#sometimes if my family was in the house I’d go into the shed or garage and put the CD on

[mycological-mariner]

I admit, sometimes I just kinda play whatever old music I still have downloaded on shuffle and every time Rasmus Seebach comes on I’m back in 2011 belting I Mine Øjne in my room while completely ignoring my homework piles

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream V // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen-year-old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, heartbreak, fluff, talk of death and fluff.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: We’ve come to the end of the Distant Dream mini-series. I truly enjoyed writing this with my whole heart. @merceret I told you I’d use Lucy’s Cordial somewhere in the series. All parts are located in the linked masterlist.

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Masterlist

The massive changes between the ’90s and 2021 slowly but surely started no longer seemed startling as it had been at first. Carlos had helped you assimilate to homeschooling once he’d admitted he knew about the boys. Ray was still kept in the dark. 

2020 ended on a high note. Mostly. With the years in Narnia providing you with the knowledge you flew through schooling. Then you took a job as a waitress at a coffee shop, one similar to the shop the band performed in. The downside to the end of the year was for the band.

Despite performing at the Orpheum, the band hadn’t received as much traction as Luke had desired. They were a step closer to the dream but not as far as the entire band had wished. During Julie’s Christmas break, Luke had overworked the band with little breaks.

“Hide me.” Julie hissed from behind the counter of Ancient Grounds. The Puerto Rican musician escaped the studio to have lunch with you.

Unfortunately, Julie failed to see that without the entire band together, Luke would go to what makes him just as happy. You. That’s precisely what happened as Luke walked in through the entrance of the coffee shop.

“He’s still pushing more practice?” You asked, stacking the clean mugs on the shelf with complete focus. How odd it is to go from being Queen to working in a city as a waitress.

“I love him like a brother, but I feel like my fingers are gonna fall off from playing the piano constantly.” Julie sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor hidden from the approaching guitarist and from your manager.

“Hey!” Luke grinned once his hands fell on the counter to lean over on the balls of his feet. His lips pressed against your right cheek before he fell back onto his feet.

Not a single soul in the half-full Ancient Grounds batted an eye to your awkward stance when Luke kissed you. Not since the boys had become tangible and visible to the general public when they wanted. 

“Look to decide to grace me with his presence.” You teased. Your foot nudged Julie in her thigh to urge her to crawl to the end of the counter.

“I have no clue where Julie is. Reggie dipped to join Ray in his errands, and Alex is somewhere.” Luke shrugged, stepping aside when an older gentleman dropped a tip in the jar before leaving.

“Pick a number.” You told the male with one of your dimples on display.

“Eleven,” Luke responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet at the regular game you played together.

Each visit, you’d split a dessert from the menu with Luke along with his favourite mug of tea and your drink of choice; even he knew he didn’t need caffeine with his energy. That was Luke’s favourite thing of being brought half alive from the golden glow they’d received. You were sure Reggie had cried upon eating your Tia’s best recipe.

“Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake. A limited-edition from our Worldwide Treat menu. It’s Canada’s month.” 

Luke followed to the counter’s end, where the sweets were kept on a glass viewing shelf. With careful movements, you slid a perfect triangle of the cheesecake onto a beautiful plate. The half-ghost retrieved it to your favourite spot in the garden patio. Julie used the time to sneak out the door with Luke’s back to her.

“What is a Nanaimo Bar?” Luke questioned upon you joining him at the iron-wrought table. One teacup accompanied by a teapot with Luke’s tea and a mug of your drink on an emerald tray.

“It’s a no-bake dessert. The base is a chocolate graham cracker and coconut base with the middle layer a cream filling. The top layer is a thin layer of semi-sweet chocolate.” 

Luken nodded, “Ancient Grounds loves cheesecakes.”

“Addie adores inventing new versions of cheesecake. Her best is the Creamsicle Cheesecake during the summer. A staple on the menu.” You responded with a twinkle in your eye. You may not look like the Queen you once were, but you were just as invested in learning about people as you’d done with the Narnians.

“What’s your favourite dessert?” Luke questioned.

“I’m pretty partial to the chocolate cookies Addie makes.” You grinned, leaning closer to the male across from you. You hesitated in continuing, “In Narnia, the pastry chef Cair Paravel employed always had these gorgeous desserts with Edmund in mind. Turkish Delights with a secret ingredient.”

Luke’s smile grew as you talked about the other home you had. A place you rarely spoke about now. You hadn’t even returned to the basement to see the wardrobe like you had before.

“I wish I could have seen Cair Paravel. It always sounds so magical when you talk about it.” Luke’s tone was wistful paired with the twinkle of his hazel eyes.

“It’s a breathtaking place. Everything is lively in Narnia, and after the Witch was defeated, we ruled peacefully for the most part.” Your e/c eyes unfocused on your surroundings to recall all the wonderful times spent in Narnia.

The times you shared a table with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their home over the years snacking on the homemade jams. To the times you listened to Mr. Tumnus playing everchanging lullabies on his flute. Even walking the beaches with Lucy in hopes of catching sight of Aslan again. Of gossiping with Susan over the many suitors that came for her hand.

“If you could do it all over again knowing the outcome, would you still do it?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head. He’d shed the flannel jacket as the sun rose higher in the sky.

You nodded, “Absolutely. The Pevensies were some of the greatest friends one could ever hope to have.”

As usual, Peter wasn’t spoken of in light of the ache that resonated in your heart and the awkwardness Luke felt. A poor choice of avoiding your once husband instead of communicating on the topic.

“Have you ever thought of trying to find them?”

“No point. Peter would be ninety-seven now as the oldest, and Lucy would be eighty-nine. If I recall, it was 1940 for them when we went to Narnia. It’s possible Peter may have joined the war in ’42 when he was eighteen, so who knows if he lived.” Luke was surprised by the nonchalant reaction to the potentially grim outlook on your former in-laws.

However, Luke knew the truth, that you greatly missed the four people who became family during your disappearance. You could fool Julie and Reggie, but you could never fool Alex or Luke no matter how much you tried.

“I’ll see you at home? My break ended.” You swiftly cut off any more talking of your former life. Luke merely watched as you stacked the dirty dishes, only leaving Luke’s cup and teapot.

“I should get back. Julie’s most likely back in the garage from sneaking back.” Luke’s hand pushed through his messy curtain of brunette hair. His words revealing that he’d known Julie had been in Ancient Grounds the entire time.

“How’d-”

“When she sits on the floor, she taps the heel of her shoe on the floor. Same rhythm.” Luke smirked as he chugged the last of the tea, “Don’t tell her. I like when she fights a smug smile with that certain light in her eyes.”

The brotherly role Luke had taken on with the Molina girl was heartwarming, to say the least. Sometimes Julie would begrudgingly ask for advice about her feelings for Nick to Luke’s amusement. He adored being able to tease her.

“I’ll see you later.” 

The boy dropped the correct change for the tea on his way out the door into the bright sunlight. Like clockwork, he’d turn into the alley to become intangible to poof back to the studio. 

The rest of the day passed by like a breeze in the coffee shop with the late lunch rush and then the dinner rush the busiest time. Jess gave you a ride home in her truck as usual with a promise of a cupcake of Julie’s as payment.

“Did you see him?” 

The sudden voice startled you so much your hand couldn’t help but grasp at empty air by your side. Alex screeched as you swung to face him on the Molina driveway.

“Alex! Good Aslan, you startled me.”

“...were you reaching for a sword?” Alex questioned, appalled by your reaction. Your e/c eyes rolled in response.

“Isn’t the saying old habits die hard?” You prodded the baby blue of Alex’s long sleeve shirt. One of the shirts you’d often stolen from him, “And no. I didn’t see Willie.”

Your heart clenched as soon as Alex’s shoulders dropped in defeat once more at the absence of the skater. It had been months now with little sightings of the skater you had yet to meet. The boys kept your presence on the down-low to avoid Caleb’s interest.

“I hope he’s okay,” Alex muttered under his breath. The elder Mercer began gnawing his lower lip in worry.

Gently you interlaced your hand with his hand, his deft fingers playing with the braided bracelets on your wrist. The bracelets had been a Christmas gift from Julie and Flynn with the colours of the sunrise. It grounded Alex more often than not.

“You told me the Club travels around the world. Maybe Caleb’s not in America; maybe his ego needs to recover from his loss.” You shrugged, tugging the teenager into the house. Ray barely waved from his work computer.

Ray Molina had welcomed Alex, Reggie and Luke into the family when he met them in person the day after the Orpheum performance. He’d accepted that Alex was your older brother and had been in Switzerland for boarding school. He understood that Luke and Reggie came as a package deal with Alex, so the boys had worked to clean out the basement.

A few visits to second-hand doors brought furniture for the basement renovated into the boys’ shared suite. Alex still spent most nights in your room; he still feared you'd disappear from his life again.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex muttered in false hope that something would go his way for once, “Oh! The band received an invitation to some underground music festival in England during spring break. We’re hoping to convince Ray and Julie’s aunt to let us go.”

And you could see the band practices would be growing for that breakthrough with the band. And you were correct in your guess merely hours after going to sleep.

At five in the damn morning, Luke burst into your attic bedroom to drag your less than enthusiastic brother from his sleep. You bet your ass you hit the teen in the face with your pillow, which meant you had to crawl out of bed to retrieve the pillow.

“Asshole!” Alex exclaimed as Luke roughly poofed both of them to the studio. Julie swaying sleepily in her sweater and pyjama pants, waiting for the two.

Spring Break 2021 (March 26-April 2)

The youngest member of the tourists proudly displayed her smile, catching sight of the bed and breakfast in the English countryside. Julie had been floored when Ray had given his permission to the foreign festival. 

Ray couldn’t hide his excitement for the band, plus all-expense paid, receiving the invite via a relatively small record company. 

“First birthday back together,” Luke spoke from your side. Hands intertwined together in the cool wind of England. His arms were covered by his flannel coat in the unfavourable weather of the day.

You hummed, “Never thought I’d be celebrating my seventeenth birthday in England during 2021. Besides, I’ve already been seventeen.”

“I always knew I’d bring you to all the countries in the world.” Luke’s tone was matter of fact, staring at the stage being built under a woman’s guidance in her mid-30s.

The bed and breakfast had a lovely history your tour guide Martin had enthusiastically told on the train ride from the city. 

The man with spry greying hair pointed towards the old train station providing facts that interested most of the group. Luke’s arm tossed over your shoulder focused on the songbook, a new one, open in lap. Luke and you had slowly but surely evolved from shy brushes of skin to holding hands and then Luke’s arm over your shoulder. Chaste kisses on cheeks while you reassimilated into the dating world.

“In 1940, this train station deployed countless trains filled with evacuating children away from London during the Blitz. Filled with returning soldiers, mothers sending children to safety and children were torn from all they knew. Each child had a tag to identify them.” Martin explained intently, speaking to the group his organization had assigned him to.

“Where did they go?” Reggie curled into the travel blanket he’d bought specifically for the trip.

“Anywhere safe for them and where they could be cared for.”

“This route is one of many the evacuations used. The bed and breakfast we’re heading to holds a great history as well. It was once the Manor of Professor Digory Kirke during his life and passed down through generations throug-”

Martin’s story faded into the black abyss as sleep took you over by the soothing motion of the train and Luke’s warmth. Luke met the gaze of Alex. The two guys shared a sweet smile solely for the relaxed features of the younger Mercer.

“This is just another step in our journey for Julie and the Phantoms.” Your words warmed Luke Luke when he noticed you cemented your position in his life. You saw yourself in the future of Julie and the Phantoms as a faithful supporter and friend.

“Luke Patterson, correct? I’m Eva.” Your eyes widened, meeting the eyes that reminded you of someone. Just on the tip of your tongue, “My wife Diana will be a few minutes. We’re still getting the stage put together.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. How many people are you expecting?” Luke questioned the older woman. His mind snapped into business mode for the band.

“This is our fourth year putting on the festival at this location. This is the first year we added a wild card option for fans to vote on. Your band rocketed ahead of the other bands.” Eva explained, keeping her eyes on the woman you dubbed as Diana. The pure love in Eva’s eyes is a call to the yearning in your chest.

“I thought a recor-”

“Technically, yes, a record company flew you out. Diana started a small record label a few years back. Cair Oom Records. She’s the first person in both our families to step into a non-traditional career.” Eva explained to the now interesting young couple.

Luke was interested in the record label’s history, whereas you focused on the label’s name. Cair Oom. A call to your Narnia days you remembered. 

“Cair Oom?” You interrupted the conversation in pure curiosity. Your eyes drinking in the features of Eva, her freckles and brown eyes mirroring a person from your past.

“The label name?” Eva continued once you nodded in response, “It’s from a childhood story my family passed down. Diana was close to my great-aunt before we moved out here to run the bed and breakfast.”

“Of a dream of a dream. Spare Oom.” It was whispered in the breeze straight in your ear of a voice you vividly recalled—the disembodied voice with the same freckles as Eva but with chocolate brown hair instead of strawberry blonde.

“Y/N? You coming?” Luke’s concerned hazel eyes bore into your distant ones wandering the hills of the property. You hadn’t even noticed Eva leaving towards the Manor.

Your e/c eyes search for the owner of the youthful voice but come up empty. The only people you saw included your group with the odd workers setting up under Diana’s supervision.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Luke stepped right up in front of you, “You’ve been out of it since Eva mentioned the record label.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, following the woman up the path. Luke stared lost as you disappeared into the door. Eva entered.

The woman stood outside a door within the home, “I never knew what she meant. Not until I saw you Y/N.”

Your foot stumbled back when Eva turned with a soft smile you vividly recalled on a certain Pevensie. Eva unlocked the door to a room with only a picture hung on the wall.

“Narnia.” You breathed, stepping right up to the detailed painting of Cair Paravel. Your fingers tracing the beautiful frame holding it up.

“Correct. My Great-Aunt, in her adult life, adored painting in her past time. It was rare she told Narnian stories, but my mother loved them so much she told them to me as a child.

“Who’s your-”

“My name is Lucy Eva Baker. I was named after my other Great-Aunt, but I prefer going by Eva.” Eva’s words pulled a deep gasp from your throat. Tears building as the truth settled in the room.

Eva shared the same smile and brown eyes as Edmund Pevensie did, even the mature aura wrapped around her. The maturity Edmund had grown into during the fifteen years in Narnia. Without a shadow of a doubt, Eva Baker was the granddaughter of your former brother-in-law.

“Your-”

“Edmund’s granddaughter.” Eva finished with a sympathetic smile, “You featured heavily in each story. I always knew Narnia wasn’t merely a story.”

And then the conversation stuttered when you finally noticed Eva spoke mostly of learning of everything by her mom and Susan. Not a mention passed Edmund being her granddad. A piece of your heart broke, and it seemed the older woman saw it happen.

“W-what happened to…” You couldn’t even choke the question out in the room. Eva’s hand reached out to grasp yours in her own hand.

“I can’t tell you much as that reason that will become clear but in 1949 just shortly before my mom was born there was an accident. Grandpa Edmund and Peter were waiting for the train at the station. The train wrecked, killing the train occupants and many people in the station.” Eva was quick to catch you as a piercing grief-stricken scream exploded in the room.

In the Manor’s tea room, the band and Ray enjoyed a genuine tea time with Diana. Ray and Diana traded stories of their young sons while Reggie restrained himself to savour the food. English tea time begging for genuine manners.

Luke raised his cup to lips before it dropped to the saucer upon an exploding anguished wail from upstairs. Thankfully the cup didn’t break as the American guitarist sprung himself in the direction of the wails—Alex hot on his heels with a call to his friends.

Your screaming drowned out the furious stomps of feet racing in the halls of the Manor to the entrance of the room. Luke’s heart shattered at the pure anguish coating your broken features. Alex roughly pushed his way to tug you into his arms.

Alex’s large hand cupped the back of your head while he rocked you in his arms, “Shh. Let it out.”

“No!” You screamed into Alex’s shoulder. You couldn’t acknowledge Luke’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “N-no.”

“I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Alex murmured in your ear so softly you almost didn’t catch what he said. Luke dropped to his knees by your side. The three teens unaware as Eva excused herself for your privacy. Eva had watched her great-aunt Susan break every time she spoke of her late siblings.

Seconds passed or maybe years as it seemed to happen to you. But soon, you simply rested against Alex staring at Susan’s painting. Barely blinking in the room causing you suffering. You barely responded to anyone as you battled the grief. You faded in and out of daydreams as the bands performed. Days mixed together. Time didn’t exist to you. You were aware enough when Julie and Ray invited you to shop in London.

To everyone, including your surprise, you agreed. The three half ghosts joining in fear you’d shatter again. Eva and Diana held hands watching the car disappear in the distance carrying a group of musicians. An echo of Eva’s words replacing in the back of your mind.

“Three of five drink at high tide. Four of nine and five of nine stand apart by time. A drop of Valiant’s potion will begin the time once before frozen.” 

“Are they-”

“Yes.” Eva spoke before her wife could finish the sentence, “She’ll be returning to Narnia. Decades separating her from the Pevensie siblings.”

Eva was correct. At the station, the location was painful as it was Lucy, Peter and Edmund’s last place they’d been alive. Ray disappeared to use the restroom, leaving the five teenagers to wait for the adult.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, rubbing a spot on your arm with a grimace. Your eyes glaring at your tall older brother, “Don’t pinch me!”

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t pinch you!”

“Luke!” Reggie squealed, jumping away from the guitarist with a pout on his full lips. The bassist rubbing his stinging cheek, “These cheeks are reserved for my Grannie!”

Luke scoffed at his friend, “Why would I risk the chance of you biting off my finger Reginald?”

“We have bigger problems than whose pinching us! I’m losing my damn mind! First three himbos fall out of nowhere, then a girl trips out a magic wardrobe and now this!” Julie snapped, staring at their environment in the train station tunnel, “I need to be committed!”

You watched breathlessly as a strong gale storm literally tore pieces of the train and the walls of the station apart. Through the train windows, you watched as a bright blue sky increasingly grew. The colour is so clear and vivid in only one place you knew.

The train blew by. The wall behind you changed into stone—the floor into the sand.

“What the fuck?” Alex demanded, twirling around on the new scenery of a beach in what was supposed to be a train station. The poor male kept being thrown off-kilter since the alley in 1995.

You knew deep in your heart where you were. Especially when four people of different heights stood with their backs to you. One individual, the shortest, turns upon feeling eyes on her back. And at the same time, you spoke.

“Lucy!”

“Y/N!”

The two girls ran straight into each other���s arms sobbing in elation and relief at finally seeing each other after a long year apart. The seven additional people who joined the duo collapsed on the ground. Alex cleared his throat.

“Y/N? Are you going to intro-”

“That’s Queen Y/N.” Peter snapped towards the stranger with a pink sweater on. Peter could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen a man wear pink. 

“That’s my sister.” Alex snapped, standing at his full six-foot height, pinning a glare on the other teenager. Peter scoffed in response. His face faltering upon finding your hand encased in a male shorter than the blonde.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Peter knew this man was the unseen third person that filled every conversation and room between Peter and Y/N. Peter was very much aware that you weren’t in love with him. He lived with the knowledge for a decade, pretending it was he that you deeply loved. Seeing the person holding your heart hurt.

“This is my brother Alex Mercer and our friends Julie Molina, Reggie Peters and my...this is Luke Patterson.” You gestured to each of them; the Puerto Rican musician shell shocked. Julie now knew why that talking lion you spoke of sounded familiar. Narnia had seen one other visitor years before Julie was born.

Rose Molina’s bedtime stories for her children involved a lion named Aslan and a magical wardrobe made from a special tree. Julie recalled the feeling Narnia birthed if in the world as Rose described it. 

“Mercer as in...?” Edmund trailed off slowly.

“My horse. Yes. I guess subconsciously, I still remembered where I came from.”

“These are my friends Susan, Edmund, Lucy and...Peter.” You softly spoke of the eldest Pevensie. His blue eyes sadly meeting yours.

A fondness growing at the sight but a pain blossoming at the heartbreak in his features. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Peter had put two and two together on who Luke was to you. And while Peter desired to fight for you, he knew it was a lost cause; time cruelly separated you outside the world of Narnia. You both deserved happiness, so with great pain, Peter let you go.

“C’mon!” Lucy shouted, racing out of the cave on the bright sunny beach. The rest hot on the heels of the youngest member of the conjoined group. As you all goofed around on the beach, you told the Pevensie family all about Julie and the boys.

“Welcome to Narnia, my love.” You murmured to the boy that held your heart in his gentle hands. Luke Patterson beamed. He finally got the girl of his dreams and visited the place you hold dear.

The fun aspect of being in Narnia with both of your family came to a halt when you discovered the ruins. Cair Paravel had become a pile of broken stone and sadness. Not a single Narnian in the distance nor the Beavers or Mr. Tumnus.

“What?”

Julie and the boys’ presence became static in the background while the former Narnia royalty pursued through the ruins. They found the chessboard and the gifts Father Christmas gave them during the Winter Revolution. 

Something clicked within Lucy as she almost robotically walked to each half-dead boy with her Cordial in hand. The room went silent as Lucy fed each phantom a drop of the medicinal potion. As soon as Alex closed his mouth, all three boys were enveloped in a blinding silver light.

And the true magic happened. For the first time in twenty-six years, three hearts began pumping blood. A previously frozen clock began beating to the sound of those hearts. The magic of Queen Lucy’s Cordial finished what Julie had started; the three formerly half head phantoms became living humans once more.

What a magical place the world of Narnia is.

(Above is the teacup and pot Luke uses in the Ancient Grounds coffee shop!)

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[meta-squash]

I wrote a (non-fanfiction) short story tonight for the first time in a very long time, maybe years? I don’t know. But I’m rusty on original stories so uhhh don’t judge too harshly, I guess?

____________________

It came to him in the night, this impossible heir to a fortune he could never understand or afford. Seventeen years old and father downstairs smoking cigars with his buddies asking loud enough to be heard over the radiator rattle, “What is that boy doing with his life and when is he going to get some sense, some street smarts, that sharpknife spark in his eye like his older brothers?”

It came to him in the dark, lying on his back in bed, staring out at the grease-yellow streetlamp slowly dimming in the sweaty haze. No sharpknife spark had ever pierced through into his gaze; it remained soft smouldering coals and he felt the hotiron glare of his father when he spoke so gentle --but-- he had felt that spark last Saturday night hopping getaway fences with brothers and their friends. Leapt a wooden wall and found himself short-breathed and staring at a dew-glittered rose garden. The shouts of men being boys rose around him but for the first time in his life he understood what the word beauty meant, felt its thorns pierce his eyes and his eyes pierce right back. If he couldn’t be sharp like his brothers, too young to be heir to his father’s crooked fortune, he’d go his own way. Steal riches in beauty instead of violence never raw enough to satisfy.

Smog-thawed lights barely noticed him in the alley as he walked a four AM wander towards that square of soft dewy beauty. Barely noticed had his life always been, curtained behind older, louder boys-growing-into-men and brushed aside by flying fists or the cold, heavy, silent gavel of his father’s gaze. The wooden wall barely felt his hands as he vaulted over and found himself again panting to touch the velveteen petals, the sandpaper-splintered leaves, the solidly mobile stem, the gently smiling threat of the thorns.

He felt every anatomical part in his fingers like a child exploring the world for the first time, eyes wide in the darkness and heart so loud in his ears he almost didn’t hear the wind rustle the laden stems or the cherry tree only a few paces away. Only something in the breeze whispered and he looked around himself, spark-eyes wild and frantic thinking somebody’s here! only it was just the wind and the devil in a single tree.

No scissors, not even a knife--god his father would be ashamed--he twisted and ripped at the supple-strong stems, hemorrhaging petals on the dirt below, sprinkling drops of blood and clots of sweet green sap across the mangled stalks. Then up and over the wall again, holding in some wild joyous laughter, stumbling home to hide the shambolic bouquet under his bed. His room smelled like roses and blood and the sickly green scent of dying flowers.

Every night for weeks, even after jobs well done, his father’s voice lamenting the warm amber state of his youngest son. Every night the slowly drooping petals under his bed saying, “Jesse boy, you’ve got a spark, he just can’t see it.”

Three times now he’d gone back to that garden, three times now in the thick darkness, eyes only for the soft petals on their impossibly thin, impossibly strong stems. Never noticing the windows of the dark house. Never noticing the slowly lightening sky.

Now there were scissors, rusted and dull from the garage and he didn’t want to think about whatever else might be dulling the once gleaming metal. Quiet, barely noticed, he leapt into the garden and into the warm accusing arms of light spilling from the open back door.

“I’ve seen you,” said the girl with the brazen hip leaning in the doorway. “Wait, don’t go. My mom’s mad. I didn’t think I’d see a boy like you stealing roses.”

“I like them,” he snapped. Sounded like his brothers before a punch-up.

“Your girlfriend might appreciate something from the store a little more, y’know.”

“They’re not for my girlfriend. I just like them.”

“Alright, don’t get worked up. C’mere, I clipped some for you.” She grinned, and it had the teeth of an animal that had only barely been tamed.

“How did you--”

“You come every week and a half. I was ready. Don’t bring those nasty things inside.”

Jesse put the rusted scissors down on the top step. Half a dozen flowers in a jar sat under the stained glass kitchen lamp. He ran a thumb across a cluster of petals.

“A boy who steals flowers,” she startled him out of the quiet, “in this neighborhood?”

“I like them.” He’s a broken record. He’s a thorn-spark sharpness thrown bare and strange in the soft peach-yellow kitchen light.

“I collected butterflies for a while. I’d unfold them and pin them to a board. Grandma said they were like living roses.” She looked up at him with a gaze half-feral, half-sweet. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Seventeen. My name’s Jesse. I’ll stop if you want.”

“No, don’t. I think it’s fun. I’m Vic. I’ll just clip them for you from now on. Less blood. More petals.”

She let him out through the front door, tiptoe whispering about the sadistic joy of her mother’s fury. Jesse felt like he’d found a bulldog with a lipstick print on her forehead, frightening and tough and lovable at once. He forgot the old scissors on the back stairs. Already a middling spectre of doom. But things get forgotten in romance, in haste.

And roses don’t last forever. Six weeks she met him at his leap over the wall. This week there are no roses left to give.

“You can kiss me instead,” she says, knowing he has wanted to, seeing every night that under his eyes are red hearts of love.

Six more weeks he plucks roses from her lips instead of her fingers. Sometimes the kitchen light rings her holy and haloed in the yard. Sometimes the moon glints wild and doglike in her eyes and off her wide white smile. A bulldog with his heart in her mouth.

He wishes he could be something more solid, like those impossibly-small, impossibly-strong stems that hold the most beautiful parts of the rose aloft.

And downstairs he can hear his father planning something, some damnation for a lost trust.

And in the night she holds up something silhouetted in black. “These are yours. Dad put them in the shed and I found them. You left them here that first night, remember?”

And downstairs they’ve got a proper skeleton of a crew. Just Jesse and his brothers. “If you can’t trust anybody else to do the job right,” Dad says, “At least you can trust family. Right?”

Saturday night, he’s short-breathed in the gloom in the back of a car driving circles through half-familiar streets. Never been on a serious job before, not like this, not with corner-blind fury like this.

“Time to scrape the velvet off ya,” Dad had said, “Start butting heads with the rest.”

He puts a hand in his pocket. Gun. Scissors. Cash. A butterfly Vic had unfolded and given to him, its wings stiff and fragile and nearly as soft as the roses. He puts a hand to his forehead and feels the gleaming sweat that darkens his hairline and shines the hearts under his eyes. He looks forward into the night but all he can see are smears on the glass. Someone switches on the radio. Someone else switches it off.

They park and get out. Main road, long row of houses lit by punctuations of streetlights in the soggy dark. The boulevard at night has the look of murder.

That’s because it knows, Jesse things, absently, dreamily, a little wild.

Someone’s pounding on the door. “Open up!” Jesse joins his brothers on the step. “We know you’re in there, open up!”

Door swings open ghostly silent on old greasy hinges. “Oh, hello sweetheart, we just need to pay your father a little visit. Mind letting us inside?”

Clocked eyes locked over silhouetted heads and shoulders, wide-eyed shock bewilderment fear, and that feral grin turned more than saccharine sweet. “Come on in.” There’s a jar of roses on the coffee table. Passing by, he can’t help but reach out and stroke the soft pink petals. Only they’re strange, flat where they should be velvety, too smooth where they should be rough. Fake.

“Sweetheart, where’s your father? We need to speak with him.”

A glance, knowing, feral, accusing, sweet. “He’s upstairs. Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Fingers grip her face but the bulldog doesn’t back down. Holds the gaze. “I call you what I like.”

Is that lipstick on her teeth, or blood?

Jesse caught in the sweep of an up-the-stairs wave, trapped between brothers each step feels like a gauntlet, a guilt trip, thorns in his palms and round his head. Something crushing into the temples of his skull. In the crowded hallway he reaches into his pocket--whatever his fingers land on first, that’ll be what he wants. At the bottom is some sort of powdery, papery fragments, sticking to the sweat of his grip. The butterfly, crumbled in the crush of bodies on the doorstep. He blinks and pulls his hand away.

“Two each to a door.” In the dark, bodies rustle shuffling shifting movement sorting out who goes where and then silence, waiting.

Vic stands at the top of the landing. A gestured conversation, making a cruel mockery of mime. Jesse’s eyes follow the pointing brother finger to his own door. She stares. Feral, frozen, and everyone knows. Viper smile, sneer, nod, that condescending ‘go on’ gesture like she’s a schoolchild that needs prompting. Four steps forward.

Her head just under his nose she smells sweet. Vanilla and jasmine and rotting flowers and old blood. She doesn’t look at him. He wants to cover his eyes.

The latch releasing sounds like a gunshot. The door swings open. One step into the room, two, and in the dim suggestion of the sickly yellow street lamp outside, her shoulders go up, maybe about to sigh, maybe about to speak up, maybe nothing. Slender shoulders, brash and feral-sweet like her hips and her eyes and her smile and he wants to reach out and grab them, pull her back and hold her close in the dark. Hide her under the bed like he hid his old stolen roses, protecting their beauty from knifesharp eyes of everyone-- everyone else. But these scissors weigh him down in his pockets, feeling small enough to fit inside his own pockets, smaller than a clot of blood or sap, smaller than a crushed butterfly.

Her shoulders go up, and someone else steps forward, two someones, one on each distant end of the distant end of the room. Two someones swing arms up black with silhouette, black with the near-silent brush of sleeve sliding subtly back, the white hint of a wrist not the right place to look for white but it’s good enough and then the entire world is flashing, crashing, the crack-boom of half a dozen guns ringing out blinding his ears deafening his sight the grating metal harsh of half a dozen knifeblade eyes staring down the sight of each perfectly manicured steel barrel, the heavy, empty thud of two bodies making the interminable-instant journey to the floor.

Someone finds a light switch in the hallway. A car alarm is screaming down the street. Jesse has not moved, one hip still leaning in the doorway, one hand still tucked inside his pocket.

He feels his eyes go all rustybladed and sore. There’s no one there, he thinks with desperation, just the holes in the doors and wounds in the floor.

[wickedlittlecritta]

Gonna steal the 17 questions and 17 fun facts from @edderkopper!!

Nickname: Steph

Sun sign: Sagittarius babyyyyyyyyy

Height: 5′3″-ish. A teacup human

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Last thing I googled: Heelys

Favorite musicians: Several! Fall Out Boy, Hozier, Florence + the Machine, and the Glitch Mob have been some of my favorite to see live.

Song stuck in my head: This one

Following: 220

Amount of sleep: 8 at least

Lucky number(s): 3

Dream job(s): Novelist. If it wasn’t so expensive I’d also love to go back to school, get an advanced art history degree, and then become an art restorer or something. Become an expert at some obscure bit of art history.

Wearing: When I started it was pajama pants, oversized t-shirt, and the sons of anarchy hoodie I found on the side of the road. Now I’m in my skeleton t-shirt, jeans, and my little brown combat boots.

Favorite songs: This is an impossible question, but I’ve loved this song since i was very small (and it’s probably a weird song for me to have liked as a child???)

Instruments played:  None! I own a tin whistle and a harmonica and have made attempts to teach myself both, but I’m not great at music and should probably take lessons sometime

Something that I’m not good at but thoroughly enjoy: Horseback riding!  I did it for ten years fairly intensively and sucked pretty badly even at my best, but it’s fun.

My favorite Halloween costume ever: I went as Dodger from Oliver and Company one year. 

My favorite myth of the god(s) I worship (if doesn’t apply, your favorite folk tale): I’m going to pick folk tale, because have y’all read Teague O’Kane and the Corpse? You should read Teague O’Kane and the Corpse. It’s festive.

Fun Facts!

1. I have never broken a bone, despite the fact that I have been thrown from a horse several times.

2. I am about to do nanowrimo for the fourth time!

3. I only like coffee if it’s iced. 

4. I think I know what I want my first tattoo to be but it’s BIG and I’m POOR. Also it’s a reference to one of my oc’s because of who I am as a person.

5. My mom actually bought me a pony when I was eleven. He decided he’d rather be her horse and he’s a spoiled old man now.

6. Despite living near the Canadian border my whole life, first near Quebec and now near Vancouver, I have never actually been to Canada.

7. I don’t drink because I’m very sensitive to the taste of alcohol and it tastes like cough syrup?? I hate it a lot. The only thing that I’ve tried that doesn’t taste disgusting are long island iced teas and Moscow mules, because apparently I like vodka??? Also these were sips of other people’s drinks and I’m the driver when we go out, so I’ve never had enough to see what my alcohol tolerance is like.

8. I am working on inheriting the good baking juju from the Leavitt family, because one of the cousins needs to get it and I already have the cookie recipe, I have a head start.

9. If I received a lot of money and had to spend it on something frivolous for myself I’d get a bespoke floral suit. Or a Subaru STI. Depending on how much money.

10. I have undiagnosed dyspraxia, and it’s most prominent going down stairs. I used to be real bad about doorways and would walk half into the door jamb.

11. I have a boating certificate for the state of New Hampshire. 

12. I like horror but I’m very particular about it, and tend to prefer short stories to novels, and I generally don’t like horror movies at all.

13. I call my preferred aesthetic “rococo daymare” but it’s not really related to the rococo period beyond being extra as fuck. It’s just maximialism with a pastel and gold veneer. A fondness for the handmade and the overdone and the tacky and the dramatic. Layers! Bold suits! Floral prints! Military jackets! Embroidery! A side of ethical hedonism! I’m going to make Oscar Wilde proud of me and lounge! 

14. You know that weird girl who was obsessed with horses in your fourth grade class? That was me. I grew up to be a weird car boy. I just like things that go.

15. I lost part of my hearing after an illness/fever when I was five-ish? It was after the critical language acquisition period, which means that I never had a problem with  pronouncing words, but it meant that being in a mainstream public school was challenging. I’m still salty that no one ever presented going to a Deaf school as an option for me. I could be fluent in ASL and part of the Deaf community, but NO!

16. I still have a little bit of a New England accent after three-ish years on the west coast, and it strengthens every time I have a phone call with my mom. I don’t think I’ll ever say certain words without an accent--does chowdah even really have an r in it?? Sounds fake.

17. Despite loving art I never took any art classes in high school because I strongly disliked the art teacher. I took woodshop instead and did a lot of intarsia pieces. I’d like to get a jigsaw if I ever own property with a garage or shed and do it again, I think.

Tag yourself if you want to play!!

[specializedgaragedoor]

5 EASY WAYS TO HELP MAKE YOUR GARAGE SAFER

garage doors Perth

When preparing to make a garage door safe and safe within the potential invaders & thieves, you think about generating every place safe; could possibly that be also of your kitchen, storage area or any other spot else. You think associated with protecting everything from revenue to clothes and additionally from family heirlooms to your valuable reports.

garage doors Perth

But you forget about amongst your most important houses - your shed. And this is what you may make one of the greatest problems when trying to look after your properties.

Actually you probably need to pay back your first focus on your garage like it’s filled with high-cost items that you’d get really devastated to forfeit. From your car so that you can lawn equipment in addition to seasonal items - everything in your car port is expensive. For the kind information, without a doubt that things like outdoor living gear, safety merchandise and/or any other invaluable item that you’ve stored in your house; are the most-potential spots for the invaders. Because of this , you should do your better to make your garage area as secure as it can be.

Go through this word. Here, I’ve stored some of the best 4 effortless ways that will help you to maintain garage more secure. Shed Door remote along with opener

KEEP THE DOORSTEP CLOSED WHEN YOU’RE AT HOME

Sometimes, at the time you come to your home only for a while and meadow your car, you don’t bother to near the door of your shed. This may cause you to go through the cost of two possible issues. Guess what?

The primary one is that the objects in your garage have a high risk to be stolen by person entering silently towards your garage. Without a doubt that the item could possibly be anything; i. age., your car or each and every item that you generally store in your car port.

The second potential difficulty is that regardless if someone’s not visiting steal anything coming from you he’s unquestionably gonna target what exactly he’d be obtaining from your garage.

This is exactly why I strongly highly recommend you keep the door from your garage closed any time you’re at home.

PREVENT THE WHOLE AREA BASED

This is one of the most typical facts about almost all this garages.

Yes, anyone read that perfect - All the garages. And I’m darn sure you’ve experienced this in the majority of the garages you’ve been. Guess what?

These people just leave their particular door opened; with no locking. Beware if your main garage has a front door leading directly to the lining. Someone with a terrible will can easily can download your whole garage whether it's left unlocked.

And when you get entered, let me tell you child that; they can eliminate everything from your house without leaving one particular sign to locate.

This is why I really suggest you keep every last door locked. Similarly, if your garage incorporates a doggy door, make sure you keep it closed all the time whenever it’s not in use.

ADD LIGHTS OUTSIDE

Lamps are must-to-have designed for both your home along with your garage if you want to make it safe out of thieves and intruders. Thus, you mustn’t ever forget for getting lights fitted in a person's garage while getting ready to make it safe & secure.

Let’s guess that you’ve planned to set up lights in your garage area; okay? Well, would you just guess what variety of light would be the most-effective and beneficial for together; i. e., your household and your garage?

Simply no idea?

Well, merely had to choose 1 for my shed, I’d better prefer to install motion sensor lights. This would allow me to know easily on the subject of any movement taking at any time of evening.

Above all, having a brightness installed makes you and me less prone to come to be robbed.

HIDE A EMERGENCY RELEASE

A lot of the modern garage opportunities have a simple cord-like structure hanging within it. Can you guess the employment of this cord?

It’s used to open your garage door yourself when the garage doorstep stops working. Along with it’s very much crucial that you make it safe and secure retaining it in a site out of sight from strangers. Else, a thieves and crooks would get a awesome opportunity to make-out capital and/or items.

Do you really also own your garage door or simply want to install a completely new one? Do you want any kind of help regarding a good garage-door? If absolutely, Specialized Garage Opportunities is always waiting to be able to serve you. Just contact us. Very soon, we’ll become right there at your system.

[carterashofficial]

Thanks, Aearyn

@aearyn was so unbelievably kind to tag me for this 

rules: answer these 85 questions and tag 20 people (ahaha no i wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy this took forever)

— what was your last…

1. drink: water. from the fridge. there might’ve been a dog hair in it because Scout and Abbey show their love through shedding. I didn’t care.  2. phone call: my old internship asking why I never got my w-2 form 3. text message: a coupon from World Market, if that counts. If not, i texted myself a spoiler for the kotfe fic so i don’t forget 4. song you listened to: Champion by Carrie Underwood b/c i love it and I NEED THE POSITIVITY   5. time you cried: UH... writing the kotfe fic. But i wasn’t actually crying. it was more like “im tearing up at this one scene b/c its breaking my heart”. Actual crying? been... so long i can’t remember.

— have you ever…

6. dated someone twice: ahahahhahahahahahaha.... ahahahhaha..... ahahahhahahahaha despite my best intentions, i’ve never dated anyone. I’ve been trying to change that. I want romance in my life. 7. kissed someone and regretted it: That would imply i’ve had my first kiss, and im 22 years old and still haven’t had it. APHRODITE WHY AM I SINGLE. I’M READY TO MINGLE 8. been cheated on: see above. Can’t be cheated on if you’ve never HAD A DATE 9. lost someone special: i would rather not consider this question, but Domino, Jewel, and my Grandma (all were very, very sudden and hit me like a bag of bricks).  10. been depressed: ha ha ha apparently i’ve had depression since i was 15. I was officially diagnoses in January of 2017 and have been on medication since. ahahaha  11. gotten drunk and thrown up: no I can barely get drunk even when i try, let alone enough for a damn hangover. Seriously. I can drink like Carmadda and not get drunk.

— fave colours

12. soft eggshell green 13. the blue at the edge of the horizon 14. metallic  anything

— in the last year have you…

15. made new friends: ........yes? i think? 16. fallen out of love: ahahahahaha no b/c i’ve never been in love (in the romantic sense and that’s how im taking this) 17. laughed until you cried: always 18. found out someone was talking about you: in the worst of ways 19. met someone who changed you: yes 20. found out who your friends are: oooooh yes 21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list: never been kisses

— general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl: all? how else do people find you on there? 23. do you have any pets: many. Scout, Abbey, the neon tetras (named the Heralds of Zildrog), my various shrimp, and Corypheus and Valkorian the golden inca snails  24. do you want to change your name: no, but i used to 25. what did you do for your last birthday: went bowling 26. what time did you wake up today: i woke up 3 times, once to Bug getting ready for school, then my mom asking if i opened the vitamins, then... i think 9 was when i finally crawled out 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: playing swtor or looking up some fresh and funky memes 28. what is something you can’t wait for: finished the next kotfe fic chapter and breaking everyone’s hearts. Or the next major expansion of SWTOR. I NEED ANOTHER CINEMATIC TRAILER LIKE GODDAMN 30. what are you listening to right now: nothing my house is silent and in the far, far distance, sometimes i can hear cars on the toll road 31. have you ever talked to a person named tom: i have an uncle named Tom. I have spoken with him. So Yes. 32. something that’s getting on your nerves: socialization. I can only take so much around others. If I was a Sim i’d have the lonely trait. 33. most visited website: Tumblr or my school’s student login page 34. hair colour: blonde/brown im really smack in-between and i just dye it lighter to make it blonde enough for me to be blonde 35. long or short hair: long. so long. down to my butt long                                   36. do you have a crush on someone: not sure. i like him, he’s funny and thinks im funny, and teases me back, but im shit at reading signs and far too much a coward to ask him out. I’m not sure. I had a major crush in high school that resulted in me falling in love with a guy but we never offically dated and then he crushed my heart. Long story. So i try to avoid crushes lest i break my heart again. 37. what do you like about yourself: bitch im fabulous 38. want any piercings: i got 3 in the lobes of each ear and cartilage in the left. If i get any more I think my mom would have a heart attack 39. blood type: ??????? no idea. I know my sister is O 40. nicknames: Milky (only drank milk as a kid, but this nickname has sorta phased away). Other nicknames give away my real name. But I do respond to my sister’s name. 41. relationship status: single and ready to flamingle 42. sign: Aquarius 43. pronouns: she/her 44. fave tv show: i literally can’t pick one b/c ive watched nearly every cop show on Netflix, including some that aren’t in english. All the cooking competitions i can find on Netflix and youtube, and im running out of TV to watch when i do art. Halp. 45. tattoos: Zero because my fatal fear is needles. 46. right or left handed: Left. left left left seriously i can.... maybe dip a french fry in ketchup with my right but that’s it 47: ever had surgery: wisdom teeth removed count? 48. piercings: 7 total in the ears and nothing else. 49. sport: I watch baseball and hockey (SPEAKING OF WHICH, GO DUCKS!). Used to play softball and some soccer. 50. vacation: if i can graduate a quarter early I want to go visit my family in florida and michigan 51. trainers: is... this british for shoes? i wear berkenstocks. only berkenstocks. because crocs are so comfortable but people judge. I also have hella wide feet where ever ‘wide’ shoes are too narrow. I can get by in Vans or my old old Nikes that i hardly ever wear

— more general

52. eating: whether or not if ketchup should go on it, ketchup is going on it. Unless if it’s breakfast food or desert. Breakfast food is my favorite and i could happily live off it it. 53. drinking: water, tea, juice, milk, Mike’s black cherry hard lemonade, monster energy drinks, RC Cola.... i drink a variety of things. Mostly water and tea. 54. i’m about to watch: i dont know I’VE RAN OUT OF THINGS TO WATCH ON NETFLIX 55. waiting for: myself to go out on a date and/or meet The Guy 56. want: many things. 57. get married: One day. 58. career: ssssssssttttttttttuuuuuuuuuudddddddeeeeeeennnnnnntttttttt

— which is better

59. hugs or kisses: i want both but maybe not from the same people. 60. lips or eyes: depends what each are doing tbh 61. shorter or taller: taller b/c im short and can’t reach the top shelf 62. older or younger: older but at this point im 22 and a lot of my classmates are 21 so like.... my generation. 63. nice arms or stomach: arms 64. hookup or relationships: relationships 65. troublemaker or hesitant: depends. like really depends. I’ll probalby go with troublemaker b/c they tend to be funny and on-the-spot and im a planner.

— have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: never kissed anyone..... ha ha ha 67. drank hard liquor: so yes. 68. turned someone down: ahahahhahahahaahaha haha ha. Actually yes I got asked to homecoming my senior year by this one dude who still gives me the creeps jsut tihnking about him. I politely said no. 69. sex on first date: never been on a date, never kissed anyone. Never ‘done the deed’. Would not do on the first date. 70: broken someone’s heart: uh my mom’s when I told her I had Depression and wanted to kill myself all throughout sophomore year highschool 71. had your heart broken: oh. Yes. 72. been arrested: no 73. cried when someone died: more like wailed loud enough that half the dorm floor heard 74. fallen for a friend: *side-eyes my sister* yeeees

— do you believe in

75. yourself: it varies over what. 76. miracles: I mean.... to an extent.  77. love at first sight: no 78. santa claus: I AM 22 YEARS OLD of course 79. angels: its complicated. my mom found a dead rat in our old house’s garage when i was 4-ish and all i remember crying for the dead rat when my dad tossed it in the garbage. My mom explained that an angel had already taken the rat’s soul to heaven. What did I picture the angel as? A carrot, wearing a tie, with mickey mouse-esque white gloves carrying a rat dramatically. This still haunts me.

— misc

80. eye colour: blue enough that you might drown in the ocean 81. best friend’s name: @athenascrown 82. favourite movie: if you think I can pick only one you’ve got another thing coming. but.... any star wars movie. If i had to pick one, Empire Strikes Back or Phantom Menace or The Last Jedi.... or Rogue One.... or Revenge of the Sith... 83. favourite actor: The guy who played the stormtrooper who hits his head on the door in Ep 4 84. favourite cartoon: the old Ducktales was a childhood favorite 85. favourite teacher’s name: I don’t want to put her name out here but she was my art teacher all through high school and she is one of the kindest souls ive ever met and if it wasn’t for her, i wouldn’t have gotten back into art

because this post took 5ever im not tagging anyone but if you want to do it, just say I tagged you and I’ll say i did

[ohleander]

02.10

Today was an extremely challenging day for me and I think I managed to do well overall. I made a point to open up confidently with a friend. I made a point to breathe and respond rather than react.. I still noticed moments where I reacted out of anxiety, fear and panic.. I struggle with feeling stressed, juggling work and safety, struggling with the right, most informed choices. I struggle with my strong sense of responsibility. I have to remember that I need to be the MOST responsible for myself. No self sacrificing.

I also got a lot of encouraging messages from the universe today to picture my dream home. Astrologically, home and family are a huge part of my chart. I’d really like to manifest a little plot of land that gives me security, safety and resources. I want what I have here at this house, but I want it to be mine. It might not be so farfetched to imagine buying this place but my immediate intuition tells me this is not the place I rest.. Its so hard to be sure. But then again maybe I shouldn’t try to be so sure of everything. I am still learning to go with the flow and be open to things every day. Trying to be more open and vulnerable has really shed light on where I am not open and vulnerable. Whenever I sense tension, I try hard to alleviate the source. In many ways I still feel a bit trapped at work. I feel like I don’t have a voice around my old coworkers.. the new ones are amazing. I cant yet decide if I’m really up for the task of sticking with this career. I still don’t feel like I chose it for myself, which is important to me, but its really not bad at all. I wonder, should I worry about me choosing it or it choosing me? I realize its a luxury when so many don’t even have the pathways I do. I immediately want to do more to help others get to feeling as good as I have lately with my direction. I want to help others but I don’t yet know how. MY self preservation is strong and sometimes I feel guilty for it. I do feel guilty for not speaking up enough at work. I feel afraid of losing face with my superiors but what am I really losing? Its not my real face, anyway. I’m not doing anyone any justices this way, but I am afraid. I do still have a lot of fear I need to release. I fear losing all I have gained. I think that’s rational. I also have an irrational fear creeping in saying “don’t talk about your fears, they’ll manifest instead and you’ll have done it to yourself!”... i realize that’s the ego talking.. its trying to protect me from making mistakes.. you can make mistakes with your actions but you can also make mistakes with your inaction.. that’s poignant to me and a lot to think about and absorb..

I still feel like I’m waiting for more chaos to enter my life.. i feel like I haven’t even addressed the chaos already going on. I don’t have regrets for unspent time here, but I do have an unwillingness to not have more of this place. I want more of this place. I want this place to be mine, or someplace like it but better.

My dream home starts on a very un-busy two lane road... there’s a bunch of bushes and shrubs and trees blocking the road so you cant see the cars from the house. The drive is long and a little winding. The house is tucked way back from the street and its so quiet. There’s nothing but woods and some open land.. no big trees around the house. The house and yard are full of fun beds and perennials and yard zones.. maybe there’s badminton.. The house has two stories and a big fun porch. Some of the porch is covered, some uncovered.. there’s a sun room attached to the house. There are sheds in the back to work in and store things. There’s a fire pit. Ideally its a little farm house. I really love bohemian and rustic vibes.. I love vintage and I love maximal-ism and art.

The inside is cozy.. there’s a big room and a big kitchen off to the side.. a cozy plant room and living room. Stairs to the second floor. The second floor is also cozy and connected. It can be used as separate rooms or one floor. I’d love for there to be a balcony or porch on the second floor. One way to sit outside and bask up by the trees. I don’t think this is too much to dream. This dream house is a lot like my current house. But I have so many improvements in my head I want to make to this house.. Its pretty much this house on my family home’s landscape and tucked away somewhere in the convenient country. (also the internet always works too!) I’m reminded of my bestfriend’s house growing up.. it was also a little secluded woodland in the dang middle of the city. I want peace and quiet and solitude. I want what I have right now, except all of my dreamed improvements. I want the wrap around porch and the glass greenhouse. I want the seating area around the big tree and I love our work garage. I want to paint all the walls in the house with accent colors.. I want to build shelves and fix the chimney. I love this house so much and if I can keep a good chunk of the land, I want to keep it. I’ve done so much good healing here and I’m not so sure I’m ready to give that up.. if the time is right, then I trust that, but I am still going through feelings of loss and sadness. It brings up unresolved past traumas. Things I never processed before. I intend to give myself as much space here as I need. Who knows what the future holds, but I have to believe it’ll be good for me. Even and especially when its hard. ugh.

LM

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

World’s Best Dad (Part 9)

Summary: The reader spends the fall with the Winchesters and mends some old wounds with her family...

World’s Best Dad Masterlist

Pairing: single parent!Dean x kindergarten teacher!reader

Word Count: 5,500ish

Warnings: language, potential feels

A/N: <3 Love the end of this one...

“I’m home,” you said around four after everyone’s first full day back to work and school. 

“In the kitchen!” you heard Dean say. You dumped your bag and wadded down the hall, Gracie’s lips moving a mile a minute, giving Dean the inside scoop on first grade.

“How was your day munchkin?” you asked, ruffling her hair. “You like Mr. Colt?”

“Yeah. I like you more though,” she said. “We get library twice a week now and we get to start playing real sports in gym.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you said, grabbing a drink from the fridge, spotting a smudge of grease on the side of Dean’s face. “You got something there babe.”

“Hmm?” he asked. You grabbed a napkin and wiped it away for him, Dean giving you a smile. “How was your day with the newbies?”

“Pretty good. They’re a quieter group this year. Still shy I’m guessing. I’ll bring ‘em around,” you said. “The garage everything you could have dreamed of?”

“Well I’m not getting paid to sip mojitos on the beach but it’s much better,” said Dean. 

“What’s a mojito?” asked Gracie, Dean regretting his word choice already.

“It’s one of those drinks only adults can have munchkin,” you said. “Do you have anything you need Dean to sign?”

“Oh yeah,” she said, sliding off the bar stool, Dean grimacing when she hopped down without her step up. She was fine though and rummaged around in her backpack, pulling out a few papers, the usual drill kind of stuff. “Can I play in the backyard?”

“Uh huh, just-”

“Stay in the yard, I know Daddy,” she said, hopping out the back door barefoot.

“Well excuse me,” said Dean when she was out of earshot. “Didn’t know I was dealing with a hot shot first grader.”

“Oh, I can’t wait for the first time she brings home a boy. You’re going to answer the door with a shotgun in your hand, aren’t you?” you asked, Dean giving a coy grin.

“I won’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” said Dean. “Do you mind if I put you on her emergency contacts?”

“Of course not,” you said, Dean giving you a nod. 

“Could you...put me on yours?” he asked, not looking up as he filled out the paperwork. “I put you on for me and I’d just feel better if I knew...”

“Yeah, I’ll update it first thing,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “You worry about me or something?”

“It’s kind of my job sweetheart,” he said, signing the form, stuffing back in her backpack. “So how’d work really go?”

“It’s like a horror show. Two kids freaked out that their parents abandoned them, a couple really shouldn’t be in there yet but they passed the tests and one is downright mean so that’ll be fun to deal with. We’re going to go through a lot of cheap wine this year,” you said, Dean spinning around to lift you up on the counter. “Your work?”

“Honestly, it’s good. I like it. I get to think more. Benny doesn’t yell at me for no reason. It’s nice,” he said. “Coming home to you is nice too.”

“I certainly enjoy it,” you said, bopping Dean’s nose with a kiss. “Hasn’t even been a whole week yet.”

“What the hell took us so long?” he asked.

“Your abandonment issues, my boundary issues, both our trust issues...it’s a miracle either one of us had the guts to start dating in the first place,” you said, Dean staring you down before resting his forehead on yours.

“Good thing that kid out there knows better than us,” said Dean, taking a big breath. “What do you want for dinner? It’s my turn I think.”

“I don’t care. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Two Months Later

“I swear to God I am never letting you pick my Halloween costume ever again,” you said, stepping out of the bathroom, Dean laughing before he even turned around.

“Excuse me but you make one hell of an officer,” said Dean, your hands tugging at your skirt.

“You realize how short this thing is?” you said, Dean smirking at you. “I’m not walking around all night with-”

“Uh huh,” he said, tossing you a duffel bag. “The one you got on might have been a bit of a joke. That’s your real costume.”

“This better not be even less clothes, Winchester,” you said, going to change again. 

“You like that better?” he asked from behind the door when he heard you unzip the bag.

“Please tell me you have a matching one,” you said, Dean humming from the other side. 

A few minutes later you were walking out, Dean nowhere in sight as you went to your closet and pulled out the perfect pair of boots and slipped them on. You could hear Dean downstairs with Gracie and peered over the banister, Dean helping Gracie with her wonder woman costume.

“Hey good lookin’,” you said, Dean wearing a matching fighter pilot suit, top gun style with aviators to match. He let out a long whistle at the sight of you, making Gracie giggle. “You look adorable Gracie.”

“Thank you. You and Daddy match,” she said, craning her head up to look between the two of you.

“Yes we do,” you said. “Want to use the bathroom before we head out?”

Gracie went into the hall one as Dean gave you another smirk.

“You like it? You look hot and are covered up in that. Give a boy all kinds of ideas,” said Dean.

“Such a thoughtful boy,” you said, Dean biting his bottom lip. “Behave yourself out there tonight and I might give you your own treat.”

“Oh, well I’ll be on my best behavior then,” said Dean with a wink. 

You were about two hours in when you could tell Gracie was starting to get tired, Dean carrying her pillowcase full of candy for her as you carried her on your hip.

“Winchesters!” you heard someone say, spinning around to see Matt’s parents walking around with him in a batman costume. You saw his mother’s jaw drop a little and not even hide the fact that she was taking Dean in, your eyes burning daggers into her behind the sunglasses. 

“Hey,” said Dean as you sat Gracie down to run around with Matt. “We haven’t seen you guys in a while.”

“We went down to our summer place for a few months and Matt’s been hanging out with that Brady kid,” said his dad. You shared a glance with Dean that he returned. Gracie was not a fan of Brady, especially with how he didn’t like to let her play with them anymore.

“Well maybe we can get in touch with Brady’s parents, let Gracie play with the boys sometime,” you said. The other parents just shrugged.

“His parents are a little...upper crust if you know what we mean,” said his mother. 

“Fine, have them over our house,” said Dean. “Gracie misses her friend. Look at ‘em,” said Dean, pointing to where the two were running around in someone’s front yard, laughing and full of energy again.

“Sure, we can try. Just know they’re a little weird on untraditional families,” said his dad.

“I’m dating a teacher. What, they want her to have a nobel prize or some shit?” asked Dean.

“Dean,” you said, nudging him, not quite understanding that you weren’t the only problem they’d have.

“Oh. It’s because I don’t sit in a cubicle for a living,” he said. “It’s like your parents all over again.”

“Just...give us a call and we’ll have Matt over to play this weekend. Gracie’d appreciate it,” you said. They shrugged again and called Matt over to head home, Dean carrying Gracie the few blocks back to your place. She fell asleep in her costume, Dean leaving her be as he plopped down on the bed with a groan. “What’s wrong?”

“I just want other kids to be nice to my kid. I wish there weren’t stuck up people and she could just have fun like she’s supposed to,” said Dean. 

“We can’t protect her from everything. She’s a tough kid and she can handle herself,” you said, laying down next to him, shimmying out of your costume to leave you in a tank and your underwear.

“We,” he said, rolling to sit up, shedding his costume as well before crawling into bed in just his boxers.

“We what?” you asked, Dean tugging you tight into his chest.

“You said we can’t protect her. Not I can’t protect her. We,” he said, brushing the hair out of your face. “I saw how pissed you were when Matt’s mom was goggling, how mad you got that some other kid doesn’t like her because she doesn’t have rich parents or whatever they think normal ones are.”

“I’m...protective,” you said, not sure what Dean wanted you to say.

“I know,” he said, tucking your head under his chin.

“Are you okay?” you asked, Dean nodding above you.

“Yeah. I’m okay, sweetheart.”

One Month Later

“Dean,” you said one night after dinner, holding your phone in one hand, covering the speaker with the other. “My parents are on the phone.”

“Are they okay?” he asked, spinning around on the couch. Of course his first instinct was to care, even if he thought they hated him.

“Yeah, they...they invited us and Gracie to dinner at their house. I think how I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving or how I said I’m not coming home for Christmas...I think they’re finally getting that I’m serious about you guys,” you said.

“When do they want us to come down?” asked Dean.

“Saturday. We could spend the night. It’s a four hour drive,” you said. “Or stay in a hotel if it goes bad.”

“I’d like to get along with them,” said Dean. “It’s important to me.”

“They do anything I don’t like, we’re out of there, okay?” you asked, Dean nodding before you held the phone up again. “Hey mom. We’ll be there.”

Dean shot you a look when he saw the neighborhood your parents lived in and you knew there were a million questions running through his head. He kept his mouth quiet though, pulling up the long driveway to a house settled privately in the trees, looking like some kind of resort and not a home a family of three had lived in.

“You lived here?” asked Gracie when she climbed out of her seat onto the snow covered driveway. You hummed and grabbed your bag from the trunk, taking her hand in yours.

“Let’s hope the second time goes better,” said Dean, slinging his bag over his shoulder, carrying Gracie’s as he followed you up the path. You rang the doorbell and watched your mom walk through the main hall, opening the door up with a big smile. She looked different, less done up, more like the mom you rarely ever had the chance to see.

“Y/N!” she said giving you a hug, motioning for you three to come inside. “Dean, Gracie.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N,” said Dean, polite but his walls definitely up. Your mom gave him a quick side hug and Gracie one too, her little head looking up to the two of you, not sure what to do. “Gracie say hi to Y/N’s mom.”

“Hi to Y/N’s mom,” said Gracie, giving Dean a big grin.

“Little shit,” Dean muttered, knowing how much he wanted her on her best behavior for this visit.

“Your dad’s got the ham in the oven so dinner’ll be done in about an hour,” she said. “Y/N you want to show Dean and Gracie to their rooms?”

“Okay,” you said, pointing for Gracie to head on over to the stairs. “Dean is sleeping with me by the way.”

“I’m not...sure what your father will think,” she said, giving Dean a cautious glance.

“I’ve lived with the Winchesters for three months. I’m sleeping with my boyfriend and if Dad has a problem with that, he can take it up with me,” you said, your mom holding up her hands. “He’s going to have to stop treating me like a little kid someday.”

“As a dad, you’re always going to be his kid, no matter how big you are,” said Dean, your mom giving him a genuine smile. “Let’s find Gracie before she gets lost.”

“Daddy I’m right here,” she said at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips. 

“She reminds me of you,” said your mom. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

You sighed when she was gone, motioning for Dean to follow after you. You went down the hall and then another, Dean’s eyes a little wide as you flung open a door.

“Gracie you can-”

“Wow,” you heard both Gracie and Dean say, looking around the bunk room. 

“My cousins and I used to have lots of sleepovers in here. There’s plenty of beds and you can pick whatever one you want,” you told her, her body climbing up a ladder onto a top bunk and then crawling over to the next, Dean more focused on looking out the big window overlooking the hill on the side yard.

“You grew up rich,” he said, glancing back with a smile, his face falling when you grimaced. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I just never would have guessed with how...normal you are.”

“My parents are rich. I earn a decent living. I’m just as happy as they ever were if not more. Some things are more important than money,” you said, bumping into his arm. 

“Yes they are,” he said, taking hold of your hand. “Gracie, we’re going to find our room, okay?”

“Can we go sledding?” she asked, a laugh out of your mouth. “Please?”

“Maybe in the morning,” you said. You pulled Dean out after you, walking down the hall and towards the back of the house, Dean chuckling a little when he saw the “Y/N’s Room. DO NOT ENTER!” sign on the door. 

“Someone was a rebel,” said Dean, his smirk disappearing when he saw the room. “I knew there was a reason I was in love with you.”

“I haven’t stayed here since I was out of college apart from the holidays. It’s not too kiddish?” you asked.

“Oh my God,” he said, walking over to your shelf taking up a good chunk of space on the far wall. “I knew you liked music and classic rock but this looks like...are these records original?”

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing the back of your head. “I may have blown my christmas presents as a teenager on this stuff.”

“Can we take this home with us?” he asked, holding up a AC/DC record, a puppy dog look on his face.

“I don’t know,” you said, sitting down on your bed, the sheets feeling like they’d just been washed. “I always felt weird about them. I never liked the fancy rich presents.”

“You’re killing me sweetheart,” said Dean, picking up an Eagles album. “Come on, please? Re-gift a couple of them to me for Christmas or my birthday then. They don’t deserve to sit on a shelf and have no one pay attention to them.”

“You can pick out a few to bring home,” you said. “I think there’s something from just about every one of your favorite bands over there.”

“Yes there is,” said Dean, poking through the records for a few minutes as you explored your old room, settling at your window seat, watching it start to snow. You heard his phone go off and spun around to see him grinning shyly. “You just looked really pretty sitting there.”

“Come here,” you said, sliding over so he could sit where you had been. Dean took up your spot as you scooted back into him. “You can see the whole yard from up here.”

“I think we should put a window bench in our room,” said Dean. “I always wanted one. More ways to cuddle you.”

“Perfect idea,” you said, leaning back and getting a kiss, Gracie bouncing into the room. “Munchkin found us.”

“I’m getting hungry,” she said, Dean sitting you both up. “Can I have something?”

“Let’s see if we can find you a snack before dinner,” you said, Dean tossing her on his shoulders. You wound your way back downstairs, showing Dean the fastest ways out of the house in case of an emergency, Gracie resting her head on top of Dean’s the whole time. By the time you got to the main hall and were walking to the back of the house, you could see your mom setting the kitchen table.

“Thought you three might have gotten lost,” she said, Dean bending down to let Gracie off. 

“Do we have any fruit? Gracie’s on a grape kick,” you said, wandering into your kitchen to see Dean’s failed suppression at seeing the size of it.

“I think so. Your mom’s got me eating more bananas. Trying to give me potassium poisoning I think,” said your dad, throwing your mom a look.

“What’s potassium?” asked Gracie.

“It’s a mineral in bananas. Too much of it is bad but you’d have to eat way more bananas than you ever could. Don’t worry about it munchkin,” you said, opening the fridge up and spotting a tupperware container full of grapes. “Here you go Gracie. Don’t eat too many before dinner.”

“Thanks Y/N,” she said, taking the container from you and crawling into a seat at the table a ways off, Dean giving her a nod that it was okay.

“So, your mom tells me you two are living together now,” said your dad. You nodded and crossed your arms, Dean giving you a look to relax. “You seem...happier, more sure of yourself.”

“I’ve never been so happy,” you said, unfolding your arms, rubbing one nervously. “I’d...we’d really like it if we could all be happy.”

“You know I have to give your boyfriend a hard time,” said your dad. “It’s in the dad rulebook.”

“Well no offense but last time you guys were dicks,” you said.

“Y/N, don’t start a fight,” said Dean. 

“No, Y/N’s right,” said your mom, your eyes going wide that you weren’t mid way through a scolding for speaking like that. “We acted very rudely before. We care very much about our daughter and we know how easy it is for someone to only care for her because of our family’s status. That’s why we tended to shy you away from boys that didn’t come from money.”

“You mean shove me towards the ones that acted like snobs?” you asked, your dad cocking his head.

“Dean was kind of the living embodiment of that fear Y/N. We didn’t want him to take advantage of you. But Dean’s a father so he might understand this better than you that-”

“There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to protect your little girl,” said Dean, nodding his head. “You’d rather have her hate you than see her hurt.”

“We think we’re losing you, Y/N. We don’t want to. It’s clear that Dean and Gracie are important to you and that you’re old enough to know what you want. We just want you to want us again too,” said your dad. 

“Shit,” you said, ducking your head down, not sure what to do, never once in your life having that honest and open of a conversation with them.

“She doesn’t like to cry in front of other people,” said Dean, turning you around to hide in his chest, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

“That’s probably our fault,” said your mom. “We could have been better.”

“You were great,” you said, taking in a deep breath, turning around but staying close to Dean. “I mean, you sucked when I was a teenager but I think any parent goes through that.”

“We know you can hold one hell of a grudge Y/N but we’d like if you gave us another shot, both of you,” said your dad.

“I’d really like that,” said Dean. “Y/N?”

“Yeah. Let’s stop with the mush, alright?” you asked. “We can start fresh.”

“Great,” said your mom. “Now what does Gracie want for Christmas? She a girlie girl or she like her sports or-”

“Mom, you don’t have to get Gracie a present. I’m the one dating Dean,” you said.

“Fine. I’ll just ask Dean when you aren’t around what she wants. Him too,” said your mom, your eye roll out of this world. “I know you did not just roll your eyes at me.”

“I’m pretty sure she would combust if she didn’t do it at least once a day,” said Dean, earning one himself. “See?”

“I’m going to watch cartoons with Gracie,” you said, shaking your head and heading out to find her, crashing on the couch to watch Lion King until you were called for dinner. Who knew all it took was 45 minutes alone with your parents for them to look at Dean like they were talking to their own son. 

“Y/N, we didn’t know you got tenure,” said your dad at dinner. “Congratualtions honey.”

“Yeah, it was a weird time. Dean got hurt at work and...it’s nice,” you said, Dean rubbing your shoulder.

“She doesn’t take praise well,” said Dean. “Even when it’s for best belly flop.”

“Says the losing Winchester team,” you said, Gracie giglging. “See? She knows Sam’s team is where it’s at.”

“The two women I love both ditched me for my brother’s team at our family reunion. Let’s just say I was not a happy man,” said Dean.

“Daddy sucked,” said Gracie. “Y/N got a home run.”

“Funny considering she said she was awful at baseball,” said Dean, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She is. Only reason she ended up in soccer really. Must have been a lucky day for her,” said your dad.

“Next year they decided to do kickball so there is no way Sam is getting a hold of you again,” said Dean.

“What about me?” asked Gracie.

“You get better at your dribbling and we’ll talk,” teased Dean, Gracie pouting.

“Uncle Sammy said you’re compensating,” said Gracie, your drink almost spitting back in your glass, your parents looking like they were fighting back laughs as Dean shook his head.

“Uncle Sammy’s getting a noogie next time I see him,” said Dean. “You can tell him that.”

“Sam’s your younger brother?” asked your mom, Dean humming. “Is he single?”

“Mom,” you said, giving her a bitch face.

“Your cousin is single and cute,” she said.

“Are you talking about Bunny?” you asked, your mom nodding. “No, absolutely not. She is not Sam’s type at all.”

“You have a cousin named Bunny?” asked Dean. “That’s different.”

“Well once she did a shoot for playboy and the nickname kind of stuck with the family,” you said, Dean’s eyes wide.

“Yeah, that’s not Sammy’s type,” said Dean quickly.

“What’s playboy?” asked Gracie, Dean grumbling.

“Nothing, eat your carrots, munchkin,” said Dean, shaking his head. “Wow. That’s uh...you ever partake Y/N?”

“Yes,” you said, Dean’s eyes wide. “I love carrots,” you said, shoveling a spoonful in your mouth.

“That’s our daughter,” said your mom, getting a smug smile from you.

“Daddy, can I finish the movie now?” she asked, putting her fork down on her empty plate. 

“In a minute. You have to say thank you and ask the Y/L/N’s where to put your dishes,” said Dean.

“Thanks for dinner,” said Gracie, hopping off her seat, sliding the plate and her glass off into her arms. “Where should I put my dishes?”

“You can put them right by the sink Gracie,” said your dad. 

“Thank you,” she said again, walking into the kitchen and coming back a minute later, skipping into the family room and turning on the TV around the corner.

“She’s mature for her age,” said your mom. “I can’t imagine doing it alone.”

“Thankfully I haven’t done it alone for quite a while now. It’s easier with someone to help,” said Dean, giving you a smile.

“Hey dad, why don’t you show Dean your Charger?” you asked, Dean perking up. “He loves cars.”

“Great, give me a little one on one time with Dean,” said your dad.

“If I don’t come back, raise Gracie well,” joked Dean, helping clean up his plate and yours, leaving you and your mom at the table as they took off.

“What?” you asked, refilling your wine glass with Dean’s while she stared at you.

“You’re in love with him, in love with her. It’s a wonderful thing to get to see honey.”

“I was ready to start a search party,” you said, sitting in your bed, Dean coming into your room and shutting the door a few hours later. “I thought dad might have gone wood chipper on you.”

“I’m bigger. I could take him no problem,” said Dean, chuckling as he shed his layers.

“Gracie almost finished with the sixth book tonight. I figured we could give her the seventh early. I think that one got wrapped already though so we better check if it says Santa or not. We could probably get a few more years out of her believing,” you said, putting your own down as Dean crawled into bed with you.

“Sounds wonderful,” he said, pecking a kiss on your cheek, moving to your mouth. 

“You get dad’s seal of approval?” you asked, Dean nodding his head. “I’m glad. I know how much it meant to you.”

“I love you so much,” said Dean. “So, so much.”

“I love you too. You make me happy,” you said. “I found some old sleds in the basement if you want to take Gracie in the morning before we head home.”

“I think she’d love that,” said Dean. “Night, sweetheart.”

“Night Dean.”

Three Weeks Later

“Oh my god,” you said, plopping down on Dean’s childhood bed. “The Winchesters do Christmas hardcore.”

“Yes we do. Now get your lazy, cute little butt up,” said Dean, pulling you back to your feet. “I got one last surprise for you.”

“Is it a puppy?” you asked, Dean groaning.

“You and Gracie I swear,” said Dean, walking out the door with you and downstairs. “We’re going for a romantic walk.”

“It’s almost midnight, Dean,” you said. “Can’t we do it in the morning?”

“I’m being a cutesy romantic boyfriend. Let me have this,” he said, wrapping a scarf around your neck, pulling a hat down over your head.

“Alright. Let’s sleep in tomorrow though. I’m going to need it to keep up with this Winchester snowball fight I’ve been hearing about all week,” you said.

“It is a war and loyalties will be tested,” said Dean, throwing your coat on you and zipping you up. “I would highly advise promising your allegiance to me.”

“If I refuse?” you asked, giving him a smirk he returned.

“When I win and your side admits defeat, I get to do as I please to you,” he said, patting you on the butt. “Don’t go losing on purpose now, sweetheart.”

“Always a fucking tease,” you said, helping Dean wrap up before you headed out the back door, walking along the street until you got to the park nearby, the trees decorated with soft white lights to guide you down the snow covered path.

You wrapped your arm around Dean’s, leaning into his shoulder as his head came to rest on yours. You walked quietly for a few minutes, glad he’d decided on the walk, feeling like you were in some private winter wonderland.

“This is so pretty, Dean,” you said, his head lifting up as you caught the easy smile on his face.

“This was always my favorite part about Christmas. The way this park looked at night, no one around, peaceful,” said Dean. “I thought you’d like it too.”

“I do, it’s beautiful,” you said, Dean slowing your walk to a crawl, eventually stopping close to a light post. “Did you want to take a picture?”

“No,” he said, looking down with bright green eyes. “I just want to memorize the way you look right now.”

“My hopeless romantic,” you teased, leaning up and giving him a kiss. He returned it slowly, savoring it, giving you a big smile when you pulled back. “This has been my favorite Christmas ever.”

“I hope it gets better,” he said, your head tilting before you saw him start to go down to a knee. “I’ve never done this before and-”

“Yes,” you said, Dean laughing as he held your hand, pulling off the glove there.

“Y/N. I spent forever coming up with what I want to say. Can I at least profess my love before you answer?” he said with a big smile, your legs trying to make you jump up and down from joy as your cheeks throbbed at how hard you were smiling.

“Mhm,” you nodded, unable to keep one jump from happening as Dean laughed to himself.

“Y/N. I know you’ve heard it a million times from my family, my friends, from Gracie, but I wasn’t happy before you,” said Dean. “I felt broken and like I was going through the motions, just getting by for Gracie. I gave up on ever loving someone again, that I wasn’t worthy of being loved. Then I forgot to pack a lunch and Gracie told me you would make me happy and I thought what does a little five year old know about love? I am so glad she knew better than me. She gave me everything good in my life, everything. She gave me a chance at you, a chance I didn’t deserve, a chance you gave me not once but twice because I was so broken I couldn’t see that I wasn’t thinking right. You are amazing and kind and funny and beautiful and my best friend, Y/N. You got thrown so far in the deep end you should have run for the hills. You should have took off when I got hurt, when all of that responsibility got shoved on you that you didn’t deserve. Never once you complained, never once did you say she was a burden, say I wasn’t good enough. So we thought maybe you liked us, then we thought maybe you loved us and then we thought please don’t go away from us. 

“We love you, Y/N,” said Dean. “So incredibly much we love you. I know you didn’t sign up for anything more than a date. But you became a confidant and a protector and a guardian and a lover and a mother. You didn’t ask for this and I never wanted to put you into that position. But you took it with grace and confidence and I fell more in love with you when I saw you falling in love with her. She isn’t your daughter by blood or bone but she is your daughter. She needs a mother. I tried to scare you off so many times and you just kept coming back that you could take it, always putting her above yourself, always. I could never ask for that, I could never show you that. My biggest fear has always been that I’ll fail her, that I’m not good enough. But you showed me how wrong I was, how to be kind to myself again, how I don’t have to be perfect, I just have to do my best and have a little faith because I was graced with something good. I was lucky enough to have it happen twice when she got you as her teacher. I was lucky enough to have you come into my life and stay in my life. You’ve seen the parts of me I don’t show, the parts I pretend aren’t there and I wish would just go away and you love all of me and tell me it’s okay. I don’t understand how you love me or why but I just know I can’t live without you. I love you so much and I want you to be ours forever. So, Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you squeaked out, running a hand over your face, happy tears lining your face. “Yes, Dean Winchester. I want to marry the shit out of you.”

“I love you so much,” he said, slipping his hand into his pocket, pulling out a box with a ring and sliding it over your finger. You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss, never wanting to pull away, only moving back when your started to feel lightheaded. 

“This really is the best Christmas ever,” you said, Dean helping you with your gloves again so your hands didn’t freeze.

“Yes it is,” he said, wrapping his arm around yours, continuning your walk around the park. 

“Gracie...she’s okay with us...” you trailed off, Dean nodding his head.

“You’re always willing to sacrifice your happiness for hers,” said Dean. “Not even five minutes after getting engaged your first thought is if she’s alright with it.”

“Well I figured she was. I am kind of great,” you said, Dean bumping your shoulder. “Does anyone else know?”

“Sammy, my parents, your parents, my friends, your friends...everyone but you actually,” said Dean, your head tilting. “Your dad and me, I may have asked his permission a few weeks back.”

“Is that what took so long?” you asked, Dean shaking his head.

“Only about five minutes and that if I ever broke your heart they’d never find my body. But he was good with it. Told me to be good to you, keep you safe, love you with all my heart...don’t take offense to the eye rolls or sarcastic comments, it’s just your nature.”

“I’m going to marry you,” you said, looking up with a big grin. “I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“That is what marriage is, sweetheart,” joked Dean, kissing your temple. “Is that okay with you?”

“It’s perfect.”

A/N: Read the final part here!

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[buckybarnesappreciationsociety]

“Broken Souls Made Whole” Part 1

Summary: This is for @amarvelouswritings​ 2.1K Challenge. Thank you for allowing me to participate. Hope you’re pleased!

Prompt #5: “You’re one of the most important things in my life”

Pairings: Bucky x Original Character of Color

Word Count: 2,018

Warnings: Brief mention of suicide, racial indifference, and a little sexual innuendo

A/N: Sorry I’m late!

The mind sometimes plays cruel tricks on you. James Buchanan Barnes knew this better than anyone.

Sure, he had lucid days when past demons ceased to exist and he actually formed a thought not laced with darkness.

Other days weren’t so pretty. Today, Bucky was off kilter.

After a night of fitful sleep, Bucky left the tower with his black baseball cap pulled down low, hands tucked in his stonewashed jean pockets.  

He stumbled upon a pond with ducks and ducklings. The ripples in the water reminded him of days gone by. Bucky made a mental note to bring bread to feed his quacking friends.

Sitting over to his left, a woman with empty cognac colored eyes, bronze complexion with braids woven into an intricate pattern, stared into the abyss of nothingness.

Her mind riddled with so many unsavory thoughts. She’d been dealt a shitty hand and wanted to throw in the towel.

Lately, the wheelchair had become her jailor. All she wanted was freedom to walk or run like the old days, before a drunk driver ran a red light, stripping away her independence.

Bucky didn’t know her story because it wasn’t his place to be rude and ask. All he knew she appeared to be broken. That’s one thing they had in common.

A week passed. The beleaguered super soldier stayed away from the park. Not only did the ducks miss their feeding, Aniyah missed him as well.

She knew who he was and about his past. It didn’t matter; they were two bookends on a rickety shelf, holding onto whatever normalcy they could.

Bucky resurfaced . While feeding the ducks, Aniyah took a chance and wheeled over to him.

“James Barnes right?. How are you?”

Clearly taken aback, Bucky responded. “H-hiya. How do  ya’know who I am?”

Chuckling, Aniyah mused, “That’s easy. Everyone knows the infamous James Barnes”

“SInce you know who I am, what’s your name dollface?”

“Please forgive my manners. I’m Aniyah. Pleased to meet you.”

Extending his flesh hand, Aniyah shook it and smiled.

“The ducks are happy you’re back. Did you go on vacation?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, “Naw, uh been locked away in m’room. Ain’t felt right,” Bucky tapped his head.

Aniyah nodded, understanding what Bucky felt because she was there now.

They sat in silence for awhile until Aniyah decided to break the  monotony.

“I know you won’t ask so let me unburden you. I was hit by a drunk driver over a year ago. Guess walking in the crosswalk doesn’t matter anymore. There’s been days when I wanted to end it all.”

Bucky didn’t say a word. He knew Aniyah needed to vent and he was more than glad to listen.

“Life sucks man. I used to dance with a modern dance troupe in Manhattan. Now, here I am. Stuck in this damn rolling contraption.” Tears trickled down her face.

Bucky pulled her wheelchair close to the bench he was sitting on and hugged Aniyah as she shed pinned up frustration in the form of tears.

“Hey hey doll. It’s alright. I got’cha. Shh.” Bucky understood better than anyone.

“Guess I’ve been holding that for awhile. Thanks for allowing me to mess up your shirt.”

Bucky shook his head, “S’okay. I didn’t mind. Listen, would’ya like to have dinner sometimes?”

“I’d like that Bucky. Hand me your phone.” Aniyah typed in her address and phone number.

At first, they’d meet at the park twice a week. Soon, they graduated her favorite coffee shop. Eventually, dinner evolved into a full blown relationship.

8 months passed, Aniyah and Bucky  couldn’t stand to be apart from each other. Her sister, Trinity, had trepidations about her baby sister’s new beau, but she kept any snarky comments to herself.

One night while out to dinner Bucky suggested Aniyah come to the compound and meet the team.

“Do you think that would be wise, Bucky? I mean, look at me.” He disliked the self-loathing that would befall Aniyah sometimes.

Placing his hand on her cheek, Bucky smiled, “They would love to meet you.  I talk about ya so much, Nat doesn’t believe you’re real.”

Laughing, Aniyah shook her head. “Well, we can’t have everyone thinking you have an imaginary friend, can we?”

“Great. Tomorrow is movie night at the compound. I’ll come pick’ya up at 6 p.m. You can hang out and meet everyone. One more thing. Ignore Tony and Sam; they’re real pains in the ass.”

“Alright Bucky. It’s a date. Goodnight.” Aniyah kissed Bucky lovingly on the lips.

“You’re gonna be the death of me woman. Goodnight”

MEETING THE “FAMILY”

Aniyah wore a button down white shirt, black tattered skinny jeans and simple black flats.

Bucky loved Aniyah’s braids. He found the criss cross pattern creative and beautiful the way they fell onto her delicate shoulders.

Looking at her reflection in the elevator glass, Aniyah adjusted her shirt and checked her modest make-up.

Noticing her nervous demeanor, Bucky pointed out, “You’re gorgeous babe. No need to fix anything.”

“You’re biased Sergeant.” Bucky gazed deep into Aniyah’s eyes and kissed her.

Unaware of their surroundings, Bucky and Aniyah were pulled out of their searing kiss by Steve clearing his throat.

“Uh, ‘cuse me lovebirds,” rubbing the back of his neck.

Obviously startled, Aniyah blushed. “H-hi. You must be Steve.” She extended her dainty hand.

Bucky wiped lipstick from his swollen lips. “This is Aniyah, Stevie.”

“Pleased to meet ya. Everyone’s waiting in the common room.”

Aniyah rolled her wheelchair into the room, as Nat and Wanda greeted her.

“Wow, you’re not Barnes’ imaginary friend,” Natasha quipped.

“Oh goodie. I’m so happy to finally meet you,” Wanda was absolutely giddy.

“Hello Nat and Wanda. Nice to finally meet you guys also.” Aniyah was pulled into a hug.

Sam just couldn’t resist. “Frosty said you were beautiful but to finally see you, he lied. You’re radiant.”

Bucky growled and slapped Sam’s hand away from Aniyah’s. “Back off Birdbrain. She’s spoken for.”

Tony made his way over. “So, you must be Manchurian Candidate’s love interest. I’m so sorry.”

Aniyah threw an insult of her own. “Why are you sorry Tony? I should give Ms. Potts my condolences. Dating you must be pure hell.”

Nat, Wanda, and Bucky couldn’t hold their snickering. “Barnes, she’s a keeper.” Nat mused, sipping a vodka and tonic.

The movie choice, “21 Jump Street”, didn’t appeal to Bucky. So, he suggested showing  Aniyah around the compound.

Bucky thought it would be a good idea to show his best girl the view from the rooftop deck.

“It’s so peaceful up here, Bucky. I could sit and star gaze all night.” Aniyah’s voice was laced with a touch of sadness.

“Shuga, what’s wrong? The smile has left your face and those bright eyes gone dim.” Bucky scooted next to her.

“Your friends treat me like a normal person baby. It’s so refreshing.Trinity means well, but she acts like I’m an invalid.” Aniyah’s voice trembled.

Taking a leap of faith, Bucky proposed Aniyah move in with him at the compound.

“Dollface, you have no idea how hard it is saying goodnight and leaving ya. I know ya love Trinity, but it’s time to enjoy life again. I’d love to wake up to your smiling face and go to sleep with ya wrapped in my arms. You’re one of the most important things in my life. Would ya do me the honor of moving in with me?

“James Buchanan Barnes you’re important to me as well. Thank you for taking a chance on us. And to answer your question, yes I’d love to move in with you!”

Bucky sealed the deal with a kiss. He loved Aniyah and wanted her with him all the time.

Aniyah broke the news to her sister. Trinity balked at the idea of her moving into the compound. “Are you crazy Niyah? You’ve known this man how long? 8 months! Use your head girl!”

Determined to take control of her life, Aniyah stated her case. “Look let’s lay our cards on the table. It’s not about how long I’ve known Bucky, is it? This goes deeper than that.”

Trinity whipped around, peering deep into Aniyah’s eyes. “Okay, I’ll spell it out for you. He’s an assassin and he ain’t a brother!”

Aniyah became enraged. “You’re prejudice! James is a former assassin and his skin color doesn’t matter! Sorry to burst your color blind bubble, but I’m moving in with him whether you like it or not.”

Snatching her phone from the bed, Aniyah called Nat. “Hey Nat. Are you busy?” Aniyah’s voice quivered.

“Aniyah? No I’m not. What’s up?”

“Would you mind helping me move my things? I don’t want to wait until James comes back.”

Wanda’s brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“I dunno but we’re going to get Aniyah. She’s really upset.” Nat grabbed her car keys, pulling Wanda along to the garage.

Meanwhile, Trinity, against her better judgement, helped Aniyah pack. “I’m just looking out for you Niyah. It’s too soon.”

“Trinity, like it or not, I’m going. I hope you find it in your heart to accept my choices. If not, oh well. I’ll always love and miss you.”

The doorbell rang. Aniyah greeted Nat and Wanda. The female Avengers introduced themselves to Trinity. She feigned interest while helping her baby sister load luggage into the tinted window SUV.

Wanda put the last bag in the back. Aniyah reached out for her sister; Trinity simply waved good-bye walking back into the house.

It was a bittersweet moment as Nat and Wanda held Aniyah. Trinity’s blessing meant the world to her.

Nat carefully lifted her into the seat, folded the wheelchair and closed the door. As they drove away, Trinity peeped through the curtains, watching her baby sister leave.

MOVING IN

Tony was the official welcome person. “So, you decided to stay with Tin Man in our friendly asylum?”

“Yes Tony, I did. Figured one more crazy person wouldn’t hurt!” Aniyah laughed.

“Glad you’re here. Now Barnes can shut up about how much he missed you.” Tony sipped on scotch. “Wanda and Nat will be your tour guides. See ya!”

Aniyah waved, as Tony went back to his lab.

Helping her get settled, Wanda couldn’t help but feel Aniyah’s aura. “Are you alright?”

“Trinity and I had a fight. She still thinks of Bucky as his past. He’s a different man from the Winter Soldier. Hell, he can deactivate his metal arm and we’re talking about him getting a service dog.

Breathing deep, Aniyah poured her heart out.

“When I met James, life as I knew it was bleak. Truthfully, I’d considered ending it. Then one day, I built up the nerve to speak to him. The more we talked, we knew our meeting was kismet. Here you have two broken humans, coming together to make a whole person. I can honestly say I love him.” A tear escaped her eye.

Bucky stood in the doorway, listening to this fragile dove pour her heart out.

“Guess you couldn’t wait huh? Glad you���re here doll.”

Making grabby hands, Aniyah couldn’t wait to wrap her arms around the man she loved.

“Buck, I’m happy you’re home. I’ve missed you.”

“I know something happened ‘cause you’re here early. We won’t talk ‘bout it now. Tomorrow. Right now, m’gonna light some candles, drop one of them fancy bath bombs in the water and spend time with the  woman I love. First, I gotta rinse  all this shit off m’body from the mission.”

“Now that sounds like a good idea. Are you trying to get frisky with me?”

“Hell yeah woman. I’ll be back in a flash.”

Reaching for his flesh hand, Aniyah kissed his knuckles. “I love you too James Buchanan Barnes.”

They’d found each other under the weirdest of circumstances. Two halves coming together to make one whole person; one heart; one love.

TAGS: @omalleysgirl22 @erisjade @barnesvogue @love2rhyme@pegasusdragontiger @irene-rogue-adler @vampirephile @supersoldierslover@rebelslicious  @caplanbuckybarnes@this-kitty-has-claws @goodnightwife@buckybabybaby @writing-is-my-elixir-of-life @magellan-88@theimpossibleg1rl @sebstanfanma@magellan-88 @blackcaptainrogers @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @captnbarnesrogers @sgtbxckybxrnes

[memorylang]

Home for Christmas: Birth, Endings and Marriage | #18 | December 2019

I returned from Mongolia to the States for 12 days this winter! It’s the first of my three stories picking up from my adventures away.

With a confluence of reasons to see the States this year, plus some for China, this felt like the perfect Christmas journey. I open with Advent meeting my baby nephew, then Christmas among my family in Vegas before my travel to Reno (my college town) for a wedding and my return to Vegas. Then I left to China. 

Settling In: Stateside Once More

Having set a new record for days outside the U.S., my late-December return marked nearly seven months overseas. 

Upon returning to the state my family occupied, Nevada, I learned its population just passed 3 million. My state’s population nearly matched Mongolia’s! But with the Vegas Valley, its population hits nearly twice Mongolia’s capital. 

But as for temperatures, comparisons stop there. By the time I reached Vegas, I’d shed my puffy winter coats and stuffed them in my backpack. Vegas sat at a toasty 15°C (59°F), compared to Mongolia’s -30°C (-22°F). And Vegas friends said their weather felt cold!

Reunited in Vegas

My first days back at the house, caught up with my four siblings who reassembled. And I ate copious amounts of food, of which I’ll write a couple blog stories from now.

I would bring music, photos, some of my journals, travel souvenirs, Bibles and letters as keepsakes for my continued service in Mongolia. Special thanks to my 23-year-old brother for helping me through my college boxes in the garage. 

I love rainy days. They remind me of Mom, too, at times. 

My older brother gave me plenty tech support, including helping me get downtown to replace my Surface that’s been faulty since Dad bought it three years ago. (Free upgrade!) I also backed up files to cloud storage I could access from Mongolia. 

I also kicked up a K-Pop playlist with recommendations from friends and my 18-year-old youngest bro. The list used to just have songs I encountered at Kiwanis CKI events and a few from my 17-year-old Mongolian host sister. I felt needing K-Pop’s positive vibes and high-energy, as opposed to American pop’s tendency toward symping. Why dwell in darkness when I have the light?

But here’s the key reason I came back to Vegas early. I needed to sort through our late mother’s belongings. I’ll touch on this during the next blog story, about my return to China. Thank you to those who supported me through the sorting.

Baby Wally

I returned home for Christmas for a huge reason—to finally meet my nephew, Wally! 

Squishy baby Wally came from Ohio with my 42-year-old half-brother and my sister-in-law one night, the fourth week of Advent. 

Meeting them the next morning felt amazing. 

I’m an early riser, and his family was still on Eastern Standard Time. After finishing hard drive backups upstairs, I walked downstairs to the kitchen, where Wally stared at me from his rolling chair a long time. He was eight months old. 

I loved his marshmallow hands and how he babbled both incomprehensible murmurs I repeated back to him and vaguely word-seemingly things like, “dada.” I probably only held him a couple times, but we made up for that with how long others held him while he continued to gaze at me.

My brother said Wally really liked me. 

I mentioned a little how the toddlers at the orphanage, too, seemed fascinated by me. Someone somewhere told me babies, kittens and puppies must sense goodness in people. 

Christmas in America

Leading up to Christmas, my family attended Simbang Gabi, a Filipino Catholic celebration during Advent. Since Dad had my siblings and I come, we also got to see the Filipino family ours has evidently spent time with. It reminded me somewhat of the Feast of Santo Niño I attended three years ago in Reno. 

I loved getting to experience at a beautiful church the whole Mass in English—my first back in the States. The Filipino pastor gave a very Vegas homily, in how our vibrant Catholic community sets an example for this city. The Mass also featured a presider I recalled would sometimes say Mass at our church we’d attended since moving to Nevada a decade before. Afterward, we enjoyed a reception featuring copious amounts of Filipino food and music, per usual. 

Midnight Mass

As is Christmas tradition, my family attended Midnight Mass at church. But this year, my 20-year-old sister drove so we could attend carols early. Our music even included hymns from Afro-Caribbean traditions, in addition to choral classics. I recorded clips from caroling and shared with fellow Peace Corps Catholics and Mongolian friends. I wore my silver Mongolian дээл, since this could be the only year I’m back for Christmas while a Peace Corps Volunteer. 

During Mass, I remembered baby Wally when our new pastor spoke of baby Jesus. (Our past priest announced his relocation during my final Mass in the States seven months ago.) Anyway, babies are outstandingly helpless. They require others to survive and thrive. And humans seem biologically programmed to love and care about infants. 

Yet I considered Easter Vigil (my favorite Mass), too, since our Midnight Mass began with a hymn like, “The Exultant.” So I felt somber, considering what mankind one day does to who was once this poor infant. 

After Mass, I greeted a high school friend who’s stayed involved in Kiwanis Circle K International at UNLV and still sings in our local church’s choir. Like many, he felt astonished I could come home from Peace Corps but gleeful nonetheless. 

Full Families

On Christmas Day, my visiting siblings, my younger siblings and I continued the movie-going tradition, seeing, “Knives Out.” I found it delightful, with heartwarming heroes and a clever cat-and-mouse adventure with contemporary themes. I loved its art. Plus Craig and Evans were hilariously not playing James Bond and Captain America. 

That evening, our family had a wonderful dinner, with the Filipina family over. Unfortunately, my youngest brother decided to schedule for work that night, which aggravated Father. But, we still had a nice time. I like how my siblings’ ages merge well with their ages. (From oldest to youngest goes: their oldest sister, my older brother, me, their second oldest sister, my younger sister, my youngest sister, their youngest sister, my youngest brother.) 

Plus, my half-brother, his wife and their son also attended. He sincerely thanked the other family’s mother that our dad had someone new in his life. I smiled, agreeing. It reminded me the speech he gave years ago in getting to know my mom. 

The guest family’s oldest and second oldest sisters brought their boyfriends, and my older bro brought his girlfriend, too. We’d such a large Christmas dinner that we used the kitchen island counter space for food, then the dining room and ping pong tables for eating. 

Following our meal, we exchanged gifts I’ll cover when I describe what I brought back to Mongolia.

Returning to Reno

After Christmas and further friend adventures (I’ll cover in a couple blogs from now), I flew up to Reno, my undergraduate city of four years. We’d a wedding coming.

I felt amazed to boomerang from my high school city to college town and back before my return to Asia. Even in Vegas’ airport, I saw college friends I hadn’t seen in years! Rather, they saw me, while I video called my professional mentor. They joked that they would have thrown Chex Mix at me, but they weren’t sure we had that kind of relationship. I would have loved it, haha.

On the flight, my friends gifted me two palm-fulls of Chex Mix. I felt elated. After take-off, I felt pleasantly surprised to hear and understand small talk around me. People behind me chatted about EDM music careers. From the window on my right, I saw how Nevada’s snowy mountains looked steeper than Mongolia’s. I continued rehearsing my wedding reading I copied down, Romans 12:1-2, 9-18. 

As the flight neared landing, I gazed out the window and saw the familiar Sparks hill where the house my college friends and I rented stands. After landing, I felt weird somewhat recognizing the faces of uni students around in the airport. With a Reno-Sparks population over 500 thousand, though, “The Biggest Little City” stands five times larger than the “big” city where I serve in Mongolia. 

Here to Serve

Just as I disembarked my plane began a funeral service across town for the mother of someone close to us all. While I didn’t have to come, I wanted to. I remembered how touched I felt by those who came to Mom’s funeral, even if they only met her briefly. 

When I arrived, somewhat dazed, in the lobby, the soon-to-be-weds spotted me from the pews and walked out to greet me. They brought me to sit with them, beside other parishioners from our church I hadn’t been with in seven months. As the eulogies concluded, and our priest blessed the casket with the family, we sang together.

I felt at ease among such close friends. The service felt a warm reintroduction to my college town community. For, my trip home wasn’t meant quite for me. I meant to support.

First Wedding Party

That night, I reunited with and met the many of our wedding party for rehearsals. Rehearsals went smoothly. Afterward, the wedding party enjoyed pizza and wings with the bride and groom. I felt gleeful to catch up with some of my favorite faithful folks from my final years at university.

Between wedding rehearsals and Sunday Mass, I reunited with the choir I knew and loved singing with four years, including my confirmation sponsor. Even our instrumentalist who’d since left for graduate school returned to play. Just like old times. 

That weekend, I also attended my first bachelors’/bachelorettes’ party. I felt much more relaxed among these people I’d known a while. I enjoyed the added benefit of having no college coursework to distract me from being present to those there. I felt honored to partake in the wedding tradition among such fun people.  

Christian Love

The Monday morning of the wedding, one of our choir members had a family emergency, and I received the appointment to cantor our psalm, “To You O God, I Lift Up My Soul.” So I started rehearsing from the morning-of. 

I wore the most eclectic outfit, including a normal pair of black slacks I’d known since high school in Vegas (before 2015), the golden silk shirt I bought in Beijing the 2017 week I first met Chinese relatives and the black suit jacket I bought in my Mongolian city for Teachers’ Day 2019. What a coincidence they asked me to wear golden colors, a suit and something traditional if I liked. These came together with my Reno boutonnière to form, for me, among my most meaningful outfits. 

As the hours neared showtime, our jazz cue began, and I transitioned from greeting guests at the door and choir rehearsal to assembling for the procession in. I walked in with a close friend, who I loved chatting with. I especially loved the ringbearers with the rings on their sabers. Most special, our wedding party had front-row seats to witnessing the bride’s beautiful entry and seeing the heartfelt betrothals. I felt like such a cheerleader.

I stepped up to the ambo for what the groom called his favorite psalm. I prayed for the Holy Spirit to let me be the vessel. I sang with a little soul, yay. Seeing the couple’s and my choir members’ cheer gave me strength all the way to my high-note finish. 

Then I closed the songbook I borrowed from the Grand Knight, prepared the mic once more, probably gave a curt smile, and began the reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Romans. 

In Mongolia’s capital for the Peace Corps conferences, one night at dinner, one of my Catholic friends asked me my favorite Bible verse. I said, "Oh, I love these readings from Saint Paul, since he was my confirmation Saint. And reading his readings feels like reading a cosmic ancestor of mine. Especially, 'Do not conform yourselves to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind'" (Romans 12:2). After that, I went to help my student and a teacher apply for summer fellowships to the U.S. that were due the next days. After finishing those a few hours, I finally opened the bride-to-be’s message to see exactly which Paul reading she sent me. As I got midway through reading it aloud to a friend, I realized this was Romans 12 and went, "OH MY GODDDD."

What a sacrament. I felt great hope that taking my time with relationships will lead to extraordinary joy. Choir members congratulated me on an amazing psalm. After Mass, our priest commended me as having delivered the best reading of Romans 12:1-2, 9-18 he’d ever heard. I felt stunned. 

The wedding reception felt wonderful. I spent most of my time with the fencing group. I enjoyed their fellowship, and they enjoyed my energy. I’d spend my days up to New Year’s among the newlyweds and their family still.

Las Vegas and Nevada Grow on Me

Given the subtle ways Nevada reminds me of Mongolia, I felt myself starting to feel more at-home in the Sagebrush State than when I left. From Vegas to Reno and around.

I used to loathe telling people I’m from Vegas, actually. I usually note it as the city where my family lives. But, after seven months in Mongolia, I feel like even Vegas has its charm. Hearing Panic! At The Disco on a mall radio felt right at home. 

Vegas lights appeal to many from many places—especially Asia, reports say. And that’s special. Mom liked this city.

Up next is my New Year’s 2020 experience, followed by my return to Mongolia through Beijing, China.  You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[mrjdwyer]

Irma and Me

So while I'm waiting for #Irma, I thought I'd share some of my thoughts on some of the comments I've been seeing online:

For one, I've been nervous about the storm since last week, but we were all advised to wait until mid-week to determine any actions.

I just recently started a new full-time job after being out of work for a month. Summers for freelance designers are usually, horrible, and even more so when the new business development person at your jobs decides to quit and steal the top-paying clients, leaving the agency on the verge of ruin. Long story short, I had to find another job. It took what felt like forever, but I landed one. And so far, it seems like a really like place to work.

Anyway, we were let off work early on Wednesday to prep and/or evacuate. My boss wanted everyone to leave. It was really generous of him (many people worked until Friday). This is a new job, just 2  weeks into it. Not exactly a situation where I can dictate when I can come into the office.

It seems that many people just don't understand that sometimes (many times) you just CAN'T up and leave; it's just not that easy or simple. Not unless you don't care about your job, or you have a job that gives you that kind of freedom to take days to return after a storm. Realistically, most of us don't have that option. You may not care about work right now, but afterward, you're going to need to pay the bills and rebuild. And that doesn't happen for free. So when I hear people being insensitive and writing and saying things like "well you should have evacuated and you had the time," it really ticks me off, because they act like it's no big deal and it shows a total lack of sympathy or empathy.

Let me explain a few things: Being able to evacuate is all nice and well but, but it's pretty costly. Whether you're flying or driving, it's going to be expensive. Preparing for a storm is also expensive, but not as costly (if you plan accordingly) as it is to get out of town by plane. Do I need to remind everyone that most of this country live paycheck to paycheck?

Flying wasn't an option this week as tickets were just way too expensive. Last week was the time to buy some seats. But guess what? We have jobs to do. School to attend. No vacation time. See where this is going? We don't have thousands lying around in our bank accounts to do whatever we want. More power to you if you do.

Driving until yesterday (when it's really too late since you've devoted all your time and energy into prepping your home and ensuring the safety of your family and property for days on end), wasn't a realistic situation. Why? Because as of Monday, getting gas became a real problem. Unless you're able to get up at 2:00 AM in the morning and be lucky to find a station that had a tanker come in at night, you had a real problem. In fact, I know that on Wednesday, ALL tankers coming out of Port Everglades were diverted to the keys, ensuring the local residents in the keys had fuel to evacuate.

Luckily I filled up on Sunday and Mary did the same on Monday, because gas was extremely difficult to come by for many of us. I know of folks who took US 27 north (on Friday) and luckily had no problem but I do know that the I-95 corridor and the turnpike were just a traffic nightmare. My friend's son was in town in West Palm Beach and it took him 11+ hours to get to Savannah to get a plane to NY. To put that in perspective, Ft. Lauderdale to Savannah is generally a 5-7 hour drive. Imagine doing that in traffic and having to get off multiple times to find gas for your car because many stations were limiting how much gas you could buy. What happens if you ran out of gas and were stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hotel (since most in the entire state were booked solid by Wednesday according to reports).

By Wednesday, I had a half a tank left after running errands and commuting to work. I was able to find the only gas station in a ten-mile radius according to GasBuddy, on Friday evening to fill up. It took me over an hour in line. I literally drained their tanks. They ran out totally while I was filling up. Luckily my gauge is on full. There were literally DOZENS of cars behind me though. Hopefully, they were able to get some yesterday.

So Thursday was the beginning of the mad rush to get everything that needed to be secured, secured. The good thing about hurricanes is that in prepping for them, you get to do the things you've been procrastinating for YEARS to do. Like, purge your house and garage.  

It's also an amazing way to lose weight. 12+ lbs in 3 days. Not bad.

Anyway, preparing for a hurricane is very, very hard work- especially if you don't have nice modern, impact resistant glass throughout your home or accordion shutters, or aluminum shutters.

For us, it's plywood.

1/2" plywood is not fun or easy to lift and mount. In fact, it's miserable. I had bought all my plywood in 2003 for another hurricane and had a friend of my father help me measure and drill holes and show me how to do it properly. I am still using that plywood all these years later as I've always kept them dry and secured in the garage. When I was younger, I could do the entire house in a day without any help. And that included lifting a couple of sheets on to the roof to cover our aviary/atrium (I need a little help with that one). Now that I'm approaching that half-century mark, which a number of persistent ailments, like a should er that just won't stop hurting, it's no longer something I can do by myself. Thanks to my friend, Lucas, who's the little brother I have always wanted, and his mother, who is such a sweet woman, we were able to get just about everything up and ready on Thursday in about 6 hours in 92°F with a heat index of about 100°.

Yesterday, I decided to plywood a section I had never done before (but had the wood ready for it) and Mary and I purged the garage to ensure that 1 car was able to fit in there. It worked! And it's actually neatly done to boot! It was actually a pretty big task, but we went about it very diligently and methodically. I am grateful for the tools I purchased 16 years ago, they have served me well.

During the entire time of prepping, Mary was the busy bee making sure the food supplies were all good, cooking foods ahead of time. Making sure laundry was done. Paperwork collected and secured. Being the glue in this time where stress can really take a toll on a marriage and family. The outside was my domain, the inside was hers.

A couple of other things to take into consideration: leaving your home leaves it open to theft. There is something that a lot of homeowners with alarm systems aren't aware of: lack of communication. After a hurricane, there will undoubtedly be power outages for an extended period of time. There will also undoubtedly be a lack of cell coverage as towers will be down. So there is no way for an alarm system to alert the service provider if there is a break in. Professional thieves know this, and the aftermath of a hurricane is prime time for burglars. There is just way too much LIFE in my house to not try to protect it. Personally, I am worried about identity theft along with just having a lot of my personal data and computers taken.

The other thing that is of prime importance to me is my parents. There is no way I can leave the state and have them fend for themselves. That is just not what we do. They've always been there for us, and there is no way I am not going to do what I can to be there for them-- especially as they get older. And they made up their minds to secure their house and wait it out.

My parents-in-law are also in Florida. In fact, as I write this, the hurricane is slated to run directly over where they live. They live just 45 minutes north of Ft. Myers, which at the time of this writing is where they are expecting landfall. So yes, I am especially worried about their safety at this moment. Luckily, my father-in-law lives in a nice solid concrete apartment building and my mother-in-law will be staying there with him for the duration of the storm and maybe through the aftermath.

We also have pets. Yes, there are some shelters that allow pets, but most don't. And if you know anything about our pets is that they are... different, to say it mildly. Traveling is something they don't do very well. In fact, going to the vet's which is only a half a mile away (a 3-minute ride WITH lights), usually results in them either peeing or crapping all over themselves. Or both. I would hate to abandon my house to go to a shelter and not be able to take them.

So now, the house is as secure as we could possibly make it. Mary is busy sleeping through some of these intense squalls outside. The Kid is doing the same. The A/C is set to 73° (which is freezing for us), the cats are snuggled under the blankets, I am here writing and trying to explain just what it is that people go through in a hurricane. Am I scared? Oh, hell yes, I am scared. Terrified, actually. I don't like hurricanes at all, and I remember all too clearly the last two that came through, one of which, even at Cat 2/3 did tremendous damage to Broward county and did some costly damage to my house as well.

So we're going to do our best to weather the storm and deal with life in the aftermath, and I hope this helps shed some misconceptions about just what millions of us have to go through and the reasons why we choose to stay.

[pandorasfoxes-blog]

The Snake

Uneasy, uncomfortable, I can barely look in the direction of that house any more. I barely believe that I used to go over there almost every day. The memories are cloudy dark and grey if I look back some memories have scarce amount of color. Id run over across the yard to jump on their trampoline, it wasn't long before I was invited inside. There were no kids my age at this house, only two much older kids who seemed to have their own problems.

The girl, Marry, was the only one I ever saw in the house, I never saw her brother Stan. I once heard that he shot a gun and got arrested. Marry liked to mess with me; she would ignore me and often do those normal older kid things; when I spoke shed ask no one if there was a unusually noisy wind. Marry also stole the head of my first and only pinata on my 5th birthday. I wouldn't call her my friend, no, the people I visited in her house were her parents. Marry’s father was an old man, he was a gross orange tanned man, covered in scars. I was too young to see he was a drunk, my mom told me he often mistakenly tried to get into our house thinking it was his. He always seemed to wear the same clothes everyday. White tank top with stains on his beer belly, paint covered jeans and disgusting ragged white hair. Out of anyone in the house I saw him most. He’d always sit in the garage and tell me that one day he’ll take me on his boat, or ride me around on his motorcycle. John, Marry’s father, would often tilt his head while he looked at you, this was all I noticed when I was little.  Marry’s mother, Alex, was a quiet, grumpy woman, I never thought she liked me very much, i'd always feel unwelcome around her, quite the opposite when around John. I felt like she was holding something against me. I barely remember what she looks like.

Id sneak over and watch the Simpsons and tell John that my mom said I could watch it, he wouldn't put up much of an argument, it only worked once. My mother came over and caught me watching the Simpsons, yelled at me and him and took me home. I often went over there without asking my parents at all, i’d just walk out of my house. I felt one-hundred percent safe, I had no worry back then, no fear, no anxiety. Id walk over and eat dinner there, have corn, grab an Italian ice out the freezer and play the play station they had there. Alex and John once took me on a bike ride and my training wheels kept falling off, I remember John said something strange to me then but I don't remember what, it was long ago. I remember going into their basement a few times, all that was down there was a TV and one of the step-up exercise things. My mind tells me there was something else down there but I cant remember, I think it was more exercise stuff.

I remember at one point Marry had a snake. One time when I came over Marry grabbed my hand and ran up her stairs.

“Come on! I want to show you something!” she said excitedly.

I smiled this was the first time I really felt welcomed by Marry. I heard her mother call up the stairs to not go in her room. Marry groaned in agreement and when we got to the top of the stairs, I remember the whole up stairs being covered in carpet. Marry dragged me in front of a glass tank.

“This is my snake!” she said rolling up her sleeves and reaching into the tank. She lifted him up and told me his name which I have forgotten by now.

She held him close to me, I was nervous but I also really liked snakes. He slithered around my arm and continued to explore my red-shirt, I giggled and Marry flashed a genuine smile. When the snake started to try to slither under my shirt I screamed.

“Okay! I'm done! Please take him.” I started wiggling, I didn't want to move and scare him in case he’d bite me.

Marry laughed and pulled him off me, she held him for a while as we talked about something I've forgotten by now, probably about the snake.

I don't know when I started to feel uncomfortable. There would often be times when I would be sitting in my back yard playing and John would walk up to me and start talking to me. I would go over and play with their numerous dogs. I would sit on there porch. Most of the memories I have there are talking to John. I got old toys from their house as well. I think I even remember going up stairs to explore their whole house even Marry’s parents bedroom, but I might getting my memories confused with my other neighbors.

At some point I stopped visiting them, I barely looked at the house. A while after I stopped visiting they got rid of there trampoline. I only saw John outside when he was retrieving his dogs after they shit in our yard. I heard little about them, I heard that John fell of his roof and broke his neck, he lived. I also heard that it wasn't the first time that happened.  

I started to feel uncomfortable in my backyard, I felt nervous when I had to mow next to their yard. I wouldn't look in the windows for fear of someone looking back at me. It felt like I should be ashamed, I felt embarrassed, did I say something, do something in that house I my brain doesn't want me to remember?

I remember one time one of his dogs got loose and was very close to our house I remember finding the dog standing by my backdoor I propped the door open with my back and leaned down and pet it.

“Hello,” I smiled “Your John’s dog aren't you?”

“You found her!” John said appearing from around the house.

Instinctively I back up and allow the door to close in more. He attempts to start a conversation. I think I remember him asking to come inside the porch or the house to talk to my parents about “something”. I don't remember if my parents were home then. There were a few times very shortly after I stopped visiting i'd find him standing on our porch by the back door waiting like he wanted someone to open the door. I wouldn't go near the door i'd always call a parent. Maybe I finally realized how creepy he was.

Occasionally when untangling Tuck, my dog, from around the tree i'd run into him he'd walk right up to me and try to talk to me, I felt uncomfortable and would back up, often he’d just walk closer. I think one time while just trying to enjoy myself in my yard he walked up to me. John wanted to talk about my life, interests, he might have told me that I grew up nicely.

Many years later when I was in high school John and his family finally built up a fence and their dogs stopped shitting in our lawns, and I haven't seen them at all since then. Only Alex when she's walking the dogs down the street but she doesn't look in our direction. I've seen John once through a window, when my little brother was talking to him in our yard. Avery liked John just as much as I did when I was little, and John liked Avery, I didn't like it. Luckily my dad was almost always there. Except for one time.

I was doing homework at the kitchen table and my dad asked me if I could go to the neighbors house and tell Avery that he needs to come home now. I froze, why me? I say sure, because I don't want to make my dad uncomfortable. I walk outside I was on the phone with my friend, I start to walk across the yard but then I freeze when I look at the house. I tell myself that it's simple, just walk up the steps, knock on the door, and ask for Avery, tell him it's time to go home. I stand frozen for a while in the yard before walking back into the house. My dad looks at me and asks if I had gone and asked for Avery. I shook my head and said that I got nervous. He yelled at me and I went back outside on the porch I continued to try to talk some sense in myself while my friend was also trying to comfort me and helping me break it down step by step.

My dad opens the door and looks at me I can tell hes angry even without looking at him.

“Jesus Christ!” he said angrily while tugging on his shoe. “Avery could be in trouble and you won't even go over there! Grow up a little will you?!”

While he was yelling I sank to my knees on the floor and leaned against the wall. When he slammed open the porch door and left I started crying. My mom opened the door and tried to talk to me, I just ran away.

Later my mom looked for me, and found me hidden wrapped in a blanket hidden in the junk room. She yelled at me too, but in a softer voice, still loud tho. She told me I would need to shape up or be put on medicine because if I can't pull together there's something really wrong with me.

It was some time later before anything about the neighbors came up. Yet again I was sitting at the table doing homework and I hear my parents talking. Avery was playing in the backyard and John walked over. I over hear part of their conversation.

“I don't know how I feel about Avery playing with John.” my dad says looking out the window at them. “He always gave me this creepy old man pedophile vibe.”

When I hear this I freeze and stare at my homework, I agree with him. He is creepy. My heart falls thinking of how often I went over there, alone, and came back alone. Sometimes leaving without a single parent knowing I left to go there or that I came back. My mind started racing I started wondering if something happened, but I don't remember anything. I can't shake the worry that something happened, but I don't think anything happened.

I talked to my therapist and my mom about it and they shared my thoughts. Nothing happened.

[endlessarchite]

How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did)

When we shared the duplex backyard makeovers last month, I promised more details about how we made the decorative oars that hang on each shed. So today I’ve got a detailed tutorial for you (including how NOT to screw up your attempts to make them outdoor friendly) along with a few other “hacks” you guys asked about.

The oars actually were not part of our original plans. But after the sheds were built we nixed our plans to run electricity to them (for cost reasons – and because they really don’t need it). But the empty space where we’d planned to hang a light above the door needed… something.

That something became oars after a trip to HomeGoods where we stumbled upon a decorative surfboard. Cape Charles isn’t really a surfing town, but there is plenty of kayaking and paddle boarding, so oars felt a bit more applicable for our little beach town. I went on the hunt for some on Etsy and found some really good options (like this, this, and the ones pictured below) but they all were a bit pricier than we had in mind. Just couldn’t justify spending $350+ on this project to end up with four cool looking oars to hang on the sheds.

We actually ditched the idea entirely for a couple of weeks, but then we stumbled upon two decorative oars at HomeGoods for $25 each. They weren’t the colors or design we wanted, but that can always be fixed with paint! So we bought them and took them to Cape Charles and held them up to make sure we were barking up the right tree. We wanted to make sure we liked the size & shape before altering them with paint (thereby making it impossible to return them).

With renewed excitement for this idea, we tracked down two MORE decorative oars (thanks to having two HomeGoods in Richmond). All four of them cost a little over $100, which was great… but they didn’t look the way we wanted. They actually looked pretty awful together at this point:

But I was emboldened by our luck at sanding down and refinishing the duplex dining tables, so I took to sanding each down to their raw wood. Here’s the orbital sander I used, which does the job really well.

It took some elbow grease, but the results were extremely encouraging. Here’s a side-by-side of the two most similar oars – one sanded, one not.

Once I had them all sanded down, I stained them all to get their varying wood tones looking more similar. It was basically trial and error of various leftover stain cans in our garage, but I am 95% sure it involved Rustoleum Summer Oak and Minwax Weathered Oak being layered over each other.

Before I stained them I also took a picture of them grouped on the ground and started Photoshopping various stripes and shapes on them. YES, THIS IS THE MOST ANYONE HAS EVER DONE IN THE PURSUIT OF PERFECTLY COORDINATING DECORATIVE OARS. I feel like I deserve a Bachelors of Science in Oarology at this point.

Anyway, we knew we wanted to use colors inspired by those found elsewhere in the duplex, like the mint green shutters, the white siding, and the muted pink and green found on the interior doors. So doing all of this in Photoshop helped us fine tune our direction before cracking open any paint cans. Also it earned me that highly esteemed Oarology degree. (*steps up to podium and clears throat*) “I’d like to thank my mom and dad, who instilled a love of oars at an early age…”

Right, back to the tutorial. Next we used the digital mock-up to tape off each oar using painters tape. We intentionally left a lot of wood “stripes” in our design (you know, the areas UNDER the tape) because whenever two colors touch, you have to paint one and let it dry before you can paint the other. So for efficiency we minimized these instances, but we didn’t completely eliminate them. The reason you don’t see any tape on the top section of that third oar is because I had to do a base of the mint color before I could tape and paint my next colors.

Once everything was taped, I primed each area first (this is our favorite primer) and then once that had dried, I painted each section – being careful to reference my rendering along the way (although we did deviate a little as we went). Except for the mint color (SW Pale Patina) we didn’t use the exact paint colors we used elsewhere in the duplex. The white was just an exterior white we had on hand (SW Snowbound) and the pink and navy were more saturated versions of the interior doors colors (SW Downing Pink and SW Riverway, respectively). You definitely should use exterior paint if you’re going to hang your oars outside, FYI. Also colors tend to wash out in exterior lighting (there’s more sun outside than inside) so you sometimes need to go darker or more intense with a color than you would inside your house.

The project was going great at this point. Things were drying quickly in the heat outside. We got that unmatched satisfaction of peeling off a crisp line of painters tape…

AND THEN THINGS TOOK A TURN. And this is where I want you to learn from my mistake.

After I had finished painting all of the stripes, my last step was to seal the whole thing so it’d be even more durable outdoors (these things will be exposed to the elements 24/7/365 (and that’s not just rain, it’s lots of heat and even snow). So we wanted to layer on an exterior grade polyurethane sealer, which are typically oil based – but VERY durable. Now, I should’ve tested the sealer I had on hand in an inconspicuous place first – but I was running up against a weekend that we were going to Cape Charles and I wanted to finish these and bring them with me. So I just WENT FOR IT.

Sherry described what happened next as “not a big deal” and “nothing to freak out over – John, you’re being crazy.” But I had gotten so pumped about how these were turning out so far that I was extremely frustrated at myself for messing them up on the last step. Here’s what happened:

Oil-based stains have a tendency to yellow. That’s why we use water-based ones in most of our projects. But again, exterior-grade = oil-based. And we didn’t want these oars to get ruined over time because we used the wrong sealant. But, I was bothered by HOW YELLOW it made the colors and because the oars are slightly rounded, the stain pooled as it dried in various spots – leaving brownish-yellow streaks and dots along the oars.

Sherry’s right that it’s a relatively minor issue – one that probably wouldn’t be super detectible from the distance at which they’d be seen anyways. But I was annoyed at how much more “rustic” the oars had become due to the yellowing and the streaking.

So I did the only sensible/crazy thing that a Certified Oarologist

could do in this situation. I sanded off all the streaky spots, taped everything off again, and repainted all four oars. It wouldn’t de-yellow the wood tone, but at least I could get back the crisp vibrancy of the original paint colors we had chosen.

Because here’s the thing we didn’t really think about when we started this project: we were using exterior paints on everything, so they didn’t actually need to be sealed. Only the wood needed sealing. Soooooo… if I were doing this again (or if you’re at home doing it right now – first of all welcome to the field, it’s good to have a fellow Oarologist in my midst) I would’ve sealed the wood (both sides, btw) BEFORE I painted any of the stripes or detailing onto the oars. Would’ve dodged the entire bullet and the entire oar would be durable and outdoor-safe.

In the end everything was fine (although the extra paint job meant we cut it a bit closer to rental season than we’d hoped when it came to actually hanging these up) and we really love how they turned out. Hanging them was simple too – we just drove a 3″ exterior screw through the oar and siding, right into a stud behind it (I predrilled a small hole in the oar to make it sink right through easily).

You can see the screw heads in the photo below (see the little dots). I tried to avoid putting them through painted sections when I could, since they seem to blend more into the wood tone than the lighter painted sections, but ultimately your eyes don’t really focus on them unless you’re actively looking for them.

This tutorial actually should hold up for anything that’s wood that you’re thinking of sanding, staining, painting, and hanging outside. So if you’re thinking about a surf board instead – or a sign with your family name or something – this process would work. Also, remember to always add string lights (these are the ones we use everywhere) because they make literally everything better.

To see the full reveal of our duplex backyard (with sources and info on the sheds, patio, furniture etc) click here – and if you haven’t seen the pink house backyard makeover, which we finished right after the duplex yard, you have to check that out right here.

*This post contains affiliate links

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[truereviewpage]

How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did)

When we shared the duplex backyard makeovers last month, I promised more details about how we made the decorative oars that hang on each shed. So today I’ve got a detailed tutorial for you (including how NOT to screw up your attempts to make them outdoor friendly) along with a few other “hacks” you guys asked about.

The oars actually were not part of our original plans. But after the sheds were built we nixed our plans to run electricity to them (for cost reasons – and because they really don’t need it). But the empty space where we’d planned to hang a light above the door needed… something.

That something became oars after a trip to HomeGoods where we stumbled upon a decorative surfboard. Cape Charles isn’t really a surfing town, but there is plenty of kayaking and paddle boarding, so oars felt a bit more applicable for our little beach town. I went on the hunt for some on Etsy and found some really good options (like this, this, and the ones pictured below) but they all were a bit pricier than we had in mind. Just couldn’t justify spending $350+ on this project to end up with four cool looking oars to hang on the sheds.

We actually ditched the idea entirely for a couple of weeks, but then we stumbled upon two decorative oars at HomeGoods for $25 each. They weren’t the colors or design we wanted, but that can always be fixed with paint! So we bought them and took them to Cape Charles and held them up to make sure we were barking up the right tree. We wanted to make sure we liked the size & shape before altering them with paint (thereby making it impossible to return them).

With renewed excitement for this idea, we tracked down two MORE decorative oars (thanks to having two HomeGoods in Richmond). All four of them cost a little over $100, which was great… but they didn’t look the way we wanted. They actually looked pretty awful together at this point:

But I was emboldened by our luck at sanding down and refinishing the duplex dining tables, so I took to sanding each down to their raw wood. Here’s the orbital sander I used, which does the job really well.

It took some elbow grease, but the results were extremely encouraging. Here’s a side-by-side of the two most similar oars – one sanded, one not.

Once I had them all sanded down, I stained them all to get their varying wood tones looking more similar. It was basically trial and error of various leftover stain cans in our garage, but I am 95% sure it involved Rustoleum Summer Oak and Minwax Weathered Oak being layered over each other.

Before I stained them I also took a picture of them grouped on the ground and started Photoshopping various stripes and shapes on them. YES, THIS IS THE MOST ANYONE HAS EVER DONE IN THE PURSUIT OF PERFECTLY COORDINATING DECORATIVE OARS. I feel like I deserve a Bachelors of Science in Oarology at this point.

Anyway, we knew we wanted to use colors inspired by those found elsewhere in the duplex, like the mint green shutters, the white siding, and the muted pink and green found on the interior doors. So doing all of this in Photoshop helped us fine tune our direction before cracking open any paint cans. Also it earned me that highly esteemed Oarology degree. (*steps up to podium and clears throat*) “I’d like to thank my mom and dad, who instilled a love of oars at an early age…”

Right, back to the tutorial. Next we used the digital mock-up to tape off each oar using painters tape. We intentionally left a lot of wood “stripes” in our design (you know, the areas UNDER the tape) because whenever two colors touch, you have to paint one and let it dry before you can paint the other. So for efficiency we minimized these instances, but we didn’t completely eliminate them. The reason you don’t see any tape on the top section of that third oar is because I had to do a base of the mint color before I could tape and paint my next colors.

Once everything was taped, I primed each area first (this is our favorite primer) and then once that had dried, I painted each section – being careful to reference my rendering along the way (although we did deviate a little as we went). Except for the mint color (SW Pale Patina) we didn’t use the exact paint colors we used elsewhere in the duplex. The white was just an exterior white we had on hand (SW Snowbound) and the pink and navy were more saturated versions of the interior doors colors (SW Downing Pink and SW Riverway, respectively). You definitely should use exterior paint if you’re going to hang your oars outside, FYI. Also colors tend to wash out in exterior lighting (there’s more sun outside than inside) so you sometimes need to go darker or more intense with a color than you would inside your house.

The project was going great at this point. Things were drying quickly in the heat outside. We got that unmatched satisfaction of peeling off a crisp line of painters tape…

AND THEN THINGS TOOK A TURN. And this is where I want you to learn from my mistake.

After I had finished painting all of the stripes, my last step was to seal the whole thing so it’d be even more durable outdoors (these things will be exposed to the elements 24/7/365 (and that’s not just rain, it’s lots of heat and even snow). So we wanted to layer on an exterior grade polyurethane sealer, which are typically oil based – but VERY durable. Now, I should’ve tested the sealer I had on hand in an inconspicuous place first – but I was running up against a weekend that we were going to Cape Charles and I wanted to finish these and bring them with me. So I just WENT FOR IT.

Sherry described what happened next as “not a big deal” and “nothing to freak out over – John, you’re being crazy.” But I had gotten so pumped about how these were turning out so far that I was extremely frustrated at myself for messing them up on the last step. Here’s what happened:

Oil-based stains have a tendency to yellow. That’s why we use water-based ones in most of our projects. But again, exterior-grade = oil-based. And we didn’t want these oars to get ruined over time because we used the wrong sealant. But, I was bothered by HOW YELLOW it made the colors and because the oars are slightly rounded, the stain pooled as it dried in various spots – leaving brownish-yellow streaks and dots along the oars.

Sherry’s right that it’s a relatively minor issue – one that probably wouldn’t be super detectible from the distance at which they’d be seen anyways. But I was annoyed at how much more “rustic” the oars had become due to the yellowing and the streaking.

So I did the only sensible/crazy thing that a Certified Oarologist

could do in this situation. I sanded off all the streaky spots, taped everything off again, and repainted all four oars. It wouldn’t de-yellow the wood tone, but at least I could get back the crisp vibrancy of the original paint colors we had chosen.

Because here’s the thing we didn’t really think about when we started this project: we were using exterior paints on everything, so they didn’t actually need to be sealed. Only the wood needed sealing. Soooooo… if I were doing this again (or if you’re at home doing it right now – first of all welcome to the field, it’s good to have a fellow Oarologist in my midst) I would’ve sealed the wood (both sides, btw) BEFORE I painted any of the stripes or detailing onto the oars. Would’ve dodged the entire bullet and the entire oar would be durable and outdoor-safe.

In the end everything was fine (although the extra paint job meant we cut it a bit closer to rental season than we’d hoped when it came to actually hanging these up) and we really love how they turned out. Hanging them was simple too – we just drove a 3″ exterior screw through the oar and siding, right into a stud behind it (I predrilled a small hole in the oar to make it sink right through easily).

You can see the screw heads in the photo below (see the little dots). I tried to avoid putting them through painted sections when I could, since they seem to blend more into the wood tone than the lighter painted sections, but ultimately your eyes don’t really focus on them unless you’re actively looking for them.

This tutorial actually should hold up for anything that’s wood that you’re thinking of sanding, staining, painting, and hanging outside. So if you’re thinking about a surf board instead – or a sign with your family name or something – this process would work. Also, remember to always add string lights (these are the ones we use everywhere) because they make literally everything better.

To see the full reveal of our duplex backyard (with sources and info on the sheds, patio, furniture etc) click here – and if you haven’t seen the pink house backyard makeover, which we finished right after the duplex yard, you have to check that out right here.

*This post contains affiliate links

The post How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did) appeared first on Young House Love.

How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did) published first on https://aireloomreview.tumblr.com/

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How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did) https://ift.tt/2O00cle

When we shared the duplex backyard makeovers last month, I promised more details about how we made the decorative oars that hang on each shed. So today I’ve got a detailed tutorial for you (including how NOT to screw up your attempts to make them outdoor friendly) along with a few other “hacks” you guys asked about.

The oars actually were not part of our original plans. But after the sheds were built we nixed our plans to run electricity to them (for cost reasons – and because they really don’t need it). But the empty space where we’d planned to hang a light above the door needed… something.

That something became oars after a trip to HomeGoods where we stumbled upon a decorative surfboard. Cape Charles isn’t really a surfing town, but there is plenty of kayaking and paddle boarding, so oars felt a bit more applicable for our little beach town. I went on the hunt for some on Etsy and found some really good options (like this, this, and the ones pictured below) but they all were a bit pricier than we had in mind. Just couldn’t justify spending $350+ on this project to end up with four cool looking oars to hang on the sheds.

We actually ditched the idea entirely for a couple of weeks, but then we stumbled upon two decorative oars at HomeGoods for $25 each. They weren’t the colors or design we wanted, but that can always be fixed with paint! So we bought them and took them to Cape Charles and held them up to make sure we were barking up the right tree. We wanted to make sure we liked the size & shape before altering them with paint (thereby making it impossible to return them).

With renewed excitement for this idea, we tracked down two MORE decorative oars (thanks to having two HomeGoods in Richmond). All four of them cost a little over $100, which was great… but they didn’t look the way we wanted. They actually looked pretty awful together at this point:

But I was emboldened by our luck at sanding down and refinishing the duplex dining tables, so I took to sanding each down to their raw wood. Here’s the orbital sander I used, which does the job really well.

It took some elbow grease, but the results were extremely encouraging. Here’s a side-by-side of the two most similar oars – one sanded, one not.

Once I had them all sanded down, I stained them all to get their varying wood tones looking more similar. It was basically trial and error of various leftover stain cans in our garage, but I am 95% sure it involved RustOleum Summer Oak and Minwax Weathered Oak being layered over each other.

Before I stained them I also took a picture of them grouped on the ground and started Photoshopping various stripes and shapes on them. YES, THIS IS THE MOST ANYONE HAS EVER DONE IN THE PURSUIT OF PERFECTLY COORDINATING DECORATIVE OARS. I feel like I deserve a Bachlors of Science in Oarology at this point.

Anyway, we knew we wanted to use colors inspired by those found elsewhere in the duplex, like the mint green shutters, the white siding, and the muted pink and green found on the interior doors. So doing all of this in Photoshop helped us fine tune our direction before cracking open any paint cans. Also it earned me that highly esteemed Oarology degree. (*steps up to podium and clears throat*) “I’d like to thank my mom and dad, who instilled a love of oars at an early age…”

Right, back to the tutorial. Next we used the digital mock-up to tape off each oar using painters tape. We intentionally left a lot of wood “stripes” in our design (you know, the areas UNDER the tape) because whenever two colors touch, you have to paint one and let it dry before you can paint the other. So for efficiency we minimized these instances, but we didn’t completely eliminate them. The reason you don’t see any tape on the top section of that third oar is because I had to do a base of the mint color before I could tape and paint my next colors.

Once everything was taped, I primed each area first (this is our favorite primer) and then once that had dried, I painted each section – being careful to reference my rendering along the way (although we did deviate a little as we went). Except for the mint color (SW Pale Patina) we didn’t use the exact paint colors we used elsewhere in the duplex. The white was just an exterior white we had on hand (SW Snowbound) and the pink and navy were more saturated versions of the interior doors colors (SW Downing Pink and SW Riverway, respectively). You definitely should use exterior paint if you’re going to hang your oars outside, FYI. Also colors tend to wash out in exterior lighting (there’s more sun outside than inside) so you sometimes need to go darker or more intense with a color than you would inside your house.

The project was going great at this point. Things were drying quickly in the heat outside. We got that unmatched satisfaction of peeling off a crisp line of painters tape…

AND THEN THINGS TOOK A TURN. And this is where I want you to learn from my mistake.

After I had finished painting all of the stripes, my last step was to seal the whole thing so it’d be even more durable outdoors (these things will be exposed to the elements 24/7/365 (and that’s not just rain, it’s lots of heat and even snow). So we wanted to layer on an exterior grade polyurethane sealer, which are typically oil based – but VERY durable. Now, I should’ve tested the sealer I had on hand in an inconspicuous place first – but I was running up against a weekend that we were going to Cape Charles and I wanted to finish these and bring them with me. So I just WENT FOR IT.

Sherry described what happened next as “not a big deal” and “nothing to freak out over – John, you’re being crazy.” But I had gotten so pumped about how these were turning out so far that I was extremely frustrated at myself for messing them up on the last step. Here’s what happened:

Oil-based stains have a tendency to yellow. That’s why we use water-based ones in most of our projects. But again, exterior-grade = oil-based. And we didn’t want these oars to get ruined over time because we used the wrong sealant. But, I was bothered by HOW YELLOW it made the colors and because the oars are slightly rounded, the stain pooled as it dried in various spots – leaving brownish-yellow streaks and dots along the oars.

Sherry’s right that it’s a relatively minor issue – one that probably wouldn’t be super detectible from the distance at which they’d be seen anyways. But I was annoyed at how much more “rustic” the oars had become due to the yellowing and the streaking.

So I did the only sensible/crazy thing that a Certified Oarologist

could do in this situation. I sanded off all the streaky spots, taped everything off again, and repainted all four oars. It wouldn’t de-yellow the wood tone, but at least I could get back the crisp vibrancy of the original paint colors we had chosen.

Because here’s the thing we didn’t really think about when we started this project: we were using exterior paints on everything, so they didn’t actually need to be sealed. Only the wood needed sealing. Soooooo… if I were doing this again (or if you’re at home doing it right now – first of all welcome to the field, it’s good to have a fellow Oarologist in my midst) I would’ve sealed the wood (both sides, btw) BEFORE I painted any of the stripes or detailing onto the oars. Would’ve dodged the entire bullet and the entire oar would be durable and outdoor-safe.

In the end everything was fine (although the extra paint job meant we cut it a bit closer to rental season than we’d hoped when it came to actually hanging these up) and we really love how they turned out. Hanging them was simple too – we just drove a 3″ exterior screw through the oar and siding, right into a stud behind it (I predrilled a small hole in the oar to make it sink right through easily).

You can see the screw heads in the photo below (see the little dots). I tried to avoid putting them through painted sections when I could, since they seem to blend more into the wood tone than the lighter painted sections, but ultimately your eyes don’t really focus on them unless you’re actively looking for them.

This tutorial actually should hold up for anything that’s wood that you’re thinking of sanding, staining, painting, and hanging outside. So if you’re thinking about a surf board instead – or a sign with your family name or something – this process would work. Also, remember to always add string lights (these are the ones we use everywhere) because they make literally everything better.

To see the full reveal of our duplex backyard (with sources and info on the sheds, patio, furniture etc) click here – and if you haven’t seen the pink house backyard makeover, which we finished right after the duplex yard, you have to check that out right here.

*This post contains affiliate links

The post How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did) appeared first on Young House Love.

[lukerhill]

How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did)

When we shared the duplex backyard makeovers last month, I promised more details about how we made the decorative oars that hang on each shed. So today I’ve got a detailed tutorial for you (including how NOT to screw up your attempts to make them outdoor friendly) along with a few other “hacks” you guys asked about.

The oars actually were not part of our original plans. But after the sheds were built we nixed our plans to run electricity to them (for cost reasons – and because they really don’t need it). But the empty space where we’d planned to hang a light above the door needed… something.

That something became oars after a trip to HomeGoods where we stumbled upon a decorative surfboard. Cape Charles isn’t really a surfing town, but there is plenty of kayaking and paddle boarding, so oars felt a bit more applicable for our little beach town. I went on the hunt for some on Etsy and found some really good options (like this, this, and the ones pictured below) but they all were a bit pricier than we had in mind. Just couldn’t justify spending $350+ on this project to end up with four cool looking oars to hang on the sheds.

We actually ditched the idea entirely for a couple of weeks, but then we stumbled upon two decorative oars at HomeGoods for $25 each. They weren’t the colors or design we wanted, but that can always be fixed with paint! So we bought them and took them to Cape Charles and held them up to make sure we were barking up the right tree. We wanted to make sure we liked the size & shape before altering them with paint (thereby making it impossible to return them).

With renewed excitement for this idea, we tracked down two MORE decorative oars (thanks to having two HomeGoods in Richmond). All four of them cost a little over $100, which was great… but they didn’t look the way we wanted. They actually looked pretty awful together at this point:

But I was emboldened by our luck at sanding down and refinishing the duplex dining tables, so I took to sanding each down to their raw wood. Here’s the orbital sander I used, which does the job really well.

It took some elbow grease, but the results were extremely encouraging. Here’s a side-by-side of the two most similar oars – one sanded, one not.

Once I had them all sanded down, I stained them all to get their varying wood tones looking more similar. It was basically trial and error of various leftover stain cans in our garage, but I am 95% sure it involved RustOleum Summer Oak and Minwax Weathered Oak being layered over each other.

Before I stained them I also took a picture of them grouped on the ground and started Photoshopping various stripes and shapes on them. YES, THIS IS THE MOST ANYONE HAS EVER DONE IN THE PURSUIT OF PERFECTLY COORDINATING DECORATIVE OARS. I feel like I deserve a Bachlors of Science in Oarology at this point.

Anyway, we knew we wanted to use colors inspired by those found elsewhere in the duplex, like the mint green shutters, the white siding, and the muted pink and green found on the interior doors. So doing all of this in Photoshop helped us fine tune our direction before cracking open any paint cans. Also it earned me that highly esteemed Oarology degree. (*steps up to podium and clears throat*) “I’d like to thank my mom and dad, who instilled a love of oars at an early age…”

Right, back to the tutorial. Next we used the digital mock-up to tape off each oar using painters tape. We intentionally left a lot of wood “stripes” in our design (you know, the areas UNDER the tape) because whenever two colors touch, you have to paint one and let it dry before you can paint the other. So for efficiency we minimized these instances, but we didn’t completely eliminate them. The reason you don’t see any tape on the top section of that third oar is because I had to do a base of the mint color before I could tape and paint my next colors.

Once everything was taped, I primed each area first (this is our favorite primer) and then once that had dried, I painted each section – being careful to reference my rendering along the way (although we did deviate a little as we went). Except for the mint color (SW Pale Patina) we didn’t use the exact paint colors we used elsewhere in the duplex. The white was just an exterior white we had on hand (SW Snowbound) and the pink and navy were more saturated versions of the interior doors colors (SW Downing Pink and SW Riverway, respectively). You definitely should use exterior paint if you’re going to hang your oars outside, FYI. Also colors tend to wash out in exterior lighting (there’s more sun outside than inside) so you sometimes need to go darker or more intense with a color than you would inside your house.

The project was going great at this point. Things were drying quickly in the heat outside. We got that unmatched satisfaction of peeling off a crisp line of painters tape…

AND THEN THINGS TOOK A TURN. And this is where I want you to learn from my mistake.

After I had finished painting all of the stripes, my last step was to seal the whole thing so it’d be even more durable outdoors (these things will be exposed to the elements 24/7/365 (and that’s not just rain, it’s lots of heat and even snow). So we wanted to layer on an exterior grade polyurethane sealer, which are typically oil based – but VERY durable. Now, I should’ve tested the sealer I had on hand in an inconspicuous place first – but I was running up against a weekend that we were going to Cape Charles and I wanted to finish these and bring them with me. So I just WENT FOR IT.

Sherry described what happened next as “not a big deal” and “nothing to freak out over – John, you’re being crazy.” But I had gotten so pumped about how these were turning out so far that I was extremely frustrated at myself for messing them up on the last step. Here’s what happened:

Oil-based stains have a tendency to yellow. That’s why we use water-based ones in most of our projects. But again, exterior-grade = oil-based. And we didn’t want these oars to get ruined over time because we used the wrong sealant. But, I was bothered by HOW YELLOW it made the colors and because the oars are slightly rounded, the stain pooled as it dried in various spots – leaving brownish-yellow streaks and dots along the oars.

Sherry’s right that it’s a relatively minor issue – one that probably wouldn’t be super detectible from the distance at which they’d be seen anyways. But I was annoyed at how much more “rustic” the oars had become due to the yellowing and the streaking.

So I did the only sensible/crazy thing that a Certified Oarologist

could do in this situation. I sanded off all the streaky spots, taped everything off again, and repainted all four oars. It wouldn’t de-yellow the wood tone, but at least I could get back the crisp vibrancy of the original paint colors we had chosen.

Because here’s the thing we didn’t really think about when we started this project: we were using exterior paints on everything, so they didn’t actually need to be sealed. Only the wood needed sealing. Soooooo… if I were doing this again (or if you’re at home doing it right now – first of all welcome to the field, it’s good to have a fellow Oarologist in my midst) I would’ve sealed the wood (both sides, btw) BEFORE I painted any of the stripes or detailing onto the oars. Would’ve dodged the entire bullet and the entire oar would be durable and outdoor-safe.

In the end everything was fine (although the extra paint job meant we cut it a bit closer to rental season than we’d hoped when it came to actually hanging these up) and we really love how they turned out. Hanging them was simple too – we just drove a 3″ exterior screw through the oar and siding, right into a stud behind it (I predrilled a small hole in the oar to make it sink right through easily).

You can see the screw heads in the photo below (see the little dots). I tried to avoid putting them through painted sections when I could, since they seem to blend more into the wood tone than the lighter painted sections, but ultimately your eyes don’t really focus on them unless you’re actively looking for them.

This tutorial actually should hold up for anything that’s wood that you’re thinking of sanding, staining, painting, and hanging outside. So if you’re thinking about a surf board instead – or a sign with your family name or something – this process would work. Also, remember to always add string lights (these are the ones we use everywhere) because they make literally everything better.

To see the full reveal of our duplex backyard (with sources and info on the sheds, patio, furniture etc) click here – and if you haven’t seen the pink house backyard makeover, which we finished right after the duplex yard, you have to check that out right here.

*This post contains affiliate links

The post How To Make Decorative Oars (And How To Not Almost Ruin Them Like I Did) appeared first on Young House Love.