#It was originally for the downstairs but it’s easier to keep upstairs floor cleared than downstairs

[vroomian]

I bought a roomba purely because it was on sale and I hate carrying my heavy ass vacuum up stairs and I gotta say: go me.

#Good decision! #It’s just so much more convenient lol #I haaaate vacuuming but my entire upstairs is carpet #It was originally for the downstairs but it’s easier to keep upstairs floor cleared than downstairs #Because that’s where all my cats toys are lol #Vrrm vrrrm

[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1949

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, smut

word count: 3362

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

Sunset Park was ever growing with Hispanic population, in the years since you and your Mother came to New York the population had grown and people, while still not allowing certain people to mix, there was a little less of a stigma of someone brown walking down the street. Surprisingly enough the property you’d found was right across the street from the bodega where Bucky had first dragged you in trying to buy bread and the man refused you. It straddled the line of the Hispanic and white population in Brooklyn. 

It was the perfect spot. 

The upstairs level would be for sewing and crafting, the downstairs would house the shop and sales. Bucky and George painted the upstairs and downstairs, fit new light fixtures, and fixed the shoddy wiring that hadn’t been worked on, you were convinced, since electric light had been invented. 

“What do you think?” He asked, coveralls splattered with paint and sweat on his brow. You grin up at him, 

“I love it.” 

The women you’d been selling dresses to over the past few years now had somewhere to shop and you could sell more products standardly while offering tailoring services. A big, ‘EVERYONE WELCOME’ sign in the front window. Which means you had to hire more people. You stuck to hiring women, the women who wanted to work in your community.  

You figured things were going pretty well, until the first time you were vandalized. Broken glass and a clear message of not being welcome a month into opening. You couldn’t help but figure it might have something to do with the man across the street who seemed to remember your faces. 

He stood there now, arms crossed. Lips pressed so tight they almost disappeared from his face. You huff, trying not try cry as the girls help you sweep up the glass. You called Bucky, knowing he was home with the kids, from the back office. 

“The front window is shattered.” You couldn’t help but cry when you heard his voice. 

“Okay,” He sighed, you could hear Grant fussing in the background, “Let me call my Pa and I’ll see what we can do.” The police didn’t care, but George was the one who originally talked to the inspectors and bank having already started his own business before. 

He had someone out in an hour to fix the window and to install new, easier to pull down, grate for them. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, he’d finally got the kids to sleep. The excitement of Mama coming home and a quick dinner had been followed by a carefully orchestrated bath and bedtime routine. Now it was just the two of you, and the bottle of wine you’d opened. 

“We are very lucky,” You start, “In New York they haven’t banned us being together, they segregate, sure, but we have a good amount of people who believe in integration. We don’t have a lot of problems with prejudice so sometimes I forget.” His hand met the back of your neck, massaging. “It’s just a little bit of a wake-up call.” 

He shrugs, “I thought that now Jackie Robinson was playing for the Dodgers that people would be a little more accepting.” You glare at him and he laughs. “If we are being honest here...” Bucky sighs, taking a sip from his glass, “I worry about our kids.” He leans further into the couch, “I worry all the time about the day we have to send Jaime to school, I worry about them playing outside. I worry about things happening to you and the kids when I’m not here.” 

People respected Bucky Barnes. He was a war hero, right hand man to Captain America himself. You lost count of the amount of times you’d take the kids for a walk and be stopped. Women wanting his autograph and men wanting to thank him for his service to the country. There was a level of protection there. It was possible that it was keeping you and your children safe. Not out of the realm of thought. Especially when you were actually with him out. 

Without him was tight smiles and folks crossing the street to avoid you, like you were some kind of threat to them. 

You lay your legs on his lap, wordlessly asking him to rub your aching feet. You’d worked the floor all day, first cleaning up glass and then helping with customers and you did four fittings in the afternoon. He drains his glass and begins to rub your stocking clad feet. 

“How was the shop today besides the window?” Thumbs digging into the sole of your foot you moan, letting your head roll back against the armrest of the couch. 

“Good, we sold ten dresses.” He switched to a different foot, “I think Amara and Rosalyn are a little more than friends.” He pauses, looking at you. 

“Like?” You nod. 

“Huh.” He shrugs, “That makes a lot more sense.” The two women, your first employees, told you they moved in together to save money and were tired of living in the boarding house. With their savings they bought a cute little property not far from the store. They also adopted a few animals. 

“What did you think?” He shakes his head, 

“I just thought they were strange.” They always seemed so fidgety, like they were doing something suspicious when you weren’t in the room, but it would make sense of having the fear of getting caught. An interracial marriage some could be okay with, but a same-sex marriage? That was a whole different story. 

His fingers danced their way up your skirt, to your hose, removing the stay ups slowly, keeping eye contact, while massaging your foot with his other hand his fingers slipped under the hose and rolled the first one down your leg. Then the other. 

“I missed you today.” He whispered, kissing your ankle. “We all missed you today.” He tapped your leg, tugging gently on your thigh to get you to sit up, straddling his lap. His erection was already straining against his trousers. You ground yourself against him, meeting his lips. His hands held your hips, moving you against him enough to tease. “It’s so sexy,” He whispers, going for the button on his slacks, you lift up, shimmying your panties off and tossing them to the side. “You're going off to work,” A breathy kiss, you bury your fingers in his hair, tilting his head back as you press kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. “You’re so talented dahlin.” He groaned as you sunk down onto him, rocking your hips with his hands. “So fucking talented.” 

“Te quiero mucho.” Kisses wet and sloppy as you muffle your moans against his lips. His hand held the back of your neck, body slipping down to hover his hips off the couch, bringing your body close to his in order to thrust upward into you. Mouth pressed tightly to keep quiet while you came, fingers dipping between your thighs to strum your clit, riding out the pleasure while Bucky’s hips stuttered with release. 

“I love you too sweetheart.” Erection staying stiff inside you. He breathes and lets you collapse on top of him before sighing, “We forgot to use a rubber.” 

And just like that, pregnant again. 

You pretended to be hateful. “This is all your fault.” But Bucky just laughed. “You planned this.” Grant crawled over his shoulder, going to tumble down his back, letting Bucky catch him before he falls, laughing and doing it again. Dia and Jaime were playing with the new dollhouse she’d received for her birthday. A present that ‘Santa’ brought her, but was really bought from Macy’s and you didn’t even want to ask Winnie how much it cost. 

This pregnancy was a little rougher than the last three. You felt sick constantly and the ginger mints only did so much, aside from the fact that you started showing almost immediately. Your feet were swollen from working at the store and a rushed doctor visit was needed after you’d started spotting. 

“Bed rest.” Was what the doctor said, you’d huffed indignantly. The last three pregnancies you’d lived normally up until the day they were born and the doctor had the nerve to tell you that it was because you were older now. You weren’t even thirty yet. 

“Sweetheart,” Bucky tried to calm you down after you cursed the Doctor, “He’s an asshole, but if he’s recommending bed rest, you should probably rest.” So the keys to the shop were handed over to Amara and Rosalyn. 

“I hate this.” You grumbled, the kids were a mess today, and you felt very stressed. You couldn’t do anything right for Jaime, Dia seemed to want nothing to do with you, and Grant was throwing a tantrum over a soft breeze. “When are you coming home?” You could hear him pause on the other end, 

“About an hour left and I should be on my way.” The longest hour of your life. 

The sickness, the bleeding, the swollen feet. You’d been blessed with twins by the way your belly was measuring. “You did this.” And Bucky laughed. 

You sat in Peggy’s kitchen, snacking on a cheese plate she layed out for the two of you, grumbling about it. 

“He doesn’t know what it’s like.” Peggy, radiant as ever, nods in understanding, “In the seven years of our marriage I’ve been pregnant for four of them. The other three he was gone.” Every year you’d been together resulting in pregnancy. Jaime and Dia within months of each other. Grant a little while after that, and then a break in between him and now. “I love my kids,” You defend, “But you’ll understand when you have them.” You sigh, rubbing your belly, “It’s difficult.”

“I’m not sure Steve and I are ready quite yet.” She laughs, “Our work is dangerous,” She wasn’t joking. You knew their apprehensions, you felt them every time Bucky walked out the door. You weren’t sure if he was coming home or not, every time. “But I’m living vicariously through you in the meantime.” The playpen was set up in the living room, the three kids in view of you, playing quite loudly to the noise of the radio. The boys were out back, fixing loose shingles on the roof. 

“You can take one if you want,” You joke, arching your back trying to relieve some of the pain. Bucky stepped inside behind Steve, grabbing a drink from the fridge he lays a sweaty kiss on your cheek before going over to the chorus of Papa from their sitting room. Dia was the one who wanted his attention the most, her little feet climbing up on the gate and reaching her arms out to him while Grant and Jaime quickly lost interest as the noise from the radio changed. Bucky picked her up and brought her over to where you were sitting, handing her a piece of cheese to nibble on. 

“You trying to sell our kids?” He asked.

“I’m trying to give them away for free.” Another kiss to your head and a hand on your belly. 

“Baby.” Dia said. Pointing to your stomach. 

“That’s right mija,” You smiled, “You want to feel the baby?” She nods, chewing on a finger. Bucky sits her on your lap, your sweet girl’s hair was finally growing, the soft brown curls done back with a bow, she put her hands on your tummy.

“Big belly.” She whispers, tapping on your stomach. 

“There’s two babies in there mija.” She scrunches her nose, tapping on your belly again before reaching beside you for some more cheese. Bucky takes down the gate for the playpen, the other kids coming around to snack on cheese. Jaime whining to come up into your lap as well, Grant behind him. Peggy picks up Grant, settling him in her lap. Bucky taking Dia for you to let Jaime snuggle up into your lap. His body curled around your tummy, thumb in his mouth. 

“Who would have ever thought.” Steve mused, “I thought you were crazy for chasing her the way you did.” Bucky chasing you, ten years ago now. So young and naive. 

“I thank God every day that I did.” He grins at you and you could almost see the way he looked when he was seventeen, when he ran into you on the street and dragged you into a shop you knew you wouldn’t be allowed in. 

You smile back, “Me too.” When Bucky leans in for a kiss Jaime groans and pushes him away, pulling you to him and making you give him a kiss on his forehead instead. 

“Mama.” He whines, “I’m hungry.” You give Bucky a look.

“Alright mijo, let's get you something to eat.” 

Something was wrong next door. The only reason you knew that was because the house was quiet today. Bucky had taken the kids to his parent’s house so you could nap, so you heard the shouting clear as day. You slipped out of bed, and walked to the bedroom window, the window facing the side of Martha Green’s house. The shouting was loud, almost frightening. Your hand fumbled with the bedside phone, dialing quickly. 

“James,” You rest a hand on your belly, still looking out at the house, but their blinds were shut, “Something is happening next door, I think he’s hurting her.” There was a blood curdling scream you were sure he could hear, 

“Call Steve,” He said, “I’m on my way.” 

Steve didn’t answer, you placed the phone in the cradle and heard another scream. Waddling down the stairs, you knew it would take Bucky thirty minutes to get home. Another call to Steve, another unanswered call. 

You could hear glass break. And you called the police. But how far out were they? You could hear her screaming and crying. There was a gun by the front door that felt heavy in your hands, shaking and nerves you walked outside, to her house and up the stairs. You knocked on the front door, hard. 

There was a pause in noise, the gun heavy in your hand, hidden in the pocket of your house dress. The front door ripped open. You’d seen Martha’s husband a number of times and you believed Bucky when he said he didn’t think that he treated her very well. There was a wild look in his eyes and behind the small crack he opened you could see the shattered remains of what must have been their china cabinet. 

You swallow nervously, but quickly ask, “Is Martha here? I uh… I came to return this.” In a quick moment of clarity you’d grabbed the glass dish you’d left by the front door that you’d asked Bucky to take back to Winnie, you thanked God he was forgetful in that moment. His jaw was tight and he looked down at the casserole dish in your hand. 

His grip was rough on the dish, yanking it from your hand, “I’ll be sure to give it to her.” You see movement in the background, Martha. The two children hiccuping in tears as she ushered them in the closet under the stairs. You could see the bruises blooming on her face. “Is there anything else you need?” 

“I would just like to talk to her.” You found some firmness. 

“I’m sure she would not like to talk to you.” And you knew why. A spit at your feet. Your jaw clenched, your ears listened for sirens but you couldn’t hear any. It felt like it had been twenty minutes but you knew it had only been maybe five. 

“Martha!” You called behind him. His hand quickly shot out, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the house. 

“You nosy fucking bitch.” Your back met the hallway wall, fingers fumbling for your gun. You quickly pulled it and aimed it at his chest. He looked startled and backed away. 

“Martha.” You could see her out of the corner of your eyes, “Grab the kids and go to my house.” She was frozen in the doorway, the anger from her husband clear on his face. “Go!”

You were shaking, which was a mistake, he rushed you. You fired the gun but it missed, the bullet embedding itself in the wall above his shoulder. He quickly grabbed your arm and brought a fist down on your face. You fired the gun again, clipping him on his arm. Screaming as you fell, hands coming to protect your belly as you fell. The gun spun out from your grip. 

Martha’s husband, the big hulking man he is, stepped over you and grabbed the gun, pointing it in your face. You gasp, coming back onto your knees, eyes springing with tears. 

“You stupid fucking bitch.” He spits, pulling the hammer back. You’ve made a mistake. Your heart in your throat you grab your belly. 

“You’re a fucking coward.” It springs from your throat before you can help it. His upper lip curling, his finger tenses on the trigger. But before he could pull it you see a flash of metal, Bucky’s hand going to grab his wrist with the gun and in one instant, disarms him and the gun, flinging the piece of metal to the side he wraps his arm around Martha’s husband’s neck, bringing him to the ground. 

When he arrived home he found a bruised and beaten Martha sitting in his den, her two sobbing kids beside her. When she told him where you were, his heart dropped. He felt like he was going to be sick. He snuck through the back door and came into the hallway through their den. Stopping the man about to take his wife away from him. 

“What were you thinking?” He would yell later. Crying. Both of you. “I told you to call Steve.”

“I did.” You were blubbery, “He didn’t answer.” Bucky sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face before turning back to you and sighing heavily.

“Come here baby,” A tight hug to his chest, “I’m sorry. You were so brave, I’m sorry.” Hands rubbing up and down your back as you cried. “Please, never do that again.” You’d talked to the police, Bucky backing your story and telling them what he’d done. “You scared the shit out of me.” 

The next day Martha showed up on your doorstep, an apology pie in hand. “I just wanted to say thank you,” She was looking at her shoes. You stepped aside, inviting her in. Settled down at your kitchen table with a cup of coffee she continues, “I honestly thought he was going to kill me yesterday.” A rough swallow, “He almost killed you.” Her blue eyes meeting yours for the first time. “I’m sorry I was so jealous of seeing how your husband treated you.” Her lips swollen with bitten worry, “And I used race as an excuse to treat you poorly and for that I apologize.” Her hands shaking, you reach over to comfort her. 

“I forgive you,” a mutual cry between new friends. “Listen,” You scribble down your number on the pad by the phone. “If you need help you can always call, James’ work…”

“I know what he does.” She thumbs the paper. “He’s a good man.” You smile softly, 

“Yeah, he is.” You muse at the thought,

Ten long years have led to this. Five children and an ever passionate love between the two of you that, at first, you thought was a simple infatuation that would pass with time. But he loved you, he married you. He helped you create five beautiful children and you couldn’t help but love him endlessly for that. 

He’s shown you how intensely he loves. Every single day. And doesn’t relent, even when things had gotten a little hard. You admire him for that, and know that he was true in every sense of the word. 

His love was all consuming and with every kiss he lay on your lips the relationship between you grew more solid. 

He truly was the love of your life. 

And you were his. 

.

.

.

taglist //  @corneliabarnes​ @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @albinotigerpython​ @cake-writes​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @000bananaclip000​ @shadowbusiness @sprinkleofbooty​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @vhsbarnes​ @loseralert @wendaiii​ @mcueveryday​ @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious​ @thefandomzoneisdangerous

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #1940s!bucky barnes #1940s au #latinx!reader #latina!reader #sebastian stan #captain america #the falcon and the winter soldier

[flipomatic]

Internship Chapter 11: Day 5 - Edric

Author Note: This was originally going to be part of the last chapter, but it was all too long together so it had to be split up.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

___________________________________________________

Edric stood in the bathroom at home, stripping off his Emperor’s Coven uniform. Normally he would change in his room, but he wanted to see just how bad his chest looked. The impact earlier had been hard, and as the day went on a dull pain had returned. The bruises twinged mildly each time the fabric of his shirt brushed them.

He didn’t tell Frederick of course, that would just be a chance for him to say that he told him so. To tell him to never have an independent thought again and don’t forget to learn some more types of magic.

No, Edric just kept it to himself.

He had already changed his pants, leaving just the shirt. As he reached to pull it off, he could already feel his muscles complaining. One the shirt was off, he could see why. Right in the center of his chest was a chain of purple splotches, all aligned with where the suspect’s elbow and shoulder had hit him. He poked them gently to make sure and, yes, they indeed did hurt to touch.

Edric quickly put on his replacement shirt, not wanting to look at them any longer. Hopefully they would heal over the weekend, before he was expected to report back to the coven.

Honestly though, Edric wasn’t sure if he would go back. The whole week had just been one awful experience after another; he was sick of it. Getting scolded by Frederick today was the last straw.

He would take the failed grade in his class, three more weeks of this just wasn’t worth it. It was time to call it quits.

Edric knew his parents wouldn’t understand, but he still had to tell them. If he waited until Monday morning to try and insist that he wasn’t going, there was no way that would work. If he just skipped it, well they would find out anyway and then bury him with his mask.

The only viable route was to tell them now; at least they would have the weekend to cool off after.

Maybe he should write a will first.

No, he stifled that depressing thought, he would be fine. He was quitting the internship and that was final.

Edric nodded at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair to get it in just the right arrangement. He didn’t feel ready, but there wasn’t much more time to prepare.

He left the bathroom and went downstairs, expecting his parents to be in his father’s study. At least, that was where they were when Edric got home. They’d been arguing about something, as usual.

When he neared the study, he could hear his mother’s voice inside. She didn’t sound like she was in a great mood, which already put Edric off to a bad start. He persisted anyway, knocking firmly on the study door. His mother stopped talking at the sound of the knock.

“Come in.” His father’s voice said after a moment. Edric opened the door and passed through it, closing it behind him. This could get loud. “Good evening Edric.” His father greeted him from behind his desk, though his mother had her arms crossed. She was likely annoyed that they’d been interrupted. “What brings you to see us?” He always spoke so formally, Edric couldn’t remember ever hearing a word out of place.

Edric knew his mind was wandering as a defense mechanism, delaying the next step. He tried to focus, bringing the conversation directly to the topic of choice.

“I’m quitting the internship.” Well, that was easier to say than he thought it would be.

From the armchair on the side of the room, his mother’s expression soured even further. His father was harder to read. “No,” He said calmly, but with a firmness to the tone that gave a little away. “You are not.”

“I am.” Edric stood his ground, moving to cross his arms over his chest. The movement started to apply pressure to his bruises, so he wasn’t able to complete it. He flinched at the pain, dropping his arms back to his sides. Neither parent reacted to it. “I hate it. I’ve had to walk for hours on end, train in magic I will never use, and today I was injured by a criminal.” He said criminal instead of suspect, since it made it sound worse.

His mother looked over at his father. “Maybe we should’ve pushed harder to place him with Nick.” She said, not even responding to Edric’s complaints.

His father shook his head. “They insisted on choosing his shadow, I doubt it would’ve made a difference.”

What were they talking about? “Did you not hear me?” The volume of Edric’s voice was rising. “I said I quit.” He spoke firmly.

“And I said you are not.” Now his father’s voice was ice cold, cutting to the bone. “Do you have any idea how many strings we had to pull to get you that internship?”

That question, even more so than his voice a moment before, chilled Edric. “What do you mean?” He asked, his voice having lost the drive from before. He felt like he had shrunk, in the last few seconds.

“What your father means,” his mother took over, rising from her seat to walk his way. “Is that we had to call in a few favors to secure your spot.” That was the final blow, to Edric’s spirit and his self-confidence. So, he hadn’t earned his internship at the Emperor’s Coven. No, his parents had manipulated the results to get him in.

Edric felt sick, like he might hurl. “What strings?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyway.

His mother had a small curved smile, ominous in its presence. “If you must know, the Illusion Coven wanted both of you. We came to an agreement; they could pick which one to keep and the other would go to the Emperor.” Edric was right, he hadn’t wanted to know. The urge to vomit was stronger, his stomach churning. “You will not quit; you will report on Monday and every day for the next three weeks. Am I clear?” His mother would not accept no for an answer, and Edric was no longer prepared to give her one.

“Crystal.” Edric replied quietly, but it was good enough for her.

“Fantastic.” She said, waving him out of the room. “Leave us now, we were in the middle of something.”

Edric glanced back at his father, who at least looked slightly concerned about the conversation. However, he didn’t speak or intervene, so Edric knew it was really time to go.

He turned to leave, opening the study door. As he walked through and shut it behind him, he could hear his parents speaking quietly.

“Was that really necessary? I thought we weren’t going to tell them.”

“Something had to be done.”

Edric didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to hear that. He shut the door behind him roughly, then lurched his way back upstairs.

His mind was turning, over and over. He had been the second choice, the undesired twin. He didn’t blame Em of course, it wasn’t her fault that this had happened. It was completely his parents’ fault, for putting them in the situation to begin with. How could they do that? He didn’t know.

Still though, even though he hated the internship he thought he had earned his place. The fact that he hadn’t stung, badly.

He made it up the stairs slowly, then walked back towards his room. Actually no, he wanted to go somewhere else.

On his way past Em’s room, he drew an illusion circle in the air. It triggered a little illusion spell in her room, to get her attention and invite her to the safest space in the house. He continued past, trusting that she would receive the message.

His destination was the attic, which could be reached via a ladder at the end of the hallway. It pulled down from the ceiling, though Edric usually just made an illusion ladder instead. The real one was covered in dust and spiders, not worth the trouble of taking down.

The attic was also full of dust and spiders, but it didn’t have his parents anywhere near it and they were far worse. Edric poked his head up through the entrance and glanced around, trying to see if Emira had left a magic trap near the entrance. He didn’t see any this time, so he climbed up into the cramped room.

It was a small space, not even tall enough for him to stand in, but it was well suited for their needs. Edric and Emira could see out the small window into the yard, there were plenty of boxes to sit on, and their parents didn’t have any listening spells there. They used to fit better when they were younger. The only downside was the spiders, but Emira didn’t mind squashing them, so again, as Edric repeatedly tried to tell himself, it was fine.

Edric shuffled across the space and sat down on one of the boxes, carefully dusting it off first. He hadn’t been up here in a while, with how busy he’d been with pranks and now the internship.

A few minutes later, Em appeared through the entrance in the floor. “You called?” She said as she climbed up and fully into the room.

“I just tried to quit the internship.” Edric moved subconsciously to cross his arms, but successfully stopped himself this time from pressing on his bruises.

“I assume it didn’t go well.” Em replied dryly, coming to sit near him on a different box.

“Badly.” Edric said bluntly. “It went very badly.”

Em reached over to pat him on the shoulder. “There there.”

“It’s been so awful.” Edric jumped into complaining, ignoring the patronizing way Emira just spoke to him. “I can’t believe how much walking and running I’ve had to do, it’s ridiculous.” Edric frowned at the memory of chasing the suspect today. “And the spells, ugh the spells. They’re trying to teach me plant magic. Plant magic of all things.” He said incredulously, waving his hands in the air.

“You can’t do plant magic at all.” Em replied with a nod, already knowing he was incapable of it.

“Exactly!” Edric hit a fist against his leg. “And I got in trouble today for thinking outside the rigid box they all work in. It’s absurd.” He sighed.

“If it makes you feel better, mine is awful too.” Em was also frowning. “I’m barely allowed to do anything. For the last two days I’ve been powering a simple light spell, that’s it, just a light spell.”

“Lucky.” Edric muttered, before bringing his voice up. “If only we could switch internships, that would be great.”

“I wish we could.” Em agreed with the idea. “But there’s no way.”

“Yeah…” Edric’s voice faded midway through the word.

The two sat in silence for a moment, the misfortune of their internships hanging between them.

“Three more weeks.” Em said quietly, as if just speaking to herself.

Edric repeated it. “Three more weeks.”

They were going to have to survive those weeks. He needed to find a way to bear it.

Author Note: There aren’t arcs, but if there were this would be the end of arc 1.

Next Chapter

#the owl house #the owl house fanfiction #edric blight #emira blight #there would be three arcs #if I was counting arcs #which I'm not #it's hard to not think of it that way when it's this long #anyway #I hope you're enjoying the fic so far!

[k0gamis]

Nightmares ➝Shinkane Week Day 3 ➝WC: 7203 / Rating: M (gore mentions/themes) / AU

Trapped in an apocalyptic world falling apart at the gruesome, decaying hands of a governmental experiment gone completely abysmal, Akane and Kogami take shelter in an abandoned apartment to wait for help.

***

She had to keep them moving.

His coughs were getting worse by the hour, growing more loud and guttural each time. He insisted he was fine. Occasionally he dry heaved, producing nothing except small pools of stomach acid once there was nothing left of their morning rations to expel. Every time it happened, he was left gasping for breath, and then the sharp intake of air only triggered more coughing. Then he would be left doubled over, unable to stand up entirely on his own by the violent force of his chest, and she was stuck trying to hold him up and clap him on the back until the fit passed.

Eventually, she decided he wasn’t in any shape to keep searching with her. By no fault of his, his coughs were too loud and attracting too much attention, and his condition wasn’t suitable for fighting by any means. She couldn’t help him if she was busy trying to protect him while killing them off, especially if they came in too high of numbers for her to handle on her own.

Not only that, but the sun was starting to sink dangerously near the horizon, so if they didn’t felt shelter soon, they would be utterly fucked when night fell.

They took refuge in an abandoned apartment above what looked like an old crafting store. There were shelves of unpainted wooden figures left untouched, and below them small, dusty bottles of paint. Though it held some sentimental semblance of a life they used to live, like a ghost wandering aimlessly near its grave, Akane wasn’t too preoccupied with observing all the small details as her eyes darted from corner to corner, listening quietly for any stray movements that were not theirs. She supported him under his shoulder as they approached the stairs in the back, which creaked under their weight. Nothing was out of the ordinary downstairs, and the upstairs, a small studio with an attached bathroom, was clear as well.

Short of breath after the trek up the steps, Kogami dropped his backpack to the ground and fell back against the wall, letting himself slide down until he sat on the floorboards, which were caked with dust. He fished out a bottle of water from his pack and took small sips while he struggled to catch his breath.

Akane, in the meantime, secured the door with the deadbolt and the lock on the knob, then made her way to the single window on the other side of the room, covered by a translucent drape that did very little to keep out the light. She could tell it was originally white in color but held a stain of sunlight, a dim yellow layer etched into the material. The fabric was dingy and any excessive force would tear it instantly. She wondered how long it had been since it was touched by human hands.

She pulled back the curtain and surveyed the area in front of the store. Nothing lurked in the streets, and there was no sign of their friends or a rescue party. The window slid open, secured only by a single latch in between the two panes. On the outside, placed next to the window, was a base to mount a flag pole. Perfect.

Using a broom, a sheet from the set of drawers in the corner she sliced up using a knife, and an old tube of lipstick found in the medicine cabinet, Akane put together a makeshift SOS flag and stuck it to the base outside, then locked the window. If their friends happened to search this area, surely they would see the flag and at least investigate. At the very least they would check to see if there were other survivors, regardless of if it turned out to be the two of them.

When she put her attention back on Kogami, she noticed he was trembling, and his forehead was covered in sweat. His eyes were closed but snapped open when she put the back of her hand to his skin, which felt starkly cold in comparison. She knelt in front of him, her eyebrows knit together worriedly.

“You feel warm,” she said. “I’d say you have a fever.” She handed him his bottle of water and told him to drink some more, so he did. Then she gestured to the dingy bed in the corner with an old-fashioned brass headboard and frayed quilt, and before she could even suggest it, he outright declined.

“I’m not sleeping on that filthy thing,” Kogami muttered. His voice came out worn, and much huskier than usual.

“Oh come on,” Akane argued. “It’s better than this filthy floor. At least a bed is comfortable.”

“I’m fine right here,” he insisted. She stood up, sighing in frustrated defeat. He was always so stubborn about the most ridiculous things. 

She took another sheet from the drawer and laid it on the ground between him and the bathroom so he was at least protected from the floor’s grime, then tossed a thicker blanket at him to cover up with. He caught it, and she went to investigate the kitchenette on the other side of the room.

Thankfully, there was still running water, so she was able to refill their water bottles. That much relieved her considerably, since she was worried about Kogami getting dehydrated. She didn’t find much in the cupboards except for some crackers, an expired box of pancake mix, and a few cans of non-perishables. 

Even more thankfully, she found that the electricity still worked, though there were only two lights in the entire studio; one in the kitchen and one in the bathroom. In the hospital where she and her friends had initially taken refuge, there was a generator that kicked on to still power the building. Anywhere outside of it, there was no telling if there was power of not.

She supposed that when the disaster initially struck, whoever was working utilities must have had some foresight and an overwhelming sense of empathy, deciding to keep everything on until the resources available drained themselves. It’s what she would have done.

In the bathroom, she found a bottle of ibuprofen. She wasn’t sure if it would help his cough, but it could reduce his fever at the very least. 

When she returned to him, he’d moved over to the sheet but still sat up against the wall, the blanket lying in a crumple on his thighs. While he swallowed the pills she spread the blanket out over his legs, then handed him the sleeve of crackers from the cupboard.

“They’re probably stale,” she said apologetically, “but hopefully you’ll be able to keep them down.” He hadn’t had anything to eat since very early that morning, and he’d already vomited his stomach of everything in it multiple times throughout the day.

“I’m not hungry,” he said. Then he fell into another coughing fit. She knelt by his side, holding his shoulder while he doubled over and struggled to breathe amidst the coughing. She could tell he was resisting the urge to vomit again. Ultimately he succeeded, and the fit passed. She handed him more water and the crackers.

“You need to eat something.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. So he succumbed to her wishes and nibbled on the edge of a cracker in between frequent sips of water. While he ate, Akane sat down in front of him, crossing her legs, watching him eat absentmindedly while she thought.

“Do you think it’s contagious?” she asked finally.

“I think it’s pneumonia,” he said quietly. “Which usually is.”

“Do you remember what medicines treat it?” 

Kogami had to think back a bit, to the days where he studied medicine before opting for a drastic career change as a detective, and came up with an answer.

“Antibacterials,” he said. “There are a lot of types of pneumonia so there are lots of treatment options.”

“What are they?” she asked. “I’ll bring back whatever I can find, but it would help to know what I’m looking for.”

“What, right now?” 

“Well yeah. The sooner, the better.”

“Are you crazy?” he argued. “It’s getting dark out. And you haven’t eaten anything either.”

Almost as if on cue, her stomach growled. He gave her a sharp, knowing look that dared her to lie about not being hungry, because she almost did.

She studied him with a torn look. Although he looked less sweaty, his face was pale and his body still quivered. And his last coughing fit worried her. He didn’t go very long without breaking into another one, so she was desperate to find him the medicine he needed. She really did not want to wait another day. But still, she knew he was right. Going out in the dark was infinitely more dangerous than during the day, and the only thing that kept her strength going until now was adrenaline and the duty she felt to protect him.

“I’m going first thing in the morning,” she declared. That much was not up for debate. He wasn’t keen on the idea of her going out by herself, and he hated sitting on the sidelines being utterly useless for help, but they didn’t have many options. 

Akane offered to take the first watch so he could sleep, which he desperately needed. She pried open a can of fruit and ate from it periodically until she figured they should switch, then scarfed the rest of it down once he woke her after the sun came up.

In the early morning hours, Kogami had been overcome with nausea and relocated to the bathroom floor, giving him easier access to the toilet to vomit into. That was where she left him, handing him his gun and a refilled bottle of water, then told him to lock the door behind her, promising she’d be back before sundown.

He never did bother getting up to lock it, mostly because he couldn’t find the strength to.

He waited for what felt like forever, dozing here and there for incomprehensible amounts of time; it could have been an hour, maybe only a few minutes. He really couldn’t tell the difference. He would wake when his head started to fall to the side, which would jolt him upright, or he would wake when his stomach felt the need to empty itself despite having nothing to rid, and he’d hover over the toilet bowl and let his stomach convulse needlessly until the wave of nausea passed, and then he’d sit back against the wall and stare at the ceiling until he dozed off again.

The last time he woke wasn’t due to either of those things. It was a door slamming downstairs that jolted him awake, quickly followed by a scream. It belonged to Akane, and he could tell she was in pain.

That fact alone was enough to make him fly to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest as he moved, grabbing his gun and throwing the door open to leap down the stairs. On the way down he heard a crash, a struggle, and the sound of banging on glass, and his head started to spin as he raced down the steps multiple at a time, around the landing and making his way to the first floor.

Akane was backed against the wall, holding a crowbar against her thigh with arm, and gripping the top of that arm with her other hand, breathing heavily through clenched teeth. Approaching her was one of them, staggering on one good leg and dragging the other behind it, slashed at the knee. 

Instinctively, Kogami raised his gun, preparing to shoot it, but then noted the glass door and windows behind it, and the two bodies trying to claw their way through on the other side. If he shot and missed, he could shatter the glass and give them a way in.

So instead, ignoring the shooting pain in his chest and the spinning sensation, he charged for it, shoving his boot into its torso and kicking it away from her, causing it to tumble to the floor. He snatched the crowbar from her hand and raised it over his head, then brought it down on its skull, smashing it to slimy pieces until the body was still.

He stood over it for a moment, breathing heavily, fighting off the urge to start coughing. For now it seemed the other two bodies were trapped outside, but he didn’t feel right leaving the door unguarded. The one he’d just killed had gotten in somehow, and though he didn’t have time to survey the whole floor to see if there were any other openings to secure, he felt better sliding one of the shelves in front of the door to ensure it wasn’t going to open anytime soon.

The adrenaline pounding in his ears was starting to wear off, but skyrocketed a second time once he turned back to Akane, who’d sunk to her knees and was doubled over in pain, gripping her upper arm with icy knuckles. She kept her mouth shut with clenched teeth and wouldn’t respond to him, wouldn’t tell him what happened, nor would she let him remove her hand to inspect her wound. So he settled for hoisting her over his shoulder and running back up the stairs to deal with it instead, grabbing her discarded backpack that had dropped to the floor on the way up.

When the door was locked both ways and he brought her to the bathroom, finally out of the immediate threat of danger, his legs gave out on him. He collapsed to his knees and hurriedly set her on the ground on her side. He had to take a minute to rest his head, as he felt the threat of fainting dance around his vision, until a coughing spell came and brought with it another session of dry heaving, which was the worst possible timing imaginable. He could hear her breathing grow heavier and more vocal, until she was just groaning in one long drag of pain, only taking breaks to inhale and repeat.

When his symptoms finally passed over and he didn’t feel like he was about to black out, Kogami turned his attention back to Akane, who still laid on her side, curled into a fetal position. Her hair clung to her forehead, covered in sweat, and her skin felt hot to the touch. 

“What happened? Did you get scratched?” he asked, but he still couldn’t get a response out of her, probably because she was in too much pain to form words, let alone coherent sentences. She still clung to her arm. 

He noticed her fingers covered in blood, so he retrieved one of the first aid kits from the backpack nearest to him. With careful force, he rolled her onto her stomach to straddle her and wrenched her hand away from the wound, pinning her wrist to the floor and leaning down to inspect the damage. 

She nearly screamed when it was exposed to the air and writhed in pain when he tried to pull away the torn fabric of her shirt, which stuck to her skin. What he saw underneath was nauseating, as was the smell. It was too deep and too wide to be just a scratch.

When he noticed what looked like teeth marks, his spine stiffened, his eyes widened, and his stomach sank through the floor.

Akane had been bitten.

He had to force himself to stay calm. 

This wasn’t the first time it had happened to someone he knew. He hadn’t been there when his best friend was bitten; he’d only heard stories after the fact, which was gruesome all on its own. He never imagined he’d have to experience something like it himself.

“Cut it off,” she pleaded suddenly through gritted teeth. Her voice was strained and it cracked when she spoke. Kogami was visibly taken aback.

“What?” he asked, even though he’d heard her just fine, knew what the words meant, and knew it was the most logical course of action. But there was something terrifyingly raw about her words that prevented him from connecting them to reality.

Cut it...off? Was he even capable of doing that? There was no anesthesia, no way to numb her, and all he had for means of cutting was an old kitchen knife. Just the thought of hurting Akane, by any means, made his stomach churn. And she was asking him to...cut her off arm?

“Hurry!” she yelled. “Before it spreads more!” That was all she managed to get out before her words melted into a sharp cry that made him jump. He watched as her hands balled into white fists on the floor. He knew he had to do something.

When Ginoza had been bitten, he had required an impromptu amputation. Kogami hadn’t been there when it happened, so he didn’t have a clue as to how he should do this, though he doubted Masaoka knew any better than he did, and he’d succeeded. Ginoza had survived an amputation with essentially the same tools Kogami had. Now he was alive and well, surely out there searching for them right in that moment. If Gino could survive, Akane could survive, too.

He had to do this, or else she would die. Or she would turn. Although to him, they were essentially the same thing.

Kogami left her on the floor temporarily, and returned shortly with everything he needed that they had available. His hands trembled at the thought of what he was about to do.

A sheet was laid on the floor, and he set her atop it. Her sleeve was rolled up to her shoulder where he disinfected the skin as best as he could. He sat on her back, holding her down with his weight, trapping her free arm between her torso and his leg. He gave her a cloth to bite down on. Like it was going to help anything.

He was really going to do it. 

He held the knife tightly in hand, pressing the blade against her skin. He focused on breathing slowly, calming himself. He had to do this, and to do it, he had to be focused. He had to ignore her cries, ignore the way her body would thrash against him, and he had to be quick.

He swallowed thickly. She yelled at him in desperation, crying around the cloth for him to hurry, for him to just do it and get it over with. 

So he did. And Kogami swore he would never forget the sound of pure, anguished agony as she screamed while he did.

Even after it was over, after he wrapped what was left of her arm in tight bandages, after collecting the mess and her dismembered limb in the sheet and throwing it down the stairs, she groaned in agony as she drifted in and out of consciousness behind the bathroom door. 

It killed him to sit there and listen, unable to do anything about it.

But he figured it was best to separate himself until she regained enough strength to do anything other than lay on the floor and sob, until his infection passed or was no longer contagious, whichever came first. Either way, it was a waiting game. He found himself counting the minutes it took for her to regain consciousness every time she fell silent. He hated listening to her cry but the sound relieved him immensely despite that. It meant she was still her, still alive.

In her backpack, he found a number of small, labeled bottles that all contained various types of medicine. Her venture had been successful, it seemed. At least there was that.

Among the pill bottles Kogami found a familiar name, levofloxacin. He was pretty sure that was one of the antibacterials used to treat pneumonia. There were tons of variations of the illness and subsequently there existed a wide variety of medications to treat it, and he couldn’t be sure which would be the most effective without knowing which strain he carried in his lungs. 

But what he held in his hand was the only thing she’d brought back that had a chance of helping, so he took two pills anyway, then moved on to look through the rest of the bottles, taking a mental inventory.

A few minutes later, his stomach convulsed. The pills did not want to stay down, just like everything else he swallowed. He tried to inhale through his nose and exhale through his mouth and clenched the muscles of his abdomen, gripping the pill bottles in his hand tightly, as if focusing all of his energy on straining his body to keep still would fight off the urge to vomit. He had to keep these pills down. He had to.

Time seemed to pass slowly as he sat there, his whole body rigid to fight it off, and eventually the urge passed, and he let himself breathe, his head relaxing against the door in exhaustion.

On the other side of the door, Kogami heard Akane stir again. This time, she seemed a little more alert than before. Though, by the severity of her crying, she sounded as if she was in just as much pain. 

Then he realized what he was holding in his hands, what he was sifting through in her backpack. They had ibuprofen on hand but he wasn’t sure that would do anything substantial to help her. But if there was an opioid among these…

He thought hard for the names he could remember… there was morphine, fentanyl, hydrocodone, oxycodone--wait, he remembered reading that on one of the bottle labels. 

“Kogami,” her aching voice said through the door. It was breathy and quiet, hardly above a whisper, and it sounded more like a question than anything. As though she were searching for him. Her breathing seemed heavy, like the act of saying his name alone was an exhausting task all on its own. He could hear the tears on her face.

“I’m here,” he said, rummaging through the bottles as quickly as he could. He could hear her sigh of relief in between labored breaths. She didn’t say anything else; she was probably too exhausted to, or she just passed out again. When he found the bottle of oxycodone, he decided to risk it, and checked on her so that he could change her bandages and offer the pain reliever. If she was still awake, that is.

And she was. She was staring at the floor when he entered, and her body was angled awkwardly, as though she’d been laying on one side for too long but was unable to switch to the other. Her bangs clung to her forehead, her cheeks were dirty and stained with tears, and her shirt felt damp in some places when he removed it to tend to her bandages.

She seemed aware of his presence, evidenced by the slow, focused movements of her eyes following him, but she didn’t say anything. She laid completely still while he unwrapped the gauze and replaced it, other than a few involuntary spasms of pain. 

The only response he could get from her was a nod of approval when he asked if she wanted to try taking the oxycodone he’d found, and he held up the back of her head while she sipped some water to swallow the dosage. With his thumb he wiped away her tears before they were replaced with a seemingly endless, silent stream. 

He wanted to hold her for longer, to cradle her in his arms while they...did what? Wait? What else were they able to do?

He was sick, growing weaker by the minute, attempting to fight off an infection with a medication that only had a small chance of being effective, and she was recovering from an amputation without a sliver of proper medical care. Neither of them were in any shape to continue their search for transportation to get back to the others, or any sort of help, for that matter. Their options were pretty much limited to sitting around and waiting for help to come to them, and to stay alive in the meantime.

Against his desires, Kogami decided it was best to let her rest without further risk of infection from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit anywhere else in the room besides the bathroom door. It wasn’t the most comfortable, and after awhile his ass had gone numb, but he refused to leave her alone.

Outside the window, he could see the shadow cast from the lowering sun on the makeshift SOS flag Akane had posted billowing in the wind. He smiled, internally praising her for her quick thinking. At this point, it was the only thing they could rely on for help. If he survived long enough for Ginoza and the others to come searching for them and finding the flag, he would owe her his life.

As the sun sank further, leaving the room a dull orange, Kogami found his eyes begging him to let them close. He could feel the skin beneath them visibly sagging the longer he forced himself to stay awake. It wasn’t safe to sleep without someone staying on guard, so he couldn’t. He refused to further jeopardize her safety. He’d already been the cause in what lead to her passed out on the floor. He’d already been the cause of her screaming.

In the silence of the evening it was hard to keep it from coming back to mind. If he wasn’t actively trying to think of something else, it would catch him off guard, and he would be tormented to the memory of holding the knife while she struggled to hold herself still underneath him, and he would find himself on the verge of hyperventilating.

To distract himself, he thought of his mother. He wondered if she had survived this long, if at all. The cold realist in him knew without a doubt that she hadn’t, and she had likely died a painful death at the hands of them. Still, he pictured her smile, warm and bright and unforgettable, like the way Akane’s face looked when she told him for the first time that she loved him. He wondered what his mother would have thought of Akane, meeting her with the knowledge of their relationship rather than the pretext of just being a coworker. Back then it was so much more complicated. 

Life as a whole had been so much more complicated. Even he, a quiet man who liked to live comfortably and simply, could admit that he missed a life like that,.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Akane stirring inside the bathroom. He’d counted nineteen minutes, almost exactly on the dot, which was shorter than before, and she didn’t seem to be crying. Was that a good sign?

Almost immediately, he retracted that thought as a particularly low sound could be heard from behind the door, one that made his spine rigid and his blood run cold.

She growled. And it was not unlike theirs.

He waited, frozen. His breath was held tight in his lungs, while his ears listened in high alert for something more.

It didn’t happen a second time. Instead, she fell silent. He didn’t exhale until his lungs were screaming at him to breathe, and even then, he continued to listen intently for the next noise, the next anything, be it a cry, a shuffling of her clothes, he didn’t care what it was. But nothing happened.

A few uneventful minutes passed. Kogami was almost able to relax by the end of them, until he heard her stir once more.

“Akane,” he dared to say, his tense voice breaking the heavy silence. 

“Hm?” she hummed, sounding confused and pained. But, she was conscious. No crying, and no growling. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Maybe in his exhausted stupor he had just imagined it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. He felt stupid asking it, seeing as how he had a pretty fucking good idea of how she was feeling, but he didn’t know what else to say or ask.

“I don’t know,” was her whiny, mumbled answer. He still didn’t hear any crying at the very least. 

“Did the medicine help?”

She answered through hefty breaths, “What medicine?”

“I gave you some a little while ago when I changed your bandages,” he explained. 

“My what?”

She must have forgotten, or maybe she blacked out the memory, not that he blamed her. He wished he had that luxury. He could hear the beginnings of panic as her breathing rapidly picked up, and he guessed she’d just re-discovered her missing limb. 

He started to move, as fast and as carefully as his weary body would let him, to let himself into the bathroom and console her, but she fell silent again before he could get all the way up. 

It was dark outside when she woke once more. Thirty-three minutes and thirty-nine seconds. Her cries were mixed strangely with a bone-chilling growling sound that was different than before, but just as terrifying.

He hadn’t imagined it. 

And when she stirred again a few minutes later, it was the same, and she didn’t respond to her name. He felt inexplicably cold.

His hopes were stretched thin when the next time she woke, when she called out for him repeatedly, and he called back to her saying things like “I’m here,” and “you’re okay,” but she didn’t seem to understand him. It was as though she could hear the sound of his voice, could hear his presence, but she couldn’t hear the words he said nor could she tell where his voice came from. She couldn’t form words of her own outside of screaming his name as her volume escalated in panic. 

He desperately wanted to open the door. His hand wrapped around the knob, but his entire arm trembled so hard he couldn’t keep a grip on it. Just like her screaming, he couldn’t un-hear the growling. It was inhuman. And he was scared of what he might see if he opened the door. 

She didn’t stay awake for longer than two minutes, anyway. As he let his arm fall from the knob once silence took over, he scolded himself for his act of cowardice.

He promised himself he would move to the bathroom the next time she regained consciousness, the next time he heard her voice, but he never did. 

Whatever noises were coming from inside the room were not from Akane, not from his Akane, and he felt his heart harden each time she passed out again without responding to her name.

It seemed to be around midnight--although what did it matter anymore, really--when she woke for the sixth time. His eyes were surely a deep scarlet, and he could feel the skin beneath them throbbing, from his general unwellness and from lack of sleep. 

That same, cold realist knew there wasn’t a point in continuing to try, but he did it anyway.

“Akane,” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound like his. It was cold and without emotion, something he’d never felt when saying her name before. Perhaps it was because he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t speaking to her anymore.

As expected, she didn’t respond.

Kogami sighed, then grit his teeth and stood to his feet.

Strangely, his hand didn’t tremble, even when he picked up the knife from the floor, the very same he’d used on her earlier. He doesn’t hesitate either, when he entered the bathroom, or even when he saw her form on the floor lying helplessly in a pathetic, growling heap.

She was facing the wall, and her clothes were drenched in sweat. He closed the door behind him, and for a minute, he just stood there, watching her.

Her body twitched, as though various nerves all over the surface of her skin were being prodded at random. When he finally knelt, and put his hand on her, he almost retracted it immediately from how hot her skin was.

She seemed to notice his presence then, turning her head, her mouth open with teeth jarringly barred. She growled at him. 

Kogami swallowed the lump forming quickly in his throat. He set the knife to the floor so that he could maneuver her into a sitting position in front of him, pushing her back against the wall. She struggled with him a little, but her efforts were laughably weak and futile. He easily subdued her, even in his own weakened state, by trapping her thighs between his feet and shoving her arm behind her back. He held her in place with one hand pressed tightly against the center of her chest.

Beneath his palm, he could feel how rapidly her heart raced. It was alarming. But her eyes were what frightened him the most.

They were red around the rims and fogged over with a blanket of milky white, leaving zero trace of her lively brown behind. He stared at them with disdain, ignoring the incessant growling, while he picked up the knife.

He held it to her neck, angling the sharp end of the blade against her skin. 

The utter hatred he’d reserved for himself earlier bubbled in his stomach, crushing him, weighing him down. If only he hadn’t hesitated earlier when she told him to cut her arm off, screaming at him in desperation while he sat there like a coward, scared of hurting her. Those precious seconds he wasted could have saved her. She was the braver one of the two, the one who knew what to do, the one who made the decision, the one who forced herself to lie still and endure the agony of it, while he took his sweet fucking time getting to it, all because he was scared. He had no right to be scared, not while she bravely made the ultimate sacrifice.

He was scared, and he failed her. And now he sat here, holding a knife to her throat, unable to hold back tears as he prepared to end her life because she was turning, because he hadn’t stopped it sooner when he could have. It was his fault.

He was the reason she went out on her own in the first place, and he could have helped her properly barricade the abandoned shop downstairs. It was his fault she’d been bitten and it was his fault she was turning, that she was dying, and that he had to kill her.

‘I’m sorry,” he said, his voice small and cold and pathetic, like it made any difference.

His fingers on pushed the knife, breaking through her skin, staring into eyes that didn’t belong to her anymore. 

And then something made him stop, just as a small trickle of blood pooled onto the blade.

Tears formed on the crusty, scarlet rims of her eyes. Her chapped lips came together to form a word, but nothing came out that wasn’t gargled with low growls, like she was choking on them somewhere in her throat.

He sat frozen in place, watching as her body shuddered violently, and then the growling ceased, replaced by shaky, labored breaths, and a single word she somehow managed, with visible difficulty, to force out.

“Wait.”

Her blood dripped onto his fingers, and he dropped the knife to the floor.

Slowly, like stray beams of sunlight shining through a thick layer of clouds, the milky fog gave way to hints of brown, as though the tears spilling over onto her cheeks were washing it away. He could see them clearly, the traces peeking out from underneath, even through his own wet eyes.

She continued to shake in uncontrollable spasms, even as she pulled her arm from behind her back, bringing her hand to his cheek for a long moment. It was as hot, but he didn’t flinch away, even when it started to burn. Then she brought her hand to her neck, where blood was trickling from her wound.

That broke through his trance. The cut wasn’t deep, he knew, but the bleeding needed to be stopped immediately. He glanced around himself frantically, searching for something to absorb the blood, and when he found nothing in the immediate vicinity, he yanked his shirt over his head, ignoring his aching body’s shivering protest. He bundled the fabric up and shoved it to her neck, pushing her hand aside.

When her fingers came to rest on top of his, Kogami dared to look up, finding her eyes staring at his. His heart hammered in his chest. They were her eyes. The fog had faded from satin white to a dull gray glaze, but beneath it her could see her. It was unmistakable.

She was fighting it. She was coming back to him.

The realization was unbelievably overwhelming, and he found himself falling forward, the top of his head smacking into the wall as he curled his face into her shoulder, and he wrapped a trembling arm around her back, his hand clenching around her fingers that snaked into the spaces between his. He sobbed, and she sobbed into him, with him.

It wasn’t long before he fell into a coughing fit. He turned his head sharply to the side to avoid coughing on her, and she held him feebly while they waited for it to pass, but by then, she lost consciousness again.

The bleeding from her neck had slowed enough for him to bandage it properly. While he was at it, he checked the gauze on her arm and changed that too, and as the minutes passed he found it harder to keep his eyes open. In the dresser drawers he found two replacement shirts for both of them; the smallest one he could find was loose-fitting on her frame, but considering how terribly coated her body was with sweat, it was for the best.

After all of that, he didn’t feel right leaving her alone anymore, so he decided to hole up with her in the bathroom. It happened to be the warmest section of the apartment, and since he’d subjected himself to being exposed half naked to the air, even with a new shirt he couldn’t stop shaking. Her temperature helped considerably once he pulled her against him, her back to his front, while she lay sprawled between his legs. 

Though she was small, her weight was heavy enough to make it harder for him to breathe, but he couldn’t care less. He refused to be separated from her.

Part of him, the rational part, recalled exactly why he’d kept the door between them in the first place. That same part of him was sensible enough to grab the various medicines, along with water, the sleeve of crackers she’d forced on him, and their weapons before he resigned himself to the bathroom.

The part of him that felt like iron, debilitated and in desperate need of sleep, couldn’t remember if he’d locked the door or not. From where they sat he could see it clearly, but he pulled the gun to rest closer to him, just in case.

Her warmth called to him, lulling him to let his eyes close, but he refused to sleep until she woke again. This time there was no growling, not anything remotely inhuman, and her eyes were almost back to normal. Despite how heavy he felt all over, that much made his chest feel considerably lighter.

He had her drink some water and gave her another dose of pain medicine. He tried to get her to eat something, to at least nibble on some crackers, but she fluctuated between full consciousness and a half-asleep state too frequently for her to make much progress with eating. He, himself, was starting to slip, his body giving out on him. He knew he couldn’t force himself to stay awake forever.

It came down to waiting from there, as neither of them had the strength to move from that spot. Survival depended on the flag she’d hung outside. His arms clung to her, wrapped tightly around her front, while he let his gnawing eyes finally close. 

If they were going to survive, it would be because of her. 

He must have fallen asleep, because his eyes flashed open suddenly, and sunlight now filled the room. The sun had come up. For a moment, he sat there, confused; he felt like he’d been woken by something. It couldn’t have been Akane because she lied still against him, sleeping quietly. He didn’t see anything in the room before them, and the door was still closed.

Then he heard it. There was something moving downstairs. 

His hand moved for the gun sitting beside him, while his arm screamed at him in the process. His entire body was stiff, throbbing with a dull ache. He ignored it, releasing the safety on the gun and securing the soles of his boots into the tiled floor, pinning himself in place in case he needed to shoot. He stared at the door intently, waiting with his breath drawn.

Voices could be heard, though they were muffled through the floor between them. Then he could hear footsteps up the stairs, and a voice he recognized yelled in horror at something gruesome on the middle landing.

His heart started racing. He listened on, his eyes fixed on the doorknob.

The voice grew louder, and Kogami quickly realized it was accompanied by others. There were three, and he recognized two of them. Whoever the third belonged to, they were a stranger to him.

For a second he was worried he was hallucinating, until the footsteps stopped just outside the door and were replaced by banging when the doorknob wouldn’t turn, which made Akane stir. Though she didn’t wake all the way, he was relieved to know he wasn’t the only one hearing things.

A voice called out their names from behind the door, and Kogami swore he could have started crying right then and there when, in his near-delirium, he put a name to the voice. He attempted to call back, but his voice came out raspy and quiet, and then he started coughing before he could clear his throat and try again. It still did the trick, at least.

“I hear Kogami in there,” he heard Ginoza say urgently. “Where’s the ax?” Moments later someone was smashing the door apart near the knob, until a hand reached through the wreckage and unlocked it, and then the door opened.

He could have felt more relieved if he wasn’t busy trying to keep his stomach from violently dispelling its contents. His head turned to the side to keep from coughing directly on Akane, he couldn’t see who broke down the door.

“Oh my god,” he heard, this time a female’s voice. Kunizuka. Guess they didn’t look to be in that great of shape.

“We have to move quickly,” said the third person Kogami didn’t recognize. “Before more of them wander this way.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginoza enter the bathroom and kneel in front of them. He didn’t say anything, probably staring at the horror that was Akane’s missing limb evidenced by the empty sleeve hanging from her shoulder. If anyone knew the pain of dismemberment like she did, it was him.

The coughing subsided moments later, and by then Ginoza was starting to lift her semi-conscious body from Kogami’s arms. She stirred some more as her head fell against his chest, and she mumbled something incoherent, which Ginoza ignored, passing her to the newcomer with bright orange hair.

That made him alert. He trusted Ginoza to handle her, but a complete stranger?

“Who’s this?” he asked, his tone overprotective and bitter. He started to move to get up, but then his legs, weak and trembling, gave out on him, and he fell back on his ass. His head began to spin, and the edges of his vision started to cloud with black around the edges.

“There’s no time to explain,” Ginoza said, kneeling back down to help Kogami up. “You can trust him. Kunizuka, take the front.” Yayoi, who’d busied herself with recollecting all the supplies strewn on the floor and shoving them into their discarded backpacks, stood and nodded, shouldering the packs and picking up the ax. She temporarily erased the look of deep concern her face to lead the way back down the stairs, followed closely by the newcomer holding Akane, and then by Ginoza carrying Kogami on his back.

He must have lost consciousness on the way down, because the next time he woke he was seated in the back of a car. Akane, still asleep, was strapped in next to him, and Kunizuka sat beside her, gripping her hand. Ginoza was driving and the stranger with odd hair sat in the passenger seat, positioning a rifle out of the cracked window, ready to shoot. Though from what Kogami could see out the windshield, there were no immediate targets in sight.

“You’re awake,” Kunizuka announced. 

“What the hell happened?” Ginoza asked. Kogami grabbed his throbbing forehead. The memories of the past twenty-four hours suddenly felt blurry, now that he was no longer trapped in the bathroom, and he could breathe knowing proper medical attention waited in their near future.

A lot had happened, emotionally and physically. His stomach quivered at the thought of recounting the nightmare of it all, so he said nothing. That in itself seemed to say everything.

#my fics #shinkaneweek #shinkane #psycho pass #akane tsunemori #shinya kogami

[thosequeenboys]

For the sake of autonomy (John Deacon x Family)

Summary/Author’s Note: This is a family drama and coming-of-age story, focusing on the familiar scenario of students returning home during holiday break and family relationships readjusting.  The father is modeled after John Deacon, Queen’s bass player.  The depiction of John’s family members is purely fictional. Any likeness or perceived likeness to his family – or their family dynamics - is unintentional and coincidental.  Wishing everyone gentle and joyful holiday reunions! This is chapter 1!  The title and topic were inspired in part by this article: Carl E. Pickhardt, Ph.D,. A Detachment Theory of Parenting Adolescents.Psychology Today, December 9, 2013.

Warnings:  Depictions and emotions related to a difficult first semester away at college/uni, sibling rivalry, separation, parent-child relationships, cursing

Chapter 1

John ambled up the steps for the third time that day.  This time there was nothing to carry upstairs, nor chores to be done.  No need to make the trip, really.  Everything was ready.  With his wife Claudia and their middle son Mark at the market picking up some last-minute staples, he wanted just a few moments in that space. The room’s occupant, his youngest son Dan, was returning home soon having completed his first semester in college. As John ducked into Dan’s room, the mid-afternoon sun lit the wood floor to a golden hue, giving the room a warm glow.  He smoothed the bed, recalling how the day before he had unfurled the striped blue sheets, warm from the dryer, tucking and smoothing them to remove all the creases.  He had slid the crisp blue pillowcase over the pillow and plumped it.    

Now, he sat down on the bed gingerly, eyeing the remnants of a childhood and adolescence:  photos of friends and celebrities plastered the walls, some faded with age and light; souvenirs from family and class trips held their place in between favorite books in the bookcase.  Old school notebooks, folders and other flotsam and jetsam of past academic and youthful endeavors lay scattered in piles on the dresser and desk surfaces.  John took a deep breath, and a smile glossed over him as he warmly anticipated the room cluttered with new trappings of a college life.  He wondered what that life encompassed and how his son was changing.

The front door opened below and he heard Claudia and Mark head into the kitchen.  He took a deep breath, stood and smoothed the bed. He stopped into the bathroom and dug into a drawer on the vanity, retrieving and plugging in the nightlight.  It couldn’t hurt, he figured, just in case Dan needed to get his bearings on this first trip back home, the symbolism not lost on him. 

Then John proceeded downstairs to help with unpacking.   His middle son Mark was in his senior year in college and had been home a few days, his exams having ended earlier than Dan’s as a first year.  

His oldest son Chris was expected for dinner that evening to help ready the home for Christmas.  Chris graduated a few years ago and was working as an analyst for a financial firm.  It was a good job, and after learning the corporate ropes, he was now up for a promotion.  

This was the happiest time for John. With the arrival of the holidays, his closest loved ones surrounded him and the house took on a refreshed and festive air.  In a few days,  the extended family would gather for Christmas.  Past memories would be remembered and new ones created.

‘Well, we are set!’ Claudia said. “I’ll start lunch.”

John joined Claudia at the island counter and started to peel and chop the vegetables Claudia had placed next to him.  They worked in tandem to prepare the meal, as Mark sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.  

John checked his watch anxiously.  Ten minutes to two.  Any minute now. Mark eyed a crime story in which someone was robbed on the street and no one responded to the screams. He spoke about the Bystander Effect.  John half listened; under different circumstances he would be fully engaged, but his eyes kept darting toward the window in anticipation. Suddenly, a vehicle pulled into the driveway.  Immediately, John put down his knife and left the kitchen without a word, headed to the foyer and opened the front door.  

“Well, good I got in a few days with Dad before the star of the show arrived,” Mark said bitterly.

“Oh, Mark, try to understand.  Dan hasn’t been home in months.  It’s his first semester away.  Dad doesn’t mean to dismiss you.”

Mark resumed reading the newspaper, clearly annoyed.

The car came to a halt. Standing between the heavy wood door and the clear storm door, John watched the two occupants conversing in the front seat.

“Have a good break. Things will be better next semester. It gets easier,” Lily said soothingly from the driver’s seat.   Dan and Lily had been friends in high school and now attended the same college. Lily was a year older.

Dan felt a rush of anxiety course through him at the mention of next semester, though he appreciated his older friend’s support.  “Thanks, hope you have a good break too.  I’ll see you in a month. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said. They hugged as Dan thanked her for the ride and got out of the car.  Dan hoisted the suitcase and duffle bag out of the trunk as the door rose slowly and then slammed it shut.

The house door opened and John emerged.  “Hi, Love, let me get that for you,” he said quickening his pace.  

No, I got it.”  Dan said.  The car pulled away and he and his dad waved to Lily.

“Ah, laundry,” John said, eyeing he duffle bag, “I’ll take it.  I know you didn’t have time to do it with your exams.”  John moved toward Dan and tried to ease the duffle bag strap off of Dan’s arm, reaching out with his other arm to bring Dan in for a hug. “Don’t touch me.  Please.” Dan said as he stepped back.  

John hid his confusion and disappointment.  He always shared an abundance of affection with his sons.

They walked side by side, “How was the trip?”  John asked.

“Good.”

“ Lily? Nice she was there to show you the ropes a bit, yeah?”

“She’s good.”

John sensed tension between them and distance emanating from Dan.  He tried to keep it light.  He felt like he was dancing on the tip of a needle and not maintaining his balance very well. John held the door for Dan, and upon entering the house, Dan stopped and took in the home, enveloped and calmed by the familiarity.  The living room was to the left and kitchen and dining room, to the right.   Even if his eyes were closed, he could envision every item in each room: the carved wood birds on a side table, his mom’s hand-thrown pottery displayed on the mantle among graduation and family photos and his dad’s Gold Record plaques hanging above the fireplace. The walls of home were lined with framed prints from museum collections they had visited during their travels and some smaller original paintings and collages from local artists. Many lamps dotted the rooms, emitting warm and soothing light.  Lamps with bronze and ceramic bases resided on tables.  Others stood elegantly on the gleaming wood floors, their arms stretched over comfortable couches, easy chairs and the game table.

“Danny!” his mom joined him in the foyer, breaking his gaze. “Hi, Mom.” They hugged.  “Come, have lunch,” she said as John headed into the kitchen. We made your favorites-chicken salad with dried cranberries, potato salad, fresh bread and brownies from…”  

“Thanks, Mom,” Dan cut her off. “But I’m not hungry.  I just want to be horizontal. I’m tired.”  Dan said, as he peered into the kitchen where his brother Mark was gazing at the newspaper on the table, holding a sandwich on thick slices of bread.

Mark looked up. “Hey,” he said, trying not to be pissy in the first five minutes of his younger brother’s arrival.

“Hey, Mark. I’m going to lie down-see you later.”  Dan called out, before he headed to the back of the foyer up the staircase clutching his suitcase and duffle bag.  

John peeked out from the kitchen and looked at the figure climbing the steps, wanting to help him with the luggage, wanting even more to accompany him up the steps, tuck him gently into the carefully made bed and ruffle his hair.  Instead, his eyes brimmed with tears and he willed his longing to subside.  

Claudia must have read his mind. “Let him go, John,” she said softly. “He needs to rest. Give him time-and space.  You remember what we have to do during this time.”

John nodded, Claudia’s words led him to remember the experiences of his two oldest sons.  It was a transition marked by a parent’s excitement to see a child’s growth and newfound independence -- and the inevitable separation that comes from the child making his way in the world.  The child’s reliance on his parents starts to slip away as autonomy emerges. The relationship noticeably shifts.  

Dan entered his room, which had been cleaned and organized since he exited four months ago, leaving behind abandoned clothes and other things that didn’t make the cut for college in a whirlwind.  He dropped his luggage and collapsed onto the bed, yanking down the neatly tucked covers. He tore off his sneakers, eased out of his jeans and flannel shirt and scooted under the blankets.  As he stretched out under the soft sheets warming the cold spots, he watched the shadow of the bare winter trees dance against the wall, the low winter sun leaving orange-yellow squares on the wall, its finale before setting. He closed his eyes, and before he could form a thought or feel an emotion, he was asleep.  

When Dan woke, the sun was long gone.  The room was black, save for a sliver of hallway light shining through the door set ajar. He stretched, not ready to wake up, feeling disoriented.  He heard footsteps on the stairs and suddenly the door opened, letting in bright light.  He cringed and flipped toward the wall.“What time is it?”  

“6:00,“ came the reply. “Did you have a good nap?  Do you feel better?”

“Groggy…”

“How about some dinner? Steve’s here. He’s staying over to help get the house ready.“

“Ok, give me a minute.”

“Sure, Love,” came John’s response, as walked out and shut the door, trying to give Dan space, remembering what Claudia had said.

Dan flipped on his bedside light, threw off the covers and dressed slowly.  He looked around the room, conflicted by wanting to be there and thinking he should want to be back at school in his dorm.  He grabbed his toiletry kit from his suitcase, went to the bathroom, and threw cold water on his face as a first step to waking up.

He went down the steps, where the family was seated at the large kitchen table. His wise and sensitive oldest brother Steve rose to greet him.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, smiling, as Dan leaned in to hug him.  Steve had been his rock during the last few months.  The recipient of many late-night phone calls, Steve talked him through panic attacks about schoolwork, helped him to organize his study schedule, guided him through the intricacies of making new friends, shored him up as his confidence dipped and eased his frustration about how FUCKING HARD everything was in these ‘best years of his life.’  He wouldn’t have made it through the semester without Steve.  

The two of them hugged tightly, and once again Dan let Steve take his weight and with it, all the emotions that hovered at the surface.  

And an emotional grab bag it was:  There was his desire to distance himself from the painful remnants of the semester, but a motivation to embrace his identity and life as a college student, however fraught it was.   And he felt a tug to distance himself from his family, but also a pull to slip back in the comfort and caretaking he knew and was lucky to receive at home.

Steve and Dan broke apart and Dan looked away, concerned that his emotions might show.  He felt his father’s eyes on him.  

“Let’s eat!” John called, breaking his gaze from his sons, as he moved serving bowls and platters to the table and the three boys sat at the table, Mark entering from the hallway.

“How was your semester, Mark?”  Steve asked, grabbing a platter of roast chicken, taking some and passing it to Dan.

“Great,’ Mark responded. “Made the Dean’s list again. Can’t believe it’s my last year. My frat brothers and I - we have a great time in the house.  I’m starting an internship next semester at an engineering firm-really excited about that. And, Shawna and I are still dating.  I’m taking her away after the holidays for a weekend.  Yeah, overall, it’s great. I’m really gonna miss college though.”

Dan took some chicken and placed the platter on the table while trying hard not to roll his eyes.  Everything came so easy to Mark:  school, friends, girls. Dan looked down, focusing on his food, well, focusing on pushing it around.  He prayed the discussion would not come around to him.  Steve, of course, had his back, knowing what had transpired his first semester.  And he felt he had pushed his dad away enough to create a barrier to discussion. Perhaps Mark had his back too, because he turned the conversation to global warming-not a cheery topic by far, but certainly a good distraction.

When Claudia added to the conversation, John looked at Dan seated next to him and quietly said, ‘Are you feeling ok? Can you eat a little, Love?”  Dan raised his head and glared at his father.  “Stop FUCKING calling me that!” he yelled. “And, you don’t need to watch me eat.  I’ve been eating for four months without you.”  He dramatically pushed his chair out and stood with his arms braced on the table and stormed off to the family room.  “Danny, don’t use that language with your father.” his mother called after him, clearly upset.  

Dan’s emotions created an explosion in that moment:  Anger, sadness, anxiety, jealousy, for starters.  He collapsed into a chair and clicked on the TV, turning up the volume, watching mindlessly, as his heart pounded.

Meanwhile John sat stunned at the table. “I don’t know what’s with him,” Claudia said.  “I’ll speak with him.”

“Let me go, Mom,” Steve said, standing up and proceeding toward the blaring TV. He entered the room, shut the French doors gently and turned down the volume slightly wanting some background noise.  He sat down in the chair next to Dan and leaned toward him.

Steve took a deep breath. “You know…you don’t have to be a complete asshole to him.  He basically has a part-time job of loving you.”

“I didn’t ask him to take on that job.   He’s always in my business, treating me like a child.  Wanting me to…need him.  Calling me that name he gave me when I was a baby.”

Steve swallowed, thinking about his response.  “Well, Your birth changed him-brought him back. To us.”  Steve said softly.  “Look, he cares-he always has. He senses you’ve had a tough time.”  

“Did you, did you tell him anything?” Dan asked nervously.

“No, of course not, but he knows you.  And, sometimes it’s what you don’t say that says it all.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad to tell him what your semester was like. You’ll probably feel relieved, and he’ll be supportive.” Steve urged gently.

“Yeah right.” Dan huffed. “Like Mr. Perfect would understand. Mr. O levels and A levels and honors degree.  Mr. Electronics Guru and World-famous musician and songwriter.  Mr. Finance Expert and… UGH, Mr. Fucking Perfect.  In Everything. I see where Mark gets his perfection.  And you too, while we’re at it.”

Steve chuckled.  “No one is perfect, and everyone-including me, Mark and Dad have had our challenges. Guess you don’t remember Mark’s first semester, when he was tasting freedom for the first time and partying too much? Almost flunked out.  And, dad…well you don’t remember a lot of it, but he’s had some challenges emotionally….”

Steve switched the topic. “Give Dad a chance.  It doesn’t have to be as a father.  More as a coach, a friend, even.  My relationship with him shifted when I went off to school.  You know, it’s ok to need sometimes.   We all go through the autonomy-dependency thing.  It’s a process. These are tough years. No one goes through this period unscathed.”

Dan raised his eyes and glared at this oldest brother.   “No.” he said stubbornly, turning his focus to the TV.

Ever-patient Steve was at this wit’s end.  “Ok, now you do sound like a child.  I want you to think about what I’m saying.  At the very least, we all want to have a nice holiday.  Please curb your anger, and stop being a dick to dad.”   Steve rose and walked out, closing the doors roughly behind him, fighting to hide his own anger and frustration at his youngest brother as he walked back to the kitchen.

Dan listened to the doors rattling from the abrupt closing and the droning TV. He stewed in his potpourri of emotions. Eventually, he let his thoughts disperse. He realized that he had a choice.  And, the issue wasn’t his dad, really.  It was him. He knew Steve was right-his dad meant well and would be helpful and supportive.  He had to move beyond feeling like a failure from this first semester. For now, he envisioned different scenarios to rejoin the family.  He knew that he deep down, he wanted – and needed - to feel the connections - and to let himself be loved. 

Tagging:  @warriorteam1924 @deakysgurl @im-an-adult-ish

#john deacon #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon x reader #john deacon x oc #family drama #coming of age #college life #uni life #holiday break #family reunion #independence #autonomy #coming of age story #family life #adulting

[spookysnicket]

Polyface, Charles Lee Ray, & Hannibal HCs

@queen-of-screams: Hey, I love your blog! I was wondering if you could please do headcanons for how billy and stu (poly), Charles lee ray (human) and Hannibal would react if their s/o wanted to help them kill someone. Keep up the great work 💜

---

(This took,, 87 years to finish I am so sorry (’: But here we are! Your Charles/Chucky HCs are GOALS so I hope this lives up to your legend and also!! TYSM!!! ❤️❤️❤️)

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (polyface)

💕 You’d arrived at a party one of your friends threw for his 18th birthday- however it was made abundantly clear that there were to be no parents invited, if you catch my drift

💕 He was a mutual friend between you and your boyfriends, however out of the three you were the closest to him

💕 After a good deal of teenage tomfoolery, your friend mentioned to you that his girlfriend hadn’t come downstairs for a while, and asked if you could keep an eye on the crowd while he went to check on her

💕 Being the good Samaritan you are, you instead offered to check on her for him- which he thanked you for as you trudged upstairs with a slight drunken wobble

💕 The farther you got from the blaring pop music the floor below, the more you could hear faint muffled moans… no, screams?

💕 You dropped your plastic cup and scrambled to where you heard disgusting wet gurgles and agonized cries before nearly dropping to your knees from what laid before your eyes

💕 Not one, but two of the infamous ghostface killers straddled a bed which upon a limp, bloodied girl let out her last dying breaths

💕 In hindsight, you laugh about the ‘oh fuck’ faces Billy and Stu must’ve made when they turned to see you frozen in the doorway

💕 Since that incident, your boys seemed more relaxed and very much more comfortable around you than ever before. You kept their secret, and they got to keep their beloved Y/n alive, so win win!

💕 They both waited for the day to arrive when you would ask to join the ranks of ghostface

💕 Stu often cracks jokes about it, despite how he personally would rather you not be a part of their gruesome pastime- acting as the unexpected voice of reason

💕 Billy, on the other hand, is very encouraging to the prospect! Not gonna lie, he thinks it’d be pretty hot to have you tag along

💕 So once you do ask them, you kinda have an angel and devil scenario. Mom says no and dad says yes sorta deal. In the end though, it’s really up to you!

Charles Lee Ray

🔪 There’s zero chance Charles is gonna hide what he does from you, aside from being coy around the topic of ‘work’ before he moves into your place

🔪 Once he’s settled into your house, him being the lakeshore strangler becomes about as casual of a topic as the weather between you both

🔪 He always brings stuff home from his victims as gifts- typically expensive things he could never afford with morbid stories behind them- ones he’d tell you in graphic detail. He just wants to show off to you, and make you like whatever he brought even more with a cool backstory!

🔪 It was one of these times when he presented you with the most recent gift- a fairly scratched up golden watch- that you’d popped the question.. in question

🔪 “Oh no no no no, doll, no way. What I do is dangerous, you know that!”

🔪 He was fairly sure you weren’t crazy enough to ask things like that, but after he scolds you for it, he’ll quickly let it go

🔪 However, there’s good merit in not getting discouraged by Charles. He’s a stubborn pain, but if you show him you can be one right back, you’ll eventually get him to consider it

🔪 Once he thinks it over, he actually digs the idea himself. When he asks you if you’d like to join him on a hit, he proposes it as his own original plan

🔪 You’re staying in the car for the first time, he doesn’t want anything to get messy- no if’s, and’s, or but’s

🔪 After he’s sure you won’t screw anything up (his words, not mine), you become another pesky ne’er-do-weller for Detective Norris to deal with- a troublesome dastardly duo by the very definition

🔪 Charles couldn’t have asked for a better partner to watch his back, and to not drive away without him when he gets shot

Hannibal Lecter

🧠 Hannibal has, and always will strive to be a fervent gentleman- which includes him preparing any and all meals for you

🧠 Whenever you'd ask to help him with food, he replied by reminding you how very finicky he is when it comes to meal prep- and how it’s much easier to just leave him to his own practices in the kitchen

🧠 You know now that this was just a well fabricated red herring of his, that he’d opted to exclude you from cooking because of what exactly it is he cooked

🧠 As much as he cared for you, he needed time to be sure you’d remain a loyal confidant. After earning Hannibal’s trust- only then would he show you what exactly you’d had on the menu all this time

🧠 He’d still be very hesitant to let you actually kill anyone, instead allowing you to handle the harvested parts from his victims after he does the dirty work. Help here and there where he may need it and so forth

🧠 He’d find it exceptionally atypical of you to press any further on the subject as to do actual killing- to him it’d be a questionably bizarre protest of his given good faith. He’d not anticipate what he sees as ungratefulness from his s/o, and it wouldn’t end very well for you

🧠 Instead, you’ll have to settle with being Hannibal’s sous-chef

🧠 He actually finds cooking together quite pleasant. Enjoying one of his favorite hobbies with the added bonus benefit of your presence always puts a smile on his usually stoic face

🧠 You both appreciate your, ahem, acquired tastes with well aged wines, casual conversation, and meal composition- your dishes are truly to die for

🧠 If, on the occasion Hannibal is feeling rather spontaneous, and a guest or potential business partner is rubbing off on him badly- you may be utilized as his assistant undertaker

🧠 He withholds in you a profound level of trust if this is to ever happen- so don’t take the matter lightly or expect this to be reoccurring. It’s certainly something he won’t let you get accustomed to

#oop now I got matchups #scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #polyface #charles lee ray #hannibal lecter #x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #slashers #slasher headcannons #headcanon #sfw

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Buzzcut Season

Link to song: Buzzcut Season by Lorde (my other absolute fave)

Synopsis: The history of Hybern and Night Industries. 

Ao3 Link

Chapter 17: Buzzcut Season

War.

The word echoed in my mind, and all I could see was his face twisted into that vicious snarl of his.

“Please,” I breathed, “Don’t do it. Not for me. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“What are you talking about?” Rhys demanded, his eyes full of concern and confusion. When he finally understood the fear in my eyes, the trembling of my fingers, he shook his head. “No, Feyre—not with Tamlin. Not with Spring Corporations.”

I flinched at the sound of his name.

Rhys sighed, then gently took me by the elbow and lead me over to the couch. It was directly in front of the map I’d seen before. Rhys wandered over to the coffee counter, and I heard the whirring of a machine. He spoke over the noise.

“Spring Corporations, for the last six months, has been working with Hybern and Co to import and sell Cauldron. C’s made their way into Prythian’s black market about three years ago, and since then can be found at nearly every party, frat house, club or back alley. They are all anyone wants right now, and the price they go for has never been higher. Hybern and Spring have been profiting big time off of these druggies. But they can’t maintain their supply anymore.”

“Why?” The world of drugs and illegalities still confused me to high hell, but Rhys remained calm and focused. He strode over from the coffee bar with two mugs in his hands, and handed me one. The smell was peppermint, and one sip of it had my stomach calm. He sat beside me, hands wandering over the map.

“This, here, are the ports. They used to import everything and operate out of here, the warehouse. That’s where I had my guys working to deliver them.”

“Wait, wait, how did you get caught up in this?”

“I’ll explain after. Anyways, we used to distribute from here to our dealers. But now, they can’t import anymore. They were caught with some misdealing at the border, and now they have no incoming supply. So they need a new facility to start producing here, in Prythian.”

“Okay, but what’s the issue then?”

Rhys sighed. He took another marker, then circled the mountains and territories north of Prythian, Illyria. “He’s looking at buying the reserve.”

My mouth fell open, and I immediately blurted, “Hybern can’t do that. That’s protected land. That’s their land.”

“I know,” Rhys sighed and fell back against the couch. “But this city has an asshole of a mayor in charge who doesn’t quite care as long as there’s money in his pocket.”

My brows furrowed. “He can’t do that.” I repeated, furious. I didn’t know much about Illyria, but I knew that their people, the Illyrians—they’d been there for hundreds of years. They were native to this land before Prythian was colonized, before the city had a skyline at all.

“He can, and he’s trying. The land, though they claim is protected, is under city jurisdiction. No matter what we do, feds aren’t getting involved because it’s not federally owned. It’s up to the mayor and the people to decide. And as you know, the Illyrians aren’t very popular amongst city people.”

It was true. They had a reputation for their coldness, and were known only for their cheap gas prices and bars.

“For years my people have been marginalized. They have no voice, no means to make a living. We’ve been demanding for better government infrastructure, for healthcare, for schools, but the only thing that seems to be opening up are more bars and liquor stores.” His eyes closed. “My people have been suffering. The homicide rates, the suicide rates—they’re six times higher in their territories than here.”

For a few moments, we were quiet. I only looked down at the map, disdainful that I’d never been told of the suffering lingering just beyond the city limits.

“If they buy that land, their homes will be destroyed. But that’s not all—they’ll employ those people. They’ll give them a pittance of a salary for menial work, and three quarters of them will be addicted to C’s before the first month of production is over.” He glanced at me sidelong, the usual spark in his features gone. “My people will only suffer more than they already have.”

I shook my head, eyes still focused on the map. “So what are you doing?” I wondered. “What can I do?”

Rhys hesitated for a moment, then said, “You seriously want to work with us?”

I thought it over for a moment, and realized quickly that I hadn’t been so passionate about something in… in years. I’d loved my job at Hum’s. It was something to do. Something to make the days go by without submitting completely to the numbness filling my bones. But this…working with my friends, trying to destroy the people who had ruined my life…

“You need to tell me how you got involved with Hybern, though. I want to know the whole story. I want to know what exactly it is you all do in this building before signing anything.”

Rhys looked to me for a few moments before saying, “Night Industries works security. Exactly like I explained to you: security detail, cybersecurity, infrastructure security, we do it all. We have real estate holdings, we have hundreds of investment projects. But security is our main focus.”

“Why?”

At that, Rhys smirked. “Because no one thinks the people that are protecting them actually listen in.”

“And by that you mean…?”

“Information, Feyre, costs more than any currency you can imagine. Secrets are worth more than a hundred kilograms of gold. Because they are leverage. Insight. A way into your enemy’s mind, the thread you pull for the fabric to fall apart completely. Nobody thinks the security guard in the front of the limo is listening in on their conversations about sly deals. Nobody thinks their security software is actually reporting back to the manufacturer whenever a new file is uploaded. Nobody thinks the guard at the museum party is noticing who walks into the bathroom with a married man for a quick fuck.”

I sat back for a moment, trying to process everything he was telling me.

“I first caught wind of Hybern’s dealings because I was the one who worked his security detail when he first came to Prythian. As soon as my people reported back, I realized that I was sitting on one of the biggest drug operations to ever enter Prythian. Days later I was in Hybern and Co’s office, speaking to Mr. Hybern himself, proposing a business plan for his future dealings here.”

“Why did you help him?”

“It’s easier to know your enemy by being their friend. But back then, I was stupid. I moved too fast. Before I knew it my guys were in the streets practically dealing the stuff themselves. By then I knew I was in too deep, and I tried to back out as quickly as possible. But they had me by the balls. Bookkeeping on which my name wouldn’t be erased if it ever came to light. Irrefutable incriminating evidence that would flush my life and my business down the drain.”

“How did you get out finally?”

At that, Rhys’s face completely shut down. He only said, “By chance. I saw my opportunity and got the fuck out of dodge.”

By the sound of his voice, I knew not to push him. I only said, “I’m in.”

The storm in his eyes cleared up at the words. “What?”

“Whatever it is, I’m in. I’ll do it.”

“Feyre,” Rhys said quietly, “take some time to think it over. It doesn’t have to be right away.”

“What would my position be?”

“For starters, you’d be my personal assistant. That office out there would be for you.”

“I have very limited experience working in offices.” I never wanted to think about that janitor’s closet ever again.

“I know,” Rhys hedged, “and it won’t be like that at all. We’ll start you off slow, get you used to our systems, help you work your way up. Cerridwen, Azriel’s assistant, will show you all the ropes. We’ll start you off on half-days and work you up from there. If ever you feel sick, tired, anything—you have the day off, no questions asked.”

I eyed him nervously. I couldn’t believe, in the course of two weeks, I had gone from Spring Corporations straight to their enemy, ready to accept a job offer two days after nearly ending it all.

“Like I said, take your time, Feyre.” Rhys said softly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’ll think about it.” I promised. “Over dinner tonight.” I added.

“Jesus Christ, I hoped you forgot.”

***

When we got home, I took a nap while Rhys cleaned up the main floor. He’d turned it into his office while he was working from home, despite the fact that he had a perfectly usable office upstairs. He said it was ‘too dark’ (despite the wall of windows it had), and I knew full well it was just because he wanted to keep an eye on me while I lounged on his couch reading and watching TV. As though I would try to suffocate myself to death with a pillow.

My alarm went off at seven, and I dragged myself to the bathroom to make myself look presentable. I donned some of the nicer clothes Mor had bought me, just jeans and a t-shirt, but each were soft and expensive looking, that made the guilt within me fester even more. For the first time in a while, I looked at myself in the mirror, and was terrified of the face who stared back.

I hadn’t noticed the thinness in my face until my cheeks had hollowed out and my skin was pale and white. My hair had begun falling out a while ago, coming out in heaps of strands in the shower, and it’d lost any traces of shine and glimmer that it originally held. Not to mention, my waist had thinned out as well, and my ribcage stood out starkly against my skin. The t-shirt, thank the Gods, was loose. All I had the energy to do was run a comb through my messy hair, brush my teeth and splash some water on my face. Though it wasn’t much of an improvement from before, at least it was something.

Downstairs, Rhys had cleaned up most of his mess, leaving behind only his computer on the corner of the coffee table before the TV. In the kitchen, the counter was clean, and something smelled glorious as the sounds of kernels popping emanated from the microwave.

“Popcorn?” Rhys wondered as he pulled the bag out and dumped the contents into a bowl. I nodded my head and pecked at a few kernels. My stomach, thankfully, did not protest at the buttery taste across my tongue.

At the edge of island were two games stacked atop one another: Pictionary and Monopoly. I raised my brows.

“My family takes game night very, very seriously. It doesn’t happen often. When it does, I always have to buy a new table.”

“A new table?”

The doorbell rang, and a look of misery overcame Rhys’s face. “Because someone always ends up flipping it.”

I stayed in the kitchen while Rhys wandered unhurriedly to the front entrance. Once the door opened, it was instant chaos that overtook the household. There was so much noise and voices that I could barely decipher who had walked in the door, only the fact that someone had wrapped in their arms. Cassian’s comforting scent enveloped me, and I sighed as I hugged him back, missing his cheerful spirit.

“Feyre! You could’ve at least given me some rent money before you left.”

I forced the best chuckle I could as he released me, and his full, toothy smile shined above me. Before I could even say anything his hand was already reaching for the popcorn. I guess Rhys hadn’t said much about my abrupt move out of his apartment, and I wasn’t sure if I preferred it that way.

A low voice sounded from behind me, “We brought pizza. Mor requested banana chilis, I’m sorry.” Azriel nodded to me, and I gave him my best impression of a grin. It didn’t work.

“It’s like you’re trying to burn off my tastebuds.” Cassian whined. Mor was already moving around the kitchen like a hurricane, plucking wine glasses from Rhys’s cabinets and pulling a bottle of rosé from her purse. She only replied to Cassian, “You’re one of the only ones here with an inkling of culture, honey. Your tastebuds should be adapted to spice by now.”

“I’m going to ignore that slightly racist comment. And remind you that you and Feyre are the minorities in this party.”

“Do you have anything strong, Rhys? I don’t know why they keep inviting me to these.” Amren commented. She’d already taken up a spot sitting on the kitchen counter. By the lack of looks she was getting, I guessed that was her usual seat.

“You’re the one that keeps showing up, Amren. Nobody’s forcing you.” Cassian argued.

Amren quipped, “You parked in front of my apartment building and threatened to honk all night until I got in with you. I don’t want a public disturbance added to my criminal record.”

Added? was all I could think to myself as Rhys pulled out a bottle of vodka. Amren smiled—well, smile was the best word for it, it was more like a wolf bearing its teeth. He poured her a knuckle’s length, and she knocked it back in one gulp. Rhys took one look at her and the bottle, then left it there for her on the counter. She poured herself another then kept it next to her, like a dragon guarding its trove.

“I know you don’t like talking about work at home, but I have to tell you one thing.” Azriel said.

Mor and Cassian both rolled their eyes at the same time (Mor tried to claim jinx, but Cassian refuted you can’t jinx something non-verbal). Rhys, though, was at full attention. In his hands was a glass of what looked like scotch. Suriel’s words kept playing in my mind, but I was thirsty—and a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt. Just something to ease me into this new dynamic. I stood and went to the pantry and grabbed a glass, then went to the fridge where I knew Rhys kept his stash of white wine.

Behind me, Azriel asked, “Do you trust her?”

The room was silent, save the sound of the wine pouring into my glass. Quietly, I put the cap on the bottle, then slid it back into the fridge side door. When I turned, five sets of eyes were turned to me. I only took a sip of my drink, then looked to Rhys.

“Do you?” I asked curiously. Rhys only exhaled sharply.

“Seeing as though I might be hiring miss Archeron, yes, I do trust her, Azriel.”

Cassian’s eyebrows lifted in excitement. “Seriously, Fey? You’re coming to work with us?”

The name threw me off, and I flinched. All I could see was his face, his and Lucien’s, the stupid nickname they’d called me for years. It only made me tilt back my glass, wanting to blur the lines of their faces until they were unrecognizable.

“I have not agreed to anything yet, so don’t get your hopes up.” I took another sip, then pinned Cassian with a look. But not the type that was antagonizing or joking. I stared at him, dead serious, and said, “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian blinked. Even Mor looked between the two of us, shocked, only for Cassian to say, “Message received.”

“I got a call this afternoon,” Azriel said, trying to clear the air as quickly as possible, “that they’ve arranged a meeting for next week.”

“Hybern and the mayor?”

Azriel shook his head. “No. The mayor and Spring Corporations. They’re having lunch at West Border.”

“So he’s taken over as Hybern’s coordinator?”

“More or less. The mayor trusts Ivy. They’ve made deals together in the past, the mayor’s profited off of a few strategic property investments. It would be too direct to get Hybern directly involved.”

There was nothing else to do but sip my wine. Anything but think about his kind features and golden hair. Because I knew those investments. The limited amount of information he’d shared with me, I remembered, was about the mayor’s dealings. I’d even been to one of those lunches with him, a year back, when they were discussing a new condo development on the east side.

“We can’t let that meeting happen,” Rhys said, “or we have to intercept it in some way.”

“What do you want us to do? Waltz in dressed as waiters and pull the fire alarm?” Cassian interjected.

Amren, seated at the kitchen counter, seemed like she was pondering the idea fondly.

“Can we hold this meeting tomorrow? I’m hungry for pizza. And Pictionary.” Mor said.

“That pizza is inedible.” Cassian grumbled, but picked up the boxes and wandered to the kitchen table anyways.

“That’s why the Gods gave your Neanderthal-self opposable thumbs to pick off the peppers.”

I took a seat at the table between Rhys and Mor. Cassian instantly dug into the pizza box, tearing away the red peppers with an animalistic furiousness before nearly inhaling the slice. Mor savoured her piece slowly, and I reluctantly took a bite. The peppers set my tongue on fire, and I washed it down with a sip of wine.

“Well?” Amren wondered, staring at her perfectly manicured nails. “Are we going to get this ridiculousness over or what?”

Azriel collected the Pictionary box from the kitchen island reluctantly and set it on the table, pulling away just in time before Cassian dug into the box, grease dripping from his fingers.

“Remember what I told you Feyre?” Rhys murmured beside me.

“Yup,” I said, “if anyone but Azriel wins, then they’re cheating.”

#dngg #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #sjm #sarah j maas #feyre #rhys #rhysand #feysand #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction

[atc74]

Indulgence

Warnings: Porn with Plot, fingering, nipple play

Summary: Y/N is anxiously waiting for Jensen’s hiatus when Gen calls her out for a girls day. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: ~1600

Written for: Written for @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid and her Still Dirty at 30 Birthday Challenge (2018).

*Thanks to Tumblr and the fact that they refuse to allow me to appeal the original post, here is the edited version.* Thanks in advance for reading again :)

Like Jensen’s scent? Buy it here!

As a reminder, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. No harm is intended toward the actor(s) or their families.

The days leading up to a hiatus were always the longest. This one was no different and you struggled to find enough to keep your mind occupied. If you scrubbed the floors one more time, they would need to be refinished. Just as you were about to wash the windows in the kitchen for the second time, your phone buzzed.

Gen: Hey, I found a great new boutique! Let’s go find something to welcome the boys home. Be there in 10!

You: Ugh. Fine, but you’re buying lunch too!

You stowed your phone and went upstairs to freshen up. You quickly brushed your hair and pulled it back in a loose braid. You slipped on a pair of boots and grabbed a light jacket. By the time you made it back downstairs, your front door was opening and Gen peeked her head in.

“Ready?” she asked and you nodded, grabbing your purse and keys. You closed and locked the door before you followed Gen back to her truck.

“Where are we going, Gen?” you probed as you gazed out the window, the sights of your quiet neighborhood flying by.

“My girlfriend told me about this great little boutique that sells lingerie. I thought it would be fun if we picked out a welcome home gift for our men. You know…something a little sassy, maybe a little naughty. Give them an incentive to work harder and come home a little more often!” Genevieve laughed and you found it contagious.

“Jen and I talked about trying for a baby. Maybe this can kick start the trying part,” you thought out loud.

“That’s great, Y/N/N! I can’t wait to be an Auntie! Truth is, we are trying, too,” Gen revealed as she pulled into a parking spot.

“Then let’s do this. Let’s get some naughty lingerie and get pregnant!” you exclaimed, possibly a little too loud, as you got out of the vehicle, your cheeks heating up as you got some sideways glances. “Oops!”

You and Gen entered the little shop. It was clean and brightly lit. There was warm, natural wood flooring and shelving. There were some very conservative pieces toward the front of the store, but as you wandered farther inside, the choices were definitely a little racy, racier than you were used to. Sure, you owned lingerie, but it was sort of run of the mill. It isn’t like you and Jensen needed it to boost your sex life; you definitely didn’t need any help in that department…but maybe Genevieve was right.

Gen caught you daydreaming and brought you out of the trance you had been in. “So I rented out the store for an hour. Here,” she held out her hand handing you a few things to try.

“What? Who even does that? I didn’t even know that was an option!” you gasped, never able to fully embrace this lifestyle.

“Hon, it’s a Tuesday at eleven in the morning; it’s not like people are swarming the place! Besides, they have champagne! So let’s get our drink on and try on some sexy shit!” Gen whisper yelled at you and you gave in, taking the items she handed you.

As you made your way to the dressing room, an employee greeted you with a glass of bubbly and took the items from you, hanging them in a dressing room. “Please, make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Ackles. I have already spoken with Mrs. Padalecki and we have some things already in your dressing room for your convenience. Relax, take your time and have fun.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Gen, who tried feigning innocence at your accusatory grin. “You totally planned this!”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Now sit down, drink and enjoy. You spend too much time cooped up in that house waiting for him to come home. Let’s have a girl’s day and have some fun,” Gen pleaded with you.

Within the hour, you had drank enough to make you loosen up. You tried on everything the salesperson had brought you, plus Gen’s selection. You had narrowed it down to seven and let Gen pick five. You honestly loved them all, but thought purchasing all of them would be overindulgent and that just wasn’t who you were. Gen made her choices, then showed you hers. Finally you checked out and were back in the vehicle, headed to lunch.

“Gen, this was a lot of fun. Thank you for taking my mind off everything for the day,” you thanked your friend as she pulled up in front of your house a few hours later. You weren’t sure what you would do without her.

“It was my profound pleasure. Let me know how he likes his presents,” she called as you walked through your front door. You took your bags up to the bedroom then returned to the kitchen for a glass of wine. It felt like a bath night, you decided. Taking your wine back upstairs to the master bathroom, you filled the tub, dumping in some of your favorite bath salts.

You stepped in the foamy water, setting in until you were neck deep. The aromatherapy scents cleared your mind and eased your tired mind. You sipped your wine until it was gone, then set about shaving and exfoliating until you were soft and smooth. You drained the water and toweled off before you wrapped your robe around you to retrieve the bottle of wine from the kitchen.

Pouring another glass of your favorite red, you stared at the bag on the bed as it silently dared you to put on one of your new purchases. Maybe just one, you thought. You searched through the bag and found one of the risque pieces you picked out. It was a pair of light pink and black high waist panties, almost like a corset, with a black lace ‘x’ up the front. The silky fabric felt amazing on your smooth and softened skin as you pulled them up your legs. You slipped the bra over your breasts and fastened it in the front.

You had never taken the time to look at yourself in lingerie before, because it was always for him, but as you stood in front of your full length mirror, you couldn’t help but feel sexy. It was a waste though, seeing as you had no one to show. Jensen wouldn’t home for a couple more days. You sighed and unclasped the bra, letting it fall open, revealing your full breasts, your nipples hardening as the cooler air hit them. You slowly ran your hands up your hips and stomach, before cupping them, a tit in each hand, and gently massaged them. A small moan left your lips as you continued, wishing it was your husband’s large hands on you. Just as you pinched your nipples, tugging slightly, you heard a growl behind you and whipped around, covering yourself as best you could.

“Jen! Jesus Christ! You scared the fuck out of me!” you shrieked, then reality hit you. “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t be home until Thursday?”

“Well, if this is what I come home to, I should surprise you more often,” his husky voice rolled off his tongue and went through to your core, making you shudder.

“It’s new. You like it?” you crooned seductively as you returned your hands to your breasts.

“I like what’s under it better. You are a sight for sore eyes, Darlin’,” Jensen admitted as he stalked toward you, replacing your hands with his. His plush lips came crashing down to yours, the kiss hot and demanding. His tongue was warm and wet as it probed your lips and you sighed, opening to him without hesitation. Your hands smoothed up his back to his neck, playing with the opening of his henley.

He roughly turned you around in his arms, but continued his ministrations of your breasts, roughly squeezing the nipples between his fingers, as you arched against him. You felt yourself moving and found yourself seated on the corner of your bed, Jensen still held you firmly against his chest, one hand on your left tit, as the other trailed down your torso, landing between your legs.

Jensen’s feet wrapped around your ankles, pulling your knees apart, giving him easier access. Your moans filled the room as he massaged your mound, but not going further just yet, “Jen, please. It’s been too long and I need you.”

“Not just yet, Darlin’. Gonna make you work for it,” his breath hot on your neck. “Just let go for me and I will make you feel so good.”

You obeyed your husband’s command and let yourself go under his touch, leaning back into him. His right hand applied more pressure, rubbing your pussy through the fabric and it quickly dampened with your arousal. His lips attacked your neck, licking and sucking at the spots he knew made you weak with desire. His hand snaked inside your panties and picked up speed. Your orgasm approached in a flash as you came with a shout all over the silky material and his hand. Jensen continued to work you through your high until your breathing returned to normal.

“If this is the result of indulging myself, maybe I should do it more often,” you giggled, still wrapped in your husband’s arms.

“God, I missed you, Y/N/N,” Jensen murmured into your neck, placing sweet kisses along it’s length. “Let’s make a baby.”

Ready for the smuttier sequel…

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Tags: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean  @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99 @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace  @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @just-another-busy-fangirl @linki-locks11​ @evansrogerskitten​ @hennessy0274-blog​ @hobby27​ @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104​ @blacktithe7​ @the--blackdahlia​ @fortisetgloriosusinarduis​ @roseblue373​ @hannahindie​ @pinknerdpanda​ @cherrycokegirls1​ @mogaruke​  @4llmywr1tings​

Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @cameronbraswell @docharleythegeekqueen​ @maddiepants​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @amanda-teaches​ @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​ @adoptdontshoppets​  @akshi8278​ @kathaswings​ @deansgirl215​ @x-waywardaf-x​  @elara98azalea​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @pretty-fortune​ 

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen smut #jensen x reader smut #jensen ackles fanfiction #supernatural rpf #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

[thursdays-fallen-angel]

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” For spn ship of your choice.

ghost hunting!au, hs!au, est.; 2.5k

(this turned out to be so much longer than I expected but?? oh my god??? thank you for prompting me to write this??!)

A single beam of moonlight falls across the broken wood floor, illuminating the dust motes in the air. Elsewhere in the house, some part of the foundation cracks and settles, and there’s the unmistakable sound of a small animal scurrying through the walls.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Cas hisses over his shoulder. He’s been in a constant state of disbelief since he was talked into it, and yet, here they are.

Creeping through an actual haunted house. In the middle of the night.

Hunting for ghosts.

Behind him, Dean laughs. It’s almost too loud in the otherwise-silent house, and Cas turns to glare at him, squinting against the light of Dean’s flashlight.

“Can you be quiet?”

Dean keeps his flashlight raised as he comes closer—a necessity for the camcorder he has in his other hand—but when he’s near enough, his face becomes visible beyond it. Unsurprisingly, he looks like he’s having the time of his life.

“Come on, Cas, we have to let the ghosts know we’re here!” He shifts his grip on his camera, but doesn’t once uncenter it from Cas’ scowl. “If we don’t bother them at least a little bit, why would they bother showing up? We’re doing this in the name of science, and that means we can’t hold back.”

“Now you’re talking out of your ass and you know it,” Cas says, which only results in pulling another laugh from his boyfriend. He turns back away (partly to hide the fact that his lips are twitching toward a smile) and shines his own flashlight through the gloom of the condemned house. They had entered across the back porch—a risky endeavor, considering the wood that makes it up is rotted almost beyond recognition, but since the front door is chained closed, the back door was their best option—which means they are now in the cramped remains of a sitting room. The ceiling is low and sagging, the walls are covered in graffiti and god knows what else, and across from them is an opening to another room filled with impenetrable darkness.

Cas hates it.

Damn Dean for convincing him to do this.

No matter how terrible the house is, however, knowing that he is on camera gives Cas an illusion of courage he wouldn’t have otherwise. So long as this is being recorded, he refuses to look like a coward.

He’ll still bitch, though, of course. He thinks he’s earned that right.

He shuffles forward across the uneven floor, careful not to put his weight on any one spot too quickly. Supposedly, the house has an unfinished basement where most of its horrors have been known to take place—and he is far from eager to see it. And judging by the splintered hole in the far back corner of the room, Cas suspects it’s far too easy to accidentally get there.

Dean follows on his heels, following Cas’ path exactly as it is slowly proven to be sturdy enough to support them. It seems like no time at all before they’ve reached the next room. It’s far larger than the first room, which is reflective of the size of the house (it’s practically a mansion), but also more than a little terrifying, considering the beam of Cas’ flashlight doesn’t reach the far wall.

Dean turns his camera into the never-ending darkness and lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn. That looks fun. You ready, babe?”

Cas takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders. “I hate you so much,” is all he says, and then he starts to walk.

Dean says smugly, narrating for the camera, “He loves me.”

Cas raises his free hand up to be level with his head and flips Dean off.

As they pick their way across the room, the darkness doesn’t become any easier to see through. Cas tries to make their path as straight as possible to the other side, but there turns out to be too much broken furniture and other assorted debris for that to be realistic. They go extra slow to compensate, Cas quietly pointing out dead animal carcasses and used syringes and needles as he steps around them.

At what Cas suspects is the halfway point across the expansive space, Dean clears his throat. “So, Cas. Ghost hunter extraordinaire. Hottest guy in school. Why is this house haunted?”

Cas sighs heavily, but decides to humor his boyfriend by recounting the local legend. He isn’t exactly a fan of the whole ‘talking to the camera’ thing, but, well. He knows it will make Dean happy. And since that’s the only reason he’s currently in this haunted house at all…  

“This house,” he begins, louder than his gut instinct tells him he should be for the sake of being heard, “was originally on a plantation owned by one of the city’s founders. He was the first mayor, but only a few years after he was given the position, he and his family were killed in a fire that destroyed nearly half of the house.” He stops to kick a pair of empty beer cans aside, and eyes the camera. Even in the dark, Dean’s grin is blinding, his pride at the effort for dramatic tension clear. “It was suspected that his slaves were responsible for the incident, which means he almost certainly deserved it.”

Dean breaks into a coughing fit to cover a laugh. It’s a poor effort, and Castiel snorts his own amusement. Distracted now, neither of them attempts to continue walking.

“Is that all?” Dean prompts. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Cas shakes his head. “The house was rebuilt, and several families lived in it over the next hundred or so years. There was always a pattern of bad luck and early deaths, but the next worst thing to happen was Mordechai Murdoch. He was one of the first serial killers in the state. He kept his own daughters chained up in the basement until they died of malnutrition, and is believed to have killed at least fifteen other people, likely in this very house.”

At that exact moment, a gust of wind rushes around and through the house. The entire structure creaks and groans, and something upstairs shrieks.

Cas grits his teeth and tries to pretend that he did not startle in Dean’s direction—although they very much did jump together, as they’re now touching from shoulder to hip—but Dean, meanwhile, swears and swings his camera back and forth across the room. “Jesus Christ, did you hear that?”

Cas forces himself to huff, ignoring the blood that rushes in his ears. “It was just the wind, Dean—”

“No, you dumbass, not the wind!” Dean’s head is on a swivel, and for the first time since they pulled up to this godforsaken house, there’s genuine fear in his eyes. “There was something—”

Something scrapes across the floor behind them, prompting them both to spin. Their flashlights chase the sound, but as Cas can’t say he is surprised to discover, everything looks exactly as it had when they passed by a few moments ago.

Dean says, voice barely above a whisper, “What the fuck.”

Cas bites back a variety of I told you so’s, and puts a hand on Dean’s back. “We should keep going,” he suggests. It’s the absolute last thing he wants to do, but now going back toward their exit seems even worse than getting further in. They’ll see a bit more, let whatever the odd noise was clear out, and then make their escape.

Dean melts back into Cas’ hand and, thankfully, catches his logic. He visibly draws himself up, taking strength from his boyfriend’s touch, and then sets off in the direction they were initially headed.

They make the rest of the walk in a suffocating silence, the only sound being the creaking of the floorboards under their feet. It feels like a miracle when they finally reach the end of the room—and also incredibly relieving, since it means they are no longer out in the open—but unfortunately, what they find is less than reassuring.

Ahead of them are three, clear options.

There is a half-broken staircase leading up to the second floor. To the left is an opening to what seems to have been the kitchen. And then to the right, beneath the stairs, is a crooked door tagged in spray paint as ‘basement’.

For a moment, the two of them are utterly still. And then Dean turns his camera between their three options, then directs it back toward Cas’ face. All of his bravado has returned. “Rock paper scissors, winner picks where we go?”

Cas gives him a flat look. “No.”

Dean smiles, a bit of wicked amusement overtaking his residual fear from before. “Alright, then, so we’re in agreement that we’re going downstairs? The basement is where Old Man Murdoch hid all of the bodies of the people he killed, right? That sounds fun.”

“No,” Cas repeats. “I will not let us be murdered in a basement. And furthermore, I don’t trust any stairs in this place. We will be staying on this floor and not break our legs, thank you very much.”

Dean pouts, but from the way he huddles slightly closer to Cas, Cas can tell that his boyfriend isn’t truly upset with the decision. It’s subtle, but it unifies them enough that Cas feels slightly less horrified of what they’re doing.

Slightly. For the moment.

They advance into the kitchen where, as soon as they’re across the crumbling threshold, the temperature seems to drop significantly. It’s practically frigid in the room, and Cas tugs the zipper on his hoodie up a few more inches to combat it. He takes a few steps further into the room, wary of every shadow, and lets out a long breath as he steels himself.

His exhale fogs up in front of his face, impossible to miss thanks to the perfectly-aimed beam of Dean’s flashlight.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps reverberates through the ceiling above them. Cas’ breath catches, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Dean turn his camera upward, chasing the sound. They keep themselves completely silent as they listen; the footsteps seem to start further toward the front of the house, then pass directly over the kitchen en route to the back.

It feels like an eternity passes before the steps are no longer audible. When it happens, Dean reaches out and grabs the sleeve of Cas’ hoodie and whispers fervently, “Holy shit, there’s someone here! We have to get out of here, right the fuck now.”

Cas could not possibly agree with that statement more. Except—“Dean, I don’t think the next floor is sturdy enough to support anyone. Look at the ceiling, it’s rotten.”

Dean sweeps his flashlight across the ceiling like he needs to see the proof for himself, even though it should be obvious from the way the entire house is sagging and falling apart, then momentarily blinds Cas by turning both the light and the camera directly into his eyes. “But there’s someone up there!” he insists. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fucking hear that, Cas, that floor they were walking on was not rotten!”

Cas waves Dean’s flashlight away and blinks the brightness out of his eyes. “I heard it, Dean, but there’s no way—”

He cuts off with a strangled sound. He hadn’t been able to see it when he was blinded, but now that his eyes are readjusting to the darkness, he can make out a figure, standing over Dean’s shoulder.

As he stares at it, Cas feels the blood drain from his face.

It can’t be a person, it can’t, not in this condemned house where every sound is amplified tenfold and no reasonable human being should want to creep their way through it, anyway, and yet—

But of course, the alternative explanation for what is very clearly a humanoid figure standing right behind them isn’t exactly more reassuring.

“Cas? Babe?” Dean holds the camera on him, but for once, Castiel doesn’t even notice. “Cas, what happened?”

Cas’ jaw works silently, unable to form words. Eventually he settles on pointing, unable to get anything out beyond a choked, “Dean.”

Dean spins around, the beam of his flashlight swinging wide—and then he swears, and drops the camera to the floor. He scrambles to recover it almost immediately, while Cas grabs protectively at his elbow to steady him. The figure still looms, taller than them both and menacingly mysterious, and whatever it is they may be facing, he’ll be damned before they do it while separated.

Dean manages to pick the camera back up. The two of them press together, clutching at one another, and when they raise their flashlights up again, they see a flash of an angry, half-formed face with burning eyes.

And then just as quickly as he appeared, the man is gone.

“Where’d he go?” Dean demands. He starts to step forward, but only stops because Cas keeps a hand locked tight around his elbow. “What the fuck was that? Was that—?”

There are more footsteps upstairs, a rush of them this time, and what sounds like someone banging their fists against a closed door. First it sounds like it could be the chained-up front door, then it sounds like it’s echoing up from the basement, and then in an instant, Cas realizes exactly where it’s coming from, and a cold chill runs down his spine.

“The basement door.”

Dean looks at him, horror in his eyes.

All around them, the house only gets louder. There are footsteps, banging against the door, and thanks to a return to the wind, an inhuman shrieking sound that fills every room. Cas stands rooted in place, utterly terrified, heart in his throat.

Beside him, Dean says, “Fuck it.” He throws down his flashlight, grabs Cas’ free hand with his own, and yanks him along to sprint out of the house, back the way they came. They pay no attention to the hazards they were so careful about on their way in, and pass by everything else that is now happening without a second glance.

When they break free of the house, Cas swears that fresh air has never felt so good in his lungs.

They don’t stop running until they’ve reached Dean’s car, parked a hundred or so yards away from the house. Their hands remain linked while they collapse against the hood and pant for breath, a reassuring point of contact now that they should be safe.

When they’ve recovered, their hands slip apart. Dean still has his camera in his other hand, and though he lifts it back up in an obvious attempt to act like nothing is wrong, there is a haunted look in his eyes, and his had trembles just slightly.

“So, uh. Cas.” Dean clears his throat and glances over his shoulder toward the house, now gone quiet. “I’d say that went… well. Wouldn’t you?”

Cas drops his face into his hands and laments, “Why can’t any of our dates just be normal.”

#profoundnet #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #deancas #ghost hunting au #ghost hunter!dean #ghost hunter!cas #sorta #hs!au #prompt fill #makenna's writing #amirosebooks #replies

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Double Storey Extensions: Guide to Planning, Design and Build

If you are planning to build a double storey extension, you are not only alone.

There are lots of good reasons why you might want a bigger house: your family is growing, you are working from home a lot more, you need enough room for your hobbies… or you simply want some more space.

If you want more room but don’t want to move, you’ll be considering an extension. And if you want that extension to add a substantial amount of extra space, then what you might need is a double storey extension. 

So we’re going to take you through what you need to know about two storey extensions, from the very basics to the planning rules, picking a builder and – because it’s something you’ll be asking from the start – the cost.

Read on…

What is a Double Storey Home Extension?

A double storey home extension, simply put, is where you add an extension to your house and then add an additional floor to that extension. They are sometimes called ‘two storey extensions’. 

You may also have an existing single storey extension and wish to build a first-floor extension over the existing one, which would give you a double storey house extension.

A two storey extension is a great way to add another upstairs bedroom to your home and create space downstairs for a larger kitchen, additional bathroom or whatever else you might want or need.

So let’s take a closer look…

Adding a Double Storey Extension to Rear

To begin with, homeowners will often extend their houses to the rear. Many houses in the UK have spacious back gardens and if you’re looking to increase the size of your home, it’s the most obvious land to use. 

One advantage is that this won’t change your house’s facade, which will normally please the council. And, as many houses are wider than they are deep, the end result is a more square-shaped building with neat rooms. 

Adding a Double Storey Extension to the Side

If you don’t live in a terraced house, you can then add a double storey extension to the side of your property – either using permitted development rights (if what you want to do qualifies) – or planning permission. 

The good news is adding two storey extensions to the side of your house will make your house wider, which will in return enable you to enlarge your kitchen and living area or add additional bedrooms.

Alternatively, if you have enough space on one side of your property, you might even consider building a double storey side extension to create a new dwelling house.

But bear in mind that you will need to have enough parking and garden space for both the new and existing houses, and even then the council might not be in favour of it. When it does work, though, it can be a profitable option.

Therefore, you first need to think about what purpose your double storey extension will serve. You can discuss your plans with your architects to make the most of the space available on the land around your house. 

We also recommend you to discuss your plans with your neighbours. This can actually provide an opportunity for them to do similar work, so they may not automatically be against your proposal.

Why are Two Storey House Extensions so Popular?

There are a couple of reasons. Let me explain…

Firstly, it’s cheaper for the amount of additional space. The amount you are going to spend on foundations and the roof will be roughly the same whether you add one storey or two. 

Secondly, you’ll get more room. If you’re planning on having a child, they’ll need a bedroom and you can combine this with a downstairs study or an additional bathroom to help counter the needs of a larger family.

Permitted Development Rights for Two Storey House Extensions  

Permitted development rights mean that you can make some changes to your house without applying for planning permission. As a general rule, it makes things faster, cheaper and easier. 

Unfortunately, permitted development rights don’t usually apply to most double storey house extensions, but there are some circumstances where they can come into play. For this to happen, your proposed work needs to meet the following criteria:

The double-storey extension should not be wider than half of the original house

The double-storey extension cannot be higher at the eaves than the existing eaves, or the roof of your double-storey extension should not be higher than the roof of the original house

If the double-storey extension comes within two meters of the land boundary then the eaves cannot be taller than three meters

If your house faces directly onto a street, you cannot extend it forwards

The double-storey extension cannot also include any balconies, verandas, raised platforms, microwave antenna, chimneys, or involve any alteration to the existing house’s roof. 

The materials used on the outside of the new double-storey extension should match the materials used on the outside of the existing house

Similarly, the roof pitch of the double-storey extension should match the roof pitch of the original house as closely as possible.

The land used for the double-storey extension should not be within seven meters of any land boundary or extend beyond the rear wall of the original building by more than three meters 

If you’re building a side elevation and want to put a window on the first floor, it should be obscure-glazed and non-opening unless the openable part is higher than 1.7 meters from the floor

Here’s the most important part: You will not qualify for permitted development if you want to build a double storey extension to the side of your home, or if you live in certain protected areas (eg, a conservation area, an area of outstanding natural beauty or a national park). 

Planning Permission to Build a Two Storey Extension

If your double storey extension does not meet the rules for permitted development rights, then you will have to apply for householder planning permission to build your two storey extension. 

What does that mean?

It means it will take longer for you to reach the point when you can start building. It also means that you’ll have to think about whether the council will like the look of your extension. And planning officers will check to see if it is in the spirit of a range of local policies.

In short, your architects and planning consultants will develop your design, prepare your planning drawings and Design & Access statement to justify why you should receive planning permission for two storey extension. If you want to know more about the planning application process, have a look here.

Do I Need Building Regulations Approval to Build a Double Storey Extension?

Regardless of the size of your two storey extension, you will need to apply for Building Regulations Approval. You will require a full set of building regulations drawings, structural calculations and specifications to submit your building control application.

One of the scariest things for anyone looking to extend their home is the thought that everything could, quite literally, come tumbling down. This is more likely to happen if you don’t have proper foundations, and they’ll need to be deeper and wider for a double storey extension.

But first a warning: You should also get temporary propping systems to keep everything secure and in place whilst the extension is finished.

When you’re working with your architect, you’ll need to discuss the structural design and the structural integrity of the extension. You’ll also need a structural engineer to help you calculate everything, and their work should be accompanied with the Building Control application you will make for your double storey extension.

Two Storey House Extension Ideas: How to Design Yours?

You might need a little bit of help with this! 

Luckily, there are very creative extension architects who can help you and work with you to build something that you’ll love, and take into consideration all of your ideas and requirements. 

So let’s take a closer look at design ideas for double storey house extensions…

Internal Layout Ideas for Downstairs

To begin with, what you choose to do with your new downstairs space really depends on your needs. 

For example, if you are planning on working from home, it could make a good home office. Or if you are planning to upgrade your kitchen, you can do so and create a spacious open-plan living-dining area.

Imagine for a moment how you can transform your downstairs to add more space, comfort and value!

Internal Layout Ideas for Upstairs

In general, most people go for a bedroom in the upper half of their new extension. However, there’s no rule that says you have to do that.

Here’s another way to think about it: You could use it for a second bathroom; a playroom or nursery if you have or are planning to have children; an office or study or even a little library. 

In fact, you might even want the new space to connect to an existing room either in the form of an en-suite bathroom for the master bedroom or to just to give you more space in an existing bedroom, bathroom or playroom. 

Bi-folding vs Sliding Doors for Double Storey Extensions

One of the wonderful things about double storey extensions is that you can tailor them to your needs and desires. That’s why finding the right right doors is so important.

That is why, one of the many things you’ll get to choose when you’re planning your double storey extension is what sort of doors you prefer: bi-folding doors or sliding doors.

Now consider it this way: Bifolding doors are more unusual and require you to keep the area around the door clear on both sides so you can open them fully.

On the other hand, sliding doors are glass panels that roll along wheels at the top and the bottom so you can open the space between rooms or into the garden cleanly and easily. 

Exterior Materials for the Extension

One of the fun things about a double storey extension is that you don’t have to make it match with the rest of your house. Yes, you read that right!

Some homeowners use the same materials, and it does look great, but you can also try new materials for the contrast and look into new, environmentally friendly options or affordable metal cladding options, that might suit your needs even better. 

For example, you may consider using bamboo for the outer walls and topping your extension with a green roof.

Alternatively, you can use reclaimed timber or brick, which will both help the planet and give your extension a bit of character. With reclaimed timber, you’ll also avoid one of the drawbacks of using wood on the exterior, which is the uncertainty about how it will age and the fear that what looks great when newly built will look shabby within a few years.

Or, you may consider using metal cladding such as steel cladding, aluminium cladding, zinc cladding or copper cladding to achieve a suberb look and great durability for a stunning two storey extension.

Adding a Two Storey Extension to a Detached House

The simple truth is, it is usually easiest to add a large two storey extension to a detached house. It won’t disturb the neighbours as much, and you can choose between a rear double storey extension or a side double storey extension.

Quite simply, your options for doing something large and complicated – if that’s what you are thinking of – are much greater. With a detached house, there’s more chance that you will get exactly what you want right now – with other property types, you would need to make more compromises.

Even so, it can pay off not to be too set in your ideas – your architect might be able to design a beautiful double storey house extension for your detached house that can save you money or give you something that works much better with the rest of the house than your initial plans.  

Adding a Two Storey Extension to a Semi-Detached House

There are still plenty of choices for adding a two storey extension to a semi-detached house. You can have a double storey rear extension or a double storey side extension on the part of your house that is not attached. 

Needless to say, it will be more intrusive for your neighbours than if you had a detached house, so you should pay close attention to any loss of light or overshadowing you might be causing the next-door house. 

If you are thinking of a side extension, you need to consider whether the council will mind that you are disturbing the symmetry of the pair of semi-detached houses. Before you commit to the idea, have a walk up and down the length of your street to see if there are many similar examples. Then check if they were approved planning permission in recent years.

Of course, your neighbours might have already extended out to the side, in which case you would only be matching them. The potential issue there is the council worrying that a group of semi-detached houses are turning into a terrace. For all those reasons, a double storey side extension can sometimes be a harder sell to the council than a rear one, although we still frequently secure planning permission for difficult house extensions.

Adding a Two Storey Extension to a Terraced House

This is the most difficult, but don’t let that put you off: most architects love the challenge! 

There won’t be an option to put a double storey extension on either side of the house, so you can only build a two storey rear extension. 

Because terraced house owners are a lot physically closer to their neighbours, there can be significant issues with things like making sure that light doesn’t get blocked from other people’s homes and gardens.

Here’s the clue: With a good architect, the disadvantages can be used as the starting point for a distinctive design, maybe with slanting walls or even curved ones. Because you can’t add a simple box, you’ll end up with a creative house extension – something much more special and much more yours.

Adding a Double Storey Extension to a Listed Building

If you want to add a double storey extension to a listed building you will need to apply for Listed Building Consent first.

Let me say this straight: As a Listed Building owner, you will also need to look at the original design of your house, research the materials and techniques used and then see if you can replicate them so that the house doesn’t look mismatched. It’s not impossible to do, but it will involve more effort.

A word of caution: Always work with experienced listed building architects, planning consultants and contractors to preserve your listed building’s historical assets, including its structure.

For an in-depth exploration of how to go about extending a listed building, head here.

Adding a Double Extension in a Conservation Area

Just as permitted development is never an option for extending a listed building, you’ll always need to get planning permission before adding a double storey extension in a conservation area. 

Conservation areas were introduced during the 1960s to protect and preserve the character of a local area due to its unique architectural or historical character that needs to be preserved under Section 69 of The 1990 Planning (Listed Buildings and Conservation Areas) Act. 

The positive thing about a conservation area is that the rules should – in theory – be much clearer. That’s particularly true if you were thinking about a double storey side extension, which would have to stick closely to the conservation area appearance if your house as it is right now has been judged to be making a positive contribution to the local character. You will have more freedom with a two storey rear extension that can’t be seen from the street but your choices will still be more restricted than elsewhere. 

Before you hire an architect, make sure that they have good experience of working in conservation areas and understand the particular nature of the one your house is in.

How Do You Find and Choose the Right Extension Architect?

First of all, start by having a think about what you’d like. If you own the house with your partner, discuss it with them.

Do a little bit of research and try to be clear on what you’re looking for and what you want to avoid. Get an approximate budget and understand how this might affect your choices and options.

Take a look for an architect online. If you visit the Royal Institute of British Architects’ website, you can use the ‘Find an Architect’ tool to start searching. If you live in a smaller community, talk to friends, family and neighbours to see if they have any recommendations or ideas. 

When you’ve found a talented extension architect, make sure that they’re aware of all the necessary planning restrictions and building regulations that are applicable in your area. If you live in a listed building, or a conservation area, make sure that they have experience with this and ask to see some examples of their work. 

You might want to try and find a multidisciplinary practice, a firm of architects and planning consultants and interior designers who can handle all of the planning, design and construction and any unexpected challenges. They may also be able to help you find a builder and inspect the construction of your two storey home extension.

How Do You Find and Choose a Good Reliable Builder for Building a Two Storey Extension?

Getting a good and reliable builder is absolutely essential, no matter what work you’re doing. You don’t want to have to deal with someone who you don’t trust, or to build a double storey extension that falls apart after a few months. 

So, what do you do? 

Start by having a conversation with your architect. They should have worked with builders on previous projects and should be able to give you a unique insight into what to look for and which extension builders are the best.

If you would rather look independently, start by drawing up your criteria and looking at our  ‘hiring a builder’ checklist. This will help you avoid any cowboy builders and show you which questions to ask and what you need to look up before hiring anyone. 

For instance, you should ask and see if they’ve worked on double storey extensions so you know that they’ve got relevant experience, and ask to see photographs of their previous work.

You should also have a Building Contract in place before the commencement of works. If they won’t commit or refuse to sign a contract, be extremely cautious about agreeing to let them do your double storey extension.

Regardless of how you find your builder, make sure that they’re someone you can trust and respect: you’re about to give them a lot of money and access to your home, so you need to feel safe. 

What Is The Cost of a Two Storey Extension?

It’s difficult to say precisely, as it depends on many key parameters such as the type of the foundation required, likely construction methods, corresponding structural approaches and desired levels of fixtures, fittings and material finishes.

However, we can give you a range, and for a double storey extension in London, it’s likely to cost between £1,750 and £2,750 per square metre. But don’t immediately be put off: think of this as an investment. Two storey extensions often increase the value of your house, sometimes by up to £4,000 – £6,000 per square meter.

As well as the costs for builders and materials, you should also budget for a planning application fee, building control fee, architects’ fees (which usually cost between 8-12% of the build cost), structural engineers’ fees and party wall surveyors fees.

In any case, some of the things that will affect the cost of your design are the types of material that you choose, how complicated the design is, what sort of fixtures and fittings you want and how many structural changes you’re planning on making to the existing building. 

But one thing’s for sure: You’ll also need to consider where your house is: as a general rule, houses in London and South East England are much more expensive at a base price, but things may be more affordable in the North. Just remember that, often, the more you spend on making your home nice, the more money you’ll eventually be able to sell it for.

How Long Does It Take to Build a Double Storey Extension?

The short answer: Generally about 9 to 11 months from the very first steps to being able to cook in your new kitchen or sleep in your new bedroom. But it’s probably more useful to break down the process into three stages. 

Here’s how that works: 

Developed Design + Planning: 3 months

Technical Design + Building Regulations​: 2 months

Contract Administration + Construction​: 5 months

However, whenever you embark on a project that involves construction, you need to be prepared for unexpected delays. So please view these timings as an indication of what usually happens, rather than something you should be making firm commitments by.

For peace of mind, it’s probably best if you prepare yourself for a completion date that’s over a year from when you begin.

How Urbanist Architecture Can Help?

Urbanist Architecture is a London-based RIBA chartered architecture and planning practice with offices in Greenwich and Belgravia. With a dedicated focus in proven design and planning strategies, and expertise in residential extensions, conversions and new build homes, we help homeowners to create somewhere they enjoy living in and landowners and developers achieve ROI-focused results.

If you would like us to help you with your double storey extension – or any other kind of house extension, please don’t hesitate to get in touch.

We are a good fit if…

You prefer a custom, one-size-does-not-fit-all approach. 

You are passionate about good design.

You are interested in massively effective projects that are delivered on time and need minimal revisions.

You need an expert, strategic, multidisciplinary chartered architecture firm, and not just the cheapest provider.

You are more interested in receiving an exceptional service than a low-end, perfunctory one.

You want to work with a firm who will fearlessly stand with you as true believers in your proposal’s mission.

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source https://urbanistarchitecture.co.uk/double-storey-extension/

[obscureations]

so i actually started my konmari cleaning a while ago, but never got around to posting about it until now. 

the first step in her method is to clear clothing, by gathering every piece of clothing owned in one place and sorting through them, only keeping what sparks joy. relatively speaking, while my closet can be messy, i did have a good order to it all this time and only was not proactive in putting stuff away. the photo is a bit messier than it normally was, because i had put some other stuff there to make room elsewhere. i have two closet areas, one is more for hanging clothing while the other is for putting away things in drawers. my hanging closet has always been pretty full of hangers, that it was hard to get clothing out of it.

i moved all my clothing into my brothers room (which has more floor space than mine). it was surprising to see exactly how much i owned though! i always imagined i didn’t have that much clothing, but when i really moved everything to one spot, the actual pile surprised me.

i first started with winter clothing, as the season i am in now is the end of summer beginning of fall time. winter is relatively long where i am, so i broke it down into long sleeves shirts, and then jackets/sweaters. it was relatively easy to sort through these piles, because i enjoy wearing long sleeves even in the summer, making it simple to choose what sparks joy. i based it off what i could remember myself wearing over and over, because i felt that if i tend to wear an article of clothing over, that was what made me happy to wear.

jackets and sweaters (and hoodies) was a little harder to go through. i have a huge collection of hoodies because that’s what i like wearing the most, but when i was really looking at the hoodies, i realized out of my collection there were only a few that i wore multiple times. however, it felt a bit hard to part with some of the others, because i prided myself in the colors i had chosen, so this is where thanking the clothing for the good they had done for me really came in handy. originally, i wasn’t sure if i could do that, but after trying to say it out loud, it did make me feel slightly better about discarding it.

moving onto short sleeve shirts, this went by fast as well, because of how i was able to distinguish what i wore more often than not. i used to have a lot of graphic tees that while i enjoy wearing, in the end hardly did anymore, so after thanking them, it was easier to part with them. goodbye to the witty slogans on my tees - as much as i enjoyed them, i wanted to make my wardrobe less “childish�� to say the least? because even if i am still slightly childish at heart, i have also matured a lot, something i wanted to reflect in my clothing.

this meant keeping more of my dress shirts as well. i bought a bunch when i was in japan, thinking that if i start a more professional job i would need them. i… haven’t, but also discovered i like how i look wearing button downs.

moving on to pants, i only kept about three pairs of jeans, because while i never had that many to begin with, i only really wore the same two pairs over and over. i actually discarded some jeans that were slightly frayed and discolored around the knees as well, because i never liked how they looked worn out. and i finally got rid of old pants with holes in them that i had always told myself, “i’ll sew it together again!”

some article of clothing i had trouble deciding included; this pair of overalls i had, one dress shirt, and band t-shirt, some old school t-shirts. i ended up keeping the dress shirt, telling myself that if i don’t wear it after a while i will discard it later on. the band and school t-shirts, i put to the side to go through when i move onto sentimental items, and the overalls i tried wearing out to a concert and realize i like them a lot.

the final step was undergarments. i got rid of some older ones that were worn, and found out i had some unopened packages in my closet as well. after clearing out all my clothing, my pile had decreased dramatically.

i folded up the shirts using the konmari way of not stacking by putting them upright, and it was seriously a life changer! i used to fold my shirts with the japanese style of folding (not konmari’s), which had been quick and efficient but meant that they were stacked on top of each other. however, changing it to upright meant not only were they not stacked, but i could actually see all the clothing. since then, it’s been easier to pick clothing out in the morning for sure. i hung my winter jackets and dress shirts, but because i had more room in my drawers, i could put my hoodies in there instead, meaning that my hanging closet was not as jam packed as before. i also put my undergarments into small boxes i found, so that i wasn’t just throwing them all into the drawer at once. a slight deviation from the konmari method, but i divided my drawers into one for summer tees, one for winter tees and one for hoodies, because this had always worked well for me before. i like to re-wear clothing a few time before throwing it into the wash, but before i hung them so that they kept being pushed back more into my closet. i put an old hanger on the rack so that now, i could face them all sideways, allowing me an easier time to see what i have still hanging around to wear. i’m hoping i can find some sort of stick material for this purpose, but if not, i’ll cut up the hanger so it fits better in my closet.

after folding it all away, i took a slight break for dinner, and came back to tackle accessories, bags and shoes (which i decided to do separately).

i had always been a collector of snapbacks, so it didn’t surprise me as much how many i had, nor the fact that i didn’t wear about half of them anymore. those went into the discard pile pretty fast. i also had a lot of fashion gloves from when i was obsessed with them, but haven’t worn since… high school maybe. those also were discarded.

bags were pretty simple, since i kept only those that i used still. i had trouble with this one bag - it was very tattered and worn through, but it had always been special to me (i used it all throughout high school for almost everything). however, i ended up discarding it - after giving thanks to all the hard work it has done for me! i ended up hanging my snapbacks on this hanger i always had but never used, and put all my winter accessories into a drawer for when winter comes. my bags are still in a corner of my room, because i need to clean a bit more to figure out where they can go. 

i never realized how many shoes i had until now, which was the biggest shocker of the day. i found a few pairs that i hadn’t worn in quite a while, and a whole brand new pair of sneakers! i do think i will need to revisit this section again, because i was a bit tired after cleaning all day, and may have kept a few extra shoes that i didn’t really need to keep. i keep a few of the specialty shoes (ie, bowling shoes, and some dressier shoes for parties) upstairs in my room, while the rest are in our shoe closet downstairs. this also happened to be the first time where i forgot something when gathering it all together, meaning i bid farewell to a pair of boots hidden away in my room.

aftermath;

it did feel somewhat liberating to get rid of so much clothing. i was always pretty diligent in donating old clothing, and my closet was never so jam packed with clothing, but after going through it all at once, it made me realize i had so much that i never used. i had been slowly bringing them to h&m to donate for a 15% off coupon, which - while great to get the coupon each time - meant that the clothing still sticks around in my house, unfortunately meaning i rescued some pieces i had originally discarded. i also did what konmari said not too, which was downgrading some clothing to loungewear. however, i didn’t have time to go buy proper loungewear (not to mention, that goes against the whole reducing the amount of buy), and some clothing, while i didn’t find joy in wearing out, did work better as pajama clothing. i do hope to go buy a new pajama tee, hopefully my workplace has some on sale when i go in next. i also kept this old dress of mine, only for the sake of hopefully being able to sell it. if i don’t get around to it within the next few weeks however, i will be giving it to my cousin.

since cleaning my closet out, it has been much easier to find clothing, and also easier to put them away. before, it wasnt as easy to fold clothing and put it away, and they always ended up piled up somewhere. however, maybe because there is so much less now, i find it easier to put everything away, because they all have specific places for each clothing as well. i have only purchased a few new items of clothing since then, some new bralettes because i realized how worn my old ones were - no longer sparking joy but instead bringing me discomfort, a pair of dress pants to wear with my dress shirts - because i felt pairing the dress shirts with black jeans was a bit of distasteful to them, and a new t shirt from uniqlo which i was idly browsing the other day and found i really liked (it was only 3 dollars too!). I am hoping to find another dress pants and a new sleep shirt soon, but for now, i am pretty content with my closet and what i have.

next up; books!

#personal #konmari journal

[chrisobandous]

Victorian Floorboard Restoration with Osmo Oil Polyx Raw

I haven't shared any progress of the dining room for months now. Truth be told, we've done loads - but it's also been a room that's been piled high with storage for a very very long time. It's a constant battle; renovating, cleaning and finding homes for the bazillion bits of materials we have leftover. And this room, well - let's just say, it's suffered!

But anyway - today I'm sharing a little flooring update in here. Despite our kitchen and dining now being open plan, we decided to go for separate flooring in both these areas. Our kitchen has beautiful limestone tiles on the floor (full blog post on that here!) but in the dining room, we decided to keep the original floorboards exposed. This decision behind this was based partly on budget (we couldn't afford THAT much limestone!) and also partly because I couldn't really bare to cover up the victorian floorboards, particularly when they're in such great knick for a 100+ year old floor! Over the last 18 months, this room has undergone some intense work. A lot of dust. A fair few falling bricks, many dirty boots, mucky paws, splashes of paint, filler, plaster, you name it. The floor, which was in good condition, turned into absolute filth! So it still needed a lot of TLC.

And by TLC I mean they needed one hell of a sand! I love floorboards that have a sense of age and character to them, so I was really keen not to sand them right back entirely. We even have some lovely little details on the floor that show where an old wall/door opening would have been and I absolutely love that! I really think it helps to tell a story about the house and how it was once used, and it also shows the years of use the floor has undergone. A perfectly sanded pristine new-looking floor just wasn't the feel I wanted for this room. After all, we've kept the wobbly ceilings and original lime-plasterered walls - so it just made sense to have a rustic aged floor too.

In order to actually keep the floorboards with this kind of character, a professional floor sanding machine is just too harsh for it. Those machines are really very rough on the floor and they literally strip the floor right back to clean brand new looking wood. Which is great if that's what you're after,  but as I said, I wanted something a bit more rustic. So instead, I'll be sanding with a handheld sander! It takes much longer yes, BUT it saves you a ton of money and I personally prefer the look of floorboards when it's done this way. I've actually written a post before comparing the look of floorboards when using these two different methods, which you can read right here. But here's a quick look at our upstairs floor, which is a similar look to what we're hoping to achieve downstairs too...

As I said, we've done this in a couple of rooms already - but these were quite small in size, so I managed to get away just using a sanding attachment on a multi-tool. However this room is pretty big, so a small multi-tool sander just wasn't going to cut it, unless I wanted to lose weeks of my life that is. So instead I purchased a very cheap belt sander, which is basically a much smaller and less powerful equivalent to a professional floor sanding machine. It means you can still achieve that perfect clean wood look, if you want to, you'll just need to spend a bit more time sanding.

The sander I purchased was this one at just £35 (on offer at the time!) from Screwfix. It's a much much cheaper option to buy a belt sander than hire one - which would cost around £20 per day (jeeeeeez!). It's not the most powerful, or best one on the market - but it does do the job! I have to apologise now for the lack of progress photos - these are all from Grants phone and as I've mentioned previously, I've somehow managed to lose all my own photos from January-May - gah! 😞

I always start off with a lower grit (which is coarser paper) and move through the boards quite quickly. The slower you go, the more you'll take off. I was keen to get a smooth enough finish, so we don't have to worry about getting splinters, but not so much that all the characterful dints and grooves had been removed. If that makes sense? Basically - I was happy to leave a bit of grub behind on the boards!

You want to make sure you're sanding along the grain and with the board. You'll probably find some areas require a bit more work than others and if you have slightly curved boards, you'll also find the edges won't sand very well. For this, I recommend going over with a smaller multi-tool attachment, or even a mouse sander, which is small enough to tilt slightly at an angle. You'll also require a smaller sander or multi-tool to get right into the edges of the boards against the skirting, as the belt sander is just too big to get that close. If you've removed the skirting boards of course, this won't be an issue. The smaller sanders are much less powerful, so be prepared to spend a little longer on areas when using these! I also HIGHLY recommend buying a DIY-hoover that you can attach to the sander. Literally, it will change your life and you'll have absolutely no dust to clear up. No dusty walls, no dust ingrained into your sofa, no dust in pesky hard to clean cracks, yep - absolutely none! We've had ours for years now and I cannot recommend it enough. If you want to read a review about the one we have, you can check that out right here.

Once you've got most of the muck off, you can then go over with a finer grit sandpaper. This is pretty essential to remove any sanding marks the coarser one has left behind. If you don't remove these and stain the floor with a tint, these really do show up and really don't look great. In fact I would say, this part is the most important!

It took me about 2 days to do the whole room, so it was relatively quick considering this room is pretty big - but I have to admit; my knees and back were definitely aching by the second day! I recommend knee pads and lots of rest afterwards for sure. Hopefully you can see how a bit of muck and keeping those imperfections help to add character and that rustic-effect we're looking for.

After a few days of rest, I then had to decide what to use on the boards to protect them. I know some people are happy to leave the boards untreated, but when you have two dogs with mucky paws from the garden, I really don't think this is such a good idea. Treating the boards makes them water resistant, easier to clean, and less likely to be damaged or stained by liquids. Basically for a downstairs heavy-usage room, I personally think it's a must! I've heard a lot about the brand Osmo, so I decided to give their products a whirl. They basically offer a unique product that combines Oil and Wax and it also allows the wood to 'breathe'. It most certainly is not the cheapest on the market, but with everything I've heard about it - I just had to give it a go! The reason I didn't use the same stuff I had used upstairs was because I wanted to keep these boards a bit lighter in colour.

Osmo have a whole load of tints and different finishes, but the one I went for is the Polyx Raw. This is basically meant to leave the floor looking untreated and it claims to be "almost transparent". If you're unsure on which tin to go for - I recommend getting some samples beforehand. I actually sampled their 'Clear' version which pretty much turned the floor orange - so I'm pretty glad I didn't just go straight in with a purchase of that! The tin said you could simply apply by brush, so that's exactly what I did, making sure to really work it into the board and not over-apply - which is never a good thing when it comes to wax.

I have to be honest after the first coat, I was super disappointed. It seemed to have left a white milky film in patches over the board and it most definitely was not "transparent". I researched reviews online and found a few other people had had the same issues - it would seem this product isn't the best when it comes to dark floors or dark patches on the floor. Obviously I had left some darker areas where I hadn't fully sanded the floors to perfection and it was these areas that just didn't look great. It wasn't bad enough to show up on photo really and it definitely wasn't awful, but it just made me think the floor looked as if it needed mopping in places. You can very slightly see the white patches in this pic..

I left the floor unfinished for quite some time before deciding to go back over and give the floor a light sand (yes - I sanded it AGAIN 😩) and try again - this time rubbing the oil into the floor, so I could apply even less product. And this actually seemed to work! I had to give the floor a couple more coats than the tin recommended, but there was definitely little to no white hue across the boards. Winning!

I will say this - it definitely is not transparent, as you can see! The boards were originally quite light and more yellow-y tones and now they are definitely a darker tinge and look more woody. It's not drastic or huge, but it just definitely isn't transparent. Although that being said - I do think the boards still look untreated. The oil is very matt, so it's not obvious at all that they have a coat over them, they just appear to be a slightly darker wood.

Overall, I am really pleased - you can still see those little imperfections that I loved and the boards as I say, don't look treated. We've also had a few spillages already and I can definitely say the oil wax actually works too. Which is really the most important thing! I would definitely use the oil again, but I'll be sticking to the rubbing technique personally! I should also mention that I barely used any of the 2.5L tin I purchased, so a little really does go a long way, which is REALLY GOOD considering how expensive it is. In hindsight, a smaller tin would have been plenty - but then again, I now have enough to do the whole house - literally! So here's a couple of before and afters to finish up...

Before

After

In regards to cleaning the boards - because I'm pretty sure I'll get asked, I use a steam mop on the lightest 'dust' setting. I was a little worried the steam mop may end up melting the wax or something horrifying so I certainly haven't braved it on the max setting, but a very gentle setting of steam mopping seems to do the job fairly well anyway!

I'd love to know what you think. Do you prefer a beaten-up looking floor, or something a bit more fresh and new?

Total Costs:

(rounded to the nearest pound) New Tools Purchased: Belt Sander £35 Materials Used: Sanding Sheets £36 Osmo Oil £73

Total: £144

from Home Renovation http://www.kezzabeth.co.uk/2017/11/floorboard-restoration-with-osmo-oil.html

[metzgerterryus]

Victorian Floorboard Restoration with Osmo Oil Polyx Raw

I haven't shared any progress of the dining room for months now. Truth be told, we've done loads - but it's also been a room that's been piled high with storage for a very very long time. It's a constant battle; renovating, cleaning and finding homes for the bazillion bits of materials we have leftover. And this room, well - let's just say, it's suffered!

But anyway - today I'm sharing a little flooring update in here. Despite our kitchen and dining now being open plan, we decided to go for separate flooring in both these areas. Our kitchen has beautiful limestone tiles on the floor (full blog post on that here!) but in the dining room, we decided to keep the original floorboards exposed. This decision behind this was based partly on budget (we couldn't afford THAT much limestone!) and also partly because I couldn't really bare to cover up the victorian floorboards, particularly when they're in such great knick for a 100+ year old floor! Over the last 18 months, this room has undergone some intense work. A lot of dust. A fair few falling bricks, many dirty boots, mucky paws, splashes of paint, filler, plaster, you name it. The floor, which was in good condition, turned into absolute filth! So it still needed a lot of TLC.

And by TLC I mean they needed one hell of a sand! I love floorboards that have a sense of age and character to them, so I was really keen not to sand them right back entirely. We even have some lovely little details on the floor that show where an old wall/door opening would have been and I absolutely love that! I really think it helps to tell a story about the house and how it was once used, and it also shows the years of use the floor has undergone. A perfectly sanded pristine new-looking floor just wasn't the feel I wanted for this room. After all, we've kept the wobbly ceilings and original lime-plasterered walls - so it just made sense to have a rustic aged floor too.

In order to actually keep the floorboards with this kind of character, a professional floor sanding machine is just too harsh for it. Those machines are really very rough on the floor and they literally strip the floor right back to clean brand new looking wood. Which is great if that's what you're after,  but as I said, I wanted something a bit more rustic. So instead, I'll be sanding with a handheld sander! It takes much longer yes, BUT it saves you a ton of money and I personally prefer the look of floorboards when it's done this way. I've actually written a post before comparing the look of floorboards when using these two different methods, which you can read right here. But here's a quick look at our upstairs floor, which is a similar look to what we're hoping to achieve downstairs too...

As I said, we've done this in a couple of rooms already - but these were quite small in size, so I managed to get away just using a sanding attachment on a multi-tool. However this room is pretty big, so a small multi-tool sander just wasn't going to cut it, unless I wanted to lose weeks of my life that is. So instead I purchased a very cheap belt sander, which is basically a much smaller and less powerful equivalent to a professional floor sanding machine. It means you can still achieve that perfect clean wood look, if you want to, you'll just need to spend a bit more time sanding.

The sander I purchased was this one at just £35 (on offer at the time!) from Screwfix. It's a much much cheaper option to buy a belt sander than hire one - which would cost around £20 per day (jeeeeeez!). It's not the most powerful, or best one on the market - but it does do the job! I have to apologise now for the lack of progress photos - these are all from Grants phone and as I've mentioned previously, I've somehow managed to lose all my own photos from January-May - gah! 😞

I always start off with a lower grit (which is coarser paper) and move through the boards quite quickly. The slower you go, the more you'll take off. I was keen to get a smooth enough finish, so we don't have to worry about getting splinters, but not so much that all the characterful dints and grooves had been removed. If that makes sense? Basically - I was happy to leave a bit of grub behind on the boards!

You want to make sure you're sanding along the grain and with the board. You'll probably find some areas require a bit more work than others and if you have slightly curved boards, you'll also find the edges won't sand very well. For this, I recommend going over with a smaller multi-tool attachment, or even a mouse sander, which is small enough to tilt slightly at an angle. You'll also require a smaller sander or multi-tool to get right into the edges of the boards against the skirting, as the belt sander is just too big to get that close. If you've removed the skirting boards of course, this won't be an issue. The smaller sanders are much less powerful, so be prepared to spend a little longer on areas when using these! I also HIGHLY recommend buying a DIY-hoover that you can attach to the sander. Literally, it will change your life and you'll have absolutely no dust to clear up. No dusty walls, no dust ingrained into your sofa, no dust in pesky hard to clean cracks, yep - absolutely none! We've had ours for years now and I cannot recommend it enough. If you want to read a review about the one we have, you can check that out right here.

Once you've got most of the muck off, you can then go over with a finer grit sandpaper. This is pretty essential to remove any sanding marks the coarser one has left behind. If you don't remove these and stain the floor with a tint, these really do show up and really don't look great. In fact I would say, this part is the most important!

It took me about 2 days to do the whole room, so it was relatively quick considering this room is pretty big - but I have to admit; my knees and back were definitely aching by the second day! I recommend knee pads and lots of rest afterwards for sure. Hopefully you can see how a bit of muck and keeping those imperfections help to add character and that rustic-effect we're looking for.

After a few days of rest, I then had to decide what to use on the boards to protect them. I know some people are happy to leave the boards untreated, but when you have two dogs with mucky paws from the garden, I really don't think this is such a good idea. Treating the boards makes them water resistant, easier to clean, and less likely to be damaged or stained by liquids. Basically for a downstairs heavy-usage room, I personally think it's a must! I've heard a lot about the brand Osmo, so I decided to give their products a whirl. They basically offer a unique product that combines Oil and Wax and it also allows the wood to 'breathe'. It most certainly is not the cheapest on the market, but with everything I've heard about it - I just had to give it a go! The reason I didn't use the same stuff I had used upstairs was because I wanted to keep these boards a bit lighter in colour.

Osmo have a whole load of tints and different finishes, but the one I went for is the Polyx Raw. This is basically meant to leave the floor looking untreated and it claims to be "almost transparent". If you're unsure on which tin to go for - I recommend getting some samples beforehand. I actually sampled their 'Clear' version which pretty much turned the floor orange - so I'm pretty glad I didn't just go straight in with a purchase of that! The tin said you could simply apply by brush, so that's exactly what I did, making sure to really work it into the board and not over-apply - which is never a good thing when it comes to wax.

I have to be honest after the first coat, I was super disappointed. It seemed to have left a white milky film in patches over the board and it most definitely was not "transparent". I researched reviews online and found a few other people had had the same issues - it would seem this product isn't the best when it comes to dark floors or dark patches on the floor. Obviously I had left some darker areas where I hadn't fully sanded the floors to perfection and it was these areas that just didn't look great. It wasn't bad enough to show up on photo really and it definitely wasn't awful, but it just made me think the floor looked as if it needed mopping in places. You can very slightly see the white patches in this pic..

I left the floor unfinished for quite some time before deciding to go back over and give the floor a light sand (yes - I sanded it AGAIN 😩) and try again - this time rubbing the oil into the floor, so I could apply even less product. And this actually seemed to work! I had to give the floor a couple more coats than the tin recommended, but there was definitely little to no white hue across the boards. Winning!

I will say this - it definitely is not transparent, as you can see! The boards were originally quite light and more yellow-y tones and now they are definitely a darker tinge and look more woody. It's not drastic or huge, but it just definitely isn't transparent. Although that being said - I do think the boards still look untreated. The oil is very matt, so it's not obvious at all that they have a coat over them, they just appear to be a slightly darker wood.

Overall, I am really pleased - you can still see those little imperfections that I loved and the boards as I say, don't look treated. We've also had a few spillages already and I can definitely say the oil wax actually works too. Which is really the most important thing! I would definitely use the oil again, but I'll be sticking to the rubbing technique personally! I should also mention that I barely used any of the 2.5L tin I purchased, so a little really does go a long way, which is REALLY GOOD considering how expensive it is. In hindsight, a smaller tin would have been plenty - but then again, I now have enough to do the whole house - literally! So here's a couple of before and afters to finish up...

Before

After

In regards to cleaning the boards - because I'm pretty sure I'll get asked, I use a steam mop on the lightest 'dust' setting. I was a little worried the steam mop may end up melting the wax or something horrifying so I certainly haven't braved it on the max setting, but a very gentle setting of steam mopping seems to do the job fairly well anyway!

I'd love to know what you think. Do you prefer a beaten-up looking floor, or something a bit more fresh and new?

Total Costs:

(rounded to the nearest pound) New Tools Purchased: Belt Sander £35 Materials Used: Sanding Sheets £36 Osmo Oil £73

Total: £144

from Home Restoration News http://www.kezzabeth.co.uk/2017/11/floorboard-restoration-with-osmo-oil.html

[jaclynbross1]

Victorian Floorboard Restoration with Osmo Oil Polyx Raw

I haven't shared any progress of the dining room for months now. Truth be told, we've done loads - but it's also been a room that's been piled high with storage for a very very long time. It's a constant battle; renovating, cleaning and finding homes for the bazillion bits of materials we have leftover. And this room, well - let's just say, it's suffered!

But anyway - today I'm sharing a little flooring update in here. Despite our kitchen and dining now being open plan, we decided to go for separate flooring in both these areas. Our kitchen has beautiful limestone tiles on the floor (full blog post on that here!) but in the dining room, we decided to keep the original floorboards exposed. This decision behind this was based partly on budget (we couldn't afford THAT much limestone!) and also partly because I couldn't really bare to cover up the victorian floorboards, particularly when they're in such great knick for a 100+ year old floor! Over the last 18 months, this room has undergone some intense work. A lot of dust. A fair few falling bricks, many dirty boots, mucky paws, splashes of paint, filler, plaster, you name it. The floor, which was in good condition, turned into absolute filth! So it still needed a lot of TLC.

And by TLC I mean they needed one hell of a sand! I love floorboards that have a sense of age and character to them, so I was really keen not to sand them right back entirely. We even have some lovely little details on the floor that show where an old wall/door opening would have been and I absolutely love that! I really think it helps to tell a story about the house and how it was once used, and it also shows the years of use the floor has undergone. A perfectly sanded pristine new-looking floor just wasn't the feel I wanted for this room. After all, we've kept the wobbly ceilings and original lime-plasterered walls - so it just made sense to have a rustic aged floor too.

In order to actually keep the floorboards with this kind of character, a professional floor sanding machine is just too harsh for it. Those machines are really very rough on the floor and they literally strip the floor right back to clean brand new looking wood. Which is great if that's what you're after,  but as I said, I wanted something a bit more rustic. So instead, I'll be sanding with a handheld sander! It takes much longer yes, BUT it saves you a ton of money and I personally prefer the look of floorboards when it's done this way. I've actually written a post before comparing the look of floorboards when using these two different methods, which you can read right here. But here's a quick look at our upstairs floor, which is a similar look to what we're hoping to achieve downstairs too...

As I said, we've done this in a couple of rooms already - but these were quite small in size, so I managed to get away just using a sanding attachment on a multi-tool. However this room is pretty big, so a small multi-tool sander just wasn't going to cut it, unless I wanted to lose weeks of my life that is. So instead I purchased a very cheap belt sander, which is basically a much smaller and less powerful equivalent to a professional floor sanding machine. It means you can still achieve that perfect clean wood look, if you want to, you'll just need to spend a bit more time sanding.

The sander I purchased was this one at just £35 (on offer at the time!) from Screwfix. It's a much much cheaper option to buy a belt sander than hire one - which would cost around £20 per day (jeeeeeez!). It's not the most powerful, or best one on the market - but it does do the job! I have to apologise now for the lack of progress photos - these are all from Grants phone and as I've mentioned previously, I've somehow managed to lose all my own photos from January-May - gah! 😞

I always start off with a lower grit (which is coarser paper) and move through the boards quite quickly. The slower you go, the more you'll take off. I was keen to get a smooth enough finish, so we don't have to worry about getting splinters, but not so much that all the characterful dints and grooves had been removed. If that makes sense? Basically - I was happy to leave a bit of grub behind on the boards!

You want to make sure you're sanding along the grain and with the board. You'll probably find some areas require a bit more work than others and if you have slightly curved boards, you'll also find the edges won't sand very well. For this, I recommend going over with a smaller multi-tool attachment, or even a mouse sander, which is small enough to tilt slightly at an angle. You'll also require a smaller sander or multi-tool to get right into the edges of the boards against the skirting, as the belt sander is just too big to get that close. If you've removed the skirting boards of course, this won't be an issue. The smaller sanders are much less powerful, so be prepared to spend a little longer on areas when using these! I also HIGHLY recommend buying a DIY-hoover that you can attach to the sander. Literally, it will change your life and you'll have absolutely no dust to clear up. No dusty walls, no dust ingrained into your sofa, no dust in pesky hard to clean cracks, yep - absolutely none! We've had ours for years now and I cannot recommend it enough. If you want to read a review about the one we have, you can check that out right here.

Once you've got most of the muck off, you can then go over with a finer grit sandpaper. This is pretty essential to remove any sanding marks the coarser one has left behind. If you don't remove these and stain the floor with a tint, these really do show up and really don't look great. In fact I would say, this part is the most important!

It took me about 2 days to do the whole room, so it was relatively quick considering this room is pretty big - but I have to admit; my knees and back were definitely aching by the second day! I recommend knee pads and lots of rest afterwards for sure. Hopefully you can see how a bit of muck and keeping those imperfections help to add character and that rustic-effect we're looking for.

After a few days of rest, I then had to decide what to use on the boards to protect them. I know some people are happy to leave the boards untreated, but when you have two dogs with mucky paws from the garden, I really don't think this is such a good idea. Treating the boards makes them water resistant, easier to clean, and less likely to be damaged or stained by liquids. Basically for a downstairs heavy-usage room, I personally think it's a must! I've heard a lot about the brand Osmo, so I decided to give their products a whirl. They basically offer a unique product that combines Oil and Wax and it also allows the wood to 'breathe'. It most certainly is not the cheapest on the market, but with everything I've heard about it - I just had to give it a go! The reason I didn't use the same stuff I had used upstairs was because I wanted to keep these boards a bit lighter in colour.

Osmo have a whole load of tints and different finishes, but the one I went for is the Polyx Raw. This is basically meant to leave the floor looking untreated and it claims to be "almost transparent". If you're unsure on which tin to go for - I recommend getting some samples beforehand. I actually sampled their 'Clear' version which pretty much turned the floor orange - so I'm pretty glad I didn't just go straight in with a purchase of that! The tin said you could simply apply by brush, so that's exactly what I did, making sure to really work it into the board and not over-apply - which is never a good thing when it comes to wax.

I have to be honest after the first coat, I was super disappointed. It seemed to have left a white milky film in patches over the board and it most definitely was not "transparent". I researched reviews online and found a few other people had had the same issues - it would seem this product isn't the best when it comes to dark floors or dark patches on the floor. Obviously I had left some darker areas where I hadn't fully sanded the floors to perfection and it was these areas that just didn't look great. It wasn't bad enough to show up on photo really and it definitely wasn't awful, but it just made me think the floor looked as if it needed mopping in places. You can very slightly see the white patches in this pic..

I left the floor unfinished for quite some time before deciding to go back over and give the floor a light sand (yes - I sanded it AGAIN 😩) and try again - this time rubbing the oil into the floor, so I could apply even less product. And this actually seemed to work! I had to give the floor a couple more coats than the tin recommended, but there was definitely little to no white hue across the boards. Winning!

I will say this - it definitely is not transparent, as you can see! The boards were originally quite light and more yellow-y tones and now they are definitely a darker tinge and look more woody. It's not drastic or huge, but it just definitely isn't transparent. Although that being said - I do think the boards still look untreated. The oil is very matt, so it's not obvious at all that they have a coat over them, they just appear to be a slightly darker wood.

Overall, I am really pleased - you can still see those little imperfections that I loved and the boards as I say, don't look treated. We've also had a few spillages already and I can definitely say the oil wax actually works too. Which is really the most important thing! I would definitely use the oil again, but I'll be sticking to the rubbing technique personally! I should also mention that I barely used any of the 2.5L tin I purchased, so a little really does go a long way, which is REALLY GOOD considering how expensive it is. In hindsight, a smaller tin would have been plenty - but then again, I now have enough to do the whole house - literally! So here's a couple of before and afters to finish up...

Before

After

In regards to cleaning the boards - because I'm pretty sure I'll get asked, I use a steam mop on the lightest 'dust' setting. I was a little worried the steam mop may end up melting the wax or something horrifying so I certainly haven't braved it on the max setting, but a very gentle setting of steam mopping seems to do the job fairly well anyway!

I'd love to know what you think. Do you prefer a beaten-up looking floor, or something a bit more fresh and new?

Total Costs:

(rounded to the nearest pound) New Tools Purchased: Belt Sander £35 Materials Used: Sanding Sheets £36 Osmo Oil £73

Total: £144

from Tips For Basements http://www.kezzabeth.co.uk/2017/11/floorboard-restoration-with-osmo-oil.html

[additionallysad]

Beach House Progress: Walls Up, Walls Down, & New Floor Plans http://ift.tt/2krPLYm

We’ve shared some random details about our beach house progress here and there, but we’re waaaaay overdue for a giant picture-filled blog post about everything that has been going on over there, complete with our latest (and hopefully final) floor plans!

Let’s just say that things are looking VERY different these days (you can check out the before pictures here and virtually walk through via this video tour). We definitely have the whole “sometimes it has to get uglier before it can get prettier” thing going on.

As you can see from the photo above, we’ve demoed out all of the existing walls. The big “LEAVE” is not some horror-movie-style warning, just a note the contractor left for his crew so nobody removed the curved wall’s lath (leaving it will make it easier to bend drywall around it later).

If you listened to this week’s podcast, you already heard that despite our hesitations to bust down all of the existing plaster (and occasional drywall sheets – this house was definitely a hodge-podge), everyone around us from the inspector to the contractor was telling us that it was just too risky not to open things all the way up to make sure we caught all of the issues lurking beneath.

The argument for taking things down to the studs was two-fold:

1. The condition.  We could’ve methodically patched and/or replaced the cracked, damaged, stained, or straight-up missing plaster (along with any sections that were removed during upcoming electrical, plumbing, and HVAC work) – but it actually would’ve driven costs way up, both for all of the tedious repair work AND for the added time it would take the electrician, plumber, etc, to work within the damaged old walls. So starting over was actually the more time- and cost-efficient option.

2. The secrets. We could see some visible mold on the plaster and pretty heavy termite damage to some of the already-exposed studs, so our contractor made a strong case for removing the old walls just for the peace of mind that we could identify and resolve any other hidden issues that might be structurally unsafe. We’re SO glad we did because we discovered additional termite damage (see the right picture below) as well as several places where the framing just wasn’t doing its job anymore (see that warped stud on the left).

We were sad to have to take the house apart more (all we want to do is put it back together!), but discovering this stuff made us feel good and thorough. Now all we need are some extra reinforcements throughout much of the structure to keep things nice and square, and ensure that our new walls won’t pop and crack down the line.

Stripping down all of the interior walls also reassured us that we made the right call in replacing the exterior siding as well (you can read more about that in this post). We already knew there were some rotten parts of the siding, but opening the walls revealed there were also TONS of gaps (as you can see in the picture below). The town inspector warned us that cold winds tend to blow up through those and cause lots of trouble heating these older homes in the winter, and as you can tell, there was no housewrap OR insulation between the siding outside and the plaster inside. This house never would have been sealed well had we just patched the exterior siding and the interior plaster instead of taking it all apart. In the end we’re SO GLAD WE CAUGHT THIS!

So in the long run we know these updates will make this house a lot more structurally sound as well as easier and less expensive to heat and cool, which will hopefully save us time and money (and tons of frustration) in the long run. Plus we still get to save things like our original hardwood heart pine floors, the old stair railings and treads, the original doors/doorknobs, and the old millwork/trim (which we’ve saved for rehanging once things are back together).

And speaking of doing our best to look on the bright side, removing the walls also led to a couple of cool discoveries – like this brick chimney stack that was lurking behind a faux-mantle in the living room, which went all the way up through the front bedroom. It has a couple of holes that will need to be repaired, but we like the idea of keeping the brick exposed to add character to both rooms. I think our excitement over the find is best expressed in this photo:

Note: we first attempted to stage that photo as “kicking” rather than “punching,” which mostly yielded hilariously blurry outtakes like this. The things we do while the contractor’s back is turned…

So this is what the upstairs looked like last time we were there. And I should clarify that while we cleared out much of the trash in the house and began some of the demo, we ended up hiring the bulk of this work out to our contractor. It quickly became clear that our progress was going to be veeeeeery slowgoing if we tried to accomplish this on our short weekly visits, and with mold, lead paint, and asbestos in the mix (which are all things that old houses typically have, unfortunately) it’s a good idea to be extra safe and hire a pro if you can.

And as we mentioned on this week’s podcast, seeing the whole house stripped down to the studs helped us get a better grasp on just how large some of the spaces were and it made us rethink our original floor plan idea. More on that in a moment, because first we gotta catch you up on the other big development.

Taking the interior walls down to the studs wasn’t actually the biggest project so far, it was dealing with this rotted side of the house. Not only had the siding gone to crap (word on the street is that someone many years ago used wood that wasn’t meant for outdoor use when enclosing a once-open side porch) – but the foundation was also sinking into the ground. Yes. It was set on SAND (not concrete or brick footers) and was many inches lower than the rest of the house. It was literally falling off of the rest of the house and slowly slipping into the dirt.

So the best course of action? Tear that whole puppy off and start over. (Yes, Sherry cried).

We originally had hoped we could “sister” the beams (this essentially means you reinforce them with new beams instead of completely removing everything) but upon further inspection so much of the wood was rotten or chewed by termites (and that entire side wall was asbestos shingle). So this once again was a case where EVERYONE we consulted, from a structural engineer to the inspector and our contractor was telling us the wisest thing to do was to just start over. And our contractor is a restoration expert, so he hates removing old stuff that can be saved.

The photo above is the downstairs porch area, and below is the upstairs porch (slash potty for some wild animal that broke in through the various holes in the siding). The ceilings were failing on both levels, much of the framing had rotted due to weather exposure, and it was just all around bad news.

Even the existing two bathrooms (which sat behind each of the enclosed porch areas) were suffering the same fate. This was the old master bathroom. If you ever wondered what would happen to your house if it was slowly slipping into the ground, well, it might look like this:

So once interior demo was complete, we greenlit the reconstruction of that whole side of the house (for reference, we’ve marked the affected areas in red below).

I have to admit it was pretty crazy to roll up one day and just see a whole chunk of the house GONE. #gulp

Although it did let in some pretty nice light! See, we’re always looking for the silver lining. (Note the clawfoot tub that moved into the bedroom while that side was rebuilt).

Fast-forward a week-ish and the contractor’s crew had almost finished setting our new foundation and rebuilding the entire thing. And since we’re in a historic district, there wasn’t any decision-making required (so nice!) since we just had to match the old window and door placement exactly so everything will look original once it’s done.

SO. MUCH. BETTER. No more slice of rotten siding for our poor neighbors to stare at.

Here’s what the master bathroom area looks like now. It can’t be overstated how exciting it was to step out there and soak up all of the newly rebuilt awesomeness. Anyone who follows us on Facebook or Instagram might remember that Sherry was so thrilled she lost a shoe out the window.

Before it felt so unstable and slanted that we were wary of spending more than a few seconds tip-toeing around out there. Now it’s solid, steady, and square.

Just another quick before and after progress so you can see how much has changed. This was the “before” view from the middle bedroom towards the old porch (future bunk room).

And here it is now. You can see that some of the studs on the right of this photo were completely chewed by termites (see that short stick-like piece that only goes about a third of the way up the wall? So glad we caught this stuff so we can reinforce it all.

Here’s another view of the rebuilt portion of the house from the top of the stairs. You won’t be able to see through that wall eventually, but I took the opportunity to mark it out so you can see how we’re dividing the new space:

Downstairs is kinda the same story. Here’s the view from the foyer. Again, that wall will be solid eventually, but you can see how much space is back there now that it’s not all rotten and falling in on itself. We also raised the floor up to be level with the rest of the house. It had had a big step down because, again, that part of the house was slowly sinking into the ground.

Now’s probably a good time to talk floor plan, since I mentioned that we made some changes from the last time we shared it with you guys. I tried out a new floorplanning tool, so this looks a little different than my rough version before. Things aren’t exact (for example, the curved wall in the living room wasn’t rendering well) but it has been great for keeping things straight with our contractor.

The biggest changes took place downstairs, mostly because when we stood in the newly constructed side we were stuck by how LONG it was. We had planned to just put a bathroom & mudroom in there, but it would’ve been the longest mudroom in the world.

So instead we turned half of the old mudroom into the bathroom, and are gonna use the old bathroom space as an eat-in breakfast nook. I took the picture below standing IN what will be the breakfast nook, so you can get a sense of the space. Keep in mind, originally ALL of what you see in this picture would’ve been mudroom. Yipes.

Here it is from the other side – visible through a wall in the foyer that will eventually be closed.

And just for old times’ sake, here’s that view from when we first bought the house:

We’re excited by the breakfast nook idea because we’ve heard a lot of advice that you can never have too much seating or gathering places in a vacation home, so this will create a nice spot that works as a kids table, a game table, or even just a cozy alternative to the open dining table. Plus, Sherry could not be more excited to create some banquette type seating inspired by images like this:

(source)

Adding the breakfast nook in the back meant we needed to rethink our kitchen a bit too, so we’ve essentially moved the kitchen BACK to the rear of the house, that way the breakfast nook is conveniently located off the kitchen. So in the photo below, I’m essentially standing where the dining table will go – looking at the kitchen, and the breakfast nook will be the back left corner that’s newly reconstructed.

To better figure out our kitchen, we turned to the free Ikea kitchen planner software. Again, it’s not an exact rendering (stairs!?) but I still find their software one of the easiest tools for quickly arranging cabinetry. Plus, there’s a strong chance we’ll actually do an Ikea kitchen, so why not?

Ignore all of the finishes and colors (and furniture) because this software isn’t really showing everything correctly (that over-fridge cabinet has about a foot of gap) but we just used it to make sure we liked the general flow. We haven’t totally figured everything out, but we’re thinking of tiling that triangle wall along the back by the door, maybe with some open shelves – and we’ll probably do stools and not cabinets on the backside of the island. But you can see now how you can access the breakfast nook through that doorway next to the weirdly rendered fridge.

Not too much changed in the upstairs floor plan, except that we stole a little bit of space from the middle bedroom to create functional closets for both it and the front bedroom. Other than that, the main new idea is in the back/master bedroom.

Previously there was a door closing off the back stairs (down in the kitchen, on the third step) that would provide privacy and a sound barrier for the people sleeping upstairs in that bedroom. Our contractor warned us that it wasn’t the safest idea (the inspector would never let him put a door on a step these days) plus Sherry really liked the idea of leaving it open visually, so you can see that cool back staircase instead of staring at a few steps and a door.

So to create a door solution to still provide privacy for anyone sleeping upstairs, we needed to add a wall. But since a wall would’ve blocked light from the window – we (along with our contractor) came up with the idea of double-pocket doors (possibly barn doors) with glass (possibly frosted) on top. The glass will let the window light through, and the pocket/barn solution means we don’t need space for the doors to swing. One door will slide open to reveal the railing, which isn’t perfect, but we really liked the idea of how double-doors would look and how much more light you’d get from two glass planes vs. just one.

I know the rendering above is a little janky, so instead we’ll leave you with this inspiration photo to show how we think it’ll add a little bit of specialness to an otherwise tight master bedroom.

(source)

Right now, interior framing is underway – along with hanging the new siding (which is already painted and about to go up!). We’re crazy psyched to see it at this next stage and will definitely swing back through with pictures when it’s done. No more photoshopping our siding pink!

There’s more general beach house info for anyone interested on this week’s podcast, which you can play below (if you’re in a feed reader it won’t show up so you’ll have to click through).

And for anyone who’d like to read about the beach house from the very beginning, here’s our first post about buying it, our second post with a video tour and our initial floor plan ideas, a post about our beach house decorating inspiration, and one that’s all about picking the siding color (we were inspired by the most random thing ever).

The post Beach House Progress: Walls Up, Walls Down, & New Floor Plans appeared first on Young House Love.

#additionally sad home renovations

[vincentbnaughton]

Beach House Progress: Walls Up, Walls Down, & New Floor Plans

We’ve shared some random details about our beach house progress here and there, but we’re waaaaay overdue for a giant picture-filled blog post about everything that has been going on over there, complete with our latest (and hopefully final) floor plans!

Let’s just say that things are looking VERY different these days (you can check out the before pictures here and virtually walk through via this video tour). We definitely have the whole “sometimes it has to get uglier before it can get prettier” thing going on.

As you can see from the photo above, we’ve demoed out all of the existing walls. The big “LEAVE” is not some horror-movie-style warning, just a note the contractor left for his crew so nobody removed the curved wall’s lath (leaving it will make it easier to bend drywall around it later).

If you listened to this week’s podcast, you already heard that despite our hesitations to bust down all of the existing plaster (and occasional drywall sheets – this house was definitely a hodge-podge), everyone around us from the inspector to the contractor was telling us that it was just too risky not to open things all the way up to make sure we caught all of the issues lurking beneath.

The argument for taking things down to the studs was two-fold:

1. The condition.  We could’ve methodically patched and/or replaced the cracked, damaged, stained, or straight-up missing plaster (along with any sections that were removed during upcoming electrical, plumbing, and HVAC work) – but it actually would’ve driven costs way up, both for all of the tedious repair work AND for the added time it would take the electrician, plumber, etc, to work within the damaged old walls. So starting over was actually the more time- and cost-efficient option.

2. The secrets. We could see some visible mold on the plaster and pretty heavy termite damage to some of the already-exposed studs, so our contractor made a strong case for removing the old walls just for the peace of mind that we could identify and resolve any other hidden issues that might be structurally unsafe. We’re SO glad we did because we discovered additional termite damage (see the right picture below) as well as several places where the framing just wasn’t doing its job anymore (see that warped stud on the left).

We were sad to have to take the house apart more (all we want to do is put it back together!), but discovering this stuff made us feel good and thorough. Now all we need are some extra reinforcements throughout much of the structure to keep things nice and square, and ensure that our new walls won’t pop and crack down the line.

Stripping down all of the interior walls also reassured us that we made the right call in replacing the exterior siding as well (you can read more about that in this post). We already knew there were some rotten parts of the siding, but opening the walls revealed there were also TONS of gaps (as you can see in the picture below). The town inspector warned us that cold winds tend to blow up through those and cause lots of trouble heating these older homes in the winter, and as you can tell, there was no housewrap OR insulation between the siding outside and the plaster inside. This house never would have been sealed well had we just patched the exterior siding and the interior plaster instead of taking it all apart. In the end we’re SO GLAD WE CAUGHT THIS!

So in the long run we know these updates will make this house a lot more structurally sound as well as easier and less expensive to heat and cool, which will hopefully save us time and money (and tons of frustration) in the long run. Plus we still get to save things like our original hardwood heart pine floors, the old stair railings and treads, the original doors/doorknobs, and the old millwork/trim (which we’ve saved for rehanging once things are back together).

And speaking of doing our best to look on the bright side, removing the walls also led to a couple of cool discoveries – like this brick chimney stack that was lurking behind a faux-mantle in the living room, which went all the way up through the front bedroom. It has a couple of holes that will need to be repaired, but we like the idea of keeping the brick exposed to add character to both rooms. I think our excitement over the find is best expressed in this photo:

Note: we first attempted to stage that photo as “kicking” rather than “punching,” which mostly yielded hilariously blurry outtakes like this. The things we do while the contractor’s back is turned…

So this is what the upstairs looked like last time we were there. And I should clarify that while we cleared out much of the trash in the house and began some of the demo, we ended up hiring the bulk of this work out to our contractor. It quickly became clear that our progress was going to be veeeeeery slowgoing if we tried to accomplish this on our short weekly visits, and with mold, lead paint, and asbestos in the mix (which are all things that old houses typically have, unfortunately) it’s a good idea to be extra safe and hire a pro if you can.

And as we mentioned on this week’s podcast, seeing the whole house stripped down to the studs helped us get a better grasp on just how large some of the spaces where and it made us rethink our original floor plan idea. More on that in a moment, because first we gotta catch you up on the other big development.

Taking the interior walls down to the studs wasn’t actually the biggest project so far, it was dealing with this rotted side of the house. Not only had the siding gone to crap (word on the street is that someone many years ago used wood that wasn’t meant for outdoor use when enclosing a once-open side porch) – but the foundation was also sinking into the ground. Yes. It was set on SAND (not concrete or brick footers) and was many inches lower than the rest of the house. It was literally falling off of the rest of the house and slowly slipping into the dirt.

So the best course of action? Tear that whole puppy off and start over. (Yes, Sherry cried).

We originally had hoped we could “sister” the beams (this essentially means you reinforce them with new beams instead of completely removing everything) but upon further inspection so much of the wood was rotten or chewed by termites (and that entire side wall was asbestos shingle). So this once again was a case where EVERYONE we consulted, from a structural engineer to the inspector and our contractor was telling us the wisest thing to do was to just start over. And our contractor is a restoration expert, so he hates removing old stuff that can be saved.

The photo above is the downstairs porch area, and below is the upstairs porch (slash potty for some wild animal that broke in through the various holes in the siding). The ceilings were failing on both levels, much of the framing had rotted due to weather exposure, and it was just all around bad news.

Even the existing two bathrooms (which sat behind each of the enclosed porch areas) were suffering the same fate. This was the old master bathroom. If you ever wondered what would happen to your house if it was slowly slipping into the ground, well, it might look like this:

So once interior demo was complete, we greenlit the reconstruction of that whole side of the house (for reference, we’ve marked the affected areas in red below).

I have to admit it was pretty crazy to roll up one day and just see a whole chunk of the house GONE. #gulp

Although it did let in some pretty nice light! See, we’re always looking for the silver lining. (Note the clawfoot tub that moved into the bedroom while that side was rebuilt).

Fast-forward a week-ish and the contractor’s crew had almost finished setting our new foundation and rebuilding the entire thing. And since we’re in a historic district, there wasn’t any decision-making required (so nice!) since we just had to match the old window and door placement exactly so everything will look original once it’s done.

SO. MUCH. BETTER. No more slice of rotten siding for our poor neighbors to stare at.

Here’s what the master bathroom area looks like now. It can’t be overstated how exciting it was to step out there and soak up all of the newly rebuilt awesomeness. Anyone who follows us on Facebook or Instagram might remember that Sherry was so thrilled she lost a shoe out the window.

Before it felt so unstable and slanted that we were wary of spending more than a few seconds tip-toeing around out there. Now it’s solid, steady, and square.

Just another quick before and after progress so you can see how much has changed. This was the “before” view from the middle bedroom towards the old porch (future bunk room).

And here it is now. You can see that some of the studs on the right of this photo were completely chewed by termites (see that short stick-like piece that only goes about a third of the way up the wall? So glad we caught this stuff so we can reinforce it all.

Here’s another view of the rebuilt portion of the house from the top of the stairs. You won’t be able to see through that wall eventually, but I took the opportunity to mark it out so you can see how we’re dividing the new space:

Downstairs is kinda the same story. Here’s the view from the foyer. Again, that wall will be solid eventually, but you can see how much space is back there now that it’s not all rotten and falling in on itself. We also raised the floor up to be level with the rest of the house. It had had a big step down because, again, that part of the house was slowly sinking into the ground.

Now’s probably a good time to talk floor plan, since I mentioned that we made some changes from the last time we shared it with you guys. I tried out a new floorplanning tool, so this looks a little different than my rough version before. Things aren’t exact (for example, the curved wall in the living room wasn’t rendering well) but it has been great for keeping things straight with our contractor.

The biggest changes took place downstairs, mostly because when we stood in the newly constructed side we were stuck by how LONG it was. We had planned to just put a bathroom & mudroom in there, but it would’ve been the longest mudroom in the world.

So instead we turned half of the old mudroom into the bathroom, and are gonna use the old bathroom space as an eat-in breakfast nook. I took the picture below standing IN what will be the breakfast nook, so you can get a sense of the space. Keep in mind, originally ALL of what you see in this picture would’ve been mudroom. Yipes.

Here it is from the other side – visible through a wall in the foyer that will eventually be closed.

And just for old times’ sake, here’s that view from when we first bought the house:

We’re excited by the breakfast nook idea because we’ve heard a lot of advice that you can never have too much seating or gathering places in a vacation home, so this will create a nice spot that works as a kids table, a game table, or even just a cozy alternative to the open dining table. Plus, Sherry could not be more excited to create some banquette type seating inspired by images like this:

(source)

Adding the breakfast nook in the back meant we needed to rethink our kitchen a bit too, so we’ve essentially moved the kitchen BACK to the rear of the house, that way the breakfast nook is conveniently located off the kitchen. So in the photo below, I’m essentially standing where the dining table will go – looking at the kitchen, and the breakfast nook will be the back left corner that’s newly reconstructed.

To better figure out our kitchen, we turned to the free Ikea kitchen planner software. Again, it’s not an exact rendering (stairs!?) but I still find their software one of the easiest tools for quickly arranging cabinetry. Plus, there’s a strong chance we’ll actually do an Ikea kitchen, so why not?

Ignore all of the finishes and colors (and furniture) because this software isn’t really showing everything correctly (that over-fridge cabinet has about a foot of gap) but we just used it to make sure we liked the general flow. We haven’t totally figured everything out, but we’re thinking of tiling that triangle wall along the back by the door, maybe with some open shelves – and we’ll probably do stools and not cabinets on the backside of the island. But you can see now how you can access the breakfast nook through that doorway next to the weirdly rendered fridge.

Not too much changed in the upstairs floor plan, except that we stole a little bit of space from the middle bedroom to create functional closets for both it and the front bedroom. Other than that, the main new idea is in the back/master bedroom.

Previously there was a door closing off the back stairs (down in the kitchen, on the third step) that would provide privacy and a sound barrier for the people sleeping upstairs in that bedroom. Our contractor warned us that it wasn’t the safest idea (the inspector would never let him put a door on a step these days) plus Sherry really liked the idea of leaving it open visually, so you can see that cool back staircase instead of staring at a few steps and a door.

So to create a door solution to still provide privacy for anyone sleeping upstairs, we needed to add a wall. But since a wall would’ve blocked light from the window – we (along with our contractor) came up with the idea of double-pocket doors (possibly barn doors) with glass (possibly frosted) on top. The glass will let the window light through, and the pocket/barn solution means we don’t need space for the doors to swing. One door will slide open to reveal the railing, which isn’t perfect, but we really liked the idea of how double-doors would look and how much more light you’d get from two glass planes vs. just one.

I know the rendering above is a little janky, so instead we’ll leave you with this inspiration photo to show how we think it’ll add a little bit of specialness to an otherwise tight master bedroom.

(source)

Right now, interior framing is underway – along with hanging the new siding (which is already painted and about to go up!). We’re crazy psyched to see it at this next stage and will definitely swing back through with pictures when it’s done. No more photoshopping our siding pink!

There’s more general beach house info for anyone interested on this week’s podcast, which you can play below (if you’re in a feed reader it won’t show up so you’ll have to click through).

And for anyone who’d like to read about the beach house from the very beginning, here’s our first post about buying it, our second post with a video tour and our initial floor plan ideas, a post about our beach house decorating inspiration, and one that’s all about picking the siding color (we were inspired by the most random thing ever).

The post Beach House Progress: Walls Up, Walls Down, & New Floor Plans appeared first on Young House Love.