#-help your local duckling pretty please

[leeknow-bestboy]

If You Close One Eye - Chapter One

Ships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, If you really squint you can notice Lix is into Binnie, Hyunjin was into everyone once

Characters: All the kids, The ex kid isn't here I edited him out, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Trigger warnings: panic attack, ptsd, original character death, homophobia, original character cheating, descriptive imagery.

Word count: 5277

Chapter: 1/?

Next chapter 

Tags: Murder Mystery, amateur detective minho, Soulmates, not your typical soulmate AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Slow Build, good things take time let it slowburn, minho is singlehandedly responsible for the slow burn so blame him, no soulmates in this universe only they are, criminology student minho, art student jisung, POV Third Person, chan deserves better and he does indeed get better don't worry, art references please look stuff up, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, best sibling bond ever.

"If you close one eye, you can see what your soulmate sees"

Born with one eye an unnatural golden color, Minho and Jisung have been forced to cover them up with colored lenses in order to blend into society.

The magic to their eyes? Even they still didn't know.

This is the story of how criminology major and dance minor Lee Minho found himself hopelessly in love with the serial killer, local artist Han.

[Alternatively, let's see how long I can make these two dumbasses pine without one of them snapping. Edit: they finally did]

[Also WARNING: a HUGE amount of Jeongchan ahead, it's not subtle at all! So much fluff--]

As per usual, the playground was packed; children of all ages ran wild, squalling and laughing like the little menaces they were- all of them avoiding a short kid who couldn't be older than five, seated at the very end of the sandbox and holding back tears of offense and loneliness.

It's not that he got bullied, he wasn't. His mom raised a tough kid who'd bite back when he's bit, but no one would play with him now. Not with how he looks, they'd rather scream and run.

Five year olds shouldn't worry about that.

Rubbing his left eye- the good one, he could see a woman's shoulder and hair. Her smile, bright and comforting, wording out a song with no sound.

"Jisung!" His mother's voice rang aloud, recognizable and warm in the hostile environment.

"Baby," She called again, finding him and wrapping her son in her arms. For the moment, there was no strange woman- only his own mother.

Jisung sniffled. "I hate people." -These words that shouldn't be said by a child flowed so easily from his lips, as if it was the only reasonable conclusion.

"We need to talk about something" his mother's voice, once excited and lively sounded utterly defeated. Little did he know, it was the last time. Years of telling him he's perfect just the way he is, special and unique in a good way, definitely- have ended up making no difference in the end.

That day, he learned to put on contact lenses.

.

"I know you're upset about the divorce, but you have to accept that it happened."

The woman's voice, high pitched and unpleasant, drove Minho ever so slightly closer to the edge. By now he knew no adult in the world would ever take him seriously, so what was the point in sitting here and listening to her talk?

The woman pursed her lips, plump and telling of the many times they went under the scalpel. Tapping her foot, she hazily reminded Minho of his own mother when scolding was due.

"If you don't talk to me, that's fine. Nothing's going to change. I get paid by the hour you know, I can do this all day."

That being said, she was probably stressed- no therapist had ever gotten Minho to talk, he's been changing doctors since his hallucinations began, which adds to a little over three years now.

"Minho, I can't help you like this. Tell your mother I give up."

A sense of dread spread over the eight years old. Again, another adult doesn't get it. Another one giving up on him, leaving, and suddenly he wanted her to stay. Pretty badly he did, at the time.

"I don't care that my parents broke up, I've been seeing monsters all day"

The woman blinked, stunned into silence. At the tinge of tears he rubbed his right eye- and there it was, certain as ever; drawn with a sharpie, people with horns. In a moment, a pair of hands that weren't his took the drawing away and pulled out a new one, drawing harshly a sad smiley face.

Although he was a big boy, he cried right then, scared out of his mind and very confused. He cried so hard it almost slipped off- the contact lens hiding his mother's disgrace.

Looking up, the woman made no effort to comfort or dissolve his fright. Rather, she was scribbling down the whole ordeal. Taking notes, furiously assessing and picking him apart, she finished her analysis smugly and said,

"It's time we get you a prescription, my dear"

And that was definitely not the last of it.

.

"Oppa"

Minho groaned lowly, alerting the speaker to the fact he's been woken from sleep.

"Minho oppa!" the voice persisted. Fully intent on hanging up, Minho side glanced at the caller id to make sure it wasn't important.

"Motherfucker!" the voice on the other end rose. From the corner of the bed Doongie meowed, alarmed.

"Freaking shrimp, what do you think you're calling your oppa?" He blurted. This isn't a call he should skip.

"Egg laying bastard! Answer me when I call you!" His sister's comforting voice trickled out.

"Gremlin twarp!"

"ballerina!"

"Whiny child!"

"Prune old man!"

"spoiled princess!"

"Mean hoe!"

"-!" Wheeze.

"I got you, you horrible gay bitch"

"We're both gay, Ryu" He threw back.

It's been a while since she last called.

"Well, you live alone, so I assume you're doing much gayer things than I can do at home."

Minho started, failing to hold back his horrified gasp. "Ryujin, you're eighteen!" He exclaimed. It seemed like yesterday she was still following him around, like some baby duckling.

"She's being mean Doongie, like you three don't count." He added, Ryujin electing to ignore his comment.

"How's dance going?" her tone changed, turning softer. For all their differences, dance for sure has always been something both loved and loved together. From copying idols on TV, to taking ballet and hiphop together, Jazz too.

"I'm not in college for dance and you know it" He groaned, immediately softening as well.

"I miss it a lot. I wish I could do more than minor in it.." On the other side of the call Ryujin hummed, understanding. She has always known his passion best.

"You're good at what you do too. You'd make a kickass detective." She claimed.

"I'm not taking criminology to be a detective." Why she had to be reminded was beyond him. If anything he aimed to be an officer, someone to tell kids off if they mess with the neighborhood cats.

"I'm just saying you could be!" She defended- which wasn't wrong, if he played job openings right. He did have a knack for picking apart mystery books too, but that was nothing out of the usual.

"How's grad life?" He asked with genuine interest. Nothing could ever matter to him more.

"I asked Chelle out, finally." She said, and Minho couldn't help but notice the edge evident in her voice.

"What happened? Did she let you down? Should I come over?" The questions left his lips before he could consider them, worry clouding over him.

"No, it's nothing like that. She said yes, but.. Yeah, oppa, I really wish you were here. I need to talk to you, face to face. Mom misses you too." She ended lamely. It was so unlike her, Minho couldn't find it in him to correct the fact that it was only Ryu's mom and not his.

"Tell her I'll be visiting tonight then, I'll go get ready." He said, fully intent on making the sudden drive over. It was only a two hour ride over to his father's, where Ryujin and his step mother lived too. If he headed out now, he could make it before dinner.

"Really? You don't have to, I know you hate it here-" Her attempts of taking it back wouldn't work once he set his mind to do something.

"Really really. I miss my stinky troll sister too," He insisted. No way was he leaving her be. The moment something felt off with her, he knew he had to go make sure she's fine; there aren't many things as precious in his life as she is.

"Dumbass," she relented, voice worryingly relieved. "I'll go tell mom."

He smiled, tapping his nail on the headboard, now sitting up at his bed. "Bye"

She huffed, pausing for a moment before giving her last reply. "Goodbye, oppa. I love you."

.

Minho sighed, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

For what little time he spent at his father's place, a surprising amount of bad memories were made. Up until his teen years he wouldn't even enter, and every time after that made for a rich history; first panic attack, first time breaking a leg falling down the stairs, coming out, taking Ryu to junior prom- door shut in his face that time, claiming she was grounded for beating up the neighbor's son. First time stung by a bee, and that weekend when his father's doberman puppy bit him in play, tore open his front lip and got sent to a dog pound despite his protest.

'Come on,' he thought. 'You can do this. Count to three-' and at three he did, opened his car door and walked up through the front gate.

"Minho! How lovely to see you." Smiled his step mom, a warm, if not a tad unnerving woman.

"Nice to so see you too. How have you been?" He asked, clean-cut manners kicking in. Dal and Byul had meanwhile made their way running over to the door, immediately rubbing against him with some level of desperation. He leaned down, rubbing Dal's small head.

"I've been well, your father too- that's right! Honey, come say hi to Minho." The short, lean woman called, still blocking the entrance to the oversized house and keeping Minho at the door. Whether this was on purpose shall forever remain a mystery- she did it every time.

"That brat has nothing to do in this house" His father's voice warmed over.

"Hi dad." He tried still, calling over the woman's shoulder. "Can I come in?"

Said obstacle smiled, moving aside at last. "Of course sweetie, Ryujin will be right over."

Taking that exchange for what it was, he made fast pace towards the kitchen. Avoiding his father has become a praised skill by now, a crucial one by all means.

"Dallie, Byulie, psps" he tried, pleased when both ran on over towards his outstretched hand. Two more allies at the ready.

Light steps cleared the remaining discomfort sullying his mood in short moments. "You!" A pair of arms tightened around his shoulders, prompting Minho to lift his little sister in a piggyback.

"You too!" He answered, relieved at feeling welcomed at last.

"I can't believe you actually came. Did you tell your mother you're over?" She asked, tactless as ever. He loves her a whole lot for that, too.

"She's not the boss of me, I'm twenty one" He announced, eyes closed in a content smile as his sister gently pet his hair like a cat.

"What about me? I'm almost nineteen, I wish I was free like you, Lino!" Exclaimed Ryujin, but really she didn't. There was a certain freedom gained from nobody caring about you that no one should be jealous of.

Letting her hop back onto the ground, Minho kept the smile on his face. She seemed fine, but he could tell better. Still, they couldn't talk before dinner- the pots and pans at the stovetop smelled just about ready, after all.

Instead he turned to face her, petting her head lovingly like she had his. "What's this? This tiny Ryuddaeng's nineteen? No way."

"Almost!" she growled. "Next month I'll be."

"Where have the times gone?" he questioned, shoving her playfully at the comments of "old man".

.

Dinner went as uncomfortably as expected, his father and he had behaved remarkably well- hadn't spoken a word to each other throughout. Minho ate neatly, made sure to compliment his step mother for every dish, and Ryujin helped by washing them after. All in all, it was successful unlike many dinners before.

Making way to the guest bedroom, Minho paused at the sight of his sister's door left slightly open. Right, yes- this would be a good time.

Knocking quietly, he waited for permission before entering and closing the door, waiting for Byul to enter alongside him. "Are you alright?"

Ryujin nodded, glancing up at him and back to the floor. He took that as a sign to take a seat down on her fancy dragon themed carpet.

"Are you really alright? Ryujin, I know we're not great communicators, but I'm still very worried. Is it dad?" At that his sister shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"Don't get mad, but I have a huge favor. You know Chelle, I swore I'll ask her out when I graduate and I did, but she…" Minho crossed and uncrossed his legs, chin finding its place resting on a knee. Byul purred, rubbing against it.

"She's missing. She's been missing for two weeks now, no one knows where she is." She explained, voice stern.

"I don't think she ran away, but her parents keep saying she did. She said nothing to me." She added, hoping he'd fill in the rest on his own.

"They're not filling in for missing person?" He asked, worry making his back stress and ace.

Ryujin nodded. "I know she's the bad girl type, but she wasn't into drugs and her friends seem fine. I keep trying to ask around but I can't, what if something serious happened?"

Minho nodded, realizing where he comes in. "You want me to investigate? See where that takes us?" He asked. For sure, that should be the police's job- but with her parents saying she ran away, would they even bother?

Ryujin kept quiet, eyes burning holes into Minho's. This was her crush, a big one- he's never liked Chelle, but now? If Ryujin cares that much… sure. It's not something he should be messing with legally, and a new project to be added atop his ever growing college work, but he'd do it for her. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ryujin asked back, relieved.

"Yes. I'll do it." He assured.

Ryujin's features softened farther, mouth breaking into a smile. "You're my new favorite person."

Minho smiled lightly, mind running full speed. "I need details. When and where she was last seen, and about her; exes, Instagram, friends and hangouts."

Ryujin's smile faded. Nonetheless she turned, pulling a notebook out of her bedside drawer.

Scribbling away the details he requested, she paused to ask a couple questions before turning back to her chore. "I know less than I thought." She admitted.

"That's fine, but I have a few more. How was her mental state, where did she study, was she on meds and did she mention any places?"

This kept on for a few hours, ending after they let an annoyed Byul out of the room - with Ryujin tiredly announcing that her brain is fried and he can ask the rest over chat when he's back in college. On his end, Minho learned one important thing:

This girl was not who she seemed to be.

.

Back at his apartment, Minho re-read all eleven papers of info they've gathered. On the way he's prepared a list of places to visit, only two of which stemmed from the info Ryujin herself had given him. Other than the school and family bistro down the street, it seemed the two have never gone out together, although Chelle was one to do so.

Good, he thought.

Scrolling through her Instagram, he noted which followers seemed to comment more, and who would show most often on highlights. Her latest post have been boring- it was landscape art of what he assumed to be a tall grass field on the outskirts of seoul. Around three months back he found a picture of some guy at the beach, shirt off and abs in clear view. Seeing as he looked nothing like Chelle, it would seem they weren't related.

Sorting through the packed comment section, someone's request to take it down stood out. Tapping on the person's icon, he realized that was probably the guy in the picture, although the account was made private. An ex? That would make a good trail.

Not having an account himself, by now Minho has used Ryujin's, but to follow guys it would seem he needs his own account.

Setting up all the necessities, he took a nice picture of Dori and made it his profile, sending the guy a follow request right away.

Now we wait.

.

"Oppa, if you have no photos or description and no followers, and he doesn't know you, did you really expect he'd approve your request?" Ryujin's laughter trickled through the speakers, as if it's been obvious. "You're going to have to find him." She pointed, before hesitantly adding, "Or I can-"

"No." Minho said, stern. "This guy could be Chelle's ex, he might be really dangerous! You don't get to follow his Instagram."

Ryujin sighed, and Minho got the sudden mental image of her rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did. "You have friends right? Ask one of them." She advised.

"I need to go, dad said I can't go out unless I finish these applications." She explained, hanging up after a round of goodbyes.

Right. He did! He has friends.

Picking his phone back up, Minho scrolled his contacts looking for either Felix or Hyunjin. The two weren't in his major, but they shared a dance class. Out of the student body, they were closest to his definition of friends.

A couple rings went by before the line picked up. "Hyung? Hello!" Felix's cheerful voice calmed the older's nerves ever so slightly.

"Felix, hi." He answered, trying to seem casual. "How are you?"

Felix took a moment before responding. "I'm great! I'm actually out with Chan hyung, is something up?"

"Who?" Minho asked, confused.

Felix took another moment. "Bang Chan. He's a fourth year in sociology, I don't think you'll know him."

Minho came close to a sob right then. "Can you pass him the phone?"

"Yeah sure." Felix agreed immediately, followed by ruttling sounds.

"Hello?" A voice sounded, accent similar to Felix's own.

"Hi! My name is Minho, I followed you on Instagram a couple days ago."

A short silence. "Oh my god." Chan exclaimed.

"No, never mind that, I need to talk to you." He rephrased.

"I have no idea who you are." Chan replied, confused.

"It's about Chelle." Minho added, hoping to learn anything from the other's reply.

"Oh." Was all he got. "Okay, I guess we should meet sometime then. How is she?"

The question caught Minho off guard.

"I, I'll tell you more when we meet. When are you free?" he asked, quickly seeking out a pen and scribbling the time and date on his wrist, phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, sounds great! See you then." He concluded, getting passed back to Felix and thanking him profoundly before hanging up.

"In my own college." He muttered after the phone found its place back on the table.

"Unbelievable."

.

Not many people occupied the café, despite its convenient location not far off the olympic park. For that reason Minho concluded, the coffee there probably sucked.

It wasn't his intention to show fifteen minutes early, but his nerves got the best of him, taking shape in miserable pacing until he deemed it late enough to leave his apartment already. Worst case scenarios running through his mind, he wasn't expecting it as someone took seat in the chair opposite of his.

"Hello. It's Minho, right?" Asked the stranger, dimples forming in an awkward smile.

"Ah." Minho voiced dumbly before quickly picking himself up adding,

"You're Chan?"

In the short time that passed between first learning of Chan's existence and actually seeing him, Minho's mind managed to fill with expectations and fears, all of which shattered right in that moment.

First of all, the guy in the picture had very defined abs and arm muscles, making it seem as if he'd be your average muscle-head, someone who could pull apart limbs off boys like Minho- a description that apparently had nothing in common with the hesitant and awkward person in front of him. Rather, he found that this Chan was a tad shorter than him, barely filling the light gray sweater he threw on.

Secondly, while the photo showed a man with straight dark brown hair, the man in front of him had soft blond curls that seemed so, so fluffy- invoking a primal urge to pet them in, Minho assumed, not only himself, but also every innocent bystander.

Lastly, by the amount of english in his Instagram description, one would expect an obvious accent, but that had been proven false on the phone call anyway. Regardless, Minho imagined a foreigner, so seeing his face up close had been a surprise on its own, especially considering the smile… he was, how would he put it? Cute.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you. I was worrying I'd be early, but it's good to see you are too." Minho could only half process the words, a glance at his phone telling him they both still had around ten minutes before the planned meetup time.

"Right! Right, I wanted to talk to you." Minho started, forcibly clearing his mind of any strange thoughts.

"You said it was about Chelle? I assume you're her new boyfriend?" Chan asked, voice a bit strained.

"No, It's not like that. I wanted to know if you've heard from her for the last couple weeks." Minho replied, quick to correct him so to not make things needlessly awkward. Right, he thought- Chan still might have had something to do with this girl's disappearance.

"Oh, well, I actually hadn't, I try not to do that anymore. We didn't end things on good terms." Chan confessed, picking Minho's interest.

"What happened?" He asked, worries picking back up.

Chan paused. "Are you her friend? This kind of thing is a little personal, I don't want it to affect your friendship."

Minho blinked, thinking up a smaller scale storm. "I live in her neighborhood. We're not very close, but some things happened that made me look for you."

Chan hesitated, saved by the waiter's interruption asking which drinks the two would have. Still suspicious, Minho only ordered a small iced americano, Chan matching with a small iced tea.

"You probably know we dated for around two months, it ended after I found she was cheating for a long time."

Minho's breath hitched, dangerously close to choking on his coffee. "She cheated on you?"

Chan's expression fluttered before he nodded, sheepish smile back on. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it? I couldn't hold her attention. At least, the others didn't know."

Minho gaped, unsure how to handle the new information. Chelle, the girl Ryujin asked him to look for. Was that her true nature? "What do you mean others?"

Chan's embarrassment grew, yet he didn't look away. "We were around.. five, I think.. that I know of. I followed her for a bit."

The awkwardness settled, leaving both speechless.

"Okay, I'm really sorry but I still need to ask you a couple more things." Minho was the first to break the silence.

"Go ahead." Chan smiled in relief.

"Were you mad? Wait, no- Can you think of anyone who could have held a grudge against her? More than, I guess, this."

Chan shook his head. "She's a really nice girl! She has some serious issues, but I liked her a lot at the time."

Minho bit his lip, ready to push on. "Chan, I'm going to be honest with you.. Chelle's been missing for over two weeks now."

If Chan was drinking at the moment, it would have been his turn to choke. "What?" he asked, voice steady.

"I got in touch with you because right now, nobody knows where she is. Or someone does know, but I don't" Minho explained, hoping his message went through alright.

"Are you sure she's not ghosting you? She might be." Chan offered. Minho stiffened. If Chelle was fine, if she was ghosting his sister- there will be hell to pay.

"I don't think so?" he continued anyway.

"I can't remember a specific person who would want to hurt her, but.. God, I'm worried. Chelle's gone? Like, kidnapped or.." Chan paused, taking deep breaths.

"If you have any information on where she could be, it would help a lot. I don't know her well, I'm not sure who else to ask either." Minho added.

"What do you want to know?" Chan asked, worry clouding his face in an unpleasant way. Minho almost felt, scratch that- he did feel really bad for the guy.

"Hangouts, friends, habits, names of other exes- mental state too, it's a little invasive but I can't find her otherwise." Chan stared, eye contact with Minho intensifying as neither averted their gaze.

"Okay." Chan replied after a while. "I don't really know you, but I guess it suits her. If anything happened, I wouldn't expect an officer anyway."

Slightly disturbed, Minho pulled his notes from his bag, offering Chan a big sheet of paper. Just like that, the two had begun- Just as Minho had with Ryujin before.

"I can't help with other Exes, I don't know any of their names. I do know where she hangs out usually." Chan supplied helpfully.

"Chelle, she's very into art. She thinks her art, only hers, is the best of the best. She considers herself an undiscovered gem, that kind of mentality. She'll do anything for exposure, and she likes compliments a lot." Chan bit his lip, pausing in his writing.

"She's not on good terms with her parents, and sometimes I remember, she said she wanted to run away. She has horrible mood swings, but when she's happy she can be the sweetest, most considerate person in the world. I think she had too much love in her, that's why…" Chan trailed off, sighing before shaking his head and writing down some more details.

"I'm not okay with that, you know? It's the worst kind of betrayal, but I'm still so worried. I never wanted anything to happen to her, I don't wish that for anyone." Minho hummed, recalling back on his previous suspicion, how ridiculous it seemed now to think that of this person.

So it went on, the two of them coming up with important details and question marks to jot down. Before they knew it the sky turned dark, an impatient barista politely asking them to leave.

"You have my number, right?" Chan asked.

"I don't." Minho replied, glad Chan remembered. The two exchanged phones, filling in their details with some hesitation.

"Call me if you need anything, or if you find her." Chan added, eyes glinting under the streetlights.

"You too, call me if you remember anything important." Minho replied, parting with a wave goodbye and heading towards the bus station.

It was only on his way back that he recalled their first exchange through the phone, and how stupid it had been to expect anything else from a friend of Felix's, of all people.

Groaning lowly, Minho moved his bag up, staring at the paper pile stuffed inside it neatly. Ahead was, he expected, a night full of reading- all 38 new pages of details about this girl, who he found himself liking less and less with every passing statement.

.

Over an extended time period Minho had found himself visiting many different places to no avail. He tried asking around, dropping Chelle's name here and there for good measures, but it seemed that the girl had vanished into thin air. Her only legacy had been the outrageous rumors surrounding her name, such as dating kids much younger than herself and having sex to get her way in the art world. Really, Minho should have stopped there- he wanted nothing to do with this girl anymore, was happy even; happy that she didn't get to lay her hands on his sister. Yet he couldn't stop thinking, this girl.. She was missing, it was real, and not one soul other than him have made a single attempt to locate her. How could he give up now?

It had been a long day- visiting a bar from the list in the morning before moving to a café nearby and finishing one of his assignments, Minho decided to follow up on Chelle's tracks. Twelve days have passed since his meeting with Chan, and although his anxiety kept getting worse, the list of things to check kept getting shorter with every lead he crossed out.

This one had honestly been a lame lead, but he wanted to make the most out of it- a short trip out of seoul, to a grass patch stretching a couple miles that was similar to the one he saw on her Instagram. If he couldn't find her with anyone's help, he thought- maybe he should try to think like her more. This girl, where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do? And for that this practice was important, too.

The land stretched, tall grass for as far as the eye could see. He roamed around, looking at the tall buildings that made his home from afar. From here, definitely- he recognized the scenery as the one she drew that time. Stepping back through the grass, it didn't make much of a difference from how far he's already been, but the moment felt special somehow.

Minho breathed in, a strong breeze blowing from the front and carrying the dust and pollution of the city with it. Bad air, even this far back. At least it was silent, no cars, no birds either- it felt peaceful. Minho stepped back again, pulling out his phone, intending to take a photo. A couple more steps back, and he tripped- landing on his butt in the grass.

It was there that he found her.

.

Jisung stretched, back aching after sleeping in so late.

"Good morning, and good luck falling back asleep at a normal hour." Seungmin commented. True that, Jisung managed to mess his sleep schedule pretty badly. Good thing it was friday.

Standing up, he considered responding before giving up and making his way to the kitchen.

"Ji," Seungmin spoke up once more,

"At least brush your teeth. I'm your roommate, not your mom- I shouldn't have to tell you this!" His voice, although annoyed, remained calm. He did have a point.

"Okay mom." Jisung replied, deadpan. Without another word he turned, entering the bathroom and picking up his toothbrush to do as instructed.

Life as an art major was hard- he had so much work to do in little time, and the pressure made it feel a little like a job. Nowadays his minor in music made for the only stress reliever he could put time into without guilt, and he wondered if maybe he should have chosen it for major instead. Useless thinking about it now, anyway.

Jisung went on brushing, releasing a small whine at the thought of his next assignment. Whatever- he rolled his eyes, raising a hand to rub the remains of sleep away.

Tall grass, the clear view of seoul from afar- blurring, moving, fast as if he was struck by lightning.

The toothbrush clinked loudly against the sink as it dropped, leaving Jisung with the reflection of himself in the mirror, left hand raised. He made quick way, spitting the paste and powerwalking back to their room, brushing against Seungmin on his way there.

"Jisung? Jisung, you can't just leave this here." Seungmin bristled, pausing at the sight of Jisung pulling out his sketchbook with the craze of someone going through a revelation.

He sighed, recognizing the scene in front of him. "Inspiration struck?"

Jisung hummed, wiping his mouth and beginning to sketch. This happened every once in a while, it was one of the things that made Jisung… well, Jisung.

"I'll clean up. Should I order takeout?" Seungmin asked, affection sneaking into his voice. He's a bit weird, but sometimes he was cute too.

"Thank you, please." Jisung replied absentmindedly, focused on the paper.

"I will. Okay." Seungmin concluded, fishing his phone out to call his favorite fast food handler.

To them, after all, it was nothing more than an average friday night.

[loverontheleft]

The Honeymoon Ones (12)

Mood board by @a-silver-linings-boyfriend 🥵

1.5k words -||- AU!B x Reader

Warnings: language, dirty talk

-||-

The soft tap at the oversized door to your suite isn’t what wakes you. You sleep through that. What wakes you is Brendon delicately trying to extract himself from your arms and the bed so he can go answer the door.

“Mmmph-“ you moan, rolling over and patting the bed. “Come back.” Brendon bends over to kiss the top of your head as he tugs on a pair of sweatpants.

“I will,” he promises in a low voice. “I’ll be right back.” He makes his way over to the door and opens it just enough to peer out. You’re still naked in his bed and he has absolutely no intention of sharing that exquisite sight with anyone.

When he returns to the bedroom after a moment, he’s got an awkward look on his face and he’s carrying a tray. “Something else I forgot to change,” he murmurs. “But I don’t mind. I’d rather share - with you - I mean -“ he’s stumbling over his words and you prop yourself up on one elbow to look at the tray with interest.

“Food?” You sniff the air sleepily. “Is that- I smell bread. Fuck yeah; I love bread.” Brendon laughs and sets the tray down on the bed.

“Yes, my sweet duckling,” he grins. “Food. Specifically bread. And fresh fruit and figs and yogurt and honey and champagne.” He runs a hand through your hair as you push yourself upright. The sheets pool around your waist and Brendon sighs, reaching out to caress the side of your breast. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous.”

“You’re not half-bad yourself,” you purr, adjusting his hand so his thumb can move tenderly over one nipple. “Now what were you saying about meaning to change this?”

“Oh.” Brendon flushes. “This is the - I think they pitched it as the romantic lovers’ morning-after breakfast or something. They didn’t call it that- it had a more refined name- but it was definitely supposed to be a ‘hey newlyweds here on your honeymoon, did you spend all night fucking and now you need a recovery breakfast? We’ve got you. And champagne’ kind of thing. And I was saying that I meant to change it but now I don’t mind and I’d rather share it with you but then that sounds like I’m treating this like our honeymoon and that’s - I don’t want to rush-” He falls silent when you slide a slice of apricot into his mouth. You pause to lick your fingers clean before smiling softly.

“You were panicking and talking too much. So here’s what I think. If it is a romantic lovers’ morning-after breakfast,” you say, plucking a grape from the bowl and popping it in your mouth. “Then I’d say it’s kind of spot-on. Forget the way they advertised it. It’s not a honeymoon brunch. It’s a romantic lovers’ morning-after indulgence. We indulged last night in each other and now we get to indulge again in this food. Don’t stress. It’s just me and you and a really delicious breakfast. We love each other and are figuring shit out. That’s what matters.” You grin at him and gesture for him to get back in the bed. He slides the tray over and crawls back under the sheets with you.

When he’s settled, you slide yourself lower so you can snuggle into his arms. “Hey,” you whisper. He looks down at you and you reach up to cup his face sweetly. “I know this isn’t what you had planned. I know you booked all this stuff with her in mind. I also know you're not actively trying to replace her with me - I’d like to think we’d have realized eventually. It just so happens that it’s happening now on this trip that was for - well. I’m not - it doesn’t bother me that this was all planned for her. I’m pretty sure I have enough evidence from the last twelve hours to conclude you’re satisfied that it’s me in this bed with you.”

He relaxes and the look in his eyes reveals all his gratitude and affection. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “It’s strange having all of these things I planned for her come up and then I feel - like I should feel guilty- but I don’t! I don’t feel bad for coming here and I don’t feel bad for bringing you and I certainly don’t feel bad for us admitting how we feel and I definitely don’t feel bad about last night. But I feel like I should, if that makes sense. Like I should feel like it’s too soon but I just - don’t.” He makes a short, frustrated sound and you squeeze his hand.

“The mourning shouldn’t outlast the grief,” you tell him. “If you’re not missing her...then you don’t need to feel bad.” He nods and sighs.

“I just feel bad that you’re experiencing all of this and being reminded that it-“

You wiggle out of his hold so you can straddle him. “Hey. Bunny. We’re okay, right? You and me? You’re happy with how things are going between us?”

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Yes, Koloa. We are okay. And I’m thrilled.”

“That’s all I need to know. I don’t care when you booked all this stuff and I don’t care who it was for. The only thing I care about is if you’re seeing all this stuff and missing her, because now that I’ve gotten you, I don’t plan on giving you up.”

He smiles and holds you close. “I don’t miss her. I promise. And you don’t have to ever give me up.” He rubs his knuckles affectionately across your jawline and you press into the touch. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ll try to get out of my head and I’ll just relax and enjoy.”

“Do that,” you say in a teasing lilt. “Because that’s what I’m supposed to be doing too, if you recall. It’s why you brought me here, remember?” You peck his cheek before sliding a fig dipped in honey into his mouth. “Now let’s eat.”

-||-

“What are the odds of us staying in this bed all day together?” You blink up at him sweetly. “Take a shower, get back in bed, and just...cuddle and kiss and touch.” Brendon pauses to think about it and you laugh. “Forget I asked. We can do that at home. We’re in Greece! And I’m guessing there’s something else on the agenda?” You raise one eyebrow and Brendon grins, nodding.

“A casual tour of the island, followed by a wine tasting and then a surprise for dinner.” He looks at you thoughtfully. “But I wouldn’t mind a shower. As long as you come with me.” He laughs when you nod eagerly, clambering out of the bed. “I love you, Ko.”

“I love you too, Bunny. Now get in here. I wanna see you naked and dripping wet.”

He grins and chases after you eagerly, sweeping you off your feet. You squeal and cling to him, giggling as he holds you close and reaches to turn on the water.

“Here we are,” he purrs in your ear as the hot water pours from the shower heads. “Naked and dripping wet.” He places you carefully on your feet and smiles when you stretch under the hot water. “You look good.”

“You do too,” you tell him, curling a finger to bring him in close. “You do too.”

-||-

“You know,” you say in a playfully accusatory voice as you kneel beside the bed, “you could have told me we’d end up fucking when you were making my packing list.” Brendon looks at you quizzically and you gesture to your open suitcase. “I brought no sexy underwear, and most of what I packed is athleisure.”

“First of all,” Brendon begins and rolls onto the bed to rest his chin in his hands above you while you rummage through your suitcase. “I didn’t know. Second of all, you’re hot as hell in anything. And nothing. Definitely in nothing. God, you’re so hot naked.” He pauses and you laugh at the dreamy expression that crosses his face. “But - you’re hot in anything too. Wear whatever you want; I promise I’ll still want you.”

You twist to meet his eyes. “Yeah but - I want to look good for you.” You slide a pair of athletic shorts up over your thighs and zip up your sports bra. “I mean yeah, I’m comfy but-“

“Y/n,” Brendon says with a smile. “You look so good. I promise. You wake up perfect and I wake up hard for you. Those shorts - they hit on your thigh right where I held you while I ate you out. Every time I look at them, I’m reminded of gripping your thighs and licking your clit. And all I have to do is unzip that bra and your breasts are all mine. You look so good. You don’t even realize how you’re teasing me. Besides...if you’re comfy, I’m happy.”

You tug your tank top over your head and crawl onto the bed next to him. “You’re wonderful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says with a laugh. “You wanna get out of here? The concierge set up a casual tour - I think he called it a Greek Friend Experience - and it’s a guy who picks us up when we’re ready and we get to choose where we go - or at least the type of places we want to go, since we don’t really - you know - know the area. And he takes us around to the best local spots and avoids any tourist traps we’re not interested in.”

“Yes please. Anywhere in particular you want to go?” You bend over to lace up your sneakers and he spanks your ass lightly. You let out a small yelp and turn to face him, grinning when he smiles at you innocently.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he says, holding up both hands. “Like I said, you look too good in those shorts.” He pulls your hair up into a ponytail and secures it in place with a scrunchie he plucks from your wrist. “Damn, you look good. And to answer your question - yes, I have a couple of places in mind.”

[vannahfanfics]

Last one, I promise! 😜 I’d like to request an Alucard/Seras fanfic with “Swans.” Maybe have Alucard compare Seras to swans because of how beautiful, yet vicious they are? (Swans are mean in real life. 😭) It’s a dumb idea of mine, so you don’t have to use it. I’ll take anything as long as it’s romantic AluSeras. 😊 - Gaanon 🌵🏜🤎

It’s not a dumb idea at all, Gaanon! I really enjoyed the premise, and also finally getting to write for Hellsing and my best girl Seras Victoria! (P.S., if you request some Pip/Seras from me, I will literally die of happiness. OTP.) I hope you enjoy it, Gaanon, and thanks for participating in the event! <3

Pretty and Fierce

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Hellsing

Characters: Alucard, Seras Victoria

Requested by: Anonymous User

Seras’ eyes sparkled with delight as she trotted down the small hill leading into one of the many picturesque parks tucked away in the London sprawl. Her shoes crunched on the little bits of gray gravel making up the winding path that branched in three directions to disappear into groves of luscious trees. Seras paused at the bottom of the hill to suck in a deep breath, enjoying the scent of earth and grass and aromatic flowers tickling her nose. Then, with an excited squeal, she threw her arms in the air. 

“This park is absolutely beautiful! Oh, it’s so good to get back to nature every once and a while; don’t you agree, Master?” she asked while glancing over her shoulder. She immediately balked, for it seemed her master Alucard did not share the sentiment. Though the powerful vampires were invulnerable to the sunlight— unlike their lesser kin that had been stalking Britain of late— Alucard apparently still preferred the dank dark of his dungeon; he was wrapped up tight in his burgundy cloak with the brim of his hat pulled down over his eyes. Seras pouted at his complete lack of enthusiasm. Thankfully, Integra shared her zeal for the rejuvenating outdoors. 

“Don’t mind him, Seras,” the sophisticated platinum-blonde hummed as she strode down the path. “You are quite right. There is simply something refreshing about a nice trip to the local park, isn’t there, Walter?” 

“Oh, yes,” the butler agreed as he scrubbed pollen off his monocle. “This venture was a lovely idea, Sir Integra.” 

“‘Refreshing’ and ‘lovely,’ my ass,” Alucard grumbled. “It’s a waste of time. Why did you drag me out here when I could be doing something more useful?” 

“There’s more to life than maiming your enemies, Alucard,” Integra tutted as she sauntered past Seras, wagging a gloved finger at the disgruntled vampire lord. “As a centuries-old being, I would have thought you’d have figured that out by now. Besides, look how excited our dear police girl is; do you really want to break her heart by dragging her back to the manor when her little adventure has just begun?” 

Alucard winced as the wily woman used his adorable subordinate against him. To accentuate Integra’s ploy, Seras batted her lashes in the best rendition of puppy-dog eyes she could muster, completing the pleading look with a pitiful pout. 

“Please, Master? I grew up in the countryside, you know, and I do so miss it sometimes.” 

Alucard grumbled something unintelligible and sunk further within the recesses of his thick clothes. When Seras meekly inquired as to what he said, his red eyes flashed within the darkness as he barked, “Fine! But don’t blame me if I get antsy and snack on a civilian or two.” 

“Attack anyone here and I’ll cut your head off, Alucard,” Integra sniffed before looping her arm daintily with Seras’. “Now, police girl. Would you like to accompany me to the pond?” 

“There’s a pond?!” 

Chuckling at the vampiress’ simply adorable zeal, the refined head-of-household for the Hellsing family led her down one of the small paths towards the center of the park. The gravel road then bifurcated, stretching on in a wide circle to ring a large pond. Wood-and-iron benches were spaced out evenly along the pathway every few yards; it seemed this was a popular area, as nearly all of the benches were currently occupied. Seras spotted a young mother watching her children splash in the shallows, a businessman enjoying a coffee break as he read the newspaper, and an old woman tossing dried corn to a family of ducks. Seras scampered closer to observe the fluffy yellow ducklings as they hobbled around their mother’s dappled brown bulk to peck at the little yellow niblets. 

“Ahhhh!” she admired and glanced fervently at Walter. “Look! Aren’t they adorable?” 

“Oh, yes,” the butler appreciated, adjusting his monocle to closely inspect the ducklings as they curiously wobbled over to Seras to peck at her shoes, apparently mistaking the material for sustenance. He smiled warmly as Seras giggled and enjoyed the wee birds waddling around her in a circle, their tiny tail flittering all the while. “Now that I think of it, we have a small pond on the grounds. Perhaps we should invest in a small flock of ducks to liven up the place, eh, Sir Integra?” 

“Oh, I’m sure they would make quite a home of the gardens. However, I’d be concerned about our guard dog getting a little peckish,” she joked with a sidelong sneer at Alucard. The vampire growled, which caused the old lady to release a shocked gasp and hurriedly take her leave. Seras whined as the ducks realized there was no more food to be had and trekked the short distance down into the pond, hopping in to glide gracefully among the reeds and lilies. 

“Master! You scared them away!” she sulked and stomped over to beat on his arm a little. “Why must you be so grumpy? Surely even your cold, dead heart can enjoy something as cute as a duckling, right?” 

“Why has this trip turned into a competition to see who can insult me the most?” the vampire huffed, pulling away from his discontented aide to flop down on the bench. He stretched his arms out over the back, crossed his long legs, and tipped back his head, peering disinterestedly at the rippling surface of the pond through his unkempt bangs. After a minute, he quirked a brow. “I prefer the swans, actually.” 

“Swans?” Seras gasped. She whipped her head around so fast that a few of her vertebrae popped; it was a good thing that she was undead because she really could have broken her neck with how vigorously she whirled about. She keened in bliss as she spotted the poised, long-necked birds drifting serenely across the pond toward them. “Oh, I’ve never seen a swan before!” she gushed, picking her way down to the water’s edge to get a close a look as possible. 

Seras’s sky-blue eyes glittered with wonder as she remained still, watching the sleek white birds slowly approach. Integra and Walter, apparently not charmed by the swans, wandered further down the path discussing what café they should visit on the way home for afternoon tea. Alucard remained on the bench, regarding the young vampire as she slowly sank into a crouch. Seras stuck out her hand to the swans, who stopped swimming to inspect her with suspicious black eyes. She clicked her tongue to entice them over, trying not to vibrate with excitement as one of them decided it was safe enough to venture within her vicinity. 

“Yes… That’s it…” Seras crooned as the swan tentatively encroached, zig-zagging a little as it deliberated how close it wanted to come within the woman’s touch. “I won’t hurt you, pretty thing!” 

She waited with bated breath as the swan timidly grew closer. The rippling water kissed the tips of Seras’s shoes as she knelt among the reeds, stretching as much as she could to try and reach the gorgeous white bird. The swan stopped mere inches from her fingertips, cocking her head as it eyed Seras curiously. The vampiress whimpered and stretched her arm impossibly more, her neat nails just barely skimming the orange-and-black beak of the pond-dweller. 

With an affronted honk, the swan chomped down on Seras’ fingers. 

“Aiiiiiieeeeeeeee!” she wailed, free arm flapping in duress and snapping the reed stalks in half. The swan clamped further down on her hand, mimicking her actions by flapping its wings angrily. “Master, Master, help me!” she sobbed, looking back at him with tearful eyes, only to find him cackling like a maniac on the bench. After some vigorous tugging, Seras yanked her hand out of the swan’s beak and shimmied up the shore, cradling her injured hand and sniffling. 

The swan, however, was not pleased with Seras’ retreat. Still honking and beating its wings, it charged up the small slope, nipping at her bottom as she ran around in circles trying to escape. Her pleads for aid fell on deaf ears, as Alucard was still howling with laughter, holding his belly with his other hand over his face. Curious passersby watched the grown woman flee from the irritated swan, her pigtails bouncing wildly as she jumped the bird’s snaps at her uniform skirt. 

“I’m sorry I disturbed your afternoon! Please, Mr. or Mrs. Swan, I beg you to leave me be!” 

The bird stopped chasing Seras, contented by her apology. The vampire trotted to a stop, hunching over slightly as she fought for breath. The swan ruffled its feathers haughtily before waddling back the pond, tail wiggling as it swam back to its comrade who had watched the entire exchange with interest. Once her assailant was a safe distance away, Seras sank down to her knees with her legs splayed out on either side of her, sobbing petulantly. 

“So mean… I thought swans were supposed to be regal, graceful creatures… It damn near took my hand off and then went for my bum!” she lamented, tipping back her head as tears of embarrassment and disappointment streamed down her cheeks. She heard the distinct crunch of boots on gravel and turned to see Alucard leering over her, arms crossed and smirking amusedly. 

“Now you see why I prefer the swans,” he joked. Seras pouted up at him and smacked his leg, making him chuckle with that deep, rumbling voice of his. “Oh, don’t be like that. It was quite entertaining.” 

“For you! I thought I was going to die!” 

“Seras, you’re an immortal. A swan can’t kill you.” 

“Are you kidding? That swan had murder in its eyes, I’m telling you!” she insisted, crossing her arms with a huff and looking back to the lake. The swan was now serenely gliding over to some young children throwing dried corn into the water as if it hadn’t just tried to take a bite out of Seras’ rump just a minute before. Seras’ bottom lip wobbled as her fantastical illusion of swans crumbled before her. “How can something so pretty be so cruel?” 

“I’m sure some ghouls could ask the same thing about you,” Alucard snorted. Seras’ back straightened like a rod, and a pink blush shot up from her neck to paint her face all the way to the roots of her hair. Alucard was gazing at the swans with a wry smile. “Some of the most beautiful things on Earth are some of the most deadly.” 

“Come now, Master… Don’t tease me…” Seras groaned, hanging her head as she anticipated the inevitable punchline. However, the tall vampire only leaned down to gently pat her atop the head; as his gloved fingers nestled into her fluffy blonde hair, she felt a shiver of excitement crawl through her body. She peered up at him through her lashes to find him smiling, a rare true smile that she seldom got to see. 

“Me, tease? I would never dream of it,” he hummed before turning and heading back to the bench. Seras picked herself up, brushed the first off her stockings and skirt, and trotted over to him as he settled himself back on the bench. He tipped his hat forward to block the harsh rays of the sun, just his crooked smile poking out from underneath the brim. As Seras sat down beside him, hands pressed between her thighs, she gave him a bashful smile. 

“Do you really think I’m like a swan, Master?” 

“I wouldn’t have said it if I hadn’t meant it,” Alucard replied in a low voice laced with drowsiness. He stifled a yawn before tilting his head, his glowing red eye twinkling at her among his shadowy mess of dark hair. “It rather reminded me of you, running around a building screaming and flapping your arms as you hunt down ghouls…” 

“Master! You’re so mean!” she gasped and slapped his shoulder while he laughed heartily. Seras slumped into the bench, cheeks puffed out in a pout and shoulders hunched as she watched the swans. Maybe they were kind of mean, but they really did look so pretty sailing over the water and shining in the sun. “I suppose there’s nothing wrong with being pretty and fierce,” she smiled with a satisfied wiggle. Alucard grunted in agreement, dozing off beside her. 

Similarly, Seras reclined against the hot wood of the bench and closed her eyes, enjoying the kiss of the sun against her pale, undead skin. Just as she was drifting off into sleep, she recalled a line from a play she had read in grade school. 

“Though she be but little, she is fierce,” she recited sleepily. Now that she thought about it, the line served as an appropriate motto for Seras. She had always been small, the underdog in many situations, but she had always maintained a determined ferocity— for better or for worse. Like a graceful swan circling the pond of life, she was ready to meet any and all perceived threats with undaunting intemperance. A smile spread across her face as the verse continued to echo in her head and she drifted into the pleasant twilight of half-sleep. 

Though she never would have imagined she would end up like this, a servant of the strongest vampire in the world, Seras couldn’t say she regretted her choice. Though she be but little, she was fierce, and she would face even the legions of Hell to protect this beautiful little space where they could safely doze in the sun, if only for a little while.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[petilis]

WHAT is up home skillet biscuits !! your local duckling ami is here with a brand new indie blog, this time for an oc named asano sayuri !! if you could pretty please  ↺ / ❤ to help a shy duckling out that would be spectacular !!

about | rules | mun

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 13 - Duckswap (Age Swap AU)

Hi! Ok so I have no idea what Duckswap is, so I went with the idea that it's an AU where the characters' ages are swapped? So here's my take on that, with more details:

- The triplets are around thirty. Huey is a marine biologist and also a Junior Woodchuck troop leader, Dewey is a stunt actor and hosts a weekly show on a local radio station, Louie works in marketing. They live together and they’re raising their nephew and niece, Donald and Della, who are eleven, as well as another nephew of theirs, Scrooge, who’s only two. - The three of them also take turns being Gizmoduck, Duckburg’s protector; nobody except for Webby knows of their secret. On top of that, everyone else thinks there’s only one Gizmoduck. - Webby is the triplets’ adopted sister; she’s a year older, and she’s an archaeologist as well as a novelist. - Launchpad is eight, he’s a big fan of Dewey and lives in the triplets’ neighbourhood. Dewey often babysits him and LP considers him his best friend. - Fenton is seven, and he’s in Huey’s JW troop. He has a huge imagination and wants to become a scientist AND a superhero. He’s also convinced Gyro’s his best friend. - Gyro is nine, he’s in Huey’s troop as well. He doesn’t get along well with his family or his peers, and prefers to read on his own or work on his many, many inventions. - This is the basis for this oneshort; if I do write more about it, more characters will be included, such as Lena, Drake, Violet, Mrs Beakley...

Enjoy!

“Do I really need to wear those?”

Dewey lifted his eyes from his current task, which consisted of tying the laces of Launchpad’s roller skates, to see his best friend’s face. The duckling looked unsure, holding the kneepads in front of him.

“I’m afraid so, buddy.” Dewey answered as he finished the tight knot on one of the laces. “Just in case of another crash.” “But you’re not wearing any protection!” Launchpad countered, his bright eyes looking right into Dewey’s. “True, but I’ve been doing that for like, forever.” the older duck grinned, ruffling the ginger strands coming from under Launchpad’s helmet. “It’s your first time, though.” “Okay, that makes sense!” the duckling finally gave in, carefully putting the pads on.

Launchpad wasn’t really rebellious; he just liked to ask a lot of questions, and to get to the bottom of things. If he was satisfied with the answers Dewey or other adults gave in, he had no issue doing what he was told.

“Are you ready?” Dewey asked, getting up after checking one last time that his best friend’s roller skates were securely fastened to his palms. “Yeah!” the boy roared, punching the duck’s fist and making an explosion noise afterwards. “Ooookay, let’s dew-it then!”

Dewey took Launchpad’s hands in his, facing the duckling. Launchpad struggled a bit to get up, and it took him a few moments to regain his balance after standing up, but he did a good job at keeping his balance when Dewey started slowly skating backwards, Launchpad following eagerly.

“You’re doing great!” Dewey beamed, proud of his disciple. “Think you can handle a little more speed, LP?” “Sure can!” Launchpad shouted, starting to mimic his friend’s movements instead of letting himself be dragged. “Okay!”

Dewey carefully let go one of Launchpad’s hands, moving elegantly so the two were skating side by side. Launchpad did have some trouble keeping his balance, and he was grateful Dewey was still holding his left hand, but he quickly understood how to move his legs and how to keep his equilibrium. Dewey was proud of his student; it seemed like Launchpad had a gift when it came to learning various skills that involved moving objects, like biking, skiing or even surfing. Sure, the duckling had a tendency to fall or crash into walls or people after going too fast and losing control, but he never got seriously injured and it never discouraged him from learning new skills.

Dewey feared the day when Launchpad would get interested in learning how to drive bigger things, like motorcycles or cars, but for now he couldn’t be a prouder teacher.

“Dewey!” Launchpad exclaimed, giddy. “I-I think I’ve got it!” “Awesome! Want me to let go?” “Yeah, I’m ready!” “Okay, LP! Three, two, one, go!!”

The older duck was true to his word, and Launchpad found himself skating on his own, his legs pushing on his roller skates and making him go faster. The duckling couldn’t help but laugh; he liked it even more than skateboarding, adjusting the pressure on his knees and on his ankles to put the small wheels in motion, going faster and faster, dodging irregularities on the road, avoiding the people crossing the street, laughing all the while.

“That’s it, LP, you’re doing amazing!” Dewey shouted, still skating, staying a bit behind LP to keep an eye on him. “THIS IS SO COOL!!” Launchpad yelled, going even faster, his gestures precise and sharp.

Dewey fondly watched his best friend speed down the road, but started to find that Launchpad was perhaps going a little too fast.

“LP, slow down!” he screamed, hoping the duckling would, for once, listen to him. “GO FASTER? OKAY!” “NO, SLOWER!”

Dewey started skating faster, trying to catch up with his disciple. He knew what happened when Launchpad was enjoying himself too much, especially when it involved going very fast down a very steep road. He only hoped that Launchpad would, for once, be aware of his own limits, or that in the worst case scenario, he would reach LP before the kid could wreak havoc.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!”

Well, so much for those plans.

-----

“Come on, please!” “I said no.”

Fenton pouted. He had been trying to convince Gyro to play with him for the last ten minutes - but the chicken hadn’t given in, staying on his favourite bench, underneath a tree. Gyro was reading a heavy tome Fenton had already seen him with, something about quantum physics. It was one of Gyro’s favourite subjects - Fenton preferred chemistry.

“Please, Gyro! And after, we can do whatever you want!” “Once again, no.” “But please! I can’t play Gizmoduck if there’s no villain to stop!” “Then I’ll be your villain, if you want!”

Fenton happily spun towards the duck who had just spoken - his favourite adult and the leader of his Junior Woodchuck group, Huey Duck. The marine biologist was smiling brightly at him, and the duckling threw himself around his waist.

“Hi Mr Huey!”

Fenton was one of the most polite children Huey had ever met. Even after being given the permission to call him by his first name, the duckling still had trouble letting go of the “Mr” in front of Huey’s name. “Hey, Fenton.” Huey ruffled the feathers on top of the small duck’s head, before looking at the other kid. “Hey, Gyro.” “Huey.” the chicken nodded, readjusting his glasses before returning to his book. “Mr Huey, look, look! I’ve made some adjustments to my suit!”

Fenton stepped away from the scientist, proudly showing his homemade armour to the duck. It was crafted out of cardboard, paint and markers, but the duckling had managed to make it look pretty amazing. Just like Gyro, Fenton was a perfectionist and had a gift to make remarkable creations out of mundane materials – the only difference being that Fenton’s inventions were mostly play-pretend, and Gyro’s were actual attempts at creating fully functional machines and gizmos.

“Let me see that.” Huey asked, kneeling down to the excited boy’s level. Huey took the time to admire every modification Fenton had made since the last time, which mainly laid in the freshly painted lines on the back, and in the small LEDs embedded in one of the arms’ control panel. “Great work, as always.” The scientist finally concluded, getting up and chuckling at the look of absolute joy on Fenton’s face. “No doubt you’ll scare the villains away before they even attack you!”

Despite having pretended he couldn’t care less about the younger boy’s latest improvements on a bunch of cardboard, Gyro was watching the two ducks interact from behind his book. He couldn’t help but feel like joining them; he loved tinkering with his own creations, and he liked reading in the park while enjoying the warm spring weather, but he also yearned to do more simple, basic things kids his age did, like playing pretend or playing soccer. But Gyro had his own ways of doing those activities, and other kids resented him for that; which was why he pretended not to be interested when one of them had the strange idea to invite him.

Thankfully, Huey seemed to sense his hidden dilemma, for the duck sat next to him and gently spoke:

“You know, I think Fenton would sincerely like to play with you.” “Yeah, I know.” the chicken scoffed. “But I’m not a baby, thanks.” “There’s nothing baby-ish about playing superheroes and villains at your age, Gyro.” There was no reproach in Huey’s tone; the scientist was simply speaking his mind to the kid. “You’re incredibly smart and mature for your age, and I know that can be tiring sometimes. No shame in unwinding a little, you know?”

Huey respected the pensive silence Gyro let linger between them, before getting up:

“Well, if you want to join in, we’ll stay nearby.” the scientist said, walking towards where Fenton was pretending to fly, a few meters away. “The battle between Gizmoduck and Dr. Abyssmos promises to be legendary.”

Gyro nodded with a small “hmpf” before getting back to his book. However, Huey’s words had planted a seed inside of him, one that urged him to forget acting like an adult for once, a voice that was growing stronger and stronger and that he had trouble ignoring. Rolling his eyes, Gyro put his book aside and got up with a heavy sigh.

--------

“No, get back here!”

Louie lifted up a very unhappy Scrooge from the sandbox. The duckling gave his guardian a dirty look, complete with a pout, which Louie scoffed at.

“Yeah, get mad if you want, but it’s time to go back home. I know you, and if you don’t get your nap, you’re all cranky.” “No nap!” the small duck protested as Louie put him in his stroller, making sure the restraints were fastened. “Not tired! Scrooge wants to play!” “You’ve played for over an hour, buddy.” the duck wearing a green plaid shirt countered, gathering the toddler’s toys that were scattered all over the sandbox. “You built lots of sand castles, dug a lot of holes and even found a treasure.”

The “treasure” in question was a coin Louie had hidden in the sand when Scrooge had been busy bickering with Goldie, another toddler they often met in the park. The coin was safely tucked in the front pocket of the toddler’s overalls, where Goldie couldn’t steal it easily.

“Okay, now, let’s go- HEY! Get back here!” Louie screamed.

Scrooge had taken advantage of the situation: since Louie had been busy checking the whole sandbox and turned his back to the duckling the whole time, the clever toddler had unclasped the stroller’s restraints and ran away. Thankfully, “running away” didn’t mean he had gotten far, since even though he was quick, Scrooge’s waddling was no match for Louie’s hurried steps.

“If you keep this up, no dessert for you tonight.” The adult warned when he scooped Scrooge up in his arms, making sure the duckling looked him in the eye. “And I’ll take your treasure.”

A shocked gasp left the duckling’s body as Scrooge protectively put his hands in front of his pocket. Louie made sure to give the kid his trademark Evil Smile for more effect.

“Good. Napping isn’t so bad! You don’t know how lucky you are. I wish I could still nap.” Louie sighed, putting Scrooge’s toys in his bag and seating the toddler in the stroller.

His days were rather exhausting: he had to balance between his day job, his two nights a week patrolling Duckburg and fighting crime and raising three kids. Louie knew his brothers had it just as bad – Huey especially, since his job required longer hours and on top of that he was a Junior Woodchuck troop leader-, but he still craved for a quieter life sometimes. He’d never, ever want to be separated from Donald, Della and Scrooge and even less to be separated from Huey and Dewey; but sometimes, he wished he could have a day, or even two, only to himself.

“Louie?” Scrooge asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. Louie couldn’t help but smile; after all, the kid was very perceptive for his age. “Is Louie okay?” “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it.” the duck promised, ruffling the feathers on top of his relative’s head. “Come on, let’s go home! If you want, we can play adventurers after your nap.”

An enthusiastic cry was his answer, and Louie started making his way towards the park’s exit, pushing the stroller in front of him.

--------

“Give it back!” “Come and get it!”

Della was running as fast as her body would carry her, her laughter echoing in the ears of her angry sibling. Donald was chasing her, screaming nonsense and drawing everyone’s attention on them.

“I said to give it back, Dumbella!” “Hey!”

Donald smirked when his sister, offended, turned around and started running towards him. That always did the trick when Della wouldn’t listen- he had called her that countless times, and it was still as efficient as the first time he had found the nickname.

“I told you not to call me like that!” Della screamed, charging towards him. “Then you shouldn’t have stolen my stuff!” “I stole your stuff because you wouldn’t listen to me!” “And I wouldn’t listen to you because you never leave me alone!”

Their increasingly loud shouting match drew everyone’s attention on them, but the twins didn’t care. They were used to it- they were a pair of hot headed ducks, and screaming came as natural as talking to them, especially to Donald. So they kept yelling at each other, the original reason of their argument long forgotten. Donald and Della were standing in the middle of one of the parks’ alleys, inches apart, ears ringing with the others’ deafening screams.

“STOOOOOPPPPP!”

The pair was immediately shut up by the one person who could out-scream them. They turned towards the source of the loud shriek, who was standing right next to them, looking both annoyed, disappointed and a bit sad. Webby’s arms were crossed, and although she was silent, the twins dreaded a bit what was to come. Their aunt was never violent towards them, but she had an impressive aura when she wanted to.

“Guys… why are you fighting?” Webby asked calmly after an awkward moment. “Della stole my journal!” Donald was quick to gather his spirits and accuse his sister, angrily pointing at her. Della scoffed, the incriminating volume coming out of her pocket. “Is that true?” “Yeah, but Donald ignored me! So I had to get his attention somehow, right?” “True, but taking his belongings-” “You’re really annoying, Dumbella! I don’t always want to talk to you! I have a life outside of you!” “Yeah, well, so do I! But that doesn’t mean you have to ignore me all the time!”

And the Duck twins started another round of screaming their heads out. Webby frowned; Donald and Della had a tendency to have small spats, but this was unusually violent by their standards. She had to get to the bottom of it. The two of them were suffering from the situation, she saw it in the way Della’s eyes were filled with tears and with how Donald was growing more and more unintelligible.

“Ok, OK! STOP!”

The archaeologist physically put herself between her nephew and her niece, taking one of them in each arm, hugging them.

“Guys, this isn’t like you. Is this really about Donald ignoring you? And is this really about your journal?”

Webby knew she was right when Donald stopped speaking and Della looked away, suddenly very interested in the ground. She wasn’t very patient, or patient at all really, but she knew better than to try and squeeze the truth out of them. Her patience was rewarded when Della spoke up:

“It’s just… stuff happened at school today, and I wanted to take Donny’s mind out of it.” “What happened?” Webby asked softly, noticing the subtle way Donald twitched a bit. “Is this another Beagle boy situation?” “Yeah.” Della sighed.

Webby wrapped her arms tighter around the twins, suddenly feeling very protective of them. The Beagle boys were a gang of bullies in the kids’ school. They targeted pretty much everyone, but lately they had latched at Donald in particular. They had tried to be nasty to Della, but she and Donald had kicked those tendencies out of them – Huey had been the only one to somewhat scold them for hitting other kids, and their three other guardians had congratulated them. So they had gone to Donald in retaliation – except that instead of trying to hit him, they had found an approach that was far more efficient, and that was to make fun of him and his speech impediment. Huey and Webby had discussed it with the bullies’ parents and the kids’ teacher, but that apparently hadn’t been enough.

“What did they do this time?” “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Donald mumbled. “But, Donny-” Della tried. “Della.” Webby gently interrupted her. “We’ll see about that at home, okay? I promise you both your uncles and I are not going to let those little hooligans keep doing that to you.”

Donald wiped his eyes with the cuff of his shirt, nodding silently. Della left Webby’s embrace to throw herself at her brother, giving him a tight hug that Webby joined in, soothingly petting Donald’s head. She knew how difficult it was for the duckling to properly express his emotions, even with the help of his therapist, and she didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about his issues in the middle of the park.

“But first, how about some ice cream?” the archaeologist offered with a smile, taking a step back.

Two pairs of eyes shone back at her, and two eager ducklings nodded their approval. Each of them took one of her hands, and the trio made their way towards’ the park’s food kiosk, near the entrance. Webby ordered for the twins and for herself: she knew their tastes by heart, and once again got it right, if the large smiles they gave her when she handed her their respective frozen treats was any indication.

“A triple chocolate sundae for Della, and a sea-salt parfait for Donald, there you go!” “Thank you, aunt Webby!” the twins said in unison.

They were about to bite into their desserts when they heard a loud scream, followed by a second, higher one. Startled, the three ducks turned their attention towards the source of the noise.

A small duck, mounted on roller skaters, was coming at them extremely fast, flailing his arms as if to slow down. Another one, covered in cardboard, was running after him and yelling him to stop; he was followed by a young chicken who was screaming what seemed to be instructions. Webby had barely noticed that Dewey and Huey were also running towards them, trying to catch up with the poor duckling, when all of a sudden-

CRASH!

Della was the fastest to react, hastily putting her sundae on a nearby table and making her way to where the skating duck, which had turned out to be their neighbours’ son Launchpad, had crashed, which was in another table, with Donald having been between them. The result was a mess: the table was broken and missed a leg, Launchpad was sitting on the ground and looking dizzy, and Donald was lying near the other duckling, his eyes closed and ice cream splattered all over his shirt.

“Donny!” she yelled, relieved, when her twin opened his eyes and waved at her before finding himself nearly strangled by the strength of Della’s sudden hug. “Are you okay?” “I can’t breathe-” “Are any of you injured?” the duck covered in cardboard asked, waddling towards Launchpad and helping him get on his feet. “Gizmoduck will-” “What is going on here?!”

Webby had been walking towards her nephew, but she turned around and faced a very surprised Louie. Huey and Dewey had reached her as well, both out of breath. Scrooge, comfortably sitting in his stroller, was also looking at the remnants of Launchpad’s crash, apparently very intrigued.

“I tried to teach LP how to roller skate.” Dewey sighed. “Didn’t turn out well.” “It never turns out well.” Louie winced, looking at Donald. Della was thoroughly inspecting him, and he looked very annoyed about it - which meant he was probably fine. “It’s a wonder he never injures himself.” Huey added. “Fenton and Gyro tried to stop him when he passed by us, but Gyro’s instructions were probably too complicated and Fenton was just screaming “halt, citizen, in the name of the law!”, so that might have panicked him even more.”

Gyro had taken a small pouch of his pocket and was looking at LP’s roller skates, either making sure they weren’t faulty or trying to improve them somehow, speaking to himself and sometimes giving a skating tip to Launchpad, who nodded at every single one of his tips. Della and Donald had sat down on a table, and were both digging into Della’s sundae, the girl looking fondly at her twin and sometimes glaring at Launchpad. Louie had taken Scrooge out of his stroller and handed him to Fenton: the kid loved toddlers and babies, and was very good at handling them, and Scrooge was very intrigued by the duckling’s homemade Gizmoduck armour.

Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby couldn’t help but smile fondly at the kids. They were a handful, they were hard to understand and sometimes hard to talk to, but they brought so much joy in their lives that they would never have it any other way.

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

Ahhhh this was so fun to write! Let me know if I should write more of this AU! hmu on twitter @ sarahnitr0 !!

[yourrealitybeyondtime]

My OC Descriptions!

Thank you so much for your positive responses, @dasjansel @corvid-moon @teeny-weeny-ducklings @technoxslayer360 @incoherentmoose and @cake-and-roses ! Since you guys asked, I made overall descriptions of my OCs and a bit of a synopsis. Sorry it's so long! I hope you enjoy it and please provide feedback!

This is a story that takes the "chosen ones" and fantasy tropes and turns them on their heads. The main character never accepts his role. The guy doesn't get the girl. There's no prophecy or guide. The populace thinks they're monsters, not heros. Their powers are explained scientifically. They have to help themselves emotionally so they can help others physically. It's just a bunch of young adults with problems getting into shenanigans, figuring out life's lessons, and maybe saving the world.

Name: Adrian

Age: 18

Height: 5'8"

Gender Identity: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Bisexual (Feminine leaning)

Race: Human

Ethnicity: German/Portugese

Neurodivergent: Narcissistic Personality Disorder

Active Power: Super strength

Passive Power: Truth (Ability to see through illusions, understands foreign languages, can tell when someone is lying, etc)

Activating Emotion: Courage

Associated Color: Yellow/Gold

Associated Element: Air/Wind

Description: This rich, all-American, high school boy has had a near perfect life growing up until a burglar breaks in his home. Thankfully, he stops the villain… by tackling him through an oak door! First hailed as a hero, his social life then gets thrown into disarray as this new found strength that seems to randomly come and go ends up earning him the reputation of a destructive menace. On top of that, he starts passing out and having "visions." Doctors say he's having seizures, but these visions feel more real than his life ever has, and it's always of the same place, a magic lab where he's the experiment! His visions keep getting worse until one day he fully wakes up in the lab and escapes, but now he can't go back home!

Adrian finds out he's stuck in the world of Mythos, the parallel Earth where all of our fantastical dreams come from, and he's not happy about it! And the locals don't seem happy about him either. Just wanting to get this over with and go home, Adrian faces more ugly reality in this fantasy world than he ever did in his privileged life in our world. With no guides or prophecies and regarded as a monster, Adrian has to figure out how to find others like himself to help him save the world and go back home.

Adrian is the self-proclaimed leader of the group. He's obnoxious, self-centered, and stubborn, and completely uninterested in helping unless it benefits him somehow. You are supposed to dislike him at first. He matures and becomes much more open-minded and accepting through the journey.

Initial Motivation: To get back home

Journey: Breaking out of your bubble is more important than staying in it, others suffer in a way different from you, you cannot speak for others, use privilege to help those that don't have privilege, attraction to anyone who shows femininity or doing female-assigned tasks/behaviors (being kind, showing emotions, being vulnerable) does not make you less of a man, the greatest strength is facing the truth

Name: Iola

Age: 20

Height: 6'2"

Gender Identity: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Race: Human

Ethnicity: Afro-Columbian

Neurodivergent: Anxiety

Active Power: Shield

Passive Power: Acceleration/Regeneration (Subconsciously heals others, requires focus if needs boost in power, ie, if someone is bleeding out. Can cause things to grow, but also age. Cannot remove poisons/curses, cannot bring people back to life, conditional)

Activating Emotion: Care

Associated Color: Pink/Orange

Associated Element: Earth/Wood

Description: Iola's life had been pretty quiet since she and her dad started a farm out in the wilderness, until a strange boy pops up who brings a whole lot of unwanted attention. She stumbles upon her own powers as she defends her home, and then sets out to find others with Adrian.

Iola is the mom of the group, both the good parts and the bad. She is kind and caring and helpful and also stressed af and sometimes pokes her nose where she's not welcome. It's suggested at first that she may be the Adrian's love interest, but, surprise! She only likes girls. She seems to have lost someone precious to her, and it's not her mom.

Initial Motivation: Believes in following destiny

Journey: Self-sacrifice is not always necessary, mediation is more important than appeasement, give without expectation of return, worthy of just existing, important to take care of self in order to take care of others, rest is a type of work and just as important as being active

Name: Emlyn

Age: 21

Height: 6'0"

Gender Identity: Androgynous

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Pansexual

Race: Human

Ethnicity: Northern Irish

Neurodivergent: Complex PTSD, Depression

Active Power: Chemical Reaction (Interaction of two or more substances that results in different substances. Can only initiate reaction, cannot control the outcome. Usually uses fire as a weapon, but can use others. Can also stop reaction in process, but cannot reverse.)

Passive Power: Psychic (Ability to sense when others are nearby, can receive symbolic messages through dreams, not prophetic)

Activating Emotion: Passion

Associated Color: Deep blood red

Associated Element: Fire

Description: Emlyn finally seems to have found a home at the inn he works at when two strangers pop up with trouble following them. He unleashes his powers to defend them, but his loved ones reject him when his secret is exposed. With nowhere else to go, he tags along with Adrian and Iola, the only people who seem to accept him how he is. However, he harbors a terrible secret that he's hellbent on taking to the grave, and it creates a division between himself and the others.

Emlyn is very quiet and reclusive. He doesn't talk much, and seems to be insistent on covering as much skin as possible at all times. He's not the angry or brooding type, but surprisingly polite and soft spoken. And surprisingly strong. However, he seems like he'll do anything to avoid using his powers, and almost seems scared of them. Adrian bullies him frequently, threatened by the fact that he's attracted to Emlyn. Emlyn doesn't seem to care, but eventually lashes out, showing a very different, vicious side.

Initial Motivation: Redemption

Journey: The past is the past, use mistakes to learn and teach, secrets create unnecessary burden, it's okay to have darkness, do not let negative emotions rule over logical decisions, take both capabilities and lack of into account, sometimes you just can't do what you want even if others can, you are not damned

Name: Liesel

Age: 82

Height: 5'0"

Gender Identity: Genderfluid

Pronouns: She/Her, He/Him, They/Them

Sexuality: Abrosexual

Race: Fairy/Changeling

Ethnicity: Jewish

Neurodivergent: Autistic

Active Power: Freedom (Ability to unlock anything, create doors/portals with conditions)

Passive Power: Choice (Can tell what someone has decided before they act on it, very useful in combat; can see what future "paths" can be taken but cannot tell outcomes)

Activating Emotion: Hope

Associated Color: Sky blue

Associated Element: Water

Description: Liesel has had to protect her people for decades, so she's more than a bit reluctant to leave with some humans to go on some adventure. When she realizes that she needs to, she goes with them, but completely mistrusts them.

Where Iola and Emlyn are more passive, Liesel is even more aggressive than Adrian. She challenges everything Adrian knows and really gets him to start looking at things differently. They develop a weird rivalry dynamic and eventually soften up with each other.

Initial Motivation: Protect her people

Journey: Evil does not originate from the same place, no group of people are all the same, there's a difference between honesty and being cruel

Name: Uri

Age: ??? (They tell a different number every time they're asked)

Height: 5'4"

Gender Identity: Agender

Pronouns: They/Them

Sexuality: Asexual

Race: Dragon

Ethnicity: Nigerian

Neurodivergent: N/A

Active Power: Light Manipulation (Can be used to make self or others invisible, create illusions, blind someone, etc. Does not actually makes things disappear/materialize, just makes it look like it.)

Passive Power: Compulsion (Redirects electrical impulses between neurons. Makes people think certain things, somewhat like intrusive thoughts. The more impulsive someone is, the easier they are to manipulate. Often accidentally shares own thoughts with others. Usually uses for persuasion among foes and to pull pranks among friends. Cannot read minds.)

Activating Emotion: Elation

Associated Color: Emerald green

Associated Element: Metal

Other: Disabled/Born without wings

Description: Uri's just minding their own business, napping on top of their treasure trove when some adventurers break in. Those same adventurers open that weird lock contraption they've been trying to open for the last two centuries. Interesting. Rather than confronting the adventurers, Uri decides to join them in hopes of making sure their treasure doesn't get destroyed, to find some more, and to enjoy some chaos along the way.

Uri is confident, charasmatic, and devilishly handsome. They only care about their treasure, but slowly finds themself caring about the others.

Initial Motivation: To protect their treasure

Journey: Self-preservation includes helping others, happiness is worth going the long way for, people have different paths to the same goal and that's okay

Name: Oriana

Age: 19

Height: 5'6"

Gender Identity: Demigirl

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Race: Human?

Ethnicity: Cherokee

Neurodivergent: ADHD

Active Power: Sonic/Song

Passive Power: Empath (Ability to sense motives, can literally share emotions when making physical contact, can transfer powers between people)

Activating Emotion: Love (Both romantic and platonic)

Associated Color: White/Purple

Associated Element: Spirit/Aether

Other: Intersex

Description: Oriana has been waiting at the edge of the Ancient Forest for a long time. She doesn't remember why, but she knows she needs to guide five adventurers through the massive forest that covers half the world. For some reason, she's the only one who can survive traversing it.

Oriana is sweet and kind and too naive for her own good, having never been exposed to civilization or other people before. She seems to have a mind of a child, but has the wisdom and understanding of someone who has been alive for a very long time. Emlyn develops a crush on her due to her friendly and accepting nature and eventually confides in her. Their past is far more intertwined than either of them remember, and is the answer to why this is all happening.

Initial Motivation: Because she was asked to

Journey: Evil lives in everyone, purity is non-existent, be kind to those who "don't deserve it" without allowing self to be walked on, different facets of love

[whetstonefires]

fictober prompt #5: “Take what you need.”

“Take what you need,” Tim said, waving toward the tiny armory, and he probably shouldn’t have been surprised that the little tribe of assassins immediately started pushing and shoving to get at the best gear. It made sense to have his armory in an easily concealed recess when it was just for him; he hadn’t anticipated it being utilized as a weapons buffet for a small army.

He decided to let them sort that out amongst themselves. “No murder,” he directed, sinking into his chair, his hands already going a mile a minute over the keys as he checked all his systems for updates and alerts.

“We wouldn’t,” said one of them.

“Not each other,” said another, which Tim could tell by rhythm, but not by any difference in the sound.

A lot of people wouldn’t be treating them like people. Tim knew that. The impulse had been there for him, too, especially when the suspicious little face staring up at him in septuplicate had been that of someone he had never gotten along with, who had in fact consistently used his every moment of generosity or compassion against him.

But he couldn’t call himself Connor’s friend and not respect the rights of a bunch of clones who’d run away from their maker seeking independence.

If they turned out to be evil then he’d regret arming them, but he had a lot of sympathy for how naked they obviously felt without any means of self-defense, and under the circumstances that was a pretty decisive reason to arm them.

No major local Gotham issues developing he had to somehow balance this with, a relief. No signs of movement from the League as a whole, outside Talia’s personal staff who were definitely moving. No word from the family, either. Had the kids actually made it all the way here without raising any alerts?

He started digging.

“We’re ready,” said one of them, directly to Tim enough that it broke through his screening-out of their ongoing bickering. He looked over.

“None of you need high explosives,” he announced. “I don’t even carry those unless they’re specifically called for in a mission plan. None of you need any bombs, actually. Put all of those back.”

There was a lot of grumbling, but astonishingly they appeared willing to listen. He hadn’t even needed to invoke the specter of Bruce’s disapproval. New bickering started up as previous trades were declared invalid by those who’d received explosives they weren’t allowed to keep.

Tim was probably very poorly adjusted, six year olds squabbling over grenades shouldn’t be adorable. It was increasingly obvious that either Talia had been educating these telepathically, or letting them out of the tubes for training of some kind. He was used to people whose ages didn’t match their bodies, and these didn’t quite give that vibe, but they weren’t normal, either.

The little boy who’d told him they were done kept staring at Tim; he didn’t seem to be carrying any bombs. He had one of Tim’s bandoliers draped across his chest; it was cinched as tight as it would go and the bottom edge still hung against his upper thigh.

“Yeah?” Tim asked, after the silent staring had gone on long enough.

“You’re helping.”

“Yeah?” Tim said, because that wasn’t an answer or a question. “You asked.”

Well, one of them had. They’d all been dressed alike before they started putting on his stuff, he didn’t know which one had called out wait, when he’d pretended he was going to leave them to fight off eight adult ninjas on their own, without weapons.

He’d half-expected someone to call his bluff, or else give up theirs, but the tone of that wait hadn’t been that at all. It had just been.

Well. He’d turned around.

“You brought us to your home.” Did the League disincentivize asking questions? Yes, they did, come to think of it. Damian had avoided asking them too, though it was less obvious when papered over with that much bluster and arrogance and homicide.

“My place was closest,” said Tim. It had been literally a block away.

“You haven’t called anyone else.”

There wasn’t a nice way to say that if they were a trap, he’d prefer it only caught him.

“Do you want me to?” he asked instead.

The little spokesman slowly shook his head. “He’d come. Wouldn’t he.”

Bruce? No. Damian. “Robin?” Tim asked.

He still wasn’t happy that the name belonged to the demon brat now, but the little horde had responded to ‘Damians’ when he rallied them after they put the League hunters down, and he didn’t know how uncomfortable it would make them to have it applied to just the original. Assuming he was the original, who even knew. He could be version twelve.

The spokesman nodded.

“You want to avoid him?” Then why come to Gotham?

The little spokesman shrugged.

“We don’t want to see him yet,” said another boy over his shoulder, one of the ones who’d strung half a dozen grenades on one of Tim’s belts and had now replaced them with smoke bombs.

“Yes,” said the spokesman, whose nickname was already starting to seem ironic.

Tim addressed that. “Okay, and by the way what do I call you? I can’t just keep saying ‘Damians.’”

The Damians, all of them now fully armed and without visible bombs, clumped up briefly for a silent conference. Were they psychic? He hoped they weren’t psychic.

The names they gave when they were done hopefully whispering were just ordinal numbers in Farsi. More horribly, they weren’t contiguous.

“Will more of you be joining us later?” Tim asked, and got ‘no’ from the spokesman in the bandolier, whose number was Sizdahum, thirteenth.

This was not the time and Tim was not the person to compromise their stoicism on that, so he moved on without comment. If they needed to leave Gotham again to avoid meeting Damian before they were ready, that was acceptable to the collective. Yes, they would welcome his help making a satisfactory entrance. Yes, they realized making a good impression on Batman was at least as important as making one on Robin.

“And now?” asked smoke bomb kid, numbered Haftum, seventh. He was the one who moved the most, was hardly ever still, in contrast to Sizdahum who didn’t seem to move at all without a specific reason. It was going to be a struggle learning to identify them all by cues like this before they used or rearranged some of the equipment he was using to tell them apart for now; Tim suspected they’d forgive some errors.

He shut down most of the processes on his computer, though he left it on in case of any important updates, and turned his back to it. Folded his hands, his elbows propped on his swivel-chair’s arms. He was slightly taller than they were even sitting down.

“Now we plan. Our options are limited, especially if we want to avoid Robin. My defenses here are good against intruders, but if they don’t want you alive they can just destroy the building.”

He looked expectantly at the attentive row of pint-size Damians. Tactical information please, first graders.

“We’re just spares,” scoffed Haftum.

“They won’t hold back,” said Chihaarum, fourth. He was the lowest number in the room, unless you counted Tim, whose number was of course three.

“Ra’s would prefer me alive, but not enough to make it easy for me, and these are Talia’s people. I have a much better-secured bunker some way out of town. If we can shake off pursuit I can access a van that can get us all there. If necessary, I have contacts that can help with extraction to a secure location.” Kon and Bart would be 100% willing to be called in on this. Tim would rather not risk them, but they couldn’t possibly be the intended targets if this was a trick, so it was better than calling the family, and he wasn’t going to let these kids get killed for his paranoia.

“Objections, concerns?” None were volunteered. Tim could enjoy working with such a professional team if it weren’t so creepy. He initiated system lockdown. “We’d better move out.”

They nodded, and Shishum took point out the roof exit once its location was indicated. Tim let him, because they’d apparently made it halfway around the world without his supervision and he remembered how annoying it had been trying to get adults to take him seriously and having his competence utterly dismissed on the basis of his age.

Tim did insist on being the first one to step out of cover once they were all on the roof. No one seemed to be holding any of the sniper posts that could target his roof, so he motioned the kids after him. Counted them off, 4-6-7-9-11-13-14.

“Chahardahum,” he whispered, identifying the boy by the oversized Kevlar vest he’d thrown on. “Stay lower, we’re trying for stealth. And can I call you Chadah?” He wanted to respect their individuality even if it was numbers, but four syllables, three of them fairly long, wasn’t ideal for this sort of situation, especially when it sounded so similar to Chiharum that no mumbling could be allowed.

The boy named Fourteenth rolled his shoulders in a shrug, then nodded. He didn’t like the idea, clearly, but he accepted it.

“Great. Thanks. Let’s go.” Red Robin took off over the roofs, leading his trail of ducklings and keeping an eye on what their comfortable jumping range was as he tried to plan a sneaky route that was physically possible.

The order they fell into was unexpected, with Shishum at the front instead of a flank and Sizdahum bringing up the rear, and he resisted the urge to give directions about who should be where. They knew their own skillsets better than he did, micromanaging was not going to help here.

Of course, with the size of his current forces, any managing he did would be micro.

[kristie-rp]

4. it goes like this

Who: Raven Nifircadu What: a novel of character; growing up, or not.

It goes like this:

The first time she uses her magic, it’s an accident. It’s a prickling sensation on her fingertips, a tingling sensation against her lips like the colour that is starting to be popular in the upper echelons of society, and her whispered intent brings the horse that might have trampled the neighbours beloved cat to a complete standstill. The hose looks startled, and so does the rider, blinking at her as she scoops the cat off of the dirt track.

The cat purrs and rubs its’ head against her chin, and she laughs in delight, pleased to have saved the critter from suffering, and the rider the trauma of murdering an innocent animal. It happens, sometimes – has happened before, to the ducklings born last spring to the blonde family down the street, as she remembers with unfortunate clarity – but that doesn’t mean it is welcome.

So Raven saves the cat by accident, and the word stop tastes like something minty and powerful on her lips, and she thinks to herself, this is something I enjoy, the way she enjoys a story from the local teller or accounts of lore from anywhere but home.

This is something I can learn.

-

“Thank you!” she exclaims, a little too excited. The bookseller is a man with red hair and eyeglasses – or maybe it’s actually the woman with soft-looking brown skin, dressed in a servants attire on the seat at his side.

The woman smiles, and it is less soft than the mans, something sharp in it. “I only ask that you don’t struggle through it all on your own. Myself or her highness would be happy to help if necessary – or there are other experts. Other magically inclined individuals.”

Raven runs a hand through her dark hair, dragging it back towards the braid the breeze has freed it from. “There are others? I mean – of course there are others, there wouldn’t be a book, otherwise. But there are people who understand that are – accessible? To me?”

The womans smile sharpens, somehow. For a servant, she looks almost regal – if she is a servant of the queen as she claims, then perhaps, Raven thinks, perhaps she learned the expression from her majesty herself. “Come by the castle and see for yourself what we know,” she suggests.

Raven is perhaps too eager to do so.

-

The first ritual she completes is almost a failure. This other person – a woman with no colour to her at all aside from the raised scars Raven pretends she doesn’t see when she loans her a cloak – hums something when Raven goes over it all, and suggests that she ensure the blood at the corners is fresh on application.

And the woman – Lady Sarina, she was introduced as, though Raven privately doubts someone so subdued is nobility here – is right. Raven substitutes the days old blood from the calf draining done by the butcher for something freshly wrung from a chicken set for execution anyway. The bloodletting is quick, and with the blood painted into the right places and the incantation successfully invoked, Raven actually applauds the flaring light at each corner. There’s a gleam to the air after the fact, a blend of the four colours that had manifested: red and violet and blue and a vibrant orange, all twisted together in an enchanting, shimmering mess.

“It’s a protection spell,” she tells her mother with a grin, when she’s explaining it later that day. The aging woman shakes her head in bemusement, but for all her scepticism, she cannot contest the gleam in the corner of her eye whenever she’s home. “And fair health, for good measure. There is a spell for fortune, but it’s trickier. The money would have to come from somewhere,” Raven explains, and goes on and on and on.

The possibilities of magic don’t really have an end, she’s learning. The real magic is in the intent – and even before she learned of the magic in her words, she’d been told she was wilful. This is just using it.

-

It goes like this:

Raven had been discouraged from using summoning spells, despite the fact that everyone she spoke to knew them to be useful. Intella had had a host of warnings to offer about the dangerous nature of dealing with tricky immortals. December had said something about the fallibility of traps. Rikku had been the one to remind the group of the fact that demons themselves were physically dangerous, and should not be dealt with with magic alone, lest the spells lend them power.

“Not to mention,” Sarina had added, “it’s quite rude to drag them from their homes to answer some questions you could answer yourselves, were you willing to do the legwork.” She’d left not long after that, disappeared to wherever it is Sarina goes when she isn’t being mysterious and proud and generally pretty confusing.

(She both seems delighted that Raven is happy to talk magic, and annoyed as well. It is as though she doesn’t want to discuss the thing they have in common all the time – but Raven knows where to find others to talk about human things with, and Sarina simply isn’t on the list.)(This is at least in part because she knows Sarina doesn’t actually seem entirely at ease in their small city.)

So Raven has been discouraged from summoning spells, but apparently someone else wasn’t, because a thing called Dante is standing on the ashes of most of their homes and grinning like a lunatic, and December and Intella both have called the man a demon.

“That’s not very fair, is it,” Raven says. She’s fairly sure the horses got out; if they didn’t, she is going to have a Problem with this Dante person. “How come no one gave whoever summoned him the speech?”

Rikku doesn’t give her a look, because she is much too professional at this hunting business to do so, but Paimon does. Paimon, apparently, is a demon who walks the earth. Raven had thought for a long time he was nothing more than a particularly hot-headed neighbour, one with a tiny wisp of a wife fading away on a sick bed while he struggled and failed to raise their children.

(The wife died in the fires, perhaps ironically, she learns. Dante led to her death, but technically it was Paimon’s own flame that consumed her, used in a bid to get the invader out of their home, their city, their land. Dante left the city, and not much else.)

“This is a very delicate process,” Paimon says again, hammering the point home. Raven does not roll her eyes, because she is a grown woman and she can pretend to be the respectful person her mother wants her to be at least once before she passes. “And dangerous to you mortals. You will be reborn, of course, I can promise you will be reborn,” and Raven wonders what that faraway look in his angry, burning, viciously violet eyes means. “I cannot guarantee you will live.”

Intella agrees because she feels she is obligated; besides, her primary contribution has been finding the ritual itself, and bringing it to their attention. The others have less to risk, or so they feel; Rikku and December have responsibilities, and Paimon was never going to back out if his bride was in danger or gone. Dante is too powerful for their usual measures of containment, but an old demon rite can lock anyone in the pit, and it takes five to complete it. Someone of demonic descent, celestial blood, immortal blood, mortal, and magical: Paimon, Rikku (for reasons Raven has not gotten a chance to ask, either, not without getting a capital-L-Look from the foreign sword master), Queen December, Intella, and Raven herself.

“Your part is the most dangerous,” Intella had said to Raven. It was between hours, between the peak of the full moon and the fall of dusk, long after Paimon checked yet again that everyone involved was in agreement, but only shortly before they had to begin the arrangements for the ritual itself. They need to lead Dante to a specific place in the city, a nexus along the old ley lines Paimon had shown them maps for without citing his sources, and the ritual will serve two purposes. It will draw the demon to a place where the five of them can be sure the magic will do what they want it to, and it will serve as a demon’s trap.

“I know,” Raven had said, and smiled, perhaps a little grimly, but mostly in excitement. She’d only been fairly young, after all, perhaps thirty years old. She was still excited about the possibilities of magic, and what it could do for her, and for the world.

-

She should never have been alone at any point, but she is, the others caught up in sentiment and the chaos of their own plan falling apart.

Except, Raven knows doesn’t know her own limits. She hasn’t learned them, not from Intella’s input or Sarina’s, and she never will. Not in this lifetime. She knows what her role is, and she sets her will to completing it.

And she does – but the final act is synchronous with Dante burning her alive from the inside out, and her soul is dragged down through the nexus she was not able to escape.

-

It goes like this:

Falling, plunging, spiralling darkness streaked with flame and ash and soot and burning –

Screaming, high and sharp, constant, never ending; where the fall ends, the pain begins, and it does not stop, won’t stop, not for anybody, not for –

Pain, no, agony – boredom makes even the kindest people dangerous, and Dante was never kind and she is stuck, trapped, imprisoned –

I can promise you will be reborn, the King without a crown had sworn, and yet she is here for an eternity of stabbing and burning and fear and torment and misery and loneliness broken only by him and his glittering golden skin and his high, cutting laughter –

The magic had tingled, once, breaking her out of a reverie of almost. Now, the tingling starts in her bones.

If she holds her breath and tries to enjoy it, to chase the feeling of her magic staying with her when everything else fell apart, it burns.

-

It goes like this:

Humans do not remember their past lives, not unless they are the toys or experiments of a bored divine entity. The gods are immortals, and they are bored.

Somewhere in Europe, the Industrial Revolution is remaking the world. Raven is lying awake in a bed in what will be the Middle East, terrified of the nightmares formed by her memories of the place between lives.

It’s a loophole, and not a pleasant one. She does not know if Dante has cursed her or tainted her in his decades of torment, because she cannot recall it without her body aching in all too familiar ways, cannot think of it objectively past the ghost of the pain as fresh as the original wound – she cannot remember for sure whether or not he did anything to make this last. Her magic simmers in her veins and for all she tries to figure it out, to determine exactly what has been done to her, none of the spells she tries produce the ring of a magical curse. So it is either demonic or not a curse, and she can do nothing either way.

Raven gets older, and the pains become – not easier to live with, because they are a reminder of something she should not remember, but something she is used to. They get worse when it is hot, and it is often hot, in the place she calls home for the first twenty-something years of her second life. She is grateful to leave it behind.

She is less grateful to find herself at deaths’ door less than a year after.

She fights off her would-be killer by spilling their blood herself, and she does not know what drives her to it, but she weaves a protection spell into the earth where she would camp using his blood. The air simmers in shades of red and violet, blue and orange, and she almost smiles to see it.

She doesn’t do much of that, this time around.

She gets older, and while she can look after herself and fend off attackers, there is a constant fear in the back of her mind. She can learn all the healing spells she likes, but the fact remains that if her body continues to wear, it will start to be less effective, less able to respond when she needs it.

At some point, she hears about Elizabeth Bathory, an old Hungarian noble who did the unthinkable to maintain her looks. It’s a fools legend, or at least that’s what Raven thinks, but she has the evidence that blood is powerful in the air around her more often than not, woven into the ground. And human blood – well. She drained some from her would-be-killer, and even when only mixed with something else, it produces a stronger ward than anything she has cast before.

Elizabeth Bathroy bathed in the blood of virgins to stay beautiful. Raven doesn’t give a damn about her beauty, natural though it is. What she cares about is longevity and immortality, anything she can do to avoid experiencing that in-between place again.

-

It goes like this:

Experimentation can take a lifetime to bear results. Raven just needs a night and a sickly child, slated for death regardless of her interference, to learn enough to know she won’t be sharing this ritual with anyone else.

The things we do to avoid our personal demons, to avoid whatever we are afraid of, indeed.

[rewrittenkoomie]

“That’s not the wind howling” Chapter 1.

Dealing with snow was difficult, I don’t even remember why I moved into this little honkey-tonk town to begin with.

Oh, that’s right, my folks BEGGED me to come and live nearby so they could visit their grandchild more easily. It wasn’t all bad though, the view was nice and the mountains kept the worst of the weather at bay, plus it was a pretty rural area.

There were Farms nearby that my son could visit and learn about various animals and the farmers themselves were friendly enough to let him run all his energy while playing with the foals, or even letting him pet the hatchlings. He was fascinated by the small critters that would flow and ebb around his ankles, and was ecstatic when a horse would trot up calmly to meet with him.

Personally, I loved farm animals too, but being so incredibly lazy, I knew that raising them was a  task larger than I was willing to deal with. My five year-old son would come home with stories and beg to keep some of the smaller animals, most notably chicks and ducklings. He’d been begging for weeks now, ever since the other kids all got to play with and even keep at least one pet from their parent’s farms.

His eyes had been huge, begging me silently for the opportunity to have a small life that he could coddle and nurture all of his own.

“Now, you know animals are not toys. If you have one, you have to take care of it.” He nodded emphatically, His dark brown curls bouncing off his forehead and tumbling with each movement. “You know they must be Fed multiple times daily, they need to have their area cleaned up, and you need to play with them. Plus, IF,” and I stopped, Hands on my hips, Tilting my head to drive the point home.

“IF I get a pet for you, you will be in charge of it, anything it does wrong will be your fault. You have to train it to be good. Okay?” My son’s eyes danced, his wide grin so hopeful and bright.

I didn’t stand a chance.

“I’ll be really good momma! I’ll give it baths and play with it and even take it for walks, jus’ like Genny from the Holted’s farm does with the Lambs!” He was dancing in place, so excited. He didn’t seem to care if I was getting him a dog, cat, foal or even a mouse, he just wanted a pet. Something he could nurture and be proud of.

I sighed in defeat, “Okay, but it’ll have to wait until I can talk to the farmers nearby to see if any of them are willing to let you have one of their animals okay?” He squealed with delight, tackling my legs and hugging them tight. ��THANK YOU MOMMA! I’LL BE THE BESTEST PET OWNER EVER!”

He then turned and ran out the door to plow through the snow I had yet to shovel from the walkway.

Shortly after he ran off to somewhere, most likely to one of the farms that he loved to wander around, I was outside and shoveling the drifts back up to the yard. It was hard work, using muscles that I didn’t normally work out.

I was just a simple single mother, working as a receptionist at a company about three hours’ drive from home into the city round-trip. It was pretty easy work, seeing as it’s all I’d been doing for the last decade. I had moved into the Rural area to be closer to my folks, plus the classes for my son were smaller and The housing was pretty darn cheap. Even more so when my folks owned the house, and land, and let us live in the mother-in-law house. All I was required to pay was the utilities for my portion.

It was a sweet deal, and after the nasty break up with the father of my son, it was a haven. I could relax and not have to worry about what that man was doing to our child while I was working. I was also getting more time to spend with my son. He seemed to flourish with all the nature around us.

I had just finished the walkway to the garage that sat next to our little home when a big Red pickup truck pulled up next to me and rolled his window down.

“Hey there Teddy, how’s it going?” Theodore was a Farmer from a few houses down, which was an average of 5 miles away, he came to visit occasionally since he met my son and preferred to be called Teddy. His Farm in particular housed larger animals. Cows, Bulls, Horses and even a few Ostriches, I still didn’t know why or how he came across those huge birds.

“I’m all good ‘Belle, how’s Gunter?” His cocky smile always made me feel warm inside.

Theodore was one of the few Bachelors still living nearby, and was a total package deal. He was tall, around six foot five, and had thick black hair. His pale green eyes seemed to sparkle when he talked about his two great passions his farm, or food. He had the traditional Farmers’ Tan and was built like a brick house. He swore he had the money for the ‘Fancy machines’ but was convinced that they made more problems than they fixed, so almost everything was done the Old-fashioned way with sweat and muscle.

He did have a couple of four-wheelers for feeding his animals and even took my son out to go meet the herds once or twice.

“Gunter’s been begging for a pet again, and I just couldn’t say ‘no’ one more time.” I sighed as Theodore chuckled.

“’E’s a good boy! A pet would do him some good, mebbie settle ‘im down some.” I pursed my lips and shot him a look of disbelief. He just continued to smirk, then changed the subject.

“Anyway, I was wonderin’ if you’d be so kind as to feed a poor bastard for the’ night?” He took on a pleading look, clasping his hands out the window as if in prayer. I sighed again, “And here I thought you liked me cuz I’m pretty!” I giggled as his face lit up.

“Just help me with the driveway so you can park and You’re mor’n welcome to stick around.” He whooped and backed up his truck quickly, then tumbled out into the crisp snow after he’d parked on the side of the road. He quickly rummaged through the truck bed and pulled out a sturdy snow shovel and began on one end of the driveway while I started at the other.

Within the hour the whole driveway had been cleared and salted just as more snow decided to fall.

“I wonder which farm Gunter decided to wander off to this time?” I wondered out loud, Teddy shrugged and dusted off his jeans as we entered the mud room to the house.

“I’s Sure he didn’t go my way, I woulda’ spotted ‘im and brought ‘im back with me.” Teddy slipped his work boots off and we both walked into the house, rosy cheeked and sweaty.

I pulled off my jacket and rested it on the nearby chair and pulled my cell phone out of the top pocket. There were no new messages, but I sent out a text to the local Farmers asking if they’d seen my son and to let me know if they needed me to come get him. In the meantime, Teddy settled down at the kitchen counter, practically draped over the stool. He sniffed the air, drinking in the scent of the pot roast I had prepped hours ago as it bubbled in the crockpot. I smirked as he hummed to himself.

Shaking my head I pulled out the potatoes I had peeled and boiled earlier and set to mashing them. Teddy always seemed to pick the days I was making a good-old fashioned lunch or dinner to ‘pop’ over and invite himself in. I didn’t really mind, seeing as he was a gentleman and always tried to help out with things that needed fixing.

He’d helped fix the roof last summer and even helped with prepping the garden back in spring so that I could actually start growing something. I’d done the work of planting, but getting the posts in the ground and the boxes in place? All Teddy’s handiwork.

“Would you please grab one of the Pie tins from the Pantry? And the smaller bag of flour too please!” Teddy may have been relaxing, but he was quick to react when I asked for something. Soon enough I’d had all the potatoes mashed and the pie tin waiting for me on the counter.

Teddy stretched and touched the ceiling with his fingertips as he sauntered into the living room. I blushed lightly, since his stretch had pulled his T-shirt from his jeans and exposed a part of his sculpted lower back. He was deliciously handsome and Fit, if only a hunk like him was interested in a flabby wench like myself. I sighed, dashing that thought from my mind.

No man in a rural area wanted a pre-started family, especially with the kind of baggage we brought to the table.

As I put together the Apple pie, the timer on the pot roast went off and I opened it up to check how it was doing. Teddy had turned on the Radio to one of the local rock stations. I tasted the stock from around the roast and cut into the meat, checking how soft it was. It was perfect.

The potatoes had been put in the oven with some garlic and butter sauce to cook a bit more and the pie was in the smaller oven browning to perfection. I was very satisfied with myself, in less than a year, I’d learned to cook some damn-fine meals. It didn’t hurt that a lot of the women around the area traded recipes all the time. Adding to that, quite a few of the farmers would barter meat and eggs for veggies and fruit too.

My contribution was that since I went into town so often, they would trade me staple goods for exotic things from town, or fetching packages from the post office for them when I was on my way home. I loved to bring home bulk items that I could then later trade for some fresh eggs or milk.

I pulled the Mashed potatoes from the Oven to cool on the rack and arranged the Pot roast and Its fixings on a plate. When I turned to start setting up the table, there was a knock at the door. It sounded almost urgent and I wiped my hands on a towel I kept on the oven handle.

Teddy heard the rapping on the door and had emerged from the Living room, brows knit together and frowning slightly. He stood behind me as I opened up the mudroom door and unlocked the outer door. Teddy’s arms were crossed and he leaned on the doorframe as the outer door opened to a harried looking Farmer from three houses down the road to the north.

“Fredrick, what’s wrong?” I was surprised, normally Fredrick wore a sort of soft half-smile. Like he was privy to a secret and was never going to tell anyone.

His pure white hair was sticking up on all directions and he had an almost wild look to his soft brown eyes. “It’s Gunter,” He croaked, and my body went cold. Ice seemed to shoot up my spine as my stomach tightened.

“W-what about Gunter?” I whispered, Fredrick ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier. Fredrick refused to look into my eyes, and instead stared at Teddy.

“Fredrick?” I was scared, and being ignored wasn’t helping. I looked to Teddy, who was frowning and looked almost murderous. It was chilling to see the fire in his eyes, as if he was going to break the first thing he touched.

“Teddy?” I was cautious, I had seen my Ex-husband with that look, and when I’d bothered him, He’d tried to break me to soothe his anger.

Unfortunately for him, I refused to break.

Teddy clutched at his shirt and took a deep breath, leaning his head back as his eyes closed. Just as rapidly, he stepped forward and I stepped back. I pushed myself against the wall in the mud room, trying to keep from aggravating Teddy. He shoved his feet in his boots and threw on his jacket.

“Teddy.” I breathed his name, my chest tight. His shoulders where stiff and he stood with both hands fisted at his sides.

“’Belle,” He started, voice rough with what sounded like fury, “I’ll try t’ be back ‘fore sundown.” He strode forward, Fredrick rushing to his own Deep green SUV. Teddy practically stomped up to his Red pickup and seemed to rip the door open. I’d followed them outside, where the snow was gently falling around us, almost surreal.

Once he’d gotten into the vehicle, I tapped on the glass of his driver’s window. He took a moment to breathe, then rolled it down to face me. His eyes seemed to blaze, sharper and brighter than before the green even more vibrant than before.

“What happened Teddy? Please tell me!” I begged, Gunter was my baby, He’d been a complete surprise to my-then-husband and I.

I’d been elated to prove the doctors wrong, as I’d been told I was infertile only a few months prior, but my husband had been furious. He hadn’t wanted a child at all. Not only had Gunter proven the doctors wrong about my fertility, but they proved them wrong about my ability to carry at all. I had carried him successfully until two weeks before my due date, the day my husband first started beating me.

It had been a shock to have the man I’d married hit me so hard. Sure, we’d argued a bit, but that was normal and we’d always found a common ground and made amends. Something about having a child drove my husband crazy and he’d finally snapped.

We’d been arguing about where we’d move to after he’d gotten his promotion. He wanted to move to the East coast, but I was adamant about moving to the Midwest. At the time we’d lived a bit between the two. I wanted to be closer to family, both his and mine, and He wanted to start living more ‘in-style’.

I’d refused to move with him to the East coast, and He hit me. I was so shocked that I had frozen on the floor where I landed and just stared at him.

It had taken me only a week to decide to leave him the first time.

We’d made up for it later and had struggled to cope, but in the end All I asked of him, was to leave us alone. I didn’t want his money, or his name, just the child we’d created together. He agreed and signed the paperwork that released me from the nightmare of being his Wife.

Teddy was tense, and I thought he was going to lash out at me for getting in his way. He moved his left arm quickly and I flinched back, anticipating a smack, but it never came. I had closed my eyes reflexively, but cracked them open to see Teddy with his arm held out, a strained look on his face and the green of his eyes pale again. He gripped the steering wheel with his right hand so hard that It creaked, and he gently held his left hand to my face.

“ ‘Belle, I will never, ever hurt you on purpose.”  He practically growled as his hands felt rough against my skin but he rubbed my cheek so gently, as If I was made of spun glass, just waiting to fall apart. Tears were welling from my eyes and I was on the verge of bawling, I just wanted to know what was happening to my son!

As if he heard my mental cry, he cupped my chin once more, and gently pulled me to look up into his eyes. The green had lit up once more, and seemed to search inside mine for something.

“I’m sorry ‘Belle.” He whispered, “I cain’t tell you what you want to know.” He took a deep breath, releasing my chin. He then leaned against the doorframe and propped himself out the window to kiss me.

His lips were softer than I’d imagined, and the rough feel of his stubble was almost delightful, making warmth spread down into my core. My hands reached up and I took a step forward wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in deeper. He groaned against my mouth and reached out again with his left hand and mixing his fingers into my wavy blonde hair, his right keeping him steady In the window. I stood there like a statue, reveling in the feel of his warm mouth and dancing tounge.

Suddenly he parted from me, and groaned while shaking his head. I was blinking, still overwhelmed with everything and in complete disbelief. Teddy just kissed me.

“’’Belle, stay here. Please.” His eyes still blazed, but there was some gold creeping in, he looked almost feral. I nodded dumbly, not thinking at all.

“Don’t open the door after sunset, and do’n open it ‘till after Sunrise.” I was transfixed on Teddys’ face, as I nodded again, and I opened my mouth to question why, when he shook his head once and grimaced.

“I cain’t tell you darlin’, not yet.” His hands were shaking, and he finally put his truck into gear. I stepped back, finally realizing I’d been standing there longer than a few minutes and shivered.

“I’ll tell you what I can, when I can. Jus’ …sit tight, I’ll find yer boy and git him home safe. That’s a Promise!” He pulled out of the driveway and directed himself northward, to Fredrick’s farm. The Truck squealed in protest at changing gears so quickly, from reverse to drive and then being pushed to dive through the fresh snow at a high speed.

I stood there shivering until his truck faded from sight into the woods that surrounded my home. It was a few moments before I turned to go back inside, and by then the pie I’d been preparing was ruined, and I flipped the oven off. The pot roast was now dry and even the potatoes were cold.

So much for Dinner.

I was still in a state of shock, Gunter was God-knows-where in some sort of trouble, and Teddy had kissed me. Between the Elation of that kiss and the Fear of losing my only child, I was frozen. I stumbled into the living room, ignoring the food or the mess it caused in favor of hopefully making sense of what was going on.

I knew when I had moved in only two years ago, that this town was small and had its oddities. My folks had always told me to check the eaves for bats, make sure that there were no animal tracks around the house and to water the toadstools that circled the small house I lived in.

The bats and the tracks I could understand, but the mushrooms? I didn’t question my folks, and did as they said. Once or twice I found coyote tracks and raccoon tracks around the house and showed Gunter how to distinguish them from one another.

He was practically a natural at picking up practical knowledge like that. He even went so far as to have someone teach him to make plaster molds of the more interesting prints he found and asked to keep them on a shelf in his room. To this day he had well over a dozen tracks, some canine, a few feline, and a few deer tracks too.

I was still shivering.

I wasn’t cold anymore, but I couldn’t stop shivering. There was something my mother had told me before they’d suggested Gunter and I move out to live with them.

“There’s quite a few tall tales around this little town, most of them having to do with werewolves. I know it seems far-fetched, but these folks take those tales seriously.”

Werewolves, was Teddy insinuating that they were real? That Gunter had been caught up with them? Or did something terrible happen and no one wanted to be the bearer of Bad news? I had started scratching my arms in a nervous fit, only realizing I was doing so when I felt warm liquid running down the rest of my arm.

I’d scratched right through my skin, leaving me bleeding. I swore to myself,

“This isn’t getting me anywhere!” I stomped over to the bathroom and tended to my arm. Once that was finished, I still felt the need to be ‘doing’ something.

Teddy had been pretty adamant about me staying indoors once the Sun set. And a quick glace outside had me guessing that I had about an hour before I needed to close myself in for the night.

Quickly, I put on my thickest sweater and leggings, hoping that I could make it outside and back before the stipulated time. I rushed through the mud room and yanked on my knee-high boots a colorful scarf, and my parka jacket.

After thinking about it, I returned to the living room and reached up to the doorway where the Remington 700 was perched just for safety’s sake. I checked the barrel from the loading mechanism, and it looked all clear. Pausing by the closet nearest the door to the mudroom, I rifled through the jackets until I reached the back wall where the dial and handle was visible for the safe where I kept the ammunition.

A quick turn of the dial and the safe was open. I only took five bullets from the box and loaded them into the Rifle. After which I shut the safe and locked it back into place.

Slinging the rifle over my shoulder carefully, I headed out the front door.

I had checked the doors to the house and had locked both of them. The mud room was never locked, to shelter people from the cold or heat depending on the season. If Gunter came home and everything was locked, he wouldn’t be in danger staying in the mud room.

I turned to the Road in front of the house, took a deep breath, and stepped beyond the circle of dormant Toadstools around the house. It was going to take time, but If I walked, I was less likely to miss hearing screaming or shouts. I had started my trek facing North. Since that was where the men had run off to, that’s the most likely area that Gunter was.

I quickly realized, no matter how motivated I was, I was not physically ready to make this trek. I was breathing heavily, and sweating terribly. My knees and feet had already started to hurt, and when I glanced behind me, I couldn’t see my house anymore. The sun, however, was just touching the skyline. I was just getting close to the neighboring farmstead.

The Nylors home was ranch-style and honestly very pretty, if a bit more rustic than I liked. I trudged up the shoveled walkway and stopped to catch my breath before I attempted to knock on the door. Their Mud room was much larger, and much nicer than mine, but then again, they had a larger family and had also been living here much longer.

I finally found my breath and knocked on the house door after stomping out the snow from my boots. I heard some scuffling, and then heard a creak as someone stepped up to the door.

“Who ‘dere?” came the gruff voice of Pa Nylor, The Patriarch of the family. He was the oldest living person in the town and was also the only person who could handle any animal regardless of its temper.

[reviewkidoodle]

How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt

Always committing to doing the things I say I’m going to do–in this case “barn quilt all the things”–I extended my collaboration with Buffalo-based designer Whitney Crispell of Local Color Quilts and made another totally crushworthy piece of outdoor art. Y’all! Still addicted to the quilts. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

Last summer, I created a colorful design to produce a 50″ x 50″ modern barn quilt for DIY Network; the new one was a gift for mom for Mother’s Day (and I delivered it yesterday in advance of her seeing this post; it was a smash). The original barn quilt (def the OG, or OGBQ) has officially seen all 4 seasons–fall, winter 1, and winter 2 were especially perfecto–and I knew reusing paints from the OG palette would be nice for my parent’s house which is surrounded by trees and accessorized by gardens blossoming with every color in the rainbow.

The timing of the project also aligned perfectly with Bethany of Reality Daydream’s #WoodArtChallenge, and it’s so fun being part of the long list of talented bloggers who put their creative skills to work and designed their own square-shaped wooden artwork. See what others made at the bottom of this post.

Barn quilts are remarkably simple to make, and aside from a saw and a drill, all you’ll really need is patience and a few supplies:

1x6x8 board

18″x18″ piece of plywood

circular saw

ruler/tape measure

straight edge

pencil

(12) 3/4″ screws

paint samples

painter’s tape

paint brushes

polyurethane/weatherproofing

hanging hardware

The wood I used was white spruce harvested and planed from trees that fell on my parents’ property. Assuming you’re buying your own lumber, you can easily make a barn quilt the same size out of one 1x8x6-ft board. To determine the measurement of my square, I stacked three 1×8 boards side by side and measured them as 21.5″ wide. To match the height, I trimmed the three boards to be an even 21.5″ in length. Pushed together, they form a perfect square. Use a piece of plywood cut into an 18″x18″ square, and 3/4″ screws to assemble the barn quilt from the backside with no fewer than 4 screws hitting each board. Attach the hanging hardware after you’re done painting (you’ll want this baby to sit flush on the table, and not be wobbling all over):

Whitney has a real eye for designing barn quilts, not just fabric quilts. The colors! Her refreshing take on heirloom quilting patterns! They’re familiar, while being completely reconcepted with consideration for modern design (and my love of the rainbow). I should point out that she’s available for hire if you want your own custom design too.

This particular design uses a 6×6 grid as a guide for painting, and dividing the face of your barn quilt into this same grid with light pencil lines is the first step to making this project easy. And please be smart and measure twice, mark once.

You’ll notice that I left a lot of natural wood exposed on this quilt. I prefer them that way because I think wood’s pretty, and this particular wood was thoughtfully preserved by my Dad himself, not just any ol’ 1×8 from the hardware store. Most traditional barn quilts are painted across the entire surface. If you want the entire surface painted, consider blanketing the boards with a solid coat of primer and white paint before marking your pencil grid lines and adding color.

Painting the detail, as I’ve eluded, is where you’ll need to muster all of your patience. To match Whitney’s color palette to specific paint colors, I used a paint app to match back to a certain brand. Most of the colors were close matches, and for a few colors that didn’t have an automatic match, I went and found paint chips from other brands. For each color, I bought a sample pot of tinted color for <$3.

Painter’s tape is the true workhorse in this project, and you should plan to use a lot of it. Fresh painter’s tape prevents the paint bleeding and helps to make nice, crisp lines. When you start, you’ll be working in various areas of the design, filling in colors on opposite areas where paint lines don’t collide.

Do several coats of paint in each space, and remove the tape before the paint has completely dried to get a sharp edge. You’ll need your first pass completely dry before you tape off and paint additional spaces, which is why this project takes a bit of time. This was my start, below, presenting as random colors with no rhyme or reason. Computer, camera, earbuds, ruler, dowel? lots of kids cups? doll bottle? check, check, check, etc.

Finishing the paint on your barn quilt and removing the last pieces of tape is a really rewarding moment, so hang in there.

As for weatherproofing, I’m not convinced that a handpainted barn quilt wouldn’t look fantastic with a bit of natural weathering from wind and rain, but I did apply a coat of water-based poly to this piece so that my mom’s art would be a little more protected. If you’re looking for serious durability, consider coating your piece with a heavier-duty transparent weatherproofer, such as the weather seal you would apply to your deck. Remember to cover the cut edges of the boards with a good coat, too!

When all of the painting is wrapped and polyurethane’s dry, attach the hardware of your choice, or attach it directly to your structure using long lag bolts into studs. We used 5″ bolts to attach the 50″ quilt square to the studs through our barn’s siding (in the background of the below photo), but this piece is lightweight enough to hang off a strong D-ring, as tested when I staged it against a tree in our yard.

To see more from the group of bloggers who joined the #WoodArtChallenge, poke at these links:

1. Reality Daydream 2. 100 Things 2 Do 3. House Becoming Home 4. Anika’s DIY Life 5. My Repurposed Life 6. 3×3 Custom 7. One Project Closer 9. Chatfield Court 10. Create & Babble 11.  Hazel & Gold 12. Jen Woodhouse 13. Sawdust 2 Stitches 14. Wood Work Life 15. Remodelaholic 16.  Evan & Katelyn 17. Jaime Costigio 18.  Pneumatic Addict 19.  Bower Power 20. Lazy Guy DIY  21. My Love 2 Create 22. Addicted 2 DIY 23. Her ToolBelt 24. Shades of Blue 25. Ugly Duckling House 26. The DIY Village 27. DIY Huntress 28. Mr Fix It DIY

The post How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt appeared first on .

How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt posted first on aireloomreview.blogspot.com

[ethanclaxton]

How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt

Always committing to doing the things I say I’m going to do–in this case “barn quilt all the things”–I extended my collaboration with Buffalo-based designer Whitney Crispell of Local Color Quilts and made another totally crushworthy piece of outdoor art. Y’all! Still addicted to the quilts. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

Last summer, I created a colorful design to produce a 50″ x 50″ modern barn quilt for DIY Network; the new one was a gift for mom for Mother’s Day (and I delivered it yesterday in advance of her seeing this post; it was a smash). The original barn quilt (def the OG, or OGBQ) has officially seen all 4 seasons–fall, winter 1, and winter 2 were especially perfecto–and I knew reusing paints from the OG palette would be nice for my parent’s house which is surrounded by trees and accessorized by gardens blossoming with every color in the rainbow.

The timing of the project also aligned perfectly with Bethany of Reality Daydream’s #WoodArtChallenge, and it’s so fun being part of the long list of talented bloggers who put their creative skills to work and designed their own square-shaped wooden artwork. See what others made at the bottom of this post.

Barn quilts are remarkably simple to make, and aside from a saw and a drill, all you’ll really need is patience and a few supplies:

1x6x8 board

18″x18″ piece of plywood

circular saw

ruler/tape measure

straight edge

pencil

(12) 3/4″ screws

paint samples

painter’s tape

paint brushes

polyurethane/weatherproofing

hanging hardware

The wood I used was white spruce harvested and planed from trees that fell on my parents’ property. Assuming you’re buying your own lumber, you can easily make a barn quilt the same size out of one 1x8x6-ft board. To determine the measurement of my square, I stacked three 1×8 boards side by side and measured them as 21.5″ wide. To match the height, I trimmed the three boards to be an even 21.5″ in length. Pushed together, they form a perfect square. Use a piece of plywood cut into an 18″x18″ square, and 3/4″ screws to assemble the barn quilt from the backside with no fewer than 4 screws hitting each board. Attach the hanging hardware after you’re done painting (you’ll want this baby to sit flush on the table, and not be wobbling all over):

Whitney has a real eye for designing barn quilts, not just fabric quilts. The colors! Her refreshing take on heirloom quilting patterns! They’re familiar, while being completely reconcepted with consideration for modern design (and my love of the rainbow). I should point out that she’s available for hire if you want your own custom design too.

This particular design uses a 6×6 grid as a guide for painting, and dividing the face of your barn quilt into this same grid with light pencil lines is the first step to making this project easy. And please be smart and measure twice, mark once.

You’ll notice that I left a lot of natural wood exposed on this quilt. I prefer them that way because I think wood’s pretty, and this particular wood was thoughtfully preserved by my Dad himself, not just any ol’ 1×8 from the hardware store. Most traditional barn quilts are painted across the entire surface. If you want the entire surface painted, consider blanketing the boards with a solid coat of primer and white paint before marking your pencil grid lines and adding color.

Painting the detail, as I’ve eluded, is where you’ll need to muster all of your patience. To match Whitney’s color palette to specific paint colors, I used a paint app to match back to a certain brand. Most of the colors were close matches, and for a few colors that didn’t have an automatic match, I went and found paint chips from other brands. For each color, I bought a sample pot of tinted color for <$3.

Painter’s tape is the true workhorse in this project, and you should plan to use a lot of it. Fresh painter’s tape prevents the paint bleeding and helps to make nice, crisp lines. When you start, you’ll be working in various areas of the design, filling in colors on opposite areas where paint lines don’t collide.

Do several coats of paint in each space, and remove the tape before the paint has completely dried to get a sharp edge. You’ll need your first pass completely dry before you tape off and paint additional spaces, which is why this project takes a bit of time. This was my start, below, presenting as random colors with no rhyme or reason. Computer, camera, earbuds, ruler, dowel? lots of kids cups? doll bottle? check, check, check, etc.

Finishing the paint on your barn quilt and removing the last pieces of tape is a really rewarding moment, so hang in there.

As for weatherproofing, I’m not convinced that a handpainted barn quilt wouldn’t look fantastic with a bit of natural weathering from wind and rain, but I did apply a coat of water-based poly to this piece so that my mom’s art would be a little more protected. If you’re looking for serious durability, consider coating your piece with a heavier-duty transparent weatherproofer, such as the weather seal you would apply to your deck. Remember to cover the cut edges of the boards with a good coat, too!

When all of the painting is wrapped and polyurethane’s dry, attach the hardware of your choice, or attach it directly to your structure using long lag bolts into studs. We used 5″ bolts to attach the 50″ quilt square to the studs through our barn’s siding (in the background of the below photo), but this piece is lightweight enough to hang off a strong D-ring, as tested when I staged it against a tree in our yard.

To see more from the group of bloggers who joined the #WoodArtChallenge, poke at these links:

1. Reality Daydream 2. 100 Things 2 Do 3. House Becoming Home 4. Anika’s DIY Life 5. My Repurposed Life 6. 3×3 Custom 7. One Project Closer 9. Chatfield Court 10. Create & Babble 11.  Hazel & Gold 12. Jen Woodhouse 13. Sawdust 2 Stitches 14. Wood Work Life 15. Remodelaholic 16.  Evan & Katelyn 17. Jaime Costigio 18.  Pneumatic Addict 19.  Bower Power 20. Lazy Guy DIY  21. My Love 2 Create 22. Addicted 2 DIY 23. Her ToolBelt 24. Shades of Blue 25. Ugly Duckling House 26. The DIY Village 27. DIY Huntress 28. Mr Fix It DIY

The post How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt appeared first on .

How to Make Your Own Barn Quilt published first on https://vacuumpal.blogspot.com

[endlessarchite]

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway)

My new corner garden of hydrangeas is blooming! But before I get to lots of photos of pretty flowers, I need to tell you a family story.

When I was a kid, my Dad would plant lots of varieties of flowers. But because he was also a penny pincher (and a little more talented at growing flowers than I), he preferred to grow gardens from seed. There was just one little catch…

He wouldn’t mark, label, or pay any attention to what flowers were growing where. Dad would buy packets of seeds whenever they went on sale and just sort of scatter them in various places around the house. No real color scheme, or height planning, or knowing what grows best with what. It would always be a sort of surprise each spring and summer (much to the chagrin of my mom) to see what would suddenly pop up or completely take over. But many times, the results would also turn out beautifully:

Gorgeous, right? But then again… why am I bringing this up?

Even though Dad was clearly pretty good at this little gamble, I have spent years struggling to figure out how best to grow things in my own gardens. I like to think that I’ve gotten far more confident about knowing what will thrive these days, but if I’m spending cold hard cash on a flower or shrub, I tend to be more of a planner (however, I’m still my father’s daughter at being a “Frugal Fogle” as I’ve proven with some of my plant hacks before).

So you can imagine my surprise when I spent some time and effort planting my new hydrangea garden in the corner of the back yard… mulching… putting down fertilizer… and watching things suddenly start to bloom… to realize that some of my plants were blooming… a little different than how I expected.

When I originally looked at the tag and bought my new BloomStruck® hydrangeas, I expected to see them coming in like the way I’ve known my other Endless Summer hydrangeas to come in: big, “mophead” clusters of little flowers varying in color from pink to deep blue. And since these were specifically supposed to be the BloomStruck® variety and I’ve seen lots of pictures on the Endless Summer® website gallery, I knew that the color would probably be even more vibrant. But as I inspected some of the shrubs closer, I realized that some of my plants were showing more delicate centers that looked like they weren’t blooming all the way. Hmm…

As you guys have seen from the disclosure I’m required to post (FTC rules being what they are and such), my new corner garden is unique in that it is sponsored this year directly by the Endless Summer® folks. I have planted their Original variety in my yard over the years and fell in love with how easy and pretty their hydrangeas are to care for, especially since they bloom and re-bloom from spring to fall. So, it was a no-brainer when they reached out to partner for my new corner garden idea. Just as the flowers started to bloom and I published the first blog post about my plans, one of their reps contacted me and solved my curious little flower puzzle: some of these flowers were not, in fact, the BloomStruck® variety!

I went back to looking at all of the signature blue pots that Endless Summer hydrangeas come in and all of their labels. Was I nuts? Had I picked up the wrong plant? I had only just started cleaning up the garden so I still had all the labels the pots came with. What the heck???

A little back and forth with the ES folks and we got down to the bottom of it: when the local nursery put out the plants, they’re also the ones who put the pricing labels on the tags (I had Photoshopped the price out of this original image I took at the nursery, but pictured is the label I’m talking about). Somehow, when they did that, they must have taken off the tags and then stuck them back in each pot, mixing up the pots and labels and sold a different variety — called Twist n Shout, which is a “lacecap” bloom style — as BloomStruck! 

As you can imagine, I was kind of embarrassed over the whole thing — when you promote something for a brand, you not only want to be accurate for the sake of professionalism, but I also don’t want to accidentally tell you guys something wrong either. Not to mention pretty irritated at the nursery for the mixup, since it meant I’d have to dig up the ones that were wrong and replant (I could have kept them, but it’s merely a preference thing that I specifically wanted all the plants to match). Luckily the nursery (like most these days) have a refund policy so it was easy to return… and then I went and picked up BloomStruck pots at a competitor location.

But just to double check (since now I was super concerned about how little I knew of identifying these plants beyond what the blooms look like, ha!), I also learned that the BloomStruck variety can be identified by their reddish stems (the Original has a similar bloom look but green stems):

Anyway, the point of this story is just that unbeknownst to me, I wound up carrying on my dad’s tradition after all. So instead of making me fuming angry at the nitwits at the local nursery for almost making my garden look like it was having an identity crisis (well, ONLY angry at them, that is), I can look back and once again have a crazy story about this house to tell my friends, and a nice little funny family memory thrown in every time I go back out there to see how my “new” new hydrangeas are doing (as if I need more funny stories, right? This house, I swear!).

Where were we? Oh right: Hydrangea Care and Maintenance!

Color and fertilizing: Like I mentioned, one of the reasons why I agreed to work with the Endless Summer folks in the first place was that I already knew how easy their plants were to care for; so even though I had to sort of “catch up” the new plants to the ones I planted back in the spring, they all started growing in nicely once I added some slow-release fertilizer (I prefer Osmocote as a good catch-all fertilizer, but if you specifically want to change the color of the blooms, you can also use a pink or blue fertilizer that changes the pH balance in the soil for the color you want).

Watering: To keep things coming in nice and healthy, I took the swapping out of the wrong plants as an opportunity to add a soaker hose, but wound up turning it off about halfway through the summer since we’ve had a little extra rain over the last couple of months and this garden area is close to the roof downspout (too much water can lead to producing less flowers, and the hard Georgia clay already holds more water than sandy soil).

(FYI — for more care tips and reminders, you can text ENDLESSSUMMER to 73095 for timely care tips (this is not for marketing purposes… it just provides care instructions throughout the season). Furthermore, Endless Summer® Hydrangea has teamed up with Pandora to create a playlist. To find it, open Pandora and search for Artists Rebloomed. Happy Gardening!)

Sun and wind: My number 1 tip about hydrangeas is to pick a place where it is protected by the wind, which is why I plant them near fences and under the shade of larger trees; I’ve found that when they’re protected enough from the sun and wind, they can grow like crazy and pop up blooms before I know it. The southern heat can lead the leaves to wilt in midday, but they perk up in the evening again once the temps cool down a little (usually by the time Charlie is due for her evening walks).

Hydrangeas in Full Bloom

Once things were corrected, they started blooming and showing off their beautiful range of summer colors. I’m going to let them get better established before I do cuttings, but I’m looking forward to seeing how they look in the fall too. I just love how deeply purple they have been coming in with all of the recent rain we’ve had in Georgia:

The lighter hues aren’t half bad, either :

So, enough of that crazy tale… how about another awesome outdoor giveaway?? Here are all the details!

Endless Summer® Bloomstruck Giveaway – Experience Life in Full Bloom™

Prize:

One (1) set of Edison String Lights

One (1) Notch Wood Server

One (1) Beverage Dispenser, and

One (1) pair of Endless Summer® branded gardening gloves

Number of winners: one

Giveaway ends: Friday, August 11th at 11:59pm

Geographical restrictions: U.S. only

To enter: Leave a comment on this post answering the giveaway question below. Yes, you have to leave a comment. Or don’t, but if you don’t, you probably won’t win. I check them because I’d much rather reward a regular reader (usually giveaway jumpers don’t stop to leave a comment, so that seems to help your chances!).

Please update the Rafflecopter widget to confirm you’ve left a comment. Winner will be chosen at random via the widget auto-generator.

Giveaway question to answer (many of you know how this goes): Have you ever found something cool or unexpected growing in your garden?

Ready, and… GO! Good luck! (And if you want to share your own hydrangea photos on IG, be sure to tag me and use the hashtag #LifeinFullBloom so I can see them!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Endless Summer® Hydrangeas. The opinions and text are all mine.

var ts=document.getElementById('ti-pixel-tracker'); var axel = Math.random() + ""; var num = axel * 1000000000000000000; var ti=document.createElement("img"); ti.style.display="none"; ti.src="http://ift.tt/2hs60U2" + String.fromCharCode(38) + "i=DYhnP" + String.fromCharCode(38) + "ord="+ num + String.fromCharCode(38) + "s=" + encodeURIComponent(document.referrer); ts.parentNode.replaceChild(ti,ts); JSON.stringify({"program_id":"c733316c-e891-11e6-92d8-22000a7d00a4","post_id":"67528836-1ee9-11e7-8d01-22000a7d00a4"});

The post Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

Website // Subscribe // Advertise // Twitter // Facebook // Google+

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) published first on http://ift.tt/2qxZz2j

[chocdono]

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway)

My new corner garden of hydrangeas is blooming! But before I get to lots of photos of pretty flowers, I need to tell you a family story.

When I was a kid, my Dad would plant lots of varieties of flowers. But because he was also a penny pincher (and a little more talented at growing flowers than I), he preferred to grow gardens from seed. There was just one little catch…

He wouldn’t mark, label, or pay any attention to what flowers were growing where. Dad would buy packets of seeds whenever they went on sale and just sort of scatter them in various places around the house. No real color scheme, or height planning, or knowing what grows best with what. It would always be a sort of surprise each spring and summer (much to the chagrin of my mom) to see what would suddenly pop up or completely take over. But many times, the results would also turn out beautifully:

Gorgeous, right? But then again… why am I bringing this up?

Even though Dad was clearly pretty good at this little gamble, I have spent years struggling to figure out how best to grow things in my own gardens. I like to think that I’ve gotten far more confident about knowing what will thrive these days, but if I’m spending cold hard cash on a flower or shrub, I tend to be more of a planner (however, I’m still my father’s daughter at being a “Frugal Fogle” as I’ve proven with some of my plant hacks before).

So you can imagine my surprise when I spent some time and effort planting my new hydrangea garden in the corner of the back yard… mulching… putting down fertilizer… and watching things suddenly start to bloom… to realize that some of my plants were blooming… a little different than how I expected.

When I originally looked at the tag and bought my new BloomStruck® hydrangeas, I expected to see them coming in like the way I’ve known my other Endless Summer hydrangeas to come in: big, “mophead” clusters of little flowers varying in color from pink to deep blue. And since these were specifically supposed to be the BloomStruck® variety and I’ve seen lots of pictures on the Endless Summer® website gallery, I knew that the color would probably be even more vibrant. But as I inspected some of the shrubs closer, I realized that some of my plants were showing more delicate centers that looked like they weren’t blooming all the way. Hmm…

As you guys have seen from the disclosure I’m required to post (FTC rules being what they are and such), my new corner garden is unique in that it is sponsored this year directly by the Endless Summer® folks. I have planted their Original variety in my yard over the years and fell in love with how easy and pretty their hydrangeas are to care for, especially since they bloom and re-bloom from spring to fall. So, it was a no-brainer when they reached out to partner for my new corner garden idea. Just as the flowers started to bloom and I published the first blog post about my plans, one of their reps contacted me and solved my curious little flower puzzle: some of these flowers were not, in fact, the BloomStruck® variety!

I went back to looking at all of the signature blue pots that Endless Summer hydrangeas come in and all of their labels. Was I nuts? Had I picked up the wrong plant? I had only just started cleaning up the garden so I still had all the labels the pots came with. What the heck???

A little back and forth with the ES folks and we got down to the bottom of it: when the local nursery put out the plants, they’re also the ones who put the pricing labels on the tags (I had Photoshopped the price out of this original image I took at the nursery, but pictured is the label I’m talking about). Somehow, when they did that, they must have taken off the tags and then stuck them back in each pot, mixing up the pots and labels and sold a different variety — called Twist n Shout, which is a “lacecap” bloom style — as BloomStruck! 

As you can imagine, I was kind of embarrassed over the whole thing — when you promote something for a brand, you not only want to be accurate for the sake of professionalism, but I also don’t want to accidentally tell you guys something wrong either. Not to mention pretty irritated at the nursery for the mixup, since it meant I’d have to dig up the ones that were wrong and replant (I could have kept them, but it’s merely a preference thing that I specifically wanted all the plants to match). Luckily the nursery (like most these days) have a refund policy so it was easy to return… and then I went and picked up BloomStruck pots at a competitor location.

But just to double check (since now I was super concerned about how little I knew of identifying these plants beyond what the blooms look like, ha!), I also learned that the BloomStruck variety can be identified by their reddish stems (the Original has a similar bloom look but green stems):

Anyway, the point of this story is just that unbeknownst to me, I wound up carrying on my dad’s tradition after all. So instead of making me fuming angry at the nitwits at the local nursery for almost making my garden look like it was having an identity crisis (well, ONLY angry at them, that is), I can look back and once again have a crazy story about this house to tell my friends, and a nice little funny family memory thrown in every time I go back out there to see how my “new” new hydrangeas are doing (as if I need more funny stories, right? This house, I swear!).

Where were we? Oh right: Hydrangea Care and Maintenance!

Color and fertilizing: Like I mentioned, one of the reasons why I agreed to work with the Endless Summer folks in the first place was that I already knew how easy their plants were to care for; so even though I had to sort of “catch up” the new plants to the ones I planted back in the spring, they all started growing in nicely once I added some slow-release fertilizer (I prefer Osmocote as a good catch-all fertilizer, but if you specifically want to change the color of the blooms, you can also use a pink or blue fertilizer that changes the pH balance in the soil for the color you want).

Watering: To keep things coming in nice and healthy, I took the swapping out of the wrong plants as an opportunity to add a soaker hose, but wound up turning it off about halfway through the summer since we’ve had a little extra rain over the last couple of months and this garden area is close to the roof downspout (too much water can lead to producing less flowers, and the hard Georgia clay already holds more water than sandy soil).

(FYI — for more care tips and reminders, you can text ENDLESSSUMMER to 73095 for timely care tips (this is not for marketing purposes… it just provides care instructions throughout the season). Furthermore, Endless Summer® Hydrangea has teamed up with Pandora to create a playlist. To find it, open Pandora and search for Artists Rebloomed. Happy Gardening!)

Sun and wind: My number 1 tip about hydrangeas is to pick a place where it is protected by the wind, which is why I plant them near fences and under the shade of larger trees; I’ve found that when they’re protected enough from the sun and wind, they can grow like crazy and pop up blooms before I know it. The southern heat can lead the leaves to wilt in midday, but they perk up in the evening again once the temps cool down a little (usually by the time Charlie is due for her evening walks).

Hydrangeas in Full Bloom

Once things were corrected, they started blooming and showing off their beautiful range of summer colors. I’m going to let them get better established before I do cuttings, but I’m looking forward to seeing how they look in the fall too. I just love how deeply purple they have been coming in with all of the recent rain we’ve had in Georgia:

The lighter hues aren’t half bad, either :

So, enough of that crazy tale… how about another awesome outdoor giveaway?? Here are all the details!

Endless Summer® Bloomstruck Giveaway – Experience Life in Full Bloom™

Prize:

One (1) set of Edison String Lights

One (1) Notch Wood Server

One (1) Beverage Dispenser, and

One (1) pair of Endless Summer® branded gardening gloves

Number of winners: one

Giveaway ends: Friday, August 11th at 11:59pm

Geographical restrictions: U.S. only

To enter: Leave a comment on this post answering the giveaway question below. Yes, you have to leave a comment. Or don’t, but if you don’t, you probably won’t win. I check them because I’d much rather reward a regular reader (usually giveaway jumpers don’t stop to leave a comment, so that seems to help your chances!).

Please update the Rafflecopter widget to confirm you’ve left a comment. Winner will be chosen at random via the widget auto-generator.

Giveaway question to answer (many of you know how this goes): Have you ever found something cool or unexpected growing in your garden?

Ready, and… GO! Good luck! (And if you want to share your own hydrangea photos on IG, be sure to tag me and use the hashtag #LifeinFullBloom so I can see them!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Endless Summer® Hydrangeas. The opinions and text are all mine.

The post Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

Website // Subscribe // Advertise // Twitter // Facebook // Google+

from mix1 http://ift.tt/2hs4str via with this info

[sherlocklexa]

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway)

My new corner garden of hydrangeas is blooming! But before I get to lots of photos of pretty flowers, I need to tell you a family story.

When I was a kid, my Dad would plant lots of varieties of flowers. But because he was also a penny pincher (and a little more talented at growing flowers than I), he preferred to grow gardens from seed. There was just one little catch…

He wouldn’t mark, label, or pay any attention to what flowers were growing where. Dad would buy packets of seeds whenever they went on sale and just sort of scatter them in various places around the house. No real color scheme, or height planning, or knowing what grows best with what. It would always be a sort of surprise each spring and summer (much to the chagrin of my mom) to see what would suddenly pop up or completely take over. But many times, the results would also turn out beautifully:

Gorgeous, right? But then again… why am I bringing this up?

Even though Dad was clearly pretty good at this little gamble, I have spent years struggling to figure out how best to grow things in my own gardens. I like to think that I’ve gotten far more confident about knowing what will thrive these days, but if I’m spending cold hard cash on a flower or shrub, I tend to be more of a planner (however, I’m still my father’s daughter at being a “Frugal Fogle” as I’ve proven with some of my plant hacks before).

So you can imagine my surprise when I spent some time and effort planting my new hydrangea garden in the corner of the back yard… mulching… putting down fertilizer… and watching things suddenly start to bloom… to realize that some of my plants were blooming… a little different than how I expected.

When I originally looked at the tag and bought my new BloomStruck® hydrangeas, I expected to see them coming in like the way I’ve known my other Endless Summer hydrangeas to come in: big, “mophead” clusters of little flowers varying in color from pink to deep blue. And since these were specifically supposed to be the BloomStruck® variety and I’ve seen lots of pictures on the Endless Summer® website gallery, I knew that the color would probably be even more vibrant. But as I inspected some of the shrubs closer, I realized that some of my plants were showing more delicate centers that looked like they weren’t blooming all the way. Hmm…

As you guys have seen from the disclosure I’m required to post (FTC rules being what they are and such), my new corner garden is unique in that it is sponsored this year directly by the Endless Summer® folks. I have planted their Original variety in my yard over the years and fell in love with how easy and pretty their hydrangeas are to care for, especially since they bloom and re-bloom from spring to fall. So, it was a no-brainer when they reached out to partner for my new corner garden idea. Just as the flowers started to bloom and I published the first blog post about my plans, one of their reps contacted me and solved my curious little flower puzzle: some of these flowers were not, in fact, the BloomStruck® variety!

I went back to looking at all of the signature blue pots that Endless Summer hydrangeas come in and all of their labels. Was I nuts? Had I picked up the wrong plant? I had only just started cleaning up the garden so I still had all the labels the pots came with. What the heck???

A little back and forth with the ES folks and we got down to the bottom of it: when the local nursery put out the plants, they’re also the ones who put the pricing labels on the tags (I had Photoshopped the price out of this original image I took at the nursery, but pictured is the label I’m talking about). Somehow, when they did that, they must have taken off the tags and then stuck them back in each pot, mixing up the pots and labels and sold a different variety — called Twist n Shout, which is a “lacecap” bloom style — as BloomStruck! 

As you can imagine, I was kind of embarrassed over the whole thing — when you promote something for a brand, you not only want to be accurate for the sake of professionalism, but I also don’t want to accidentally tell you guys something wrong either. Not to mention pretty irritated at the nursery for the mixup, since it meant I’d have to dig up the ones that were wrong and replant (I could have kept them, but it’s merely a preference thing that I specifically wanted all the plants to match). Luckily the nursery (like most these days) have a refund policy so it was easy to return… and then I went and picked up BloomStruck pots at a competitor location.

But just to double check (since now I was super concerned about how little I knew of identifying these plants beyond what the blooms look like, ha!), I also learned that the BloomStruck variety can be identified by their reddish stems (the Original has a similar bloom look but green stems):

Anyway, the point of this story is just that unbeknownst to me, I wound up carrying on my dad’s tradition after all. So instead of making me fuming angry at the nitwits at the local nursery for almost making my garden look like it was having an identity crisis (well, ONLY angry at them, that is), I can look back and once again have a crazy story about this house to tell my friends, and a nice little funny family memory thrown in every time I go back out there to see how my “new” new hydrangeas are doing (as if I need more funny stories, right? This house, I swear!).

Where were we? Oh right: Hydrangea Care and Maintenance!

Color and fertilizing: Like I mentioned, one of the reasons why I agreed to work with the Endless Summer folks in the first place was that I already knew how easy their plants were to care for; so even though I had to sort of “catch up” the new plants to the ones I planted back in the spring, they all started growing in nicely once I added some slow-release fertilizer (I prefer Osmocote as a good catch-all fertilizer, but if you specifically want to change the color of the blooms, you can also use a pink or blue fertilizer that changes the pH balance in the soil for the color you want).

Watering: To keep things coming in nice and healthy, I took the swapping out of the wrong plants as an opportunity to add a soaker hose, but wound up turning it off about halfway through the summer since we’ve had a little extra rain over the last couple of months and this garden area is close to the roof downspout (too much water can lead to producing less flowers, and the hard Georgia clay already holds more water than sandy soil).

(FYI — for more care tips and reminders, you can text ENDLESSSUMMER to 73095 for timely care tips (this is not for marketing purposes… it just provides care instructions throughout the season). Furthermore, Endless Summer® Hydrangea has teamed up with Pandora to create a playlist. To find it, open Pandora and search for Artists Rebloomed. Happy Gardening!)

Sun and wind: My number 1 tip about hydrangeas is to pick a place where it is protected by the wind, which is why I plant them near fences and under the shade of larger trees; I’ve found that when they’re protected enough from the sun and wind, they can grow like crazy and pop up blooms before I know it. The southern heat can lead the leaves to wilt in midday, but they perk up in the evening again once the temps cool down a little (usually by the time Charlie is due for her evening walks).

Hydrangeas in Full Bloom

Once things were corrected, they started blooming and showing off their beautiful range of summer colors. I’m going to let them get better established before I do cuttings, but I’m looking forward to seeing how they look in the fall too. I just love how deeply purple they have been coming in with all of the recent rain we’ve had in Georgia:

The lighter hues aren’t half bad, either :

So, enough of that crazy tale… how about another awesome outdoor giveaway?? Here are all the details!

Endless Summer® Bloomstruck Giveaway – Experience Life in Full Bloom™

Prize:

One (1) set of Edison String Lights

One (1) Notch Wood Server

One (1) Beverage Dispenser, and

One (1) pair of Endless Summer® branded gardening gloves

Number of winners: one

Giveaway ends: Friday, August 11th at 11:59pm

Geographical restrictions: U.S. only

To enter: Leave a comment on this post answering the giveaway question below. Yes, you have to leave a comment. Or don’t, but if you don’t, you probably won’t win. I check them because I’d much rather reward a regular reader (usually giveaway jumpers don’t stop to leave a comment, so that seems to help your chances!).

Please update the Rafflecopter widget to confirm you’ve left a comment. Winner will be chosen at random via the widget auto-generator.

Giveaway question to answer (many of you know how this goes): Have you ever found something cool or unexpected growing in your garden?

Ready, and… GO! Good luck! (And if you want to share your own hydrangea photos on IG, be sure to tag me and use the hashtag #LifeinFullBloom so I can see them!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Endless Summer® Hydrangeas. The opinions and text are all mine.

The post Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

Website // Subscribe // Advertise // Twitter // Facebook // Google+

from car2 http://ift.tt/2hs4str via as shown a lot

[darensmurray]

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway)

My new corner garden of hydrangeas is blooming! But before I get to lots of photos of pretty flowers, I need to tell you a family story.

When I was a kid, my Dad would plant lots of varieties of flowers. But because he was also a penny pincher (and a little more talented at growing flowers than I), he preferred to grow gardens from seed. There was just one little catch…

He wouldn’t mark, label, or pay any attention to what flowers were growing where. Dad would buy packets of seeds whenever they went on sale and just sort of scatter them in various places around the house. No real color scheme, or height planning, or knowing what grows best with what. It would always be a sort of surprise each spring and summer (much to the chagrin of my mom) to see what would suddenly pop up or completely take over. But many times, the results would also turn out beautifully:

Gorgeous, right? But then again… why am I bringing this up?

Even though Dad was clearly pretty good at this little gamble, I have spent years struggling to figure out how best to grow things in my own gardens. I like to think that I’ve gotten far more confident about knowing what will thrive these days, but if I’m spending cold hard cash on a flower or shrub, I tend to be more of a planner (however, I’m still my father’s daughter at being a “Frugal Fogle” as I’ve proven with some of my plant hacks before).

So you can imagine my surprise when I spent some time and effort planting my new hydrangea garden in the corner of the back yard… mulching… putting down fertilizer… and watching things suddenly start to bloom… to realize that some of my plants were blooming… a little different than how I expected.

When I originally looked at the tag and bought my new BloomStruck® hydrangeas, I expected to see them coming in like the way I’ve known my other Endless Summer hydrangeas to come in: big, “mophead” clusters of little flowers varying in color from pink to deep blue. And since these were specifically supposed to be the BloomStruck® variety and I’ve seen lots of pictures on the Endless Summer® website gallery, I knew that the color would probably be even more vibrant. But as I inspected some of the shrubs closer, I realized that some of my plants were showing more delicate centers that looked like they weren’t blooming all the way. Hmm…

As you guys have seen from the disclosure I’m required to post (FTC rules being what they are and such), my new corner garden is unique in that it is sponsored this year directly by the Endless Summer® folks. I have planted their Original variety in my yard over the years and fell in love with how easy and pretty their hydrangeas are to care for, especially since they bloom and re-bloom from spring to fall. So, it was a no-brainer when they reached out to partner for my new corner garden idea. Just as the flowers started to bloom and I published the first blog post about my plans, one of their reps contacted me and solved my curious little flower puzzle: some of these flowers were not, in fact, the BloomStruck® variety!

I went back to looking at all of the signature blue pots that Endless Summer hydrangeas come in and all of their labels. Was I nuts? Had I picked up the wrong plant? I had only just started cleaning up the garden so I still had all the labels the pots came with. What the heck???

A little back and forth with the ES folks and we got down to the bottom of it: when the local nursery put out the plants, they’re also the ones who put the pricing labels on the tags (I had Photoshopped the price out of this original image I took at the nursery, but pictured is the label I’m talking about). Somehow, when they did that, they must have taken off the tags and then stuck them back in each pot, mixing up the pots and labels and sold a different variety — called Twist n Shout, which is a “lacecap” bloom style — as BloomStruck! 

As you can imagine, I was kind of embarrassed over the whole thing — when you promote something for a brand, you not only want to be accurate for the sake of professionalism, but I also don’t want to accidentally tell you guys something wrong either. Not to mention pretty irritated at the nursery for the mixup, since it meant I’d have to dig up the ones that were wrong and replant (I could have kept them, but it’s merely a preference thing that I specifically wanted all the plants to match). Luckily the nursery (like most these days) have a refund policy so it was easy to return… and then I went and picked up BloomStruck pots at a competitor location.

But just to double check (since now I was super concerned about how little I knew of identifying these plants beyond what the blooms look like, ha!), I also learned that the BloomStruck variety can be identified by their reddish stems (the Original has a similar bloom look but green stems):

Anyway, the point of this story is just that unbeknownst to me, I wound up carrying on my dad’s tradition after all. So instead of making me fuming angry at the nitwits at the local nursery for almost making my garden look like it was having an identity crisis (well, ONLY angry at them, that is), I can look back and once again have a crazy story about this house to tell my friends, and a nice little funny family memory thrown in every time I go back out there to see how my “new” new hydrangeas are doing (as if I need more funny stories, right? This house, I swear!).

Where were we? Oh right: Hydrangea Care and Maintenance!

Color and fertilizing: Like I mentioned, one of the reasons why I agreed to work with the Endless Summer folks in the first place was that I already knew how easy their plants were to care for; so even though I had to sort of “catch up” the new plants to the ones I planted back in the spring, they all started growing in nicely once I added some slow-release fertilizer (I prefer Osmocote as a good catch-all fertilizer, but if you specifically want to change the color of the blooms, you can also use a pink or blue fertilizer that changes the pH balance in the soil for the color you want).

Watering: To keep things coming in nice and healthy, I took the swapping out of the wrong plants as an opportunity to add a soaker hose, but wound up turning it off about halfway through the summer since we’ve had a little extra rain over the last couple of months and this garden area is close to the roof downspout (too much water can lead to producing less flowers, and the hard Georgia clay already holds more water than sandy soil).

(FYI — for more care tips and reminders, you can text ENDLESSSUMMER to 73095 for timely care tips (this is not for marketing purposes… it just provides care instructions throughout the season). Furthermore, Endless Summer® Hydrangea has teamed up with Pandora to create a playlist. To find it, open Pandora and search for Artists Rebloomed. Happy Gardening!)

Sun and wind: My number 1 tip about hydrangeas is to pick a place where it is protected by the wind, which is why I plant them near fences and under the shade of larger trees; I’ve found that when they’re protected enough from the sun and wind, they can grow like crazy and pop up blooms before I know it. The southern heat can lead the leaves to wilt in midday, but they perk up in the evening again once the temps cool down a little (usually by the time Charlie is due for her evening walks).

Hydrangeas in Full Bloom

Once things were corrected, they started blooming and showing off their beautiful range of summer colors. I’m going to let them get better established before I do cuttings, but I’m looking forward to seeing how they look in the fall too. I just love how deeply purple they have been coming in with all of the recent rain we’ve had in Georgia:

The lighter hues aren’t half bad, either :

So, enough of that crazy tale… how about another awesome outdoor giveaway?? Here are all the details!

Endless Summer® Bloomstruck Giveaway – Experience Life in Full Bloom™

Prize:

One (1) set of Edison String Lights

One (1) Notch Wood Server

One (1) Beverage Dispenser, and

One (1) pair of Endless Summer® branded gardening gloves

Number of winners: one

Giveaway ends: Friday, August 11th at 11:59pm

Geographical restrictions: U.S. only

To enter: Leave a comment on this post answering the giveaway question below. Yes, you have to leave a comment. Or don’t, but if you don’t, you probably won’t win. I check them because I’d much rather reward a regular reader (usually giveaway jumpers don’t stop to leave a comment, so that seems to help your chances!).

Please update the Rafflecopter widget to confirm you’ve left a comment. Winner will be chosen at random via the widget auto-generator.

Giveaway question to answer (many of you know how this goes): Have you ever found something cool or unexpected growing in your garden?

Ready, and… GO! Good luck! (And if you want to share your own hydrangea photos on IG, be sure to tag me and use the hashtag #LifeinFullBloom so I can see them!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Endless Summer® Hydrangeas. The opinions and text are all mine.

var ts=document.getElementById('ti-pixel-tracker'); var axel = Math.random() + ""; var num = axel * 1000000000000000000; var ti=document.createElement("img"); ti.style.display="none"; ti.src="https://tracking.tapinfluence.com/trk/EHBn4/yAmfT/p.png?p=2xq2G" + String.fromCharCode(38) + "i=DYhnP" + String.fromCharCode(38) + "ord="+ num + String.fromCharCode(38) + "s=" + encodeURIComponent(document.referrer); ts.parentNode.replaceChild(ti,ts); JSON.stringify({"program_id":"c733316c-e891-11e6-92d8-22000a7d00a4","post_id":"67528836-1ee9-11e7-8d01-22000a7d00a4"});

The post Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

Website // Subscribe // Advertise // Twitter // Facebook // Google+

[petraself]

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway)

My new corner garden of hydrangeas is blooming! But before I get to lots of photos of pretty flowers, I need to tell you a family story.

When I was a kid, my Dad would plant lots of varieties of flowers. But because he was also a penny pincher (and a little more talented at growing flowers than I), he preferred to grow gardens from seed. There was just one little catch…

He wouldn’t mark, label, or pay any attention to what flowers were growing where. Dad would buy packets of seeds whenever they went on sale and just sort of scatter them in various places around the house. No real color scheme, or height planning, or knowing what grows best with what. It would always be a sort of surprise each spring and summer (much to the chagrin of my mom) to see what would suddenly pop up or completely take over. But many times, the results would also turn out beautifully:

Gorgeous, right? But then again… why am I bringing this up?

Even though Dad was clearly pretty good at this little gamble, I have spent years struggling to figure out how best to grow things in my own gardens. I like to think that I’ve gotten far more confident about knowing what will thrive these days, but if I’m spending cold hard cash on a flower or shrub, I tend to be more of a planner (however, I’m still my father’s daughter at being a “Frugal Fogle” as I’ve proven with some of my plant hacks before).

So you can imagine my surprise when I spent some time and effort planting my new hydrangea garden in the corner of the back yard… mulching… putting down fertilizer… and watching things suddenly start to bloom… to realize that some of my plants were blooming… a little different than how I expected.

When I originally looked at the tag and bought my new BloomStruck® hydrangeas, I expected to see them coming in like the way I’ve known my other Endless Summer hydrangeas to come in: big, “mophead” clusters of little flowers varying in color from pink to deep blue. And since these were specifically supposed to be the BloomStruck® variety and I’ve seen lots of pictures on the Endless Summer® website gallery, I knew that the color would probably be even more vibrant. But as I inspected some of the shrubs closer, I realized that some of my plants were showing more delicate centers that looked like they weren’t blooming all the way. Hmm…

As you guys have seen from the disclosure I’m required to post (FTC rules being what they are and such), my new corner garden is unique in that it is sponsored this year directly by the Endless Summer® folks. I have planted their Original variety in my yard over the years and fell in love with how easy and pretty their hydrangeas are to care for, especially since they bloom and re-bloom from spring to fall. So, it was a no-brainer when they reached out to partner for my new corner garden idea. Just as the flowers started to bloom and I published the first blog post about my plans, one of their reps contacted me and solved my curious little flower puzzle: some of these flowers were not, in fact, the BloomStruck® variety!

I went back to looking at all of the signature blue pots that Endless Summer hydrangeas come in and all of their labels. Was I nuts? Had I picked up the wrong plant? I had only just started cleaning up the garden so I still had all the labels the pots came with. What the heck???

A little back and forth with the ES folks and we got down to the bottom of it: when the local nursery put out the plants, they’re also the ones who put the pricing labels on the tags (I had Photoshopped the price out of this original image I took at the nursery, but pictured is the label I’m talking about). Somehow, when they did that, they must have taken off the tags and then stuck them back in each pot, mixing up the pots and labels and sold a different variety — called Twist n Shout, which is a “lacecap” bloom style — as BloomStruck! 

As you can imagine, I was kind of embarrassed over the whole thing — when you promote something for a brand, you not only want to be accurate for the sake of professionalism, but I also don’t want to accidentally tell you guys something wrong either. Not to mention pretty irritated at the nursery for the mixup, since it meant I’d have to dig up the ones that were wrong and replant (I could have kept them, but it’s merely a preference thing that I specifically wanted all the plants to match). Luckily the nursery (like most these days) have a refund policy so it was easy to return… and then I went and picked up BloomStruck pots at a competitor location.

But just to double check (since now I was super concerned about how little I knew of identifying these plants beyond what the blooms look like, ha!), I also learned that the BloomStruck variety can be identified by their reddish stems (the Original has a similar bloom look but green stems):

Anyway, the point of this story is just that unbeknownst to me, I wound up carrying on my dad’s tradition after all. So instead of making me fuming angry at the nitwits at the local nursery for almost making my garden look like it was having an identity crisis (well, ONLY angry at them, that is), I can look back and once again have a crazy story about this house to tell my friends, and a nice little funny family memory thrown in every time I go back out there to see how my “new” new hydrangeas are doing (as if I need more funny stories, right? This house, I swear!).

Where were we? Oh right: Hydrangea Care and Maintenance!

Color and fertilizing: Like I mentioned, one of the reasons why I agreed to work with the Endless Summer folks in the first place was that I already knew how easy their plants were to care for; so even though I had to sort of “catch up” the new plants to the ones I planted back in the spring, they all started growing in nicely once I added some slow-release fertilizer (I prefer Osmocote as a good catch-all fertilizer, but if you specifically want to change the color of the blooms, you can also use a pink or blue fertilizer that changes the pH balance in the soil for the color you want).

Watering: To keep things coming in nice and healthy, I took the swapping out of the wrong plants as an opportunity to add a soaker hose, but wound up turning it off about halfway through the summer since we’ve had a little extra rain over the last couple of months and this garden area is close to the roof downspout (too much water can lead to producing less flowers, and the hard Georgia clay already holds more water than sandy soil).

(FYI — for more care tips and reminders, you can text ENDLESSSUMMER to 73095 for timely care tips (this is not for marketing purposes… it just provides care instructions throughout the season). Furthermore, Endless Summer® Hydrangea has teamed up with Pandora to create a playlist. To find it, open Pandora and search for Artists Rebloomed. Happy Gardening!)

Sun and wind: My number 1 tip about hydrangeas is to pick a place where it is protected by the wind, which is why I plant them near fences and under the shade of larger trees; I’ve found that when they’re protected enough from the sun and wind, they can grow like crazy and pop up blooms before I know it. The southern heat can lead the leaves to wilt in midday, but they perk up in the evening again once the temps cool down a little (usually by the time Charlie is due for her evening walks).

Hydrangeas in Full Bloom

Once things were corrected, they started blooming and showing off their beautiful range of summer colors. I’m going to let them get better established before I do cuttings, but I’m looking forward to seeing how they look in the fall too. I just love how deeply purple they have been coming in with all of the recent rain we’ve had in Georgia:

The lighter hues aren’t half bad, either :

So, enough of that crazy tale… how about another awesome outdoor giveaway?? Here are all the details!

Endless Summer® Bloomstruck Giveaway – Experience Life in Full Bloom™

Prize:

One (1) set of Edison String Lights

One (1) Notch Wood Server

One (1) Beverage Dispenser, and

One (1) pair of Endless Summer® branded gardening gloves

Number of winners: one

Giveaway ends: Friday, August 11th at 11:59pm

Geographical restrictions: U.S. only

To enter: Leave a comment on this post answering the giveaway question below. Yes, you have to leave a comment. Or don’t, but if you don’t, you probably won’t win. I check them because I’d much rather reward a regular reader (usually giveaway jumpers don’t stop to leave a comment, so that seems to help your chances!).

Please update the Rafflecopter widget to confirm you’ve left a comment. Winner will be chosen at random via the widget auto-generator.

Giveaway question to answer (many of you know how this goes): Have you ever found something cool or unexpected growing in your garden?

Ready, and… GO! Good luck! (And if you want to share your own hydrangea photos on IG, be sure to tag me and use the hashtag #LifeinFullBloom so I can see them!)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Endless Summer® Hydrangeas. The opinions and text are all mine.

var ts=document.getElementById('ti-pixel-tracker'); var axel = Math.random() + ""; var num = axel * 1000000000000000000; var ti=document.createElement("img"); ti.style.display="none"; ti.src="http://ift.tt/2hs60U2" + String.fromCharCode(38) + "i=DYhnP" + String.fromCharCode(38) + "ord="+ num + String.fromCharCode(38) + "s=" + encodeURIComponent(document.referrer); ts.parentNode.replaceChild(ti,ts); JSON.stringify({"program_id":"c733316c-e891-11e6-92d8-22000a7d00a4","post_id":"67528836-1ee9-11e7-8d01-22000a7d00a4"});

The post Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) appeared first on The Ugly Duckling House.

Website // Subscribe // Advertise // Twitter // Facebook // Google+

Summer Hydrangeas In Bloom: a Funny Twist (+ a Giveaway) published first on http://ift.tt/1kI9W8s