#and my bathroom mirror has bulbs above it! what if i wanted a blue bathroom …

[jennycalendar]

Decided to replace the burnt bulbs in my house bc it’s been over a year of me not doing that and have discovered there are five minimum that need attention. really put this off for an impressive amount of time

[signed-yours-truly-the-whale]

Cheek to Cheek

Thank you to @pumpkinpowder

And thank you to Todd for the inspiration to give Arthur a better memory of shaving

“Oh, for Christ’s – Joss?”

Arthur waited, padding his feet awkwardly from one tile to the next. A faint echo on the peachy shower wall threw his voice right back to him.

“Joss?” he called out again.

There was a soft grunt. Canned laughter from their living room television succeeded the thudding of her swollen feet on the floor. She appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at him as if she didn’t notice her own shallow breathing.

“You okay?” she asked.

He held the razor marginally tighter in his hand, cursing himself for asking for her. She didn’t have the same mobility as she had before he went to the hospital. Everything took a minute more now. As of yesterday, she’d started to embrace “the hillbilly look” and allowed the swell of her belly to be free of her clothes, the hems of her shirts bunched up under her breasts and her trousers unbuttoned. The maternity dresses his mother had dropped off sat in the corner of their closet floor.

Her blue nails thrummed against the doorway, on the patch of peeling white paint.

“My hand, it’s …” he stammered. “I’m shaking too much to hold the razor still. Could you – help me?”

Maybe he was naïve – the past few months had been too burdensome to color him optimistic – but he could have sworn he saw the smallest half-smile pinch a dimple into her cheek.

“Sit down,” she said.

He rested on the toilet seat, hiking his foot up on the bathtub for a more comfortable position. The bathroom wasn’t the most accommodating for two people. He couldn’t even think of three.

A soft finger encouraged him to tilt his head back. The bulbs above the mirror cast a halo over his wife, looking down at him through the field of blonde hair covering her shoulders. The refrain of ‘C’est La Vie’ across her chest was partially obscured.

If this was the sight which he was to see when his life was slipping out of his clutch, he may have followed wherever it led.

“Thank you,” he said softly. He pursed his lips as a dollop of shaving cream was spread across his face.

“I’m your wife,” she said simply, washing her hand of the residue foam. “I miss touching you – even in ways that don’t make a baby.”

He exhaled through his nose as the razor started to roar. Her fingers holding him still briefly distracted him from the buzz against his throat. Her thumb stroked his forehead at the apex of his hairline.

“Those old razors we had sold for a good price at Flasky’s pawn shop. I got this for six dollars and those new shoes for you for three.”

The leather ones without laces he saw at the foot of the bed. He hummed in acknowledgement.

His hand gravitated, maybe a little consciously, to the mound of her stomach once she’d finished shaving the underside of his jaw. She scoffed.

“What do we still need for her?” he asked.

Usually, he was of the firm opinion that their little troublemaker was going to surprise its mother and turn out to be a boy. Tonight, though, the word girl soothed his tired head.

Joss hovered the razor over his right cheek, killing the sound.

“I don’t want to stress you out, Art – the doctor said it’s important to take your time.”

“I won’t get stressed out.”

That was a lie. But she was fast approaching, and the doctors had drilled into his head the importance of pushing his limits a little every day.

He stared at her stomach, etching a foamy kiss on the space that his hand had occupied. Joss laughed.

“This isn’t conductive to a proper shave, Mr. Fleck.”

“I don’t care.”

A patch of foam smeared on her belly where he rested his left cheek. The razor clicked on again, and Joss shaved the right side of his jaw.

“Your mom wants to take me to Twice as Nice,” she stated. “She has a few extra dollars to splurge from her last paycheck and she wants to buy more clothes; I keep telling her to buy yellows instead of blues, but she won’t listen.”

“Mm.”

She curled a few strands of hair behind his ear, edging the razor closer.

“We still need a crib; that’s the big one. I don’t wanna squish her in our bed.”

“Yup.”

“Are you listening to me, Fleck?”

The warmth of her skin against his retreated. He looked up at her raised brow, trying to stifle a laugh at the white mush on her stomach.

“Is she awake?” he asked. She rolled her eyes, huffing. More shaving cream on her palm, again spread on his cheek.

“No, she tired herself out doing flips since ten this morning.”

He closed his eyes, smiling as the razor glided on his cheek.

- - - -

The hot commodity of seasonings was few and far between when rent crept on the precipice.

Arthur let himself be a little selfish with the salted butter on his baked potato if Joss insisted on taking the last of the sour cream. Having the records on in the corner of the living room made dinner, he supposed, a little less … pathetic.

On their dining table, Joss laid one hand down. The other hand cradled her chin in between her bites of dinner.

Arthur could barely keep his eyes on Murray Franklin. Neither the man’s new graying haircut nor steaming baked potatoes were as intoxicating as Joss’s fingers curling on the table doily, or her eyes glittering as she stared at the moon through their kitchen window.

When he took hold of her hand, and brought it to the soft scratch of his cheek, and his lips pressed to the vein on her inner wrist, she locked eyes with him. There was an unwilling smile hidden behind her fingers.

“I love you a lot,” he said.

“I love you a lot, Mr. Fleck,” she conceded. “But do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“… Don’t ever leave me alone again.”

He stilled the machinations of her hand on his cheek. Her eyes became wet.

“I’m your wife,” she said, biting her tongue for leverage until she swallowed a lump down. “When you’re hurting, I’m hurting.”

“… I’m feeling better now.”

- - - -

With an extra sixty pounds on her person, Joss’s dancing had become less agile. Still, she insisted. So at eight o'clock, the little space of their living room was a dance hall, with the old cat sitting on the couch's armrest as the only witness to the domesticity Arthur felt dizzied to imagine.

“My back hurts when I sit down and my legs hurt when I stand up,” she huffed, hiking her shoulders in defeat as Arthur swayed them ever so softly. "I can't win."

“I’ll rub your back before bed,” he offered. “Let’s just get through one song.”

“What, You’re All the World to Me?” she joked, her teeth big and broad with her smile. He smiled back sheepishly.

“That might be a little too much for you.”

“Have I ever told you, Art,” she began, resting her arms on his shoulders, “that I think you’d be a great tap dancer?”

“No, why?”

“All that damn Fred Astaire you watch all the time. You look like you’d be dancing on a cloud.”

“I’m always on a cloud dancing with you.”

Daringly, his hands traversed from the exposed area of her ribs, to her tender lower back. Her eyes closed in contentment as his thumbs circled her hip bones.

It wasn’t exactly cheek to cheek, but as Fred Astaire crooned, and Arthur leaned to gently nudge his forehead against hers, he really was in heaven. It was a lot warmer than the one he’d mistaken a few months earlier. Padded walls didn’t hold the same security as the arms of someone he loved.

- - - -

It had taken some getting used to, to sleep on the other side of the bed closer to the corner. Advantageous, Joss said, since she needed to get up more often to use the bathroom, and she could hear whenever he had to get up.

He never disliked more that she was more comfortable laying on her left side. Before, she wasn’t lying away from him.

“One small thing before you go to sleep,” he requested. She was sitting upright to his left, reading.

“What’s that?”

He kissed her, stacking her bottom lip between his own. The smirk of surprise in her minty breath passed to his own mouth. Lip balm coated his cleft scar.

“I’m never leaving you again,” he murmured, pecks placed along her jaw. “I promise.”

[sophygurl]

okay so I saw your fox way post (which i realise is from like 5 months ago so i'm sorry if it's not in your main interests anymore) and I wanted to know what you think would be some good descriptors for the organised comfy chaos that is their house. bc i love the idea of a house of miss-matched over stuffed sofas and everything everywhere that doesn't understand the concept of minimalism but I can't find anything online that looks like what I imagine. Thoughts?

omg so The Raven Cycle in general, and Fox Way in particular, is never out of my main interests so thank you for this!! I actually have a Bunch of other metas that I’ve kinda collected notes for and one of them is actual physical descriptions of 300 Fox Way? 

I feel bad because I’ve already promised @sparkly-things metas about Maura and Gray next up ages ago, but hopefully they won’t mind? And I happen to have a lil energy and time today, so here goes with every physical description of the house that I’ve collected during re-reads (may have missed stuff). 

This got long, and is perhaps not even what you were looking for, but I hope it helps you and/or others looking for descriptions of the house! 

Blue describes the architecture of the house, simply, as weird in TRB. In TDT she expands on that, saying it “was two houses knitted together, and neither structure had been a palace to begin with. Narrow hallways leaned eagerly toward one another.” I’m not sure if she means this literally, as in two small houses on nearby lots got made into one building somehow, or just that the way the house is built just makes it feel that way? 

She goes on to talk about a “stray toilet gurgling somewhere” - since we know there is only the one bathroom is she talking about that or does this language mean there is maybe another toilet connected somewhere, like in a basement? Then “the wood floors were as buckled as the sidewalk out front.” Some of the walls were painted in vivid purples and blues, and some had decades old wallpaper (in the same rooms or in different rooms?). “Faded black and white photographs hung beside Klimt prints and old metal scissors. The entire decor was a victim of too much thrift-shopping and too many strong personalities.”

Gansey describes the house as being “cramped with extraneous people and whimsical objects. It hummed with conversation, music, telephones, old appliances.” Malory calls the house “lovely” and seems to appreciate just how many walls there are. 

At one point, it’s said that 300 Fox Way is one mile away from Monmouth Manufacturing. 

The exterior is a “little bright blue house”. There is a hand painted sign that reads “PSYCHIC” and then “By appointment only”. When turned around, the sign reads “CLOSED COME BACK SOON!” I’m not sure if there is a porch, but there is a porch light referred to when opening the front door, so that’s a good guess. There is a front step, so it’s not a ground level entrance to the front of the house the way it seems to be in the back. 

Outside in the backyard - there’s Blue’s large Beech tree, which shades the entire backyard with it’s “beautiful, perfectly symmetrical canopy” that kept out all but the heaviest of rains. There is a high wooden fence covered with honeysuckle that blocked out neighboring lights and the canopy of the tree blocked out the moonlight.

Right off the sliding glass door in the kitchen, there’s a cracked brick patio leading into the yard itself. There are chairs arranged on the patio.

In the kitchen, above the table, is the chandelier described as a “badly designed stained-glass creation” (also described as “the fake Tiffany lamp”) - the one they have difficulty changing the bulbs in. The process of changing the bulbs took at least three hands and was generally left until all the bulbs had burned out - so consider that the kitchen would have different levels of light depending on how far along in this process they might be. The kitchen counters seem always to be cluttered with mugs, teas being made and packaged, essential oils, flowers, pots boiling, etc. There is also a cabinet filled with glasses, either in the kitchen, or close enough to the kitchen for them to rattle when one gets down off of the kitchen table. 

Also in the kitchen - the door to the pantry that Artemus takes up residence in. 

You can see to the front hall and the base of the stairs from the kitchen, and there’s a main hallway that connects from the kitchen, which is at the back of the house, to the front of the house where the front door is, and so I imagine that the stairs are right there in that front hall area. I also believe there is only the one set of stairs connecting the two floors. The staircase has a railing with a knob on it. In the hallway, there is a table with a clock on it. 

The reading room can easily be gotten to from both the kitchen and the front hall, so I imagine it’s off to the other side of the stairs perhaps and maybe there’s a door from the hall and another to the back from the kitchen? There do seem to be multiple doors into the room, and since Adam describes it as a room meant to be a dining room, that makes sense to me. The doors are sometimes closed, so it’s not one of those rooms that is just separated off by archways or whatever.

Anyway, it is described as containing “the candles, the potted plants, the incense burners, the elaborate dining room chandelier, the rustic table that dominated the room, the lace curtains, and finally ... a framed photograph of Steve Martin.” Maura seems proud of that photograph, and makes sure to tell Whelk that it’s signed. It’s also described as having mismatched furniture, with an armchair at the head of the table.There’s a framed photograph of a standing stone on the wall. Also, apparently, there’s a phone in the reading room. There are blinds over the windows. 

There’s also a living room, which I’m thinking is further into the house, because you can’t see the front hall/door from there. There is a fuzzy mint green love seat, and a blue striped chair, and a wicker bench in front of the window. There’s also a couch. I’m also guessing this is where the TV is, unless there is a separate TV room as well, somewhere on the downstairs level? 

There is only one bathroom, and it’s upstairs. There’s a full bathtub. 

The upstairs phone, the one dedicated to the psychic phone line Orla had put in, is in the Phone/Sewing/Cat room, which has green gingham wallpaper and is “full of a multitude of odds and ends”. I’m not sure if the long purple silk Calla does her aerial yoga in is always there, or of Calla sets it up before she does it each time? There are bins of sewing materials, a chair with a pillow on it, and I’m guessing this is the room with the sewing table in it? 

Blue had repurposed canvas trees glued to her bedroom walls, decorated with collaged and found-paper leaves. There was a card table shoved against her twin mattress with reading materials on it, and a nightstand with a dim green lamp. Her closet door was covered with glued dried flowers. She had a ceiling fan that was hung with colored feathers and lace, also leaves. And she had copied a poem on her ceiling. There was a bird painted on one wall with a talk bubble that read “WORMS FOR ALL”. A shelf cluttered with buttons and scissors. A rotating fan in the corner. Blue’s room is adjacent to the Phone/Sewing/Cat room.

Maura has her own room, which is next door to the Phone/Sewing/Cat room. Calla describes it as being chaotic and messy and filled with too much shit. 

Calla and Jimi share a bedroom. It is my considered opinion that they also share a bed, but this is never mentioned or alluded to. We do know that on Calla’s dresser is kept the three statues of Oya, Oshun, and Yemaya, the Yoruban goddesses.

Persephone’s bedroom was at the end of the hall upstairs, past the Phone/Sewing/Cat room and bathroom, and the door to her room was painted red. She had a desk with a Victorian desk chair, and a “high, elderly twin bed”. There was a shaggy rug. 

Presumably Orla has a bedroom somewhere up there and if there are other residents of the house (see the post referred to in this ask for why I wonder about that possibility), then perhaps there are also other bedrooms??

The attic is accessible from the second floor with a door that leads to the stairs that lead up to it. This door is at the very end of the hall, probably past Persephone’s room. A single light bulb lit the attic and it didn’t reach the stairs, so that was a dark stairway. Once up there, there are numerous slanting roof lines which means this is one of those houses with lots of angles and not just one flat or arched roof. There’s also unfinished wood floorboards and areas patched with plywood. There’s a porthole window (along with other windows apparently?), the leads out to the mismatched roof angles outside. Before Neeve moved in, there was nothing up there because Maura was against collecting things. 

When Calla and Blue go up to investigate once Neeve’s been living there, they find a mattress covered with throw rugs on the floor; lots of candles, bowls, and glasses cluttered together, bright painter’s tape making patterns between those objects, a half-burned plant stalk on a plate dusted with ashes, and in one of the narrow dormers - two full-length footed mirrors facing one another. Also a statue of a woman with eyes in her belly, a black leather mask with a large pointed beak, a red mask that matched it, a switch made of three sticks tied together with a red ribbon, and a little cloth bag with asafetida tied into it.

After they clear out Neeve’s things and it becomes Gwenllian’s room, the mirrors are still there, and the mattress, but it becomes cluttered with her own mess of things, also including candles and half-burnt plants.

So that’s what I got! LMK if you have more questions. I love this house and the people who live in so very much. Thanks for asking about it! 

[thenickelportrust]

Informant Fluff

... or it was meant to be.

@dae-kalina wrote an absolutely fantastic fluff piece for Aelius (one of the ROs from her superb game, Son of Satan: The Mortal Coil- the tumblr for which you can find at @sosthemortalcoil) in return for breaking my heart with some equally fantastic angst pieces, and I wanted to show appreciation by returning the favor.

‘Wanted’ being the key word there.

I am sorry.

The rain lashed at your skin, cutting jagged scars of water over your arms and legs, the howling cry of the wind nipped at your feet. You could feel their grip against the slick rooftop failing you, skidding back and forth, turning what was already a flailing run for your life into even more of a chaotic mess of limbs- each diving through the air in an uncoordinated wildness, but the edge never got any closer. If you could just make it over to the next rooftop you could escape- you could get out of there- but the slick, water-logged roof refuses to let you go, keeping you firmly planted on the spot. Your hands reach out and drag your nails through the air, as if somehow you could find purchase in the unforgiving winds to drag yourself forward. But you’re still not moving. You’re not moving. It’s so far away. You can hear the clang of the metal rooftop door slapping the wall, flung open with ferocious force. You don’t dare a glance backwards, the phantoms already growing in your peripheral. Your legs burn with effort, and if you were to stop you would surely fall. Off the edge of the roof, plummet to the ground below. You can hear the footsteps approaching- heavy thuds in time with your thumping heart. Icy fingertips press into the nap of your neck, claws that dig into the skin around your throat-

You suck in a deep breath, eyes snapping open. Shivering despite the blankets wrapped around you, you pull yourself deeper into them, squeezing a fist around the fabric of the bed as you force your eyes to squeeze closed once more, the sound of your skipping heart fluttering around your ears drains out everything but the sensation of cold sweat soaked into your back. With a sigh, you unfurl your fingers and force your eyes open again. Staring directly into the crack that’s run from your apartment’s floor to its ceiling for as long as you can remember, you manage to dredge the last of your consciousness away from the nightmare. Collecting yourself in the comfort that it isn’t real.

At least not anymore.

Ok, maybe not quite as comforting as you thought. It’s too hot and too cold all at once- you kick the blankets aside and roll to the side of the bed, pressing into the scratchy carpet. Damn, you really need to get a new mattress. Everything hurts- you roll your shoulder, wincing when it cracks as soon as you stretch it out.

The walls creak as you move, and your head snaps to where shadows dart away from your line of vision as your eyes adjust to the dark. The silence seems to whisper, creeping thoughts clinging to the nightmare pressing against your brain with cruel grins that gleam in dark corners. With fumbling hands, you scour the wall for the lightswitch, filling the room with a dull orange glow as the bulb buzzes and flickers to life. The hiss of the faulty electrical system seeps from the walls, and the shadows cast by the light seem to shrink back whenever you dare to look towards them, only to creep up in your peripheral.

No. No you’re fine. You just need to stand- maybe splash some water on your face. Yeah, that will work. Then you can go back to bed and sleep and everything will be fine, right? After all, it was all just a nightmare and who has the same nightmare twice in a row, right? Right. So it’ll be even better if you just… go back to bed.

The shadow from your dresser peeks seems to peek around its edge, the black hand of a spectre crawling out just behind where you can’t see and as soon as you turn to look it slips back into the void.

Just wash off the paranoia first.

The cold medicinally clear white light of the bathroom glints off the stained tiles and semi-opaque glass of the shower. The sink sputters before bursting to life, a steady stream of cold water runs between your palms. Technically, the landlord has warned you to let it run for a minute or two before actually using it, but at this point you don’t care anymore, and bend down past the mirror to rub the cold water over your face- wake up to shed the last threads of the dream before going back to sleep.

The mirror fills with the face you refused to look back at on the rooftop, grinning too wide, one hand reaching towards the back of your nightshirt-

Your head snaps up, eyes darting wide and wild to the mirror but there’s nothing behind you. Of course there’s nothing behind you. Why wouldn’t there be nothing behind you?

The skin around your knuckles stretches into a paler shade as you grip the edge of the sink. With too much force, you shut the water off and shake out your hands, rubbing your wrists. Stepping out of the bathroom you take another longing glance at the bed but by now it’s become eerily clear that you’re not getting any sleep tonight. Not if your own brain won’t let you rest.

You need to- you need to- you need to move. To do something. Just keep yourself distracted. Throw on your coat, go outside, just for a tiny bit. It’s dark but…

Before you even have the time to consider anything else you’re already buttoning up your jacket and heading for the door. Blink, and you’re pushing open the apartment building’s entrance, taking a deep breath of crisp, cold night air. There’s no stars above when your head cranes back, not even rolling clouds turned a sickly yellowish by city lights- it’s just a blank, black canvas stretched seemingly just inches over the spiking buildings. Dark felt tugged taut across the sky where stars and the milky way should have been.

Your feet hit the pavement in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. There’s no real direction that you guide them in, just walking for the sake of walking. For the purpose of hearing that rhythm- unhurried, laid-back, alone.

Alone until it’s broken up by a second step- then a third- echoing one another, chasing yours. Your shoulders rise and you whirl around, gaze skittering about the street- where a young couple crosses across the path, arm in arm, laughing to themself with unconcerned grins. Neither of them are even aware of your existence as they cross in and out of your vision.

Deep breath, exhale, you’re fine. A tad bit paranoid, but fine.

There’s more footsteps, and your eyes continue to play pranks on your brain, putting phantasmal figures just beyond the edge of your sight, circling your brain with the haunting memory of rain against skin and slick shoes slipping over the edge- a jump not quite enough with flailing arms, fingers skimming the very edge of safety before slipping undone and-

You suck in a breath and look up- how far have you been walking? The pads of your feet have started to ache ever so slightly- where are you? You just tried to walk off everything that was still haunting your tired mind, but where did you end up?

Your head swivels until you manage to find a street sign, squinting to read it underneath the harsh glow of a bright streetlamp. Oh you… why did you end up here? Because if you’re here then that means…

There, the red brick building that’s begun to look familiar even shrouded in the dull dark blue hue of night. Your eyes trail up to the window with flowers- lilacs- you’d yet to meet the old lady that grows them but the first time he pointed out his neighbor’s window when you commented on the same flower he kept in a vase he’d mentioned that she was an extraordinarily kind woman, taking in most everyone on the floor as if they were all her grandchild. Receiving flowers on random occasions was just one example of how she cared for everyone.

The memory brings a smile to your face and, before you know it, you’re stepping up to the front buzzer. But- wait- it’s so late, he’s probably not even up. What are you doing? Just go home. You already feel better, so everything should be fine now. You don’t need to bother him by waking him and-

And you’re pressing the buzzer. Guilt gnaws at your stomach when you shove your hand back into the pocket but… You can’t say you’re particularly eager to head back out either. And, hey, maybe he really is asleep and you won’t wake him up so you’ll just turn around and head back home or perhaps call a cab. Might be better not to walk alone at night… even if you… walked alone at night all the way here.

“Hello…?” Fuck, he’s awake. Or he is now. Even through the robotic filter of the buzzer you can hear his voice is heavy and slurred with sleep. Damn, now you feel even more guilty. But it’s too late to turn back now.

“Hey, uh…” What does it say about the two of you that you know where he lives but not his name…? “It’s me. Sorry for waking you up.”

There’s a small pause before you hear the entrance’s lock click open, a quiet “Come on up.” following before the buzzer dies off.

You push open the door and, unlike your apartment which always greets you with the smell of musk and mold, find yourself wrapped in a fading, warm smell- roast chicken? You can see, down the first floor’s hallway past the lobby, light and muffled sound seeping out from the crack beneath one of the doors- sounds like a dinner party. The last shreds of darkness clinging to your coat are quickly cast away as you head for the stairs, those hissing remnants of the nightmare that woke you up already seem like a long lost memory.

Which, of course, means that by the time you actually get to his door, you feel positively foolish for having come here. You really did just need to walk it off, you’re fine, why did you wake him up again?

You try to knock lightly- maybe he passed out again and you should just turn around and leave. You certainly wouldn’t blame him for doing so. What time is it, anyway? One, two in the morning? The sun definitely hasn’t risen yet- is that good or bad?

The door swings open and your thoughts pass through blanky- filtering out in a single moment to be replaced with the twitching beginnings of a smile and a snicker as you look at him- “It’s pitch black outside, do you just sleep with those on?”

The Informant, in just a plain white t-shirt and boxer shorts, reaches up to his face and touches the edge of the sunglasses that, by the way his eyebrows rise in shock, he forgot were there. “I heard the buzzer.”

“And you thought sunglasses first, pants later?” You bite your lip to keep from laughing aloud and waking up everyone on the floor, “Good to know you’ve got your priorities straight.”

He moves to the side, and you step inside, taking in a deep breath and finding the tension that had propped your shoulders up quickly collapses, letting them fall down easily as you exhale. Cinnamon and pine- you should ask him what it is that makes this place smell of that, it’s such a nice smell, might help if you found some way to bring it to your own home.

You hear the Informant, unsuccessfully, stifle a yawn behind you as the door clicks closed. It feels funny to see him without the normally put-together look. Hair disheveled from sleep, dressed so casually, padding slowly to the kitchen- a far cry from the man you met what feels like so long ago now, a dark figure in the corner of a dimly lit bar selling you precious information. Now he just opens up the cabinet, pulling down a little container to wordlessly offer you some tea. “What kind?”

“Cinnamon.”

Well, that explains the smell. “Sure.”

You turn your back and look around the apartment- it’s all relatively plain. A long ruby red couch facing a simple television- the dust on the screen makes you think it’s not used very much. The coffee table in front of it is piled with different books- despite the fact that you can already easily spot two smaller bookshelves filled as well. That’s, perhaps, the one outstanding thing about this room, and something that stood out to you before as well. You walk around the couch, trailing the edge of the blanket folded over its back with your fingers, before stooping down to look at the book on the top of the coffee-table pile. “Their Eyes Were Watching God?”

“Zora Neale Hurston,” The Informant affirms with a slow nod, “You read it?”

“In high school,” You tap the book to your palm, “Usually I find that people tend to stray away from the ‘classics’ once they realize they’re no longer going to have to write an essay… Actually, even then, usually people tend to stray away from the ‘classics’ and just read a synopsis that analyze it all for them.”

You see the edge of his lips quirk up, “Which is why I’m reading it now.”

“No,” You gasp holding the book in front of your mouth in shock, “Don’t tell me that out of all the people you were someone who never did your reading assignments.”

He shrugs loosely, pouring steaming water into two cups.

“Here I would’ve bet that they had to create a whole curriculum for you.” You set the book to the side as he walks over and passes you one of the mugs. You wrap your fingers around it- savoring the feeling of warmth returning to your night-chilled fingertips. Taking a whiff of the tea you’re assured once more that this must be where the smell of the apartment comes from.

Cinnamon.

“I wasn’t the most obedient kid,” He admits, leaning back against the couch, you follow suit, letting your gaze roam over the rest of the books on the table as you take a long, slow sip from the cup- letting the sweet spice tea chase away the last of the cold in your bones. “But I found a couple of them in a bookstore recently and I thought it was a shame I never gave any of them a chance.”

“Look at you,” You purr with a grin, “You’re almost a mature adult- if it weren’t for your priorities.” The Informant turns to you with a quirked brow, to which you just point up to your eyes- the glasses. He snorts, hiding his smirk from behind the cup.

You sigh heavily, leaning back into the couch, your eyes start to flutter closed- the lids growing heavier, you feel yourself sliding slowly to the side. Your hands go loose in your lap- but just before the cup can tip over it’s snatched up, and you manage to shake yourself awake just enough to see the Informant brush aside some of his books and make room for the mugs on the table.

“Sorry I- damn- and here I thought I wasn’t going to be able to sleep again.”

He pauses at that, shooting you a questioning glance that you choose not to meet. Suddenly, the far window enraptured you just enough that you don’t have to meet the question that lies behind his glasses. “You know I was thinking about how weird it is that I still don’t know your name… I mean, I know where you live, I know that you were a surprisingly rebellious kid, I know that you love cinnamon tea and read more books than anybody else I know but I still don’t even know what to call you.”

He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, “Well it wasn’t exactly either your choice or mine that you ended up knowing where I live…” He trails off, “We didn’t exactly know where else to bring you- you were bleeding out and we couldn’t exactly leave you there to wait for an ambulance…”

You grit your jaw, squeezing your fingers into the palm of your hand- as if you could squeeze away the feeling of the concrete edge of the next roof slipping just beyond your grasp.

Still you force a laugh- dry and fake, not even a enough to convince yourself, “You’re telling me. I’m the one still waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat over it all before somehow ending up in front of your door even though I really didn’t mean to come here I just wanted to go somewhere safe and my home wasn’t really feelin’ it but then again I’m fairly sure that my landlord’s backup plan is to start reaching out to movie producer’s to advertize it for horror movie films so big surprise there, yeah?”

You fold your arms over yourself, digging your teeth into the side of your cheek until it stings and you’re about half sure you draw some blood. You feel the couch dip down when the Informant moves towards you, but you’re head is kept down and away, focused on not shaking like some… ridiculous child and maintaining whatever dignity it is you have left. If any.

Still, all that washes away when his hands brush over your cheeks, gently nudging your head up to meet his gaze. You lean into the touch, your jaw relaxing- though your fluttering heart doesn’t slow, it feels calmer than before, not quite so violent against your ribcage. You manage to detangle your hands from around yourself, instead you reach forward- and with just the slightest tug against his shirt the Informant pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face into his neck and tangle your hands around his still-mussed-up hair, breathing deeply to steady yourself.

Cinnamon.

“You’re safe.”

Two words. Two words and you feel like crying. Or laughing. Or just… just…

You end up doing a mix of both, hiding it all in the crook of his neck. The Informant doesn’t let you go until you’re done, rubbing little circles into the small of your back with the pad of his thumb. Even by the time you finish, he doesn’t let go- and neither do you, glad that he seems, at the very least, willing to let you hold on for just a moment longer.

Just a moment.

You just need a moment.

He pulls back first, your hands only reluctantly sliding from his back to his shoulders, still unwilling to let go completely- lucky for you, he simply moves to hold your face again, brushing aside streaks of tears with the back of his hand. Even past the dark glasses you can spot his eyes roaming around your face. The smile comes easier this time, much more natural. “I’m okay, now.” It feels true. A long breath out as the weight lifts from your chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You let yourself lean into his touch again- you don’t bother to suppress the joy when he doesn’t pull away, you don’t even bother to try and question it. It just… feels natural, the right thing to do. “I know I woke you up when I came here and I should apologize but… Selfish as it may sound, I’m actually really not all that sorry.”

“I’m glad you did.” It’s hard to say why either of your voices drop into a whisper- the moment feels… fragile, as if the slightest word said too-loud or misplaced breath could break it. And perhaps it’s because of that feeling that you wish your heart were quieter, too, thumping heavily in your chest. Though it’s not like before, it’s nothing like before.

You reach over to the corner of his sunglasses- ridiculous sunglasses- and gently pull them away from his face. The Informant does move when you place them to the side, unable to school the small smile from your face when you can finally see his full face. His look mirrors your own, and you reach over- brushing the edge of your fingers underneath his uncovered eyes, over the curve of his ear, down to his jaw, along the bottom line of his lips. Your thumb hesitates there, eyes flicking up to meet his eyes again as you give his lower lip a little tug with the pad of your finger. He curls his hands around the curve of your jaw, and soon the both of you press forward- brushing your lips against his as you loop your arms around his neck.

The night may have started in a cold sweat, flailing and frantic, but this was slow, soft, the gentle brush of your lips before you pulled away- eyes still closed, to breathe in deeply through your nose. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, mouth curving into a smile.

He tastes like cinnamon.

[unholyhelbiglinked]

The Attic | Oneshot [1/4]

CHECK OUT THE FULL ONESHOT HERE

The flashlight was weighted against her grasp, a heavy mix of metal and plastic with a slowly flickering bulb that would buzz to anything but the naked ear. It cast an odd circular glow, one that was a golden sliver of daylight in the musty old attic.

Chloe hated the attic; a small space that could mostly be avoided, but in today's heat, it seemed blunt and unwavering- it’s scent like mold and sweat. Maybe she had been up there too long, the slowly climbing temperature doing nothing for her standards, or maybe she was just dehydrated. But her focus didn’t deviate from the flashlight in her grasp.

She let out a shaky sigh, condensation slowly pooling against her chest and curved collarbone. Chloe was a lanky girl- the first to sprout a few inches in her eighth-grade class, but the last to realize that height didn’t really change the fact that she had bright red hair that would always deem her the title of an evil demon. She had grown into her feet and her stature, earning looks from the very people that doubted her in high school.

Now the pediatrician was beyond sure of herself and her abilities as a Ph.D. None of that old stuff seemed to matter- not the yearbooks, the teasing, the horrid fluffy dresses she wore to prom… or at least it didn’t matter until she had crawled her way back into the dusty clutches of this place.

There was supposed to be an estate sale later- one that finally cleared out her mother’s old Victorian house for good. This place was supposed to stay in the family- to garner hope for future generations of Beales. The job offer in New York was calling the young doctors name, however, one the made it near impossible to keep this place in her name.

“Are you admiring the view up there?” Her girlfriend's voice echoed from the small hallway that gave the only access to the upper part of the house. There was nothing much to see, nothing other than some bare wooden walls and a bunch of pink siding that was unusually tempting to the young woman.

A simple smile moved across Chloe’s lips as she flipped the flashlight off, pressing a small rubber button that got rid of one of her only lights sources. It plunged her into a warm darkness. She blinked a few times, shoving the flashlight into the edge of her belt loop as she breathed in the musty air.

“I’m coming down now,” She announced, testing out the top rung of the wooden ladder, listing to the aged surface creak and groan as she hung onto a piece of paneling for dear life- nails splintering wood. She heard Beca shifting against the wooden floor below her, biting the inside of her lip as the smaller girl stared at her. She stepped down a few more rungs before meeting stormy blue eyes at level, her hand still grasping one of the edges. “Who’s admiring the view now?”

Beca threw her head back and groaned, scratching slightly at her dirtied cheek as she stared at the inky black opening that was left above them. “It’s your fault for wearing yoga pants, Chloe. Not mine.”

“God, you’re like a dog in heat.”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” She kicked sheepishly at the floor, the taller girl shook her head slightly as she listened to the springs creak and groan once she lifted the ladder into the very secret hiding place on the latch. She cringed as the rope that hung from the ceiling burned against her palms.

“I would like to call it unfair.” Beca continued, snaking her arms around Chloe’s waist as the girl let out a small yelp- both parties ignoring the balky flashlight that hung lazily against a belt loop. “I have been moving furniture all day.”

“So, you must be tired then,” Chloe pointed out to her, adjusting her arm around the woman’s shoulders. They were aching, her own exhaustion creeping in. “Baby, even if I were comfortable having sex in my childhood home, Aubrey is going to be here any minute with the papers.”

“She can watch.”

“Beca.”  

“Fine.”

It wasn’t a normal conversation the two would share- but Beca had been on edge lately. Her own career plowing forward in the Big Apple as well, the small DJ traveling home every other weekend for the past six months in order to get some face to face time with Chloe. It had been scarce and getting on a plane just to clean up an old house wasn’t on her to-do-list, especially if Aubrey Posen was involved.  

As if on cue the swift three toned knock on the mahogany door. It echoed against the nearly empty corridors, traveling up the staircase as Chloe didn’t waste any time pulling away from her girlfriend. Her very defeated girlfriend who let out a soft groan and willed her legs to follow Chloe down the carpeted steps.

Even Beca had to admit, the house was beautiful; it was large and whimsical, something that was made out of a children’s book or maybe even a vintage dollhouse. Even the front door had a red and orange stained glass window that outlined the blurred silhouette of Aubrey’s straight-laced persona. She stopped halfway down the staircase, leaning against the banister while Chloe pulled open the creaking hinges to get a good look at the lawyer.

The blonde beamed, her deep olive eyes flicking momentarily towards Beca before focusing on her friend instead. She didn’t mind the dirt covered girl as she wrapped her in a tight hug, Chloe never one to turn down an embrace, closing her eyes as she breathed in the lemon scent Aubrey always seemed to carry.

“uh,” Aubrey pulled away, wrinkling her nose “You stink.”

“You’re telling me.” Beca mumbled scratching her neck as she put on a fake smile “Hi, Aubrey.”

“You try getting a whole house ready for an estate sale and then we’ll talk Posen.” She chided jokingly, turning around to face Beca with an accusatory finger point. “You hush,”

“Hi, Beca.” Aubrey chuckled slightly, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. “Someone is grumpy today.”

“I am grumpy every day.” She drew out her syllables with every passing second, letting out a huff as she flopped down onto the step directly under her- it pressed against the middle of her back but she stifled a wince- instead playing with the hem of her shirt.

Chloe rolled her eyes and turned back to her friend, stare flashing close to the documents that the woman held in her hands. “Are those them?”

“Mm,” She hummed, waving the packet around slightly “The biggest part of this is your on-site. You can keep all of the money you get from this, but anything that’s left behind has to be donated to HFH. But we can always wait a few days and change up the contract-“

“No, that’s fine.” Beca said from her curled up ball on the steps, earning an accusatory look from Chloe, causing the restless girl to backtrack “I mean, it’s charity, right? Habitat for Humanity?”

Aubrey nodded pensively as she ran her fingers over the edge of the paperwork. Beca swears this type of legal work was a turn on for the young lawyer. Well, any type of legal work was a turn on for her. She would get off on the different type of highlighters she needed to use and the scent of freshly changed toner.

“She’s right, Chlo, eager, but right.” She shrugged “This would be your easiest route, it’s how most estate sales go in the first place. What doesn’t sell get’s donated, but with the type of stuff your mother kept around I’m sure you’ll have no trouble clearing it up.”

“It’s fine,” Chloe confirmed with a nod of the head. “I just don’t know how all this stuff works. The cleaning I can do… the legal-“

“Is why you have me,” Aubrey finished her sentence, boasting a smile that could blind the gods. “I just need you to sign a few things and you’ll be all ready to open the doors tomorrow.”

Chloe wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her shirt, white knuckling the bunch of threads as her hand rested on her chest- it was rising and falling with upmost rhythm. She was staring at the ceiling in what used to be her parent's room- the only four post bed that was still in this place. Others were around, but they were covered in white sheets, white sheets that had dust coating every inch of the place.

This place had been her home. For the longest time, it was where she would curl up after a rough nightmare, or a horrible date. She would cuddle into her mother’s side while she stroked her hair and whispered things in her ear to calm her heart rate.

Now it was cold and desolate. Nothing was in the room except for the queen-sized mattress and an old television that only got three stations. It was sitting on the floor now- turned off because there was no point in flicking it on. A floor length mirror was propped on the parallel edge of the bed, Chloe wanting to cover that too.

Chloe didn’t bother crawling under the blankets. It was too hot in the room, the flashlight heavy in her other hand as she balanced the cool metal weight in her grasp. She ran her fingers along the beaded edge, pressing her fingers into the indentations.

“What are you thinking about?” The muffled voice from the bathroom doorway caught Chloe’s attention. Beca was leaning heavily against it, a toothbrush shoved into her cheek as she struggled not to let the frothy mint spill over her lips.

“Who said I was thinking at all?” She pondered, lifting her eyebrows as she settled In the plush bedding and flicked her stare back up the ceiling.

“Well, you only get that look when you’re thinking,” Beca said, her voice echoing as she walked back into the bathroom, spitting the contents that filled her mouth into the sink with a small grunt. “Or when you’re climaxing, which I certainly hope you’re not doing without me.”

“Beca,” Chloe groaned as her small girlfriend walked back into the room. She nearly dodged a pillow being chucked at her head, instead, she clenched onto the fabric. She let out a small grunt as she flopped down onto the bed next to the taller girl.

“I’m sorry, I know.” She grumbled, running her fingers over the sheets. Her stare moved back up the Chloe’s as she propped herself up on her elbows. “You uh, you’ve had this kind of sick look on your face since this morning… I thought it was the heat, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

Chloe let out a thick sigh, not pulling her eyes from the ceiling.

“I’m usually the one to shut myself out, you know?” Beca said, adjusting her position to face the ceiling as well. She let her hand fall close to Chloe’s fingers playing absently with her girlfriends. “I’m used to talking about feelings and-“

“I grew up here.” Was all Chloe said, voice cutting through the room, “It’s not like I didn’t do everything to get out of this place once I had enough money to go off to college I did. And I didn’t look back- not on this house, this town, or my mother… but now that I’m here…”

She trailed off, drawing in a sharp breath. Beca didn’t need her to continue to come to the sudden realization that this was painful for Chloe. She was never good at reading social cues, so she pushed herself into her work and followed every order that Chloe barked out until her arms begged for mercy.

Beca warped her arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her head onto the girl’s chest. The redhead let out a content sigh as she pulled her girl closer to her side, breathing in the scent of mint and ginger that Beca carried.

“Tell me about her,” Beca said, breath hot on Chloe’s skin.

“Hmm?”

“Your mom, tell me about her.” the smaller girl whispered. “If uh… if you want.”

Chloe didn’t say anything for a few long moments. She drew little patterns on the small of Beca’s back, her heartbeat and breath almost lulled the girl into a light sleep. She didn’t want to push Chloe, not now. When she felt a sharp intake of air, she knew she was ready to talk.

“We never really had much money, so she worked two jobs.” She spoke, voice a low murmur. “Most of the time she was a librarian, it didn’t pay much but she loved it. She loved the smell of the books, and the way people would just share a newfound form of peace whenever they walked through the doors. Other than that, she worked at a grocery store. Never really had a day off.

“She took care of me and Annie though, she did… and she kept this house too. For as long as I can remember she always wanted me to keep this place. It was part of the family history, I guess. My grandparents had it under their name before hers, and their parents before them. It’s always been the Beale’s place.”

“Chlo,” Beca started to protest. She didn’t want to push them into this argument again. Even before Beca flew in she had suggested Chloe keep this place. She was so fast to dismiss her, so fast to say that this was holding her back in Georgia. At the soft look she received, she dropped it, though.  

“I don’t feel guilty about selling it,” She said, voice a low grumble “I feel uneasy. But I don’t feel guilty.”      

[the-infamous-mister-gates]

The Fury of Mother Bangkok

          There’s a reason why you dream what you dream. It’s something you hope for, but know that you’ll never get it. It will never happen. I learned a long time ago that it wasn’t about capturing a dream…

          It was about chasing it.

         There was one dream I had, where I would be laying in a wide-open wheat field looking up at the orange twilight of the engulfing dusk.  A spacious blue sky littered with pink clouds shaped like mythic beings: dragons, slithering in the crisp air; a mighty phoenix, its wings spread over the horizon; angel eyes made of fire, burning with intense love and mystery. The poetic existence of all these mesmerizing creatures broke into obscurity in the wake of the night.

         There was nothing to chase in a peaceful dream like that. I could find books detailing symbolism, analogies, and possible meanings, but in a way that would spoil what I already have: A vivid realm different from my life that I could escape to.

.   .   .   .

         There were poets and dancers. There were male escorts and silver tongue pimps. There was the underbelly that smelled of cheap cigars, body spray fragrances, and ammonia. Neon lights reflected in marble polished columns and chrome bar counters. A jugular of festive business men stroking the legs of servers, who brought mixed refreshments poured in glittering glasses.   Entertainers were situated in the center of the abyssal ballroom where masked men and women copulated in a pit of velvet ambrosia.

         Many people came here to witness the cross-cultured display of feverous engorge; the execrable wonders of snakes molesting women in a pool of cloudy water.  Spotlights and stage lights spraying the bodies with a gleam of patronage, unwilling to remove their ethereal stare like a perverted God in the absence of an unforgiving way of life. Off-duty cops and underage girls drinking in leather booths where stains of blood and cum reside under their feet.

         I stand between it all, the lone American among the locals of a foreign city, with scars on my body hidden from sight until the audience is worthy to see them.  I don’t know what year this is or what day of the week it could be, let alone the month.  I did not exist for those things.  I lived in the now. Not the past or the future.  I traded a moment for a moment with brutality and blackouts; the occasional companion and the mornings after.

Excess, no less

Pushing fingers into flesh

Zealous, Jealous

Devil woman tell us

       Heavy synth music matches my pulse as I gaze over the occupants.  Some were laughing and talking, others motioning some to go under the tables and unbutton their pants.  Disco ball lights and shining stars reflecting in the glass frames of an elder gentleman petting a young man with cold sores on his lips and bruises on his face.

         My eyes see the truth in the complex feeding off of Mother Bangkok, the place where we go to die and be reborn in a stew of depravity. If I could cut open all these people and spill their guts, all there would be is sludge and gunk within. These incestuous machines eating and throwing up one another over candle lit tables, calling it love and nurturing, filling their wombs with worms and digesting fluids from oozing statuettes.

         I can see the show in the middle conclude.  A wave of applause scatters around as the horny little masked performers walk off the center stage. The custodian boys run quickly to clean the stage for the next act. I turn my head to the main bar.  The man there looks at me and raises his hand displaying five fingers to remind me of the time I have left until show time. I nod to him subtlety.  I walked away from the main scene to the bathrooms. I approached the urinal and relieved myself. I noticed graffiti on the rustic green wall:

Mother Superior sucked me off twice

And Daddy Vader put me in a vice

And so it all goes

Long live the show

It’s a maze and we’re the mice

         I flushed the urinal and walked up to the restroom sink.  My senses begin to absorb the surrounding nuances in the restroom:  The flickering of the half-broken florescent bulb above my head; the buzzing of the mating flies in the top corner window; the boosted bass of the outside bar music; the vacant reflection looking back at me in the fractured mirror.

   I crack my neck and my back loudly. I wash my hands thoroughly. I pull out some paper towels and dry my hands completely. I look at myself in the mirror.  I flex my arms and raise them in front of my asymmetrical face. I crack my fingers and my back again. I roll my shoulders and slap my face. I smack the paper towel dispenser and walk out. I go through the back dressing rooms. The blind masseur was loosening the muscles of the performers as I walk past the dark rooms where questionable things happen all the time.

   Before I walk out into the main stage, I look to my right and see her: a slim young woman in a blood red dress and dark make-up.  Her southeastern Asian complexion glossed with natural shine. She looked at me worrisomely.  I stared back and winked.  She forced a small smile in return. At that moment, ear-encapsulating electronica music summoned my presence into the small area of the central stage where just previously, seven people were fucking each other for a hundred people to see. As I walked out, cheers and hollers of praise could be heard, accompanied with an equal amount of boos and detestable rants. I removed my suit jacket and shirt when I walked into the middle stage. The spotlight beamed down on my body like an alien ship. I rolled my head and loosened my body, revealing the gratuitous scars over my muscular definition and vascularity, inflicted from past fights and brawls.

         My opponent was a massive South Korean thug for a local black market operation. He sat in a chair, infuriated and tense like some savage giant.  The bartender walks into the middle and calls for us to enter the center.  My opponent stands up. He’s tall, I’ll give him that, but there is no way he’s fast.

   The barkeep says his name is Dae-Su. As the fight is approved, Dae-Su lunges forward and tries to grab me with both his arms. Stupid first move.  I saw that coming a mile away.  I duck and swoop around, planting my hard knuckles into his side.  He swings around; I duck again.  He grabs a chair and hurls it towards me.  I raise my arms up and try to block the shattering wood.  I fall over, anyone would.  Dae-Su kicks me in the chest.  I can hear the cheering over the booming music. You would think this happens so fast, but to me, it’s like fighting on the moon.  I feel weightless and serene.  The sound is muffled over the vacuum of space.  Everything moves in slow motion: the blood, the fists, and the crowd; it’s beautiful.

         I grab a beer bottle and break it over Dae-Su’s fat head.  I see some blood fly as he yells in pain, trying to cover his face.  I raise my arm up and punch him right in the left temple.  He goes down but gets back up.  Dae-Su stumbles like a hippo with Down syndrome.  I thrust my knuckles into the side of his face and watch as a patch of skin is ripped open by the sheer velocity of my strength.  I knock him to the floor. The crowd demands I finish him.  They want me to fuel their bloodlust.

   I was their vicarious avatar for relentless rage. They didn’t see some goon getting beat up.  They saw their bosses, their daughter’s boyfriend, their wives, their school rivals, their wives’ lovers, their father, their mother, their church pastor. They even saw God there being pulverized and beaten to a pulp by me.  By the time I’m done, Dae-Su’s face looks like the inside of a cherry pie.

   I stand up from Dae-Su’s body. The cheering pencil-pushers and government officials soon begin to really look at what I’ve done.  The voices cease into an eerie silence that welcomes the feuding guilt to twist their stomachs.  Noticing the change in atmosphere, the club music of Mother Bangkok turns back on as a couple of guys take Dae-Su’s body to the back.  I look over the silent faces, all blinking and coming to terms with what they just experienced and how they felt about it: They enjoyed it.  They would be back for more no matter how appalled they might feel or how drunk they are.

Meretricious and vicious

Her lips so delicious

Crimson red, silky bed

Sins welcoming the dead

               I pull a towel from the back room and head upstairs.  I live in one of the many apartments above Mother Bangkok.  In my room waiting is my little diva singer.  Her red dress hung over my desk chair. She’s waiting for me on my bed.  She helps me in and puts me to sleep, watching me and cleaning my wounds.

   This place hidden from the all-seeing eyes, but seen from those with all views of humanity, my iron-crafted home where fury bludgeons the underground dwellers and profiteers as souls, deplete and run dry like a desert thirst.

   Among Elephant Kings and She-male prostitutes, I’m a wanderer and deserter with no dreams that can soothe the painful embrace of such a hell.  The diva’s touch keeps the wrath of the begging dragon at bay, but the dreams I pursue nourish my longing.

   How simple a dream is to obtain when it’s the sky of your home far away.  The voices of Mother Bangkok tempt and revitalize, never letting go, but infuriating my sole purpose to fight, to please and satisfy.  The Diva and I, both are children to a Dragon and a Fury that birthed the cataclysmic endeavor of lost dreams and never-ending brawls.

   My dream has been captured, and I go on chasing it and the ones that have claimed it.

[vin-taege]

Can I Move In?

Summary: Life has already been shitty for you, but it all becomes worse when a lonely, snarky ghost boy decides to follow you home one night. Or does it?

Genre: Fluff, ghost! Yoongi au

Words: 3k

The alcohol you consumed during the Halloween party was still making you feel a bit warm. You would’ve carpooled with your friend on the way home, but she got shit-faced ten minutes into the party. So here you were, walking alone past midnight in the cold, lamp-lit streets. The dark never really bothered you. It was actually pretty beautiful and calming. What wasn’t calming was the cold atmosphere you couldn’t wait to get away from. The dress you were wearing didn’t help, seeing that it ended above the knee and was sleeveless. The sheer fabric of your coat was no match against the icy breeze too. But then you start to realize, there was no breeze.

It was really cold, but you were sure it wasn’t the wind. You didn’t feel anything blowing against you, and the trees were still, too. Getting a bit weirded out, you walked faster, your house soon coming into view. You sighed in relief; finally, some warmth and a hot bath for your aching feet. It was three more streetlamps down the road, and you would’ve walked slower to cherish the evening, but then the lamps started flickering. It started out slow, then sped up, making you make a run for it. Just as you were halfway in the house, you heard a loud pop.

‘What the hell,’ you thought. ‘Even if I was drunk, that shit was still creepy.’

Maybe the bulbs were just about die. Yes, that’s it. Who knows when they were last replaced? You certainly haven’t seen any electrician go out and maintain the streetlights, so that explains it. Even with the perfectly logical explanation, you were still freaked out. A hot bath could calm your nerves.

So what if it was three in the morning, the infamous ‘witching hour’? So what if the streetlights suddenly acted crazy? You were tired from all the dancing and being social, and you were getting the bath you deserved. You ran the water, waiting for the tub to fill. 

Thunk, thunk

Unmistakably, those were heavy footsteps. Now, you were really nervous. There was no way it was another stray cat that wandered in. The steps were too lous for that. Whatever was making that noise was no doubt human. You looked around the bathroom, frantically looking for a weapon in case an intruder got in. You spotted a shampoo bottle, knowing very well that it wasn’t tear-free just like what the label suggested. That could momentarily blind someone and give you enough time to call for help. 

Thunk, thunk

It was closer this time, probably even outside the bathroom door. ‘Okay, there is no way I’m going down like this.’ You reached for the knob and threw the door open. “Aha!” you shrieked, squeezing the bottle into nothing. No one was there. “What, where- I’m drunk. I am very drunk, and smelly, and the only thing that’s gonna make this night better is my hot bath.” you said allowed, trying to calm yourself.

Maybe it was just your imagination. A thought of you slowly going insane presented itself, but you waved it off. You already have your rent and your low paycheck to worry about, and adding more problems would just cause a mental breakdown. The warm water against your skin was preventing said breakdown. You thought you heard your bed creak, but you were too lost in relaxation to care.

After 15 minutes of the hot bath, you got out, deciding to call it a night. You dried yourself off with a towel and put on some panties and a large shirt. Sleeping with pants on was too much of a bother. You don’t really get that leg freedom with a pair of slacks. You shut the door to the bathroom, only to slam yourself into it in shock when you see a bulge under your blanket. It was moving, breathing, and you almost had a heart attack.

Walking slowly towards it, you reached your hands out, ready to rip off the sheet. “Dear Lord, I’m sorry for that one time I cheated on my AP exam. I’m also for sorry bailing on my blind date to eat nachos while having a movie marathon by myself.” you muttered under your breath. This definitely wasn’t some drunk hallucination anymore. Not when there was someone in your bed, someone who could probably murder you. You grabbed the blanket and ripped it off, finding an empty bed. You were dumbfounded, staring with a gaping jaw on the spot. You swear there was someone there. 

After a few moments of recollecting yourself, you let out a shaky laugh. What did they spike your drink with? You found yourself screaming again when you hear a groggy voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You looked at the pale boy sitting in the corner of your room. He had a sour expression on his face as he squinted at you, to which you returned the stare. Your chest was rising up and down rapidly, another scream stuck in your throat. His skin was so light, contrasting to the black sweater he wore. His hair was a light blue, matching the aura he had around him. Yes, he had an aura, a light blue tint surrounding his figure. He scowled at your shaking body, standing up and walking towards you. Only then did you find your voice.

“Wait, stay away from me! How did you get in?! If it’s money you want, there’s some spare change in the piggy bank I keep under my bed, just please don’t hurt me.” you cried out. 

The boy rolled his eyes, saying a silent tsk beneath his breath. “I don’t need money, especially in where I’ll end up in. What I do need, however, is a warm bed, so don’t enjoy sleeping next to me much, princess.” he smirked before hopping in your bed and pulling the blanket over him.

You were still frozen in fear, unable to comprehend what was happening. It was three am, and there was a strange boy stealing your bed. “Hey!” you yelled at him, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it repeatedly. “Get off! I don’t even know you.”

He muttered a bunch of ow’s, shielding his face from your pillow attacks. “Here’s the deal, princess, I’m not hitting you or stabbing you with a knife, so why don’t you just let me rest?” he hissed, wrenching the pillow out of your grip.

“You little...” your face was red with anger. To say the night was unusual was a big understatement. You were supposed to be sleeping right now, not trying to get a stranger off your bed. The aura had you wary about him, but at this point, your fear just turned to rage. With all the energy you had left, you pushed him off the bed. 

You expected a thud, followed by pained screaming, but it never happened. Instead, your arms passed through him. You froze in shock again, staring at your hands showing through his transparent torso. Then, you both screamed.

“Ew, what the hell? Did that really- what are you even?! Just please leave me alone.” You stumble back,  vigorously rubbing your arms to get rid off whatever invisible trace of him you had. You breathed heavily, starting to feel light-headed.

“Oh my God, your hands were inside me. Shit, that sounds so wrong out of context. What was that for?! Can’t a ghost have some respect around here?!” He was about to rat you out more, but then he noticed you passed out, half your body hanging off the bed. “Jesus.” he grimaced, hauling the rest of your body onto the bed. He covered you with half the blanket, taking the other half and crawling under it as he slept with his back facing you.

You woke with your head feeling like it was drilled with a hundred jackhammers. You let out a groan and rolled on your side, memories of last night coming back. This made you sat up straight, glancing at the space next to you. The boy was gone. Something told you to look at your bedside drawer, so you did. A glass of water and two pills were sitting next to a torn piece of paper.

“Thanks for the nap -m.yg, the friendly neighborhood ghost boy”

So everything was real. You weren’t one who believed in ghosts, but you sure as hell did now. He had a light blue aura, and your hands passed right through him. He seemed harmless enough, but this was just too much to handle. You made a mental note to call the nearest priest after you had breakfast.

“Good morning, princess.” his monotone voice greeted you. You jolted up, looking around until your eyes rested on the wall mirror hanging in front of your bed. He was there, in the mirror. “You look like you got into a mud fight.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Excuse me?” you stood up, walking in front of the mirror and crossing your arms. “Listen ghost boy, you broke into my house and slept on my bed, without my permission, so you better watch your mouth. Don’t make me call an exorcist.”

His face flickered with an expression of fear, but then quickly changed back to the blank, stoic look he had. “Come on, y/n. Just give me a place to crash for a bit, then I’ll move out in the next blood moon.”

“And when- how do you know my name?” The boy chuckled, before disappearing from the mirror. You were met with your own frustrated reflection. 

“It’s written here.” You whipped around to see him standing by your drawer, holding your ID up. You ran towards him and snatched the ID just as he disappeared again. “Can you stop with the poof thing?” you said, exasperated.

Finally, he materialized on your bed, sitting with a contented smile. “You can’t call a priest on me, sweetheart.” he slyly grinned at you.

“And why is that?” you spat back, tone laced with fake sweetness.

“Me being here means other spirits can’t come in. And trust me, not all of them are as nice as me.”

You considered his statement, flashbacks of based-on-real-life horror movies coming back. You’ve watched enough Paranormal Activity and Anabelle to know how evil some ghosts may be, so maybe letting him stay was not so bad. You reluctantly set the rules for him over a cup of coffee and burnt waffles. Who knew ghosts could semi-cook?

“First of all, I don’t want you going through my stuff. And since you’re transparent, I don’t want the floating through walls and 360 degree headspinning thing. That shit’s creepy.” you said as you wrote the words down. He hummed in approval.

“Quick question, why didn’t the pillow I was hitting you with pass through you?” you stopped writing and looked at him. 

“I can control when a thing passes through. You caught me off guard, so I wasn’t really able to do it until I saw you about to push me off the bed.” He raised an eyebrow at you, then stared at your coffee mug, making it slide off the table, stopping it just as it was about to hit the floor.

You stood up, pushing your chair back. “That isn’t allowed! No ghosts tricks until I say so.” He shrugged again, making you roll your eyes as you sat back down.

“Anyway, do you even eat? Drink? Shower, or something?”

He wrinkled his nose at the last question. “As we’ve established before, I’m a ghost. I do neither of those things. Unless I want to, of course. I don’t even have to sleep-”

“Then why did you barge n my room last night?!” you cut him off. He scowled at you, and you suddenly find your cheeks heating up in embarrassment from your sudden yelling. You whispered a silent sorry before letting him continue.

“Sleeping is basically the only thing I can do to pass the time. When you’re a ghost, you get easily bored of stuff. I hope you understand, and fine, I’m sorry for intruding last night.” he looked away and pouted. You suppressed a smile at the sight.

“Okay, apology accepted. Last thing, if you want to use a something of mine, you should always ask permission first.”

After giving him a mini house tour, you settled on the couch to complete the last requirement in college before semester break. You payed no attention to the ghost boy, who’s name you still didn’t know, and typed away on your laptop. It’s been a whole hour of silence since you last talked. “Y/n~” you heard him call from the kitchen. “Yes?” you hollered back. 

“I’m bored.”

He trudged into the living room, pouting like a child. You chuckle at the sight of him. He immediately glared at you, pout disappearing with him. He just deadass poofed again, breaking rule number two. 

“Ghost boy, we talked about this!” You checked every reflective surface. You knew he was mainly doing it just to piss you off, and it was working really well. 

“Boo.” You jumped up, the laptop falling off your lap as you saw his face on the screen. You heard him laugh, the in the blink of an eye, he was gone again. ‘Shit’ you grabbed the laptop off the floor, checking if there was any serious damage. The space next to you dipped, and you figured he might’ve materialized beside you. 

“If anything happens to me laptop, I’m killing you again, ghost boy.” you hissed at him. He just scoffed, slinging an arm on top of the couch.

“Stop calling me ‘ghost boy’. Contrary to popular belief, I have a name.” He took a couch pillow and curled up on the other end of the sofa. 

“Which is?” you shut the laptop down, finally completing the file. You crossed your legs and faced him. His eyes were closed, about to take another nap. 

“Yoongi. I’m not Casper-nice, but I guess I still am? Yoongi, the semi-friendly ghost.” he yawned, and before you could ask him something again, he was already asleep.

It was crazy how easily you accepted a spirit into your home. You’ve learned to not ask him personal questions, like how he died, or why he was still among the living. You tried once, and each time, you just got a deep sigh and a sad look. Apparently, ghosts like music as much as humans do. He was ecstatic when he saw an Epik High album squeezed between some books. 

“You listen to hip-hop?” he asked you with shining eyes.

That’s how you came to listen to the album on repeat every Friday. He was warming up to you faster after that. There were times when you arrived home and there was freshly cooked dinner on the table, Yoongi acting oblivious about it. He’d be sat in front of the TV, pretending to not see the steaming pork belly meal. If you asked about it, he’d reply with yet another sarcastic response.

“Oh, why don’t you look at that. Food magically appeared, whoop-dee-fucking-doo.”

Sometimes, he followed you out the house too. It often had its perks when you were in some situations only he could help in. Like the time your teacher’s lecture was too boring, so he activated the fire alarm, setting the water sprinklers off. Or that other time you weren’t able to study for an exam and he peeked over Kim Namjoon’s test paper to observe, as he called it. 

“Yah, number eleven’s supposed to be C.”

“Yoongi, this is cheating.” you whispered to him, afraid that someone might hear you in the silent classroom.

“No it’s not. It’s called getting ghost-friend benefits. You owe me a foot massage later.”

The semester break finally rolled in,much to Yoongi’s delight. No school meant you being in the house more, which in turn means he gets to spend more time with you. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, he loves the attention you give him. Any attention was good attention for him, even if you’re screaming your head off after he appeared in the mirror again while you were doing your makeup. 

“Hey ghost boy,” you smirked at the name you always teased him with. He was sitting on the couch as usual, staring at the flickering TV (caused by his presence) timidly. “Since it’s the official start of break, I was thinking of laying the rules off. I’m gonna be here most of the time anyway, so I can supervise you.” 

“Are you implying I’m a child or something?” his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“I’m just saying. I have neighbors too, you know? I don’t want anyone seeing you doing the spooky stuff you do.” you chuckled at him. “The rules are off. You can do whatever you want.”

His eyes lit up, and he gave the widest gummy smile. “You mean it? I can float in the house now?” Of course it was the first thing he’d ask. During the first few weeks of being with him, you got used to the sight of him hovering over the floor, and sometimes even while sleeping on the bed. 

“I guess. But only during the night.”

He pouted a bit at your response. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you can do it during the day too. But we need to buy thicker curtains.”

He let out a small ‘yes!’, then suddenly hugged you. His action took the both of you by surprise and he quickly pulled away. “Thanks by the way.” he said while ruffling his hair.

“No problem. I wouldn’t have to worry about you tracking mud in the house so-”

“No, thank you for letting me stay.” he looked at you, sincerity in his eyes. “The night we met, I was supposed to move on. Into the light, I mean. I just didn’t want to yet. I didn’t have anywhere to stay in, too. I saw you walking alone that night, and the dress you wore looked too revealing. So I thought ‘hey, maybe I should watch-over this girl for a bit’ and I did. Basically, I’m kind of like your guardian angel now, except I’m stuck in purgatory.”

“Awh, I never knew you could be sweet.” you cooed, moving your hand to pinch his cheek, only to scream as it went through. He glared at you while you took your hand back, rubbing it.

“Don’t push it.” he huffed, placing both his legs on your lap. “All this mushy stuff made me hungry. Can we get some pizza?”

“I thought you didn’t need to eat?” you chuckled at his demanding demeanor.

“Ghosts crave too.” he smiled at you before disappearing again. You rolled your eyes as you got your phone to order takeout, already expecting to see Yoongi in the screen. 

[in-the-name-of-the-holy-reborn]

Christmas Blues - Tsuna

Arc 1 Secret Santa 2017 Participation @haplesshippo​ Merry Christmas my Dear, I hope this end of year was great and I wish you all the best for the new one !

Deep uneasy feeling began to fill Tsuna’s mind as he walked downward the corridors of Namimori High school, murmurs intensifying each time he turned a corner or passed by a bunch of students. He felt the warm on his cheeks and forehead, not the one invading you when you met your crush, no, the one which make your head spin while a strong nausea punch you in the guts. His collar seemed to tighten around his neck, a bead of sweat tickling him as it rolled from his hair to his nape, he then realized he wasn’t able to swallow anymore, mouth awfully dry. He tried, hard, not to think about them, the ones who laughed at him because he couldn’t even understand the most simple maths formula, the ones who pushed him with a hard shoulder when they passed by him. He licked his lips shacking his head, eyes cast down as he quicken his pace, clutching the books against his chest like a shield, he focused only on his final destination, what was it already ? Tsuna didn’t mind, his feet guided him god knows where while the barely audible whispers metamorphosed into terrific laughters, he came to a stop when one of the black shape around him shout; «Look, Sawada forgot to put a pants on before leaving his mommy, again.» Horrified by what he had just heard, his tremors intensified, No, No. It wasn’t possible, he wouldn’t do something like that, he remembered perfectly slipping in his jeans while eating a toast as he rushed toward the door because he was late, or was it yesterday, or the day before. He gulped, opening chestnut hues on his naked legs covered only with pink patched underpant, he tried to scream, but nothing came out, so he used the only defense he new, he ran. He ran as fast as he could between lines of mocking comments, Oh, he could have give anything to just vanish, even his collection of comics. He ran away, until his lungs ached, drowning into infinite corridors full of shadows, he only slowed down when he faced a wall in front of which Kyoko was standing, blinking candidly at his attire. Tsuna tried to retreat, stumbling on his own feet as he fell under the stare of the hooting public surrounded him, he fell, again and again but the floor never came, until the endless drop into the depth of the ground engulfed him totally. - The tenth Boss of the Vongola sat up on his bed, breathless and covered in sweat, it was still dark outside, the silent raven dome shining with stars assuring that he could have slept few more hours. Tsuna set the cover aside, sighing loudly as he got up toward the window, the fresh air of December slipped in the warm room as soon as he pushed it open, slithering on his bare chest helping his temperature to cool down a bit. He entered the adjoining bathroom of his hotel room, lightening the mirror as he passed some water on his face, he blinked at his reflection, sighing again at his tousled hair sticking to his forehead, memory of what just happened. His high-school tormented years were far away from the man he had become, still, nightmares kept haunted his nights from time to time, no matter what he accomplished in the past ten years, no matter how much he had changed and all the achievements done, he felt like this dull part of him was still there somewhere, threatening to ruin everything he had worked for. Tsuna let himself fall on his mattress, the alarm next to his head displaying red numbers way too early to do anything constructive, his eyes darted toward the white blanket covering the street throught the steamy window, Christmas was surely an opportunity to take some days off after the long trips of Mafia cases forcing him to travel all over the world. Not that he mind, but he had to admit that he missed cosy nights ‘home’ sometimes, far away from Namimori and his old habits. He grabbed the shirt landing haphazardly on the floor before browsing the folders resting on his nightstand. Nope, this year would be the same as the last, and he wouldn’t be allow to go back to Japan before, the New Year night, at the soonest. At least, his devoted right hand man would be there, they could afford a good restaurant for Christmas Eve before going back to their respective room after few drinks that will help them forget the loneliness. Few minutes passed and his mind wandered again toward his friends and family he missed so much, visit to Japan happened less and less and if he could see them five times a year, it was already a victorty. Squinting on the report, he put it aside, working in a time like this would be worthless and ineffective, the ghost of his nightmare forgotten, he closed his eyes, waiting for Morpheus once again with his head full of good memories. - The tip of his nose hidden behind his scarf, Tsuna crossed the street with a quick step, a cup of coffee in one of his gloved hand, the other one plunged in his black duffle-coat pocket. Defying the glacial cold and crowded dowtown was the last step before Tsuna could join his hotel, the signature of his opponants on the negotiation treaty, it was with a relieved smile that he walked down the road. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, putting his cup to his chapped lips as a reward, not paying attention as people rushed past him to be home early in order to work on the last preparations before the celebration. He enjoyed the warm sensation of coffee slipping on his tingling throat, remembering how he loved the smell with which he wake up every morning of his young life, well minus the sour taste. When he opened his eyes again, his hues paraded around the colored light garlands enlighting his surrounding, he always loved this period of the year, furthermore as Namimori made a point of honor to transform the entire city with Christmas decorations. All of merchants adorning their showcases with puppets and gifts perfectly wrapped, the smell of roasted chestnuts filling his nosestrill as he walked hand in hand with his smiling mother, the brighter light he could see. He took the decision to wandered around a little bit more, no matter the fresh air biting his toes, lashing the tiny bit of skin exposed, nor the milky dark sky menacing above his head, but the emptiness in his chest made him want stay out, refusing to acccept the evidence. Once he would be back in his fancy hotel room, no good bottle of wine or chocolate box would be able to fulfill the lack of his dearest people.

It’s only when the delicate snow flakes fell lazily on his shoulders that he decided to join Gokudera, the weight on his limbs still present as he tried to shrug it off and get out of this gloomy state. He pushed open the door of the dusky place, kicking off his shoes, unwinding the fabric around his neck still in the dark, shaking his jacket before placing it on the armchair. With a sluggish motion and a yawn, he extended his arm toward the light switch, dreaming of a hot shower before slipping into dry and comfortable clothes after this whole day outside.

The roof light flickered a second, before plunging the room in the dark again, as the painful thought of going down to the reception reached his mind, a sofr tune reached his ears and several stained bulb enlightened the whole place. Tsuna felt like he was a child again, Christmas decorations adorning each furniture, illuminated the whole scene unfolding before his amazed eyes, balls, figures and garlands has been spead everywhere. He blinked several time, a sweet ingenuous smile grazing his lips when his gaze sticked in front of him, most of his guardians and closest friend were present. In the middle of the crowd a radiant Nana extended her arms, faint wrinkles of joy in the corner of her eyes she coudln’t hold back the toothy smile at the sight of his big boy. When he came out of his daze, Tsuna chased away the pricking sensation of tear, walking to her, he burried his nose into her hair, drowning into this so familiar and reassuring scent. He adressed a thankful smile to his right hand man, tonight, he would not be the head of one of the most important mafia family, he wouldn’t be the business man or the occasionnal killer, he would be Tsunayoshi Sawada, the young man, who still put his shirt upside down from time to time.

[ecotone99]

For in that sleep of death...

I awoke abruptly, my blankets clinging to my sweat soaked body. Nightmares hounded my sleep once more. They have been coming to me lately, filling my head only moments after it rests upon my pillows. My back was turned towards the closet, too afraid to sleep facing the door. I slowly focused on the clock across the room. Its dim numbers cast a soft crimson glow upon the walls, displaying 1:01.

She came to me again in my dreams, and left me awake in my bed, racked with a spurious sense of guilt and anxiety. I shuffled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. As I passed the closet, I heard the metal hangers, their almost musical wind chime like sounds as they gently tapped against each other.

I flipped the light switch and waited for the tube bulb above the mirror to flicker on, the starter dutifully made its rapid clicking noises as it warmed up. I looked upon my face, my skin perhaps paler in the harsh white of fluorescence than it really was, my cheeks more hollowed and the dark welts under my eyes more prominent. I ran the facet and cupped a few handfuls of water on my face and took a moment to stare at the water swirling down the drain. I thought of a heavy weight, swaying gently in the dark...

It was then that I noticed the scratches along the back of my arm. I examined the rest of my body in the mirror. More scratches on the back of my shoulders and legs. Had I tore at myself again in my restless sleep? I made note to trim my nails. I abruptly thought of stiffened fingers scratching against wood.

I wasn't ready to try again at sleep. I poured some stale coffee grounds into the Bunn and switched the machine on. A whine emanated from the heating coil, and water began to spit and gurgle into the basket. I was reminded of soft choking sounds. I moved to the couch and sipped my coffee, my apartment dead silent. The old lamp in the corner flickered a few times, momentarily interrupting the warm yellow light that filled the room. I sat back into my couch and looked towards the dining room table. My only roommate Maggie, a Russian Blue stared back at me. For the last few weeks she has avoided sleeping by my side at night. After a couple of hours, I yawned, realizing I couldn't fight sleep. I had no fight left in me. I got up and walked back into the bedroom.

As I laid myself upon the bed, I put my front facing the wall. I didn't want to see the closet.

I pulled my covers closer around me. I heard the hangers again, their gentle rustling.

I pressed my head into the pillow. I thought I heard someone weeping.

A door slowly opens. I shut my eyes.

Let what dreams may come.

submitted by /u/BigUncleHeavy [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/guykgj/for_in_that_sleep_of_death/ via Blogger https://ift.tt/2yXOelm

[fictionary-tales]

Excerpts from House Huntress

Here’s a place where we could live together: an apartment in the city, up some concrete steps with a discolored wrought iron railing that’s more likely to impale someone than do any kind of saving and the palms of my hands have the scars to prove it. Yours do not. The building is brick-red, or rain-stained-concrete gray, and the door, though the ivory paint is peeling in places, has a brass knocker and an eye hole for testing whether it’s worth ever opening again once we’re inside. There are some tiny planter boxes you made with your brother – the oldest one who can do things like that, whose name I never remember – and maybe I said I’d grow vegetables but I forget all about that when I see flowers, so instead of half-dead tomatoes we’ve got half-dead snapdragons and African daisies that I am clumsily trying to save after weeks of mistreatment.

              There’s a kitchen just big enough to turn around in, everything that came in it already off-white or fake wood overlay, and the countertops are scattered with unorganized half-used glass jars of rosemary, thyme, basil, paprika, and old husks of garlic cloves that were rubbed clean and then forgotten. The cupboards rattle with too many coffee mugs, thrift-store finds that will never match one another and they rattle and clink against each other when you’re trying to select a particular one. The cutlery matches in that it doesn’t, so many knives and forks taken home from assorted twenty-four-hour diners to make up for the ones I keep losing and the ones you accidentally throw away with the leftovers. The fridge has at least two different kinds of non-dairy milk in it at all times, and no meat. It buzzes and groans.

              Over the half-wall of the kitchen counter we have cobbled together the furniture we retained from past lives. What was once second-hand is now third-fourth-fifth-hand; at least the stuff that I bring is. You bring the overstuffed powder blue couch I love and this is its first time being co-owned by anyone, or even this far away from the nearest dirt road. Nashville is a cool city the way Austin is a cool city: an oasis of metropolitan tolerance in a desert of fucking bigots. In time the couch will be stained with candle wax and wine and what’s left behind any time you push my skirt up to discover I’ve forgotten to do laundry and so I’ve run out of underwear again. There’s books of poetry by Dickinson and Lowell on a coffee table scratched from cups, bottles, keys, lighters. There’s two poorly done paintings on the wall above the couch, portraits of two girls: one yellow-haired and the other a brunette, dressed in some early twentieth-century pink or blue gowns complete with parasol and over-the-shoulder coquettishness. A palette of faded blues and yellows and greens, the girls have the hollow black eyes of distant dreams. We found them on vacation together and had to save them.

              The bedroom is small and the bed is smaller, dressed in lilac and crisp white. There’s a certain throw pillow in the center of other throw pillows that holds a secret, a zipper in the folds of its hemming to keep it. The nightstand beside my side of the bed I found next to the dumpster at my old place and it’s filled with bracelets, multicolored rings, knotted nests of necklaces, and weed in unlabeled bottles. The nightstand on your side of the bed has been in your family for three generations and I don’t know what’s in it. The bathroom smells like your perfume, like a pre-scented sample on a perfume ad insert that comes in any women’s fashion magazine. When I turn the shower on, old love-messages written on the mirror with your finger re-appear like magic.

…

Here is a place we could stay together: an antebellum house in the countryside, maybe close to your family. Close enough that you can walk a dirt path through the dry grass that’s tall as your hips. It’s a path lined with day-glo orange and gold poppies, and purple nettle flowers that sting to touch. You visit your father, your brothers, whenever you want. The middle brother who you’re so worried over all the time despite his being older than you, Angus, he comes over regularly to sit in our cool parlor decorated with see-through white linen curtains where he drinks bourbon and talks about Edna St. Vincent Millay and W. H. Auden and grumblingly refuses to show you or anyone else any of his own recent poetry.

The house is smaller than the one you were raised in, and bigger than any house I’ve ever called home or even been inside for very long. It’s an adjustment for both of us. Outside there are columns that sit beneath the second-story balcony. When we bought the place it was all whitewashed, but since then most of it has been painted a muted pink and I’ve planted ivy and bougainvillea that creeps up the columns in deep greens and explodes across the sides of the house in shades of magenta that refuse to die, despite me not knowing what I’m doing. Errant cats wander the property with dusty brown paws that leave prints across the white planks of the front porch and on the seat of a swing. Light streams in through windows half as tall as I am and onto end tables and decorative shelving to reveal intricate doilies and gold-rimmed porcelain candy bowls, ancient copies of books thick enough to kill a man with if used properly, and glass vases filled with bouquets of wild flowers we both pick for each other on any given weekend.

The ceilings are so high that I can hear you singing to yourself in the kitchen from the other side of the house; your smoky lounge-singer voice that you typically only show off for family Christmas carols now bounces off of support beams to reach me wherever I am. Our guitar in the corner stays tuned and clean and in the evenings I play and you sing, or the other way around, or we take turns. In the kitchen, brass pots and pans hang from above, over a restored-vintage stove, along with hanging bundles of drying herbs: rosemary, sage, basil, lavender. Storage containers of descending size with painted-on sunflowers contain flour, sugar, and rice separated by variety. The freezer is stuffed with mason jars equally stuffed with jam: blackberry, marionberry, raspberry, orange marmalade, strawberry, blueberry, fig. There is one hook for multiple aprons, there is a multitude of decorative dish towels which are separate and different from the actual dish towels and this is true even when used interchangeably like I do on accident (to your chagrin). Coffee grounds and cat hair and the plastic ties from long-gone loaves of sliced bread fall between the gaps in the counter and the stove.

The stairs will never stop creaking. The second floor has endless guest rooms for friends and family to stay in, the kind of family who will never be introduced to your own, the kind that will wake up early and make breakfast for us to say thanks, and then they say it again with their lips and their eyes and their embrace on the way out the door. Our bed is big, queen-sized, with a white iron frame that twists and turns like it grew that way from nature, and the sheets have tiny blue flowers on them the color of your eyes. We cover rings in the wood on the nightstand with squares of pale green linen. Batteries roll around back and forth against silicone inside the drawers, and we’re careful not to be too loud for the neighbors’ sakes, but that is half the fun. On weekends and days when I can’t get out of bed, you close the curtains to the sun, crawl under the covers with me, and we spend all day trying to come up with a good reason to get up.

…

Here is a place where we could grow old together: somewhere forgotten by the sea, away from the dry heat of summer. A house that is wider than it is tall, with new paint and an old garden that we make new again. Everything I plant turns to green. There is sand stuck into the fibers of the welcome mat, and smooth stones that we have collected and arranged into spirals and borders for garden beds keep everything from touching that we do not want touching. The door has more glass than wood on the front, multi-colored and mosaic so when the sun shines through it makes patterns on the floor for our feet to dance in. There is a backyard with a fence so high no one can see into it, except for the sunflowers which stretch up and up and up and over.

Inside there are bare wooden floors that we cover here and there with rugs collected from our worldly travels, purchased from artisans with a smile and many thanks. The furniture we use is purchased in a similar fashion; it is made of sturdy pine and oak, built to last, and stain resistant, with covers and cushions the colors of the ocean outside. The bookshelves hold volumes of poetic verse written by Keats, the fragmented desires of Sappho, biographies on Frida Kahlo, and lamentations of Sylvia Plath. At night the sounds of the waves can be let in or shut out through the many windows, and when it rains the whole house sounds off with the plunking of drops on glass like the pickings of my guitar.

The bay window in the kitchen over the sink holds flowers waiting to be pressed or dried or just picked in haste and then forgotten: violets, little daisies, hydrangea, and lots and lots of lavender. The counter tops are wooden, like you could cut right on them, and there are knife marks to prove it here and there in collections. There’s a china-blue bowl of oranges with only two left. Bulbs of garlic hang in a basket by the sink. An errant smell of sage and sea salt sinks into all our food, and the flecks of soil on the tile near the backdoor can never fully be swept out for good. To drink we make lemonade of all kinds: blackberry, strawberry, raspberry, mint, or water infused with cucumber and lemon, or hot tea with names like Rasperry Zinger and Orange Spice, and Sleepytime for late nights. A glass jar of honey sits on the counter next to the stove and it is always oozing. There is a table for two tucked into the corner, with bare wooden chairs we picked up from antique sales. They don’t match, but it’s hard to tell.

In the bathroom the shower has walls of tall frosted glass and connects to a bath tub deep and wide, soap scum fitting into the corners of the walls and in the grout of the tile. The rim of the tub is littered with half-empty bottles: baby pink, sea-foam green, and pearly white. It is so good for washing the salt from your hair.

There is no guest bedroom. Our bed is four-poster, with lavish fabrics draped around the beams, all indigo and white and cornflower blue. There are so many pillows of similar colors that it takes a concentrated effort to remove them before bed each night and replace them again in the gray mornings that follow. And sometimes we don’t replace them, and sometimes we do. The drawers of the nightstand beside it are stocked and arranged in an arsenal of silicone sexuality that we never worry someone might stumble upon. We are as loud as we like.

In the winter when the wind howls, there’s a blackened fireplace that we bring back to life. It crackles and spits while we turn against one another under the covers. A hamper in one corner is overflowing at all times. There’s a dresser that is taller than it is wide, almost to the ceiling, filled with scarves and summer dresses and sweaters; and, in between the socks and stockings in one of the smaller drawers, a collection of love poetry I’d forgotten I’d written to you. Your vanity holds pearls and perfumes, necklaces on silver hooks like branches worked to resemble a dead tree, and the mirror is pristine and round the way all mirrors ought to be. Sometimes in the evenings before bed, you let me brush your hair in front of it even though you think it’s silly. You sit on that little white wooden bench in front, with me standing behind you so you watch me in the mirror working the brush through your beach-blown curls. You don’t ever have to tell me when I’m hurting you because I already know.

[endlessarchite]

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!

You might think I’m being dramatic. Me? Dramatic? Yes. But in this case, no. Our freshly refinished heart pine floors are complete game changers in the house-feeling-more-finished column. FO SHO. I mean, look at this shot of the kitchen that we snapped when we were there this past Saturday checking them out / doing alllll the drooling:

Just as a reminder, here’s what that room looked like a few months ago, right after drywall went up:

And let’s take it waaaay back for a second. Here’s what this room looked like when we bought the house last October. In the words of Pepe Le Pew: “Le Yikes.” 

So this visit was full of bulging eyes and guttural screams and shuffling around with socks on our feet so we didn’t damage the freshly sealed floors. In fact, I shuffled around with my iPhone in hand and shot an updated tour for you. I’m sharing a ton of info in the video, so don’t skip it if you want all the details – from our thoughts about choosing the gray trim downstairs to what’s next on our to-do list and one STUPID mistake we made in the bathroom. Note: if you’re reading this post from a feed reader, you may have to click through to the post to view the video:

In addition to needing to refinish all the pine flooring that was already here, there were lots of repairs that we needed – not to mention fully missing sections that we wanted pieced in to look perfectly flush, like they had always been there (you can see one of those person-sized holes in the picture above the video). So this was a job we were happy to hand over to the pros. We hired ShenValley Floors for anyone in the area who’s wondering, and they did an awesome job patching in everything so it looks original. They even found reclaimed pine from another old home that was being demo’d and used it in here. This was one of the areas they patched before everything got sanded and sealed:

And right after everything was sanded we learned something interesting about pine flooring. Apparently, even if you sand and sand all the way through pine, discolorations from sun or rugs can’t be removed. In oak, you just sand them enough and it’s all gone. But in pine, these things go all the way through the wood! It surprised us at first, but we’re embracing the imperfections of this 100-year-old floor. Plus it’ll become far less noticeable once furniture, rugs, and cabinets go in.

Some people on Instagram have asked what stain color we used, but we actually didn’t use one at all! We just went with a “satin” water based clear coat after everything got patched and sanded down (well, actually five clear coats – which should add up to a ton of durability). So this is just the natural color of the wood coming through, and the reason we went with a water based coat is because our flooring guys said it’s awesome (way less stinkier and just as durable and beautiful thanks to formulas coming a long way in the last five years or so).

We like choosing “satin” over “high gloss” for wood flooring because it’s still shiny when the light hits it, but not super wet looking if that makes sense. We could’ve tried to hide the color variations a bit more by staining them darker, but we agreed with the pro that we loved the natural look of pine, so that’s why we didn’t stain ours. And really guys. It’s GORGEOUS in person. Like video/pics don’t even fully capture it – especially my iPhone on a partly cloudy day.

Speaking of the natural color of things – we rescued the old doors from upstairs too! They’re heart pine just like the floors, but you may recall that they were looking a little darker and heavier than we had hoped. They were all covered in some old stain/wax combo that wasn’t looking so fresh and so clean clean anymore (they were all pretty dark… and oddly sticky).

We debated painting them white or soft gray or a deeper gray-brown or even a soft blue-green (we ticked through allll the options), but we finally landed on getting them professionally stripped and waxed/sealed so they’d basically be brought back to their original glory. And they look SO GOOD! Now they can shine right along with the freshly redone heart pine floors.

We used a place across the bay in Virginia Beach called The Strip Joint, which I helpfully linked here so you don’t have to type that into your Google search bar ;) – and they did an amazing job! We took them off their hinges a few weeks ago, and they drove out and picked all of them up, stripped and sealed them in their shop, and returned them to us last week (they even cleaned and restored all the knobs, which we can’t wait to put back on). We’re driving back out to hang them all – along with the bathroom mirrors! – sometime this week, so we’ll share more photos asap.

But back to the floors. This view is another one that KILLS ME. It’s SO AMAZING to me how much this angle has changed.

As a reminder, this is what it looked like when we bought the house. The ceiling was literally crumbling and the floors had been painted a dark maroon color up here, so we had actually never laid eyes on the wood!

Here’s yet another new favorite angle: the upstairs hallway we added! Remember two of the upstairs rooms used to be railroad-style, without a central hall or a second bathroom – so this hallway was a huge functional improvement. And with the freshly redone floors it’s a beautiful one too!

Here’s the same view during framing. Memories. See how dull and gray the floors were before?! It’s so crazy to me how much of a difference this one update made (probably only rivaled by getting all new siding outside when we took this house from a dusty green-gray color to pink).

Here’s the middle bedroom, all ready for a bed. There’s another spot where there must’ve been a rug or a bed on the floor that made it slightly darker in the middle, but once we add a rug and a bed it’ll all be hidden again. Also, because every time we share a pic of these fans, people ask us for the info, we’ve included a mood board of all the light fixtures at the bottom of this post for ya.

And here we have the back bedroom. The pocket doors were really cool and chippy and we tried to clear seal them that way (to preserve that aged look) but they just kept flaking off every time we slid them in and out, so it wasn’t functional and was pretty messy and dusty… so they ended up getting fully scraped, primed, and painted. We chose the same color that we painted the tub (Riverway by Sherwin-Williams). They look kinda dark here since this is just an iPhone pic, but in real life they’re the exact same color as the tub, and it’s a really nice splash of boldness in the back of the house.

And as promised, here’s all the lighting (and fans!) and even the vinyl house numbers we ordered for the transom window above the front door to create that painted on look. We even included our new favorite LED light bulbs because they’re CLEAR and have that cool exposed filament look, like an Edison bulb. Which means they’re great for exposed bulb fixtures yet they’re not too yellow and not too blue (because podcast listeners know John’s a light temperature diva).

1. Front Porch / 2. Downstairs Bath / 3. Kitchen Island / 4. Porch Numbers 5. Foyer (similar) / 6. Bedrooms / 7. Kitchen Sconces / 8. Living & Master Bath 9. Mudroom / 10. Clear, Soft White LED Bulbs / 11. Dining / 12. Master Bath 13. Hall Bath / 14. Hallway & Small Upstairs Rooms / 15. Under Stairs

So there’s one big old beach house update that we’re thrilled to share! Feels like we’re SO CLOSE to being ready to bring furniture in (and to installing the kitchen!) and you know we’ll share alllll the details about that with you guys as soon as those happen. Until then, I think the lesson is: a) there are worse things to be than “dramatic” and b) refinishing your floors can be insanely dramatic!!!

Psst- Wanna read other posts about this year-long beach house renovation? Here are all the updates we’ve shared as we brought this pink house back to life. 

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! appeared first on Young House Love.

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! published first on http://ift.tt/2qxZz2j

[statusreview]

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!

You might think I’m being dramatic. Me? Dramatic? Yes. But in this case, no. Our freshly refinished heart pine floors are complete game changers in the house-feeling-more-finished column. FO SHO. I mean, look at this shot of the kitchen that we snapped when we were there this past Saturday checking them out / doing alllll the drooling:

Just as a reminder, here’s what that room looked like a few months ago, right after drywall went up:

And let’s take it waaaay back for a second. Here’s what this room looked like when we bought the house last October. In the words of Pepe Le Pew: “Le Yikes.” 

So this visit was full of bulging eyes and guttural screams and shuffling around with socks on our feet so we didn’t damage the freshly sealed floors. In fact, I shuffled around with my iPhone in hand and shot an updated tour for you. I’m sharing a ton of info in the video, so don’t skip it if you want all the details – from our thoughts about choosing the gray trim downstairs to what’s next on our to-do list and one STUPID mistake we made in the bathroom. Note: if you’re reading this post from a feed reader, you may have to click through to the post to view the video:

In addition to needing to refinish all the pine flooring that was already here, there were lots of repairs that we needed – not to mention fully missing sections that we wanted pieced in to look perfectly flush, like they had always been there (you can see one of those person-sized holes in the picture above the video). So this was a job we were happy to hand over to the pros. We hired ShenValley Floors for anyone in the area who’s wondering, and they did an awesome job patching in everything so it looks original. They even found reclaimed pine from another old home that was being demo’d and used it in here. This was one of the areas they patched before everything got sanded and sealed:

And right after everything was sanded we learned something interesting about pine flooring. Apparently, even if you sand and sand all the way through pine, discolorations from sun or rugs can’t be removed. In oak, you just sand them enough and it’s all gone. But in pine, these things go all the way through the wood! It surprised us at first, but we’re embracing the imperfections of this 100-year-old floor. Plus it’ll become far less noticeable once furniture, rugs, and cabinets go in.

Some people on Instagram have asked what stain color we used, but we actually didn’t use one at all! We just went with a “satin” water based clear coat after everything got patched and sanded down (well, actually five clear coats – which should add up to a ton of durability). So this is just the natural color of the wood coming through, and the reason we went with a water based coat is because our flooring guys said it’s awesome (way less stinkier and just as durable and beautiful thanks to formulas coming a long way in the last five years or so).

We like choosing “satin” over “high gloss” for wood flooring because it’s still shiny when the light hits it, but not super wet looking if that makes sense. We could’ve tried to hide the color variations a bit more by staining them darker, but we agreed with the pro that we loved the natural look of pine, so that’s why we didn’t stain ours. And really guys. It’s GORGEOUS in person. Like video/pics don’t even fully capture it – especially my iPhone on a partly cloudy day.

Speaking of the natural color of things – we rescued the old doors from upstairs too! They’re heart pine just like the floors, but you may recall that they were looking a little darker and heavier than we had hoped. They were all covered in some old stain/wax combo that wasn’t looking so fresh and so clean clean anymore (they were all pretty dark… and oddly sticky).

We debated painting them white or soft gray or a deeper gray-brown or even a soft blue-green (we ticked through allll the options), but we finally landed on getting them professionally stripped and waxed/sealed so they’d basically be brought back to their original glory. And they look SO GOOD! Now they can shine right along with the freshly redone heart pine floors.

We used a place across the bay in Virginia Beach called The Strip Joint, which I helpfully linked here so you don’t have to type that into your Google search bar ;) – and they did an amazing job! We took them off their hinges a few weeks ago, and they drove out and picked all of them up, stripped and sealed them in their shop, and returned them to us last week (they even cleaned and restored all the knobs, which we can’t wait to put back on). We’re driving back out to hang them all – along with the bathroom mirrors! – sometime this week, so we’ll share more photos asap.

But back to the floors. This view is another one that KILLS ME. It’s SO AMAZING to me how much this angle has changed.

As a reminder, this is what it looked like when we bought the house. The ceiling was literally crumbling and the floors had been painted a dark maroon color up here, so we had actually never laid eyes on the wood!

Here’s yet another new favorite angle: the upstairs hallway we added! Remember two of the upstairs rooms used to be railroad-style, without a central hall or a second bathroom – so this hallway was a huge functional improvement. And with the freshly redone floors it’s a beautiful one too!

Here’s the same view during framing. Memories. See how dull and gray the floors were before?! It’s so crazy to me how much of a difference this one update made (probably only rivaled by getting all new siding outside when we took this house from a dusty green-gray color to pink).

Here’s the middle bedroom, all ready for a bed. There’s another spot where there must’ve been a rug or a bed on the floor that made it slightly darker in the middle, but once we add a rug and a bed it’ll all be hidden again. Also, because every time we share a pic of these fans, people ask us for the info, we’ve included a mood board of all the light fixtures at the bottom of this post for ya.

And here we have the back bedroom. The pocket doors were really cool and chippy and we tried to clear seal them that way (to preserve that aged look) but they just kept flaking off every time we slid them in and out, so it wasn’t functional and was pretty messy and dusty… so they ended up getting fully scraped, primed, and painted. We chose the same color that we painted the tub (Riverway by Sherwin-Williams). They look kinda dark here since this is just an iPhone pic, but in real life they’re the exact same color as the tub, and it’s a really nice splash of boldness in the back of the house.

And as promised, here’s all the lighting (and fans!) and even the vinyl house numbers we ordered for the transom window above the front door to create that painted on look. We even included our new favorite LED light bulbs because they’re CLEAR and have that cool exposed filament look, like an Edison bulb. Which means they’re great for exposed bulb fixtures yet they’re not too yellow and not too blue (because podcast listeners know John’s a light temperature diva).

1. Front Porch / 2. Downstairs Bath / 3. Kitchen Island / 4. Porch Numbers 5. Foyer (similar) / 6. Bedrooms / 7. Kitchen Sconces / 8. Living & Master Bath 9. Mudroom / 10. Clear, Soft White LED Bulbs / 11. Dining / 12. Master Bath 13. Hall Bath / 14. Hallway & Small Upstairs Rooms / 15. Under Stairs

So there’s one big old beach house update that we’re thrilled to share! Feels like we’re SO CLOSE to being ready to bring furniture in (and to installing the kitchen!) and you know we’ll share alllll the details about that with you guys as soon as those happen. Until then, I think the lesson is: a) there are worse things to be than “dramatic” and b) refinishing your floors can be insanely dramatic!!!

Psst- Wanna read other posts about this year-long beach house renovation? Here are all the updates we’ve shared as we brought this pink house back to life. 

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! appeared first on Young House Love.

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! published first on http://ift.tt/2r6hzQy

[truereviewpage]

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!

You might think I’m being dramatic. Me? Dramatic? Yes. But in this case, no. Our freshly refinished heart pine floors are complete game changers in the house-feeling-more-finished column. FO SHO. I mean, look at this shot of the kitchen that we snapped when we were there this past Saturday checking them out / doing alllll the drooling:

Just as a reminder, here’s what that room looked like a few months ago, right after drywall went up:

And let’s take it waaaay back for a second. Here’s what this room looked like when we bought the house last October. In the words of Pepe Le Pew: “Le Yikes.” 

So this visit was full of bulging eyes and guttural screams and shuffling around with socks on our feet so we didn’t damage the freshly sealed floors. In fact, I shuffled around with my iPhone in hand and shot an updated tour for you. I’m sharing a ton of info in the video, so don’t skip it if you want all the details – from our thoughts about choosing the gray trim downstairs to what’s next on our to-do list and one STUPID mistake we made in the bathroom. Note: if you’re reading this post from a feed reader, you may have to click through to the post to view the video:

In addition to needing to refinish all the pine flooring that was already here, there were lots of repairs that we needed – not to mention fully missing sections that we wanted pieced in to look perfectly flush, like they had always been there (you can see one of those person-sized holes in the picture above the video). So this was a job we were happy to hand over to the pros. We hired ShenValley Floors for anyone in the area who’s wondering, and they did an awesome job patching in everything so it looks original. They even found reclaimed pine from another old home that was being demo’d and used it in here. This was one of the areas they patched before everything got sanded and sealed:

And right after everything was sanded we learned something interesting about pine flooring. Apparently, even if you sand and sand all the way through pine, discolorations from sun or rugs can’t be removed. In oak, you just sand them enough and it’s all gone. But in pine, these things go all the way through the wood! It surprised us at first, but we’re embracing the imperfections of this 100-year-old floor. Plus it’ll become far less noticeable once furniture, rugs, and cabinets go in.

Some people on Instagram have asked what stain color we used, but we actually didn’t use one at all! We just went with a “satin” water based clear coat after everything got patched and sanded down (well, actually five clear coats – which should add up to a ton of durability). So this is just the natural color of the wood coming through, and the reason we went with a water based coat is because our flooring guys said it’s awesome (way less stinkier and just as durable and beautiful thanks to formulas coming a long way in the last five years or so).

We like choosing “satin” over “high gloss” for wood flooring because it’s still shiny when the light hits it, but not super wet looking if that makes sense. We could’ve tried to hide the color variations a bit more by staining them darker, but we agreed with the pro that we loved the natural look of pine, so that’s why we didn’t stain ours. And really guys. It’s GORGEOUS in person. Like video/pics don’t even fully capture it – especially my iPhone on a partly cloudy day.

Speaking of the natural color of things – we rescued the old doors from upstairs too! They’re heart pine just like the floors, but you may recall that they were looking a little darker and heavier than we had hoped. They were all covered in some old stain/wax combo that wasn’t looking so fresh and so clean clean anymore (they were all pretty dark… and oddly sticky).

We debated painting them white or soft gray or a deeper gray-brown or even a soft blue-green (we ticked through allll the options), but we finally landed on getting them professionally stripped and waxed/sealed so they’d basically be brought back to their original glory. And they look SO GOOD! Now they can shine right along with the freshly redone heart pine floors.

We used a place across the bay in Virginia Beach called The Strip Joint, which I helpfully linked here so you don’t have to type that into your Google search bar ;) – and they did an amazing job! We took them off their hinges a few weeks ago, and they drove out and picked all of them up, stripped and sealed them in their shop, and returned them to us last week (they even cleaned and restored all the knobs, which we can’t wait to put back on). We’re driving back out to hang them all – along with the bathroom mirrors! – sometime this week, so we’ll share more photos asap.

But back to the floors. This view is another one that KILLS ME. It’s SO AMAZING to me how much this angle has changed.

As a reminder, this is what it looked like when we bought the house. The ceiling was literally crumbling and the floors had been painted a dark maroon color up here, so we had actually never laid eyes on the wood!

Here’s yet another new favorite angle: the upstairs hallway we added! Remember two of the upstairs rooms used to be railroad-style, without a central hall or a second bathroom – so this hallway was a huge functional improvement. And with the freshly redone floors it’s a beautiful one too!

Here’s the same view during framing. Memories. See how dull and gray the floors were before?! It’s so crazy to me how much of a difference this one update made (probably only rivaled by getting all new siding outside when we took this house from a dusty green-gray color to pink).

Here’s the middle bedroom, all ready for a bed. There’s another spot where there must’ve been a rug or a bed on the floor that made it slightly darker in the middle, but once we add a rug and a bed it’ll all be hidden again. Also, because every time we share a pic of these fans, people ask us for the info, we’ve included a mood board of all the light fixtures at the bottom of this post for ya.

And here we have the back bedroom. The pocket doors were really cool and chippy and we tried to clear seal them that way (to preserve that aged look) but they just kept flaking off every time we slid them in and out, so it wasn’t functional and was pretty messy and dusty… so they ended up getting fully scraped, primed, and painted. We chose the same color that we painted the tub (Riverway by Sherwin-Williams). They look kinda dark here since this is just an iPhone pic, but in real life they’re the exact same color as the tub, and it’s a really nice splash of boldness in the back of the house.

And as promised, here’s all the lighting (and fans!) and even the vinyl house numbers we ordered for the transom window above the front door to create that painted on look. We even included our new favorite LED light bulbs because they’re CLEAR and have that cool exposed filament look, like an Edison bulb. Which means they’re great for exposed bulb fixtures yet they’re not too yellow and not too blue (because podcast listeners know John’s a light temperature diva).

1. Front Porch / 2. Downstairs Bath / 3. Kitchen Island / 4. Porch Numbers 5. Foyer (similar) / 6. Bedrooms / 7. Kitchen Sconces / 8. Living & Master Bath 9. Mudroom / 10. Clear, Soft White LED Bulbs / 11. Dining / 12. Master Bath 13. Hall Bath / 14. Hallway & Small Upstairs Rooms / 15. Under Stairs

So there’s one big old beach house update that we’re thrilled to share! Feels like we’re SO CLOSE to being ready to bring furniture in (and to installing the kitchen!) and you know we’ll share alllll the details about that with you guys as soon as those happen. Until then, I think the lesson is: a) there are worse things to be than “dramatic” and b) refinishing your floors can be insanely dramatic!!!

Psst- Wanna read other posts about this year-long beach house renovation? Here are all the updates we’ve shared as we brought this pink house back to life. 

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! appeared first on Young House Love.

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! published first on http://ift.tt/2qCHnUt

[additionallysad]

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! http://ift.tt/2y6E7YT

You might think I’m being dramatic. Me? Dramatic? Yes. But in this case, no. Our freshly refinished heart pine floors are complete game changers in the house-feeling-more-finished column. FO SHO. I mean, look at this shot of the kitchen that we snapped when we were there this past Saturday checking them out / doing alllll the drooling:

Just as a reminder, here’s what that room looked like a few months ago, right after drywall went up:

And let’s take it waaaay back for a second. Here’s what this room looked like when we bought the house last October. In the words of Pepe Le Pew: “Le Yikes.” 

So this visit was full of bulging eyes and guttural screams and shuffling around with socks on our feet so we didn’t damage the freshly sealed floors. In fact, I shuffled around with my iPhone in hand and shot an updated tour for you. I’m sharing a ton of info in the video, so don’t skip it if you want all the details – from our thoughts about choosing the gray trim downstairs to what’s next on our to-do list and one STUPID mistake we made in the bathroom. Note: if you’re reading this post from a feed reader, you may have to click through to the post to view the video:

In addition to needing to refinish all the pine flooring that was already here, there were lots of repairs that we needed – not to mention fully missing sections that we wanted pieced in to look perfectly flush, like they had always been there (you can see one of those person-sized holes in the picture above the video). So this was a job we were happy to hand over to the pros. We hired ShenValley Floors for anyone in the area who’s wondering, and they did an awesome job patching in everything so it looks original. They even found reclaimed pine from another old home that was being demo’d and used it in here. This was one of the areas they patched before everything got sanded and sealed:

And right after everything was sanded we learned something interesting about pine flooring. Apparently, even if you sand and sand all the way through pine, discolorations from sun or rugs can’t be removed. In oak, you just sand them enough and it’s all gone. But in pine, these things go all the way through the wood! It surprised us at first, but we’re embracing the imperfections of this 100-year-old floor. Plus it’ll become far less noticeable once furniture, rugs, and cabinets go in.

Some people on Instagram have asked what stain color we used, but we actually didn’t use one at all! We just went with a “satin” water based clear coat after everything got patched and sanded down (well, actually five clear coats – which should add up to a ton of durability). So this is just the natural color of the wood coming through, and the reason we went with a water based coat is because our flooring guys said it’s awesome (way less stinkier and just as durable and beautiful thanks to formulas coming a long way in the last five years or so).

We like choosing “satin” over “high gloss” for wood flooring because it’s still shiny when the light hits it, but not super wet looking if that makes sense. We could’ve tried to hide the color variations a bit more by staining them darker, but we agreed with the pro that we loved the natural look of pine, so that’s why we didn’t stain ours. And really guys. It’s GORGEOUS in person. Like video/pics don’t even fully capture it – especially my iPhone on a partly cloudy day.

Speaking of the natural color of things – we rescued the old doors from upstairs too! They’re heart pine just like the floors, but you may recall that they were looking a little darker and heavier than we had hoped. They were all covered in some old stain/wax combo that wasn’t looking so fresh and so clean clean anymore (they were all pretty dark… and oddly sticky).

We debated painting them white or soft gray or a deeper gray-brown or even a soft blue-green (we ticked through allll the options), but we finally landed on getting them professionally stripped and waxed/sealed so they’d basically be brought back to their original glory. And they look SO GOOD! Now they can shine right along with the freshly redone heart pine floors.

We used a place across the bay in Virginia Beach called The Strip Joint, which I helpfully linked here so you don’t have to type that into your Google search bar ;) – and they did an amazing job! We took them off their hinges a few weeks ago, and they drove out and picked all of them up, stripped and sealed them in their shop, and returned them to us last week (they even cleaned and restored all the knobs, which we can’t wait to put back on). We’re driving back out to hang them all – along with the bathroom mirrors! – sometime this week, so we’ll share more photos asap.

But back to the floors. This view is another one that KILLS ME. It’s SO AMAZING to me how much this angle has changed.

As a reminder, this is what it looked like when we bought the house. The ceiling was literally crumbling and the floors had been painted a dark maroon color up here, so we had actually never laid eyes on the wood!

Here’s yet another new favorite angle: the upstairs hallway we added! Remember two of the upstairs rooms used to be railroad-style, without a central hall or a second bathroom – so this hallway was a huge functional improvement. And with the freshly redone floors it’s a beautiful one too!

Here’s the same view during framing. Memories. See how dull and gray the floors were before?! It’s so crazy to me how much of a difference this one update made (probably only rivaled by getting all new siding outside when we took this house from a dusty green-gray color to pink).

Here’s the middle bedroom, all ready for a bed. There’s another spot where there must’ve been a rug or a bed on the floor that made it slightly darker in the middle, but once we add a rug and a bed it’ll all be hidden again. Also, because every time we share a pic of these fans, people ask us for the info, we’ve included a mood board of all the light fixtures at the bottom of this post for ya.

And here we have the back bedroom. The pocket doors were really cool and chippy and we tried to clear seal them that way (to preserve that aged look) but they just kept flaking off every time we slid them in and out, so it wasn’t functional and was pretty messy and dusty… so they ended up getting fully scraped, primed, and painted. We chose the same color that we painted the tub (Riverway by Sherwin-Williams). They look kinda dark here since this is just an iPhone pic, but in real life they’re the exact same color as the tub, and it’s a really nice splash of boldness in the back of the house.

And as promised, here’s all the lighting (and fans!) and even the vinyl house numbers we ordered for the transom window above the front door to create that painted on look. We even included our new favorite LED light bulbs because they’re CLEAR and have that cool exposed filament look, like an Edison bulb. Which means they’re great for exposed bulb fixtures yet they’re not too yellow and not too blue (because podcast listeners know John’s a light temperature diva).

1. Front Porch / 2. Downstairs Bath / 3. Kitchen Island (discontinued) / 4. Porch Numbers 5. Foyer (similar) / 6. Bedrooms / 7. Kitchen Sconces / 8. Living & Master Bath 9. Mudroom / 10. Clear, Soft White LED Bulbs / 11. Dining / 12. Master Bath 13. Hall Bath / 14. Hallway & Small Upstairs Rooms / 15. Under Stairs

So there’s one big old beach house update that we’re thrilled to share! Feels like we’re SO CLOSE to being ready to bring furniture in (and to installing the kitchen!) and you know we’ll share alllll the details about that with you guys as soon as those happen. Until then, I think the lesson is: a) there are worse things to be than “dramatic” and b) refinishing your floors can be insanely dramatic!!!

Psst- Wanna read other posts about this year-long beach house renovation? Here are all the updates we’ve shared as we brought this pink house back to life. 

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! appeared first on Young House Love.

[lukerhill]

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!

You might think I’m being dramatic. Me? Dramatic? Yes. But in this case, no. Our freshly refinished heart pine floors are complete game changers in the house-feeling-more-finished column. FO SHO. I mean, look at this shot of the kitchen that we snapped when we were there this past Saturday checking them out / doing alllll the drooling:

Just as a reminder, here’s what that room looked like a few months ago, right after drywall went up:

And let’s take it waaaay back for a second. Here’s what this room looked like when we bought the house last October. In the words of Pepe Le Pew: “Le Yikes.” 

So this visit was full of bulging eyes and guttural screams and shuffling around with socks on our feet so we didn’t damage the freshly sealed floors. In fact, I shuffled around with my iPhone in hand and shot an updated tour for you. I’m sharing a ton of info in the video, so don’t skip it if you want all the details – from our thoughts about choosing the gray trim downstairs to what’s next on our to-do list and one STUPID mistake we made in the bathroom. Note: if you’re reading this post from a feed reader, you may have to click through to the post to view the video:

In addition to needing to refinish all the pine flooring that was already here, there were lots of repairs that we needed – not to mention fully missing sections that we wanted pieced in to look perfectly flush, like they had always been there (you can see one of those person-sized holes in the picture above the video). So this was a job we were happy to hand over to the pros. We hired ShenValley Floors for anyone in the area who’s wondering, and they did an awesome job patching in everything so it looks original. They even found reclaimed pine from another old home that was being demo’d and used it in here. This was one of the areas they patched before everything got sanded and sealed:

And right after everything was sanded we learned something interesting about pine flooring. Apparently, even if you sand and sand all the way through pine, discolorations from sun or rugs can’t be removed. In oak, you just sand them enough and it’s all gone. But in pine, these things go all the way through the wood! It surprised us at first, but we’re embracing the imperfections of this 100-year-old floor. Plus it’ll become far less noticeable once furniture, rugs, and cabinets go in.

Some people on Instagram have asked what stain color we used, but we actually didn’t use one at all! We just went with a “satin” water based clear coat after everything got patched and sanded down (well, actually five clear coats – which should add up to a ton of durability). So this is just the natural color of the wood coming through, and the reason we went with a water based coat is because our flooring guys said it’s awesome (way less stinkier and just as durable and beautiful thanks to formulas coming a long way in the last five years or so).

We like choosing “satin” over “high gloss” for wood flooring because it’s still shiny when the light hits it, but not super wet looking if that makes sense. We could’ve tried to hide the color variations a bit more by staining them darker, but we agreed with the pro that we loved the natural look of pine, so that’s why we didn’t stain ours. And really guys. It’s GORGEOUS in person. Like video/pics don’t even fully capture it – especially my iPhone on a partly cloudy day.

Speaking of the natural color of things – we rescued the old doors from upstairs too! They’re heart pine just like the floors, but you may recall that they were looking a little darker and heavier than we had hoped. They were all covered in some old stain/wax combo that wasn’t looking so fresh and so clean clean anymore (they were all pretty dark… and oddly sticky).

We debated painting them white or soft gray or a deeper gray-brown or even a soft blue-green (we ticked through allll the options), but we finally landed on getting them professionally stripped and waxed/sealed so they’d basically be brought back to their original glory. And they look SO GOOD! Now they can shine right along with the freshly redone heart pine floors.

We used a place across the bay in Virginia Beach called The Strip Joint, which I helpfully linked here so you don’t have to type that into your Google search bar ;) – and they did an amazing job! We took them off their hinges a few weeks ago, and they drove out and picked all of them up, stripped and sealed them in their shop, and returned them to us last week (they even cleaned and restored all the knobs, which we can’t wait to put back on). We’re driving back out to hang them all – along with the bathroom mirrors! – sometime this week, so we’ll share more photos asap.

But back to the floors. This view is another one that KILLS ME. It’s SO AMAZING to me how much this angle has changed.

As a reminder, this is what it looked like when we bought the house. The ceiling was literally crumbling and the floors had been painted a dark maroon color up here, so we had actually never laid eyes on the wood!

Here’s yet another new favorite angle: the upstairs hallway we added! Remember two of the upstairs rooms used to be railroad-style, without a central hall or a second bathroom – so this hallway was a huge functional improvement. And with the freshly redone floors it’s a beautiful one too!

Here’s the same view during framing. Memories. See how dull and gray the floors were before?! It’s so crazy to me how much of a difference this one update made (probably only rivaled by getting all new siding outside when we took this house from a dusty green-gray color to pink).

Here’s the middle bedroom, all ready for a bed. There’s another spot where there must’ve been a rug or a bed on the floor that made it slightly darker in the middle, but once we add a rug and a bed it’ll all be hidden again. Also, because every time we share a pic of these fans, people ask us for the info, we’ve included a mood board of all the light fixtures at the bottom of this post for ya.

And here we have the back bedroom. The pocket doors were really cool and chippy and we tried to clear seal them that way (to preserve that aged look) but they just kept flaking off every time we slid them in and out, so it wasn’t functional and was pretty messy and dusty… so they ended up getting fully scraped, primed, and painted. We chose the same color that we painted the tub (Riverway by Sherwin-Williams). They look kinda dark here since this is just an iPhone pic, but in real life they’re the exact same color as the tub, and it’s a really nice splash of boldness in the back of the house.

And as promised, here’s all the lighting (and fans!) and even the vinyl house numbers we ordered for the transom window above the front door to create that painted on look. We even included our new favorite LED light bulbs because they’re CLEAR and have that cool exposed filament look, like an Edison bulb. Which means they’re great for exposed bulb fixtures yet they’re not too yellow and not too blue (because podcast listeners know John’s a light temperature diva).

1. Front Porch / 2. Downstairs Bath / 3. Kitchen Island (discontinued) / 4. Porch Numbers 5. Foyer (similar) / 6. Bedrooms / 7. Kitchen Sconces / 8. Living & Master Bath 9. Mudroom / 10. Clear, Soft White LED Bulbs / 11. Dining / 12. Master Bath 13. Hall Bath / 14. Hallway & Small Upstairs Rooms / 15. Under Stairs

So there’s one big old beach house update that we’re thrilled to share! Feels like we’re SO CLOSE to being ready to bring furniture in (and to installing the kitchen!) and you know we’ll share alllll the details about that with you guys as soon as those happen. Until then, I think the lesson is: a) there are worse things to be than “dramatic” and b) refinishing your floors can be insanely dramatic!!!

Psst- Wanna read other posts about this year-long beach house renovation? Here are all the updates we’ve shared as we brought this pink house back to life. 

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! appeared first on Young House Love.

[interiorstarweb]

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!!

You might think I’m being dramatic. Me? Dramatic? Yes. But in this case, no. Our freshly refinished heart pine floors are complete game changers in the house-feeling-more-finished column. FO SHO. I mean, look at this shot of the kitchen that we snapped when we were there this past Saturday checking them out / doing alllll the drooling:

Just as a reminder, here’s what that room looked like a few months ago, right after drywall went up:

And let’s take it waaaay back for a second. Here’s what this room looked like when we bought the house last October. In the words of Pepe Le Pew: “Le Yikes.” 

So this visit was full of bulging eyes and guttural screams and shuffling around with socks on our feet so we didn’t damage the freshly sealed floors. In fact, I shuffled around with my iPhone in hand and shot an updated tour for you. I’m sharing a ton of info in the video, so don’t skip it if you want allll the details – from our thoughts about choosing the gray trim downstairs to what’s next on our to-do list and one STUPID mistake we made in the bathroom. Note: if you’re reading this post from a feed reader, you may have to click through to the post to view the video:

In addition to needing to refinish all the pine flooring that was already here, there were lots of repairs that we needed – not to mention fully missing sections that we wanted pieced in to look perfectly flush, like they had always been there (you can see one of those person-sized holes in that last picture above). So this was a job we were happy to hand over to the pros. We hired ShenValley Floors for anyone in the area who’s wondering, and they did an awesome job patching in everything so it looks original. They even found reclaimed pine from another old home that was being demo’d and used it in here. This was one of the areas they patched before everything got sanded and sealed:

And right after everything was sanded we learned something interesting about pine flooring. Apparently, even if you sand and sand all the way through pine, discolorations from sun or rugs can’t be removed. In oak, you just sand them enough and it’s all gone. But in pine, these things go all the way through the wood! It surprised us at first, but we’re embracing the imperfections of this 100-year-old floor. Plus it’ll become far less noticeable once furniture, rugs, and cabinets go in.

Some people on Instagram have asked what stain color we used, but we actually didn’t use one at all! We just went with a “satin” water based clear coat after everything got patched and sanded down (well, actually five clear coats – which should add up to a ton of durability). So this is just the natural color of the wood coming through, and the reason we went with a water based coat is because our flooring guys said it’s awesome (way less stinkier and just as durable and beautiful thanks to formulas coming a long way in the last five years or so). We like choosing “satin” over “high gloss” for wood flooring because it’s still shiny when the light hits it, but not super wet looking if that makes sense. We could’ve tried to hide the color variations a bit more by staining them darker, but we agreed with the pro that we loved the natural look of pine, so that’s why we didn’t stain ours. And really guys. It’s GORGEOUS in person. Like video/pics don’t even fully capture it – especially my iPhone on a partly cloudy day.

Speaking of the natural color of things – we rescued the old doors from upstairs too! They’re heart pine just like the floors, but you may recall that they were looking a little darker and heavier than we had hoped. They were all covered in some old stain/wax combo that wasn’t looking so fresh and so clean clean anymore (they were all pretty dark… and oddly sticky).

We debated painting them white or soft gray or a deeper gray-brown or even a soft blue-green (we ticked through allll the options), but we finally landed on getting them professionally stripped and waxed/sealed so they’d basically be brought back to their original glory. And they look SO GOOD! Now they can shine right along with the freshly redone heart pine floors.

We used a place across the bay in Virginia Beach called The Strip Joint, which I helpfully linked here so you don’t have to type that into your Google search bar ;) – and they did an amazing job! We took them off their hinges a few weeks ago, and they drove out and picked all of them up, stripped and sealed them in their shop, and returned them to us last week (they even cleaned and restored all the knobs, which we can’t wait to put back on). We’re driving back out to hang them all – along with the bathroom mirrors! – sometime this week, so we’ll share more photos asap.

But back to the floors. This view is another one that KILLS ME. It’s SO AMAZING to me how much this angle has changed.

As a reminder, this is what it looked like when we bought the house. The ceiling was literally crumbling and the floors had been painted a dark maroon color up here, so we had actually never laid eyes on the wood!

Here’s yet another new favorite angle: the upstairs hallway we added! Remember two of the upstairs rooms used to be railroad-style, without a central hall or a second bathroom – so this hallway was a huge functional improvement. And with the freshly redone floors it’s a beautiful one too!

Here’s the same view during framing. Memories. See how dull and gray the floors were before?! It’s so crazy to me how much of a difference this one update made (probably only rivaled by getting all new siding outside when we took this house from a dusty green-gray color to pink).

Here’s the middle bedroom, all ready for a bed. There’s another spot where there must’ve been a rug or a bed on the floor that made it slightly darker in the middle, but once we add a rug and a bed it’ll all be hidden again. Also, because every time we share a pic of these fans, people ask us for the info, we’ve included a mood board of all the light fixtures at the bottom of this post for ya.

And here we have the back bedroom. The pocket doors were really cool and chippy and we tried to clear seal them that way (to preserve that cool aged look) but they just kept flaking off every time we slid them in and out, so it wasn’t functional and was pretty messy and dusty… so they ended up getting fully scraped, primed, and painted. We chose the same color as the tub (Riverway by Sherwin-Williams). They look kinda dark here since this is just an iPhone pic, but in real life they’re the exact same color as the tub, and it’s a really nice splash of boldness in the back of the house.

And as promised, here is all the lighting (and fans!) and even the vinyl house numbers we ordered for the transom window above the front door to create that painted on look. We even included our new favorite LED light bulbs because they’re CLEAR, which means they’re great for exposed bulb fixtures yet still give off that nice soft white glow. Not too yellow and not too blue (because podcast listeners know John’s a light temperature diva).

1. Front Porch / 2. Downstairs Bath / 3. Kitchen Island (discontinued) / 4. Porch Numbers 5. Foyer (similar) / 6. Bedrooms / 7. Kitchen Sconces / 8. Living & Master Bath 9. Mudroom / 10. Clear, Soft White LED Bulbs / 11. Dining / 12. Master Bath 13. Hall Bath / 14. Hallway & Small Upstairs Rooms / 15. Under Stairs

So there’s one big old beach house update that we’re thrilled to share! Feels like we’re SO CLOSE to being ready to bring furniture in (and to installing the kitchen!) and you know we’ll share alllll the details about that with you guys as soon as those happen. Until then, I think the lesson is: a) there are worse things to be than “dramatic” and b) refinishing your floors can be insanely dramatic!!!

Psst- Wanna read other posts about this year-long beach house renovation? Here are all the updates we’ve shared as we brought this pink house back to life. 

*This post contains affiliate links*

The post The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! appeared first on Young House Love.

The Pine Floors At The Beach House Are Refinished – AND IT CHANGES EVERYTHING!!! published first on http://ift.tt/2uiWrIt