trim. The weather and our painter’s schedule haven’t been friends lately, but I’m confident that within days (GLORIOUS DAYS!) we’ll no longer pull up and have to give those not-white porch columns a solid two minutes of side eye.

The “completed” list also includes a bunch of new windows. We were able to save all five original stained glass windows WHICH WE ARE SO RIDICULOUSLY EXCITED ABOUT (there is one on the front, one on the right side, and three on the left side – seen below). Some of them needed some new panes, many needed new sills, and all of them still need reglazing, but they’re starting to look pretty good! Especially with all the white trim on that freshly rebuilt side of the house (remember that curve ball?).

Many of the other windows were too rotten/broken to save and some of them had been replaced by bad vinyl ones that weren’t doing their job, so getting consistent, high quality, and energy rated ones that all match was definitely an upgrade we were excited to check off the list.

But despite all of the progress outside, there’s still plenty to be done. We still have some brick repairs around the perimeter of the house that need to be done, we’re getting a new metal roof over the porch since the old one is sadly beyond saving, and we have to add stairs to all three entrances (the front concrete block ones were busted from the start, the side door never had any stairs at all, and the also-busted concrete block back stairs had to go to run the siding completely behind them). We’re going to do brick steps out front which we think will be such an upgrade from concrete blocks.

I know what you’re thinking: how is Sherry, with her little baby legs, getting into that house? Don’t worry, even my short stems can make the leap up. I’ve even done it while chewing gum. #showoff

Back up front, the porch ceiling needs some attention too. We originally thought we’d paint it white so the pink siding could be the star, but the existing color really grew on us. We figured after the pink siding went on it would be too much, but instead it seems to complement the blue houses next door – and we’ve always had a soft spot for blue porch ceilings.

So we did what any DIYer would do when they happen to leave their paint decks back home, 2.5 hours away. We gathered up some of the fallen paint flakes in an old paper cup and brought them home to compare. We decided to go a bit lighter/less saturated, so Breaktime by Sherwin Williams won out. (Note: this isn’t lead paint, it’s just peeling exterior paint from the last 15 years or so – we test things like freaks, and had pros handle any and all of the lead, asbestos, and mold).

But in spite of all of the impending tasks and line items, I can’t not be happy looking at the new siding. I grin like a big old nerdface every time we roll up. EVERY. FREAKING. TIME.

Gotta stop and take a breath. Am I too hyper about this stuff? YES. Is it warranted? I THINK SO!!!!!

All of the new framing and reinforcement framing inside is done too, so we’ve really loved seeing our floor plan slowly come to life in 3D. We can see bedrooms starting to take shape, and closests appear out of nowhere.

Our favorite part of the new framing was finally walking through the upstairs hallway that we added to make sure nobody will have to slink through one bedroom to get to another.

John was also hyper about this stuff, FYI:

Look at me, just playing it cool. If by playing it cool you mean posing like a Deal or No Deal girl.

That picture of me also gives you some perspective because when I looked at the picture of John “The Wingspan” Petersik pulling his spider-monkey moves, the hall looked tiny. But a little “Sherry for scale” saved the day (you should know that’s John’s favorite unit of measurement).

I know pictures of framing can be kind of confusing, so I’ll save the rest for another post (maybe when I can get a decent video tour). But before I go, look at this cool little detail we figured out with our contractor. He discovered that a portion of the upstairs landing was sagging near the stairs (you could practically bounce on it – and no ceiling drywall would ever work there without cracking). So after weighing a ton of options like a big ugly pillar there, we landed on the idea of using a local blacksmith to create a sturdy iron support bracket. Boom, no more bounce.

You can see how it will connect to the stairs in two places to shore up and support the sagging floor in the picture below. It was a much better solution than adding a giant post somewhere – plus it felt kinda fancy to have something custom made out of iron (and it was just $100 whereas a big ol’ post would’ve been a lot more). If we’re lucky it’ll look like a cool original detail once we’re all done.

Another recent task was to select where all of our electrical stuff (fixture boxes, outlets, light switches, etc) and plumbing stuff (sinks, toilets, showers, laundry appliances, etc) and kitchen stuff (fridge, stove, sink, dishwasher) would go. It meant we basically had to walk through every inch of the house and make sure we didn’t forget to mark a spot where we’d want an outlet, and agonize over every single door and how it would swing to make sure we’re putting the light switches in the right spot.

Then it was on to marking where we wanted ceiling fixtures, some of which would need to be centered over something like an island (so its location needed to be mapped out first) while others might need to be centered over a dining table (so we’d need to know where we were putting that) or a fan box might need to be planned for a spot that’ll be centered over the bed (again, had to figure out where that was going to determine the fan placement).

Next came planning the width of every shower so we knew what sized vanities we should get and if we needed a compact or regular toilet and how wide our showers could be and where we’d put the shower spigots so they weren’t on a back wall (which isn’t recommended since the pipes can freeze). If that sounds like a lot of stuff, IT WAS. It took us hours and hours onsite after days and days of planning back at home. Then we made additional to-scale renderings when we got back home just to be sure about everything. But it also felt like a huge accomplishment once we had things locked in. ONWARD!

The next step was picking out (and then purchasing) alllll of the light fixtures, faucets, vanities, tile, cabinets, and basically everything except for furniture and appliances, which can come later. But yes, it’s a WHOLE LOTTA ORDERING! Which is both exhilarating and also semi-paralyzing. But we think we’ve made some final decisions, so we hope to be back with some bathroom/kitchen/laundry room plans when we get a second to lay those out (my color-coded binder runneth over). But if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to call the credit card company who just froze our card because of all the seemingly suspect plumbing and lighting purchases. Lol. And also, oy!

P.S. If you want to read all about the beach house from the beginning, here’s the post about how we bought it, this one with our initial floor plan ideas and a video tour, this one about decor inspiration and the look/feel we’re leaning towards, how we picked a color (and why we went with hardiplank), some progress with walls and a new floor plan, and (my personal favorite) how the rotting side of our house photobombed HGTV.

The post Beach House Progress: The Outside Is (Almost) Done & The Inside’s Just Getting Good appeared first on Young House Love.

#additionally sad home renovations

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endlessarchite · 8 years ago

Text

Beach House Progress: The Outside Is (Almost) Done & The Inside’s Just Getting Good

But in spite of all of the impending tasks and line items, I can’t not be happy looking at the new siding. I grin like a big old nerdface every time we roll up. EVERY. FREAKING. TIME.

Gotta stop and take a breath. Am I too hyper about this stuff? YES. Is it warranted? I THINK SO!!!!!

Our favorite part of the new framing was finally walking through the upstairs hallway that we added to make sure nobody will have to slink through one bedroom to get to another.

John was also hyper about this stuff, FYI:

Look at me, just playing it cool. If by playing it cool you mean posing like a Deal or No Deal girl.

The post Beach House Progress: The Outside Is (Almost) Done & The Inside’s Just Getting Good appeared first on Young House Love.

Beach House Progress: The Outside Is (Almost) Done & The Inside’s Just Getting Good published first on your-t1-blog-url

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