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#ye olde leaky rations
shiftythrifting · 3 years
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1-3: too many old coke bottles, full of very, very expired coke
4: an old ration kit, complete with oozing liquid (?)
Found in Port Elliot, South Australia.
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heartbeat on the high line / fred weasley
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unresolved angst for freddie because i felt like it <3
summary: fred broke your heart a long time ago and a walk through diagon alley brings up old memories for the both of you
word count: 2.9 k
warnings: post-war timeline, mentions of torture sort of?, mentions of being underweight because of said torture, fluff sort of if you squint?, angst, open ended, tiny mention of death, let me know if i missed anything!! <3
let me know what you think <3
this is based on the song “cardigan” by taylor swift but it’s not a song fic <3
Skies of dark grey released heavy sheets of rain onto the cobblestone streets below, the pitter-patter of the torrential downpour barely muted the sound of your high heels against the all too familiar stone street. A stark black umbrella held primly above your head shielded you from the typical English weather as you strutted through Diagon Alley.
Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on showing your face in the magical hotspot, not so soon after the war anyway. Years worth of memories haunted every twist and turn of the street you seemed to own in the moment, light grey stones darkened and slick from the rain completely devoid of any feet other than your own.
You recalled all of the significant moments, each bookmarked by a certain area of the various alleys. Flourish & Blotts; where you’d met your first love all those years ago, at the age of eleven you’d been so bright eyed and sure of the future, sure of him. In the distance you could make out the bright orange exterior of Weasleys’ Wizard wheezes; where you’d walked away from your first love, all those years later however not so long ago that the sight of his legacy, as vibrant and joy inducing as it always had been, didn’t elicit an uncomfortable pang to spring in your chest. As you progressed past Olivander’s, your lips quirked up ever so slightly as the aging paint of the shop expelled all misconceptions you had about the boy who still haunted all of your “What If?”s, the lightly rusting windows screaming at you as if to remind you that, actually, he hadn’t been your first love. Olivander’s Wand Shop had been the true site of your first love and you’d found that first taste of true, pure, untainted love in the form of your phoenix feather core, thirteen inch, English oak wand.
A wistful giggle left your lips, your feet unmoving, rain lashing down aggressively and sliding off the edges of your umbrella, creating streams of water that fell around you but never got close enough to you to so much as dampen your outfit. Losing yourself in the joy of recalling how happy you’d been upon being chosen by your fateful wand, you failed to notice the familiar frame who had made his way to the doorway of the shop. The creaking of the old door pulled you from your thoughts, a dazzlingly grin broke out on your face as Mr. Olivander himself leant against his propped open door, keeping himself dry inside the comfort of his warm shop.
A grin similar to yours adorned his lips as he called out rather loudly over the rain, “I do recall that smile getting you out of quite a bit of trouble, back in your Hogwarts days,” your smile only widened at his recollection.
“To this day it’s the secret to my success,” you beamed jokingly as Olivander shook his head and released a low chuckle. He had no doubt that you’d be going places, ever since the first moment he’d clapped eyes on you he knew you were destined for success, of course, it was also no wonder that bewitching smile of yours had helped you get there. Like your wand; you chose your company carefully, held nothing but passion for the things you craved, were fiercely determined and surprisingly flexible without breaking your morals.
“I also recall thinking you’d grow up to become one of the brightest witches this country had ever seen. It seems as though you proved me right, dear girl,” he spoke with such reverence that you almost wished to cower away from his gaze, however, you held your confident stance and let your smile melt into an adoring grin once more.
“Don’t act as though you had nothing to do with it, sir,” your voice carried through the wall of worsening rain between yourself and the older wizard, “If it hadn’t been for your encouragement during the war, I think I’d have simply given up in the cellar of Malfoy Manor,” it was a dark time, of course it was, it had been a war after all. You supposed, the love you held for your coveted wand extended to the man who had supplied it to you in the first place; Mr. Olivander, he was more than just the slightly daft wand shop owner, he had been- for longer than you cared to remember- your cellmate, the man who had slid you his rations from across the dungeon when you’d faded to nothing but skin on bones, the one who encouraged you to pursue your dreams of becoming a journalist with the hopes of shining light on issues far more important than the ones covered by that roach Rita Skeeter. He was a lot of things, but above all else, he was your friend.
“Now, now dear,” he chastised teasingly, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes as lively now as it had been on the day he was born, and, every day since, “You better be getting to Gringotts. Lots of galleons and sickles to collect I’m sure. Being the head of the Daily Prophet surely keeps those money bags heavy, eh?”
Your laugh echoed through the street one again, your lips which were painted black, supplied him with the very best smile you could possibly muster. “I suppose I should get going. Look after yourself.” Olivander shot you a wink before retreating back into his shop.
A familiar lamp caught your attention, the ghosts of your past passions rising as brutally as the rain fell. You could remember it, clear as day.
His laughter mingled with yours, the hearty belly laughs bellowing through the darkened street as the pair of you stumbled out of The Leaky Cauldron in the early hours of the morning, systems altered by the copious amounts of fire whiskey you’d managed to consume. His hand held yours in a tight grasp, he swung your interconnected arms childishly.
One second you’d been walking and the next he was twirling you around beneath the spotlight of the flickering post above you. Drunkenly, you’d spun your little heart out, spurred on by his slightly slurred, yet somehow sweet, singing. He admired you as you shimmied ahead of him, completely free, fresh out of school and not yet weighed down by the darkness that loomed in the distance. When your eyes caught his you shot him a smile, he knew it well, it was the smile, it shun like sequins when they caught light and he knew it was worth more than all of the gold in Gringotts. You beckoned him over to you with a finger, taking his hand when he got close enough you spun him around and laughed weightlessly.
The feeling of his hands gripping your waist would be imprinted on your skin for as long as you lived, you’d thought, charmed by the look in his brown eyes when you internally swore that you would’ve loved him for a lifetime.
What you didn’t know, as you shook off the phantom hands on your waist, was that he’d seen your eyes that night and despite his heavily intoxicated state, he noted your devotion and even now, when he’d lay awake and think of you; it was that look and that sequinned smile that haunted him. Just as the streets of Diagon Alley haunted you.
Thinking of the sequence of events that led you to walking away from the person you’d honestly believed to be your once in a lifetime, perhaps even your once in twenty lifetimes, or infinite lifetimes, did nothing but torment your already scarred heart. He was always hard to pin down, how could he not be? With a face like his and the world wrapped around his finger, he knew he didn’t have to settle for only one of each thing.
Chasing two girls excited him, at the time. All of the secret keeping, high stakes secret meet ups, illicit affairs and sensual politics had kept him energised. Until the novelty wore off and he was left with nothing but a side-piece whose favourite colour he hadn’t bothered to learn. But he’d known yours, he knew everything about you, he still did. He knew you, he remembered how you’d stared at him, eyes heavy with betrayal and filled to the brim with tears the day you’d confronted him, your bags already packed as you made it clear that; yes, you love him, but no, he couldn’t fix this. No matter how hard he’d fought to change the ending to your fairytale-esq love story, you’d slipped through his fingers like water.
Various knick knacks that had once been yours still lived in his flat, above the shop you’d encouraged him to open, back in school. For weeks, your scent lingered like a tattoo kiss on his skin, his clothes, his bedsheets, his everything as a constant reminder that he’d forced you away. He’d practically paid for your ticket for the last train out of London that day. He told himself that he was only seventeen; what on Earth did he truly know about love? And again he reasoned; he knew you.
Months before the war he swore time and time again that he’d seen your face amongst the busy, condensed crowds of Diagon Alley. On countless occasions he found himself chasing down strangers like a madman, hoping for nothing more than to catch even a glimpse of the woman who made his heart smile as beautifully as she herself did.
Chin tilted upwards as you passed his renowned joke shop, you walked with a sense of importance willing your feet not to stop, but you couldn’t deny the urge you had to check up on him.
The last time you’d seen him, the world around you had been in complete chaos. You’d only just been saved from the months of endless torture you were forced to endure. Nothing like now, you’d been frail and weak and hollow. But still, you’d saved his life. Without a word you’d saved him from being crushed, as if he had been just another person to save, as if he hadn’t shared the most intimate of moments with you, before rushing back off, back into the fray until the battle had been won. That was the last time he’d seen you in the flesh and he ached to see you again- so he could thank you, so he could tell you that he was grateful to be alive but his life wouldn’t be worth half as much if he never got to hold you in his arms again.
The rain smashed unyieldingly against the windows of the shop as he worked on the tills, the shop was unusually empty, nobody willing to do any sort of shopping on a day so miserable. With a bored sigh, he stared out the large window before him, only one woman walked the street, an umbrella struggling to fight off the rain. The raindrops that accumulated on the window blurred his view of the lady’s face but there was no amount of rain in the world that could hide your signature strut of defiance from him.
Quickly he scampered out from behind the counter, “George! Watch the counter!” He screeched, bombing it out the front door while George released a tired sigh, hoping his twin wasn’t regressing back to his chasing strangers phase.
As soon as he’d entered the open air, he was completely soaked to the bone. Your heels clacking like the countdown on a ticking time bomb as Fred stood frozen as few meters behind you. His hair sopping wet, his shirt sticking to his body and his face completely desperate as he called your name.
His heart was beating so aggressively that he was positive you could hear it from up the street. You’d stopped in your tracks upon hearing his voice, your stomach erupting with butterflies while simultaneously dropping in anticipation when you turned to face him.
“You’re here,” he stated dumbly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he took you in. As beautiful as you’d always been, he carefully inched towards you, you stayed rooted in your spot but let him advance on you. The phantom feeling of his strong hands on your waist clouded your judgment and made you long to have him come back to you.
You nodded your head, “I’m here.”
Fred nodded too, exhaling a deep breath now that he was sure he wasn’t imagining your presence as he had countless times before. Before either of you knew it, you were standing within arms length of each other, however, far too unsure to touch. The rain was roaring and Fred began to blink rapidly, the water hitting his eyes ruthlessly before you took a single step forward and saved him from the onslaught of droplets. You were close now, so close Fred could smell your perfume and see every detail of your face. The handle of your spacey umbrella rested in between the both of you, acting like a barrier so he wouldn’t tug you against his shaking form and hug the daylights out of you.
“You never let me say thank you,” he started, tears very quickly forming to mix with the raindrops that slid down his freckled face. “At the battle. If you hadn't been there, Y/n, I would’ve died.”
“Don’t say that,” you begged, you’d mulled the scenario of “what if I’d been too late?” over in your mind, more times than you were willing to admit, and the image of Fred cold and dead, despite how terribly he’d hurt you, made your gut wrench so violently that you thought you might be sick. “I was there. That’s all that matters.”
His brows furrowed and suddenly the hands on your waist weren’t that of a past ghost anymore, they were his; very real and in the moment. “Why didn’t you stay? After you saved me you just ran off, I couldn’t find you after it was over-“ his voice was so vulnerable, it cracked and hitched and you forced yourself to cut him off, your umbrella shaking in your hand.
“Because I didn’t want you to see me like that- the way I was after Harry got the others and I out of Malfoy’s,” you told him honestly, biting back tears as you offered him more elaboration while he shook his head in a frantic sort of disbelief, “I was weak and skeletal, I couldn’t face you. Not when I saw the way you looked at me.”
“I looked at you the same!” He exclaimed and you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Exactly, Fred! I was vulnerable and damaged beyond belief and even after everything- every screaming match, or slammed door or horrible words that we wish we could take back you still looked at me like I was your favourite thing!” You rambled, chest heaving painfully as you tried, uselessly, to keep your building tears at bay. Fred didn’t waste a second before he was pulling the umbrella from you and tossing the thing, that had become more of a hindrance than a help, away from you before he cupped your cheeks urgently.
Rain enveloped the both of you and Fred knew he shouldn’t have been thinking it, but merlin, you seemed to glow in the rain and he acknowledged the fact he’d been aware of all along; you were truly an angel.
“Because you were! You are,” his voice was dripping with honest desperation, “I might not have known anything else back then but I knew I missed you, I knew that hurting you would be the worst thing I ever did and when I saw you that day I knew I still loved you and my life wasn’t worth living if it wasn’t spent with you!” You were at a loss for words at his shouted, emotionally charged confession. His eyes searched yours for the look that haunted him, the promise to love him forever that was hidden beneath your irises and after the next words slipped from his lips, he thought that maybe he’d uncovered it.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make things up to you. You’re quite literally the only reason my heart is beating and I’d sooner actually die than let you go one more second thinking that you aren’t the greatest thing that has ever happened to me in my stupid, idiotic life.”
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admin-in-residence · 4 years
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“Keep It”
Request:  I don't mind what prompt you used. But could you do some Rex fluff 👉👈🥺
UM OF COURSE! I LOVE MY CAPTAIN.
I used a random prompt generator, but you can always feel free to submit idea’s if your looking for some specific fluff!
Prompt:  Person B always wears Person A's clothes. Person A ends up saying 'keep it' cause Person B looks so cute. But Person A is steadily running out of clothes.
Length: 832 Words.
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Rex was always grateful for leave time. Time to be away from the front, to be away from the screams, the blaster bolts.
Time to be with you.
He knew it was against regs...to be with you like this, to love you like this. But the feeling in his chest as he stepped down the ramps, said a few hello’s to his brothers here and there, and then slipped down the corridor’s leading out of the barrack’s felt good.
You lived on the lower level’s of Coruscant, it was the cheapest place you could find, but you could afford it at least with the small amount of pay you got from your job. And it was safe, hidden away from the watchful eye’s of the Republic. Which meant that Rex was free to come and go without worrying about being caught.
It was your home, but it was also his home.
 Our home....he thought to himself.
Rex smiled to himself, home.
At one point that word reflected the image of stormy skies, crashing waves and pristine white walls. Test’s upon tests and training every day. It was a place without love.
But now Rex found a different meaning.
 Home was your apartment, it was the leaky faucet that no matter how many times Rex tried to fix it, it always dripped. But it was that drip that Rex could hear in his dreams, and it drowned out the sounds of his brother’s pain on the field.
Home was the smell of whatever you were trying to cook that day. But no matter how successful it was, Rex always finished his plate even when you threw your’s out...because that plate of food was cooked with love and had more flavor then any ration pack he’d ever consumed.
Home was a place that had pictures, pictures of the two of you taken throughout the time you two had been together. Pictures he had with his brothers, the most important picture you had even framed, the last picture he had with Five’s and Echo together along with Cody.
Rex made sure to stop by the small flower stand on the way home, it was a tradition. He always brought you flower’s when he came home, and those same flower’s remained on the dining table until he came home with more.
Walking up the stair’s to your apartment, key in hand, he unlocked the door, happy to find the lights already on, your shoe’s tucked in their respective spot by the door. He took off the plastoid boot’s, setting them next to yours.
He made his way through the entryway, entering the kitchen where he heard you rummaging around in the silverware drawer.
As he went to great you, his word’s caught in his throat.
Your back was turned to him, but he knew that fabric, the form fitting clothing that was always looser on you...blacks were meant to fit Republic clones, not civilians...
Why did the sight of you in his black’s always catch him off guard? 
You had noticed your lover’s presence and gasped in surprise as you turned around.
The Republic insignia sat snugly in the center of your chest.
Gods you were so beautiful...
“Welcome home Captain.” You said happily, coming to wrap your arms around him.
Rex gave you a one armed hug, refusing to crumple up your flowers. There was always more time for hugs later...
“Now who are these for?” You hummed, eye’s twinkling mischievously as you took the flower’s out of your hand.
“You must have someone special in your life to bring them back such a beautiful bouquet.” You sighed dramatically, bringing them over to the dining table vase.
The blacks shifted with your movement as you reached out, plucking the old flowers out of the vase and tucking the new bouquet inside.
Rex still was at a loss for words still, and now you looked at him with worry.
“Is everything ok? Did something happen?” You asked, tossing the old withered flowers in the garbage.
Rex blinked out of his stupor, shaking his head.
“No-I mean yes...everything’s fine...just the blacks-” He gestured to your attire.
Oh gods...Rex nearly hit himself, your smile falling as you looked down at your outfit.
“Oh...sorry, I just...it’s like having you here. They help when I miss you, they smell like you...” You stated but Rex quickly surged forward's grabbing your hands in his own.
“Cyar’ika...I like it.” Rex whispered softly.
“Really?” You whispered back.
“Yeah. Keep it.” He answered.
Bringing his head down, he met his lip’s to your’s, his heart fluttering at the sweet kiss as you eagerly returned his affection.
the Republic didn’t offer the troop’s many blacks, they must have thought that a few pair’s would suffice them as long as they survived for...but he supposed he could order a couple more pair’s, he would just put a damage report on his old pair’s.
Because he was going to run out of black’s when you kept stealing them like this.
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Hello people of earth and Dustmoon! My name is Mitch and I work for Scarsac inc, a company that makes money and owns things and sells things for people to buy.
I am 25, athletic, and work and office job. I type different symbols and lines on a computer and I am given money at the end of the week. I pay my bills, buy my food, mow my lawn, and vote like a good citizen should. My company may sound vague but I'm glad to work for them. Scarsac is a good company; they help find kissing people and donate to the homeless. They have vegan meal options at lunch time.
Not everything is all great at Scarsac however. One of their lead military representatives has gone missing recently. Jane Marchingburg was a coworker of mine and she went into space towards Dustmoon, the only other planet proven to have life, for some field research. Apparently my boss wants ME to go find him. He says that money is tight so I will have to find some way to get a spaceship. I suppose that Jane took the last one.
He gave me some money, rations, firearms, and an old touchscreen to contact him and Scarsac on. He sent me on my way to a hotel in Olde London. For those who have never been, imagine London back pre-wave. Somewhere around 2018? Thats what this place looks like. They have the best food and attractions, its almost like an amusement park.
Anyways, I will be blogging my experiences on this journey for the public to enjoy! (Of course I asked Scarsac for permission and they said yes.)
My first point of interest is The Leaky Window, Olde Londons most famous taverns. It has old music, old fashioned food, and is a staple in Olde Londons culture. Plus, I've always wanted to go. Not like a tourist, like I've always had this draw towards Olde London. I cant explain why. I'm just glad to be here.
I will post here weekly. If I cant post, I will disclaim something of the sorts. I thank you all for being here with me this Wednesday night.
Thank you.
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potterandpromises · 4 years
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Plague Times: Chapter 1
Lucy downs a shot of vodka, her ration. It’s the amount she allows herself as a sleep aid, no more and only when needed. A rule she created years ago, within weeks of Rufus’ death. Anything else must be consumed in a social setting. Or at least with other people— meaning Flynn, mostly. But he’s not here, because she left him.
One mouth, almost exactly. Perhaps current events lead the dates to be emphasized. December 6th though January 4th they lived together in his new and decrepit ex-safe house, sold to him for one dollar by the United States Government after the war’s supposed end. That decision, as Lucy understands it, was half laziness, half embarrassment. An excellent outcome, and she barely had to threaten anybody.
[Read the rest on AO3]
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missbrunettebarbie · 4 years
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So, I decided I would also publish a few chapters of my newest fic here. Enjoy!
Your heart's desire
Summary:
Regulus Black betrays the Dark Lord and lives to tell the tale.
Years later a strange boy appers out of nowhere claiming to be the son of James Potter and Regulus' own wife. Life as a former Death Eater just became complicated
Chapter 1: The traitor
It was a rare sight to see Albus Dumbledore going into shock. The defeater of Grindelwand, Master of the Elder Wand, Supreme Mugwamp, Chief Warlock and Headmaster of Hogwarts was a hard person to surprise. Yet, now he look like he might have a heart attack.
“Voldemort made a Horcrux?!”
The last word was almost spat out, like a curse. The boy that was facing the venerable wizard nodded. He was young, too young to have such a haunted gaze and so many lines on his face. But like many that were caught in Voldemort’s war, Regulus had grown up fast.
“Oh, I am quite sure he made several Horcruxes. The Dark Lord will want to have as many safety nets as possible.”
The boy fell silent again waiting for a response that would not come. Albus looked deeply troubled by these news. Luckily, his companions weren’t as well informed about the Dark Arts, so the idea of Horcruxes didn’t alarm them at all.
“Right. And you claim have one of these Hor-things, little brother?”
The speaker was another young boy, almost a man, who looked very similar to Regulus. Perhaps the biggest difference between them were Sirius’ muggle clothes and the hateful look on his face.
Sirius didn’t believe for a second his brother’s claims. Regulus could have not turned on the Dark Lord. Not when he had always been following mummy around, got into Slytherin and even took the Dark Mark. Regulus was the perfect pureblood, and Sirius hated him for it.
When the letter first came to the Potters’ house, he had assumed his little brother was laying a trap for him.
Come to the Leaky Cauldron. I have important thing to discuss with you. My allegiances may be changing
As if Sirius would truly believe that. Sadly, Albus had insisted they go and find put what Regulus wanted, though the man had been far more cautious back than. But ever since Regulus had told him Kreacher’s tale (Kreachers?! Honestly, if there was anyone Sirius would trust less than Regulus, it was the mad House Elf), Albus seemed to lose all his common sense, trusting every single word that came out of the Death Eater’s mouth.
“I do not claim to have it, merely that I know what it is and where it is.” Regulus clarified, with a glare at the other Black. Then, turning to Dumbledore: “We must find it and destroy it now. I am sure the Dark Lord will soon find out about my betrayal.”
“No doubt, you want some assurances about your safety when that happens”
Finally, Dumbledore seemed to remember who he was talking to. Regulus just looked at him with a straight face:
“Can you blame me for wanting to live, Headmaster?”
“No, I cannot, my boy. I have to confess, I have never imagined you of all people would turn against the Pureblood ideaology”
“You think I care about useless Pureblood propaganda when Voldemort had the temerity to create a Horcrux? You know what this means, Proffesor. He is truly….truly a monster”
Sirius Black and James Potter snorted at the rather late realization, but Dumbledore only nodded as if Regulus made perfect sense.
“Indeed, it seems we have a common enemy, Regulus Black. So I must ask you: are you willing to oppose Voldemort and risk your life and the lives of all who you love in the process?”
“My life has been hanging by a thread since the day I took the Dark Mark. As for the people I love, well, I only really care about Kreacher right now.”
Sirius groaned at the mention of the hated creature, while James snickered at the idea of a Death Eater caring about a House Elf.
“In this case, Mr Black, let us talk about this…. Locket”
Regulus nodded and started to explain everything he knew. Which wasn’t much. From Kreacher’s knowledge and the Dark Lord’s occasional ramblings he had deduced that Voldemort had turned Slytherin’s locket into a Horcrux. He also knew that whatever potion was there to protect it must be something extremely dangerous, maybe even deathly. He had entertained the idea of going into the cave himself and drinking the potion, but that meant he would most likely day. And even more, he will die before the locket could be destroyed which meant such a sacrifice would be most likely for nothing. He could give the locket to Kreacher, but who could say the foul object won’t try to harm the House Elf?
Sadly, his only option was trusting Albus Dumbledore and his merry band of do-gooders. Do-gooders that included Sirius and James freaking Potter.
Regulus liked to think he was above school grudges, but he would not hesitate for a second to curse the man that had led his friends into playing pranks on Slytherin House for seven years. If there was one good thing in being a Death Eater was being able to curse anyone you wanted without worrying to much about consequences (unless the person you wanted to hex was a more influential Death Eater than you, of course). Alas, it seemed he will have to tolerate James Potter for the time being.
For his part, Albus Dumbledore wasn’t very happy with this turn of events. Of course, the fact they finally had a lead to destroying Tom once and for all filled him with joy. Joy that was overshadowed by he knowledge that his former student has fallen so deep into the Dark Arts he used one of humanity’s worst creations to preserve his life. There was also the matter of Regulus Black. The boy seemed genuine and his information was invaluable, but Albus still couldn’t banish the uneasy sensation he felt at the thought of fully trusting this person who had been raised to believe in the superiority of his blood, who had spent seven years with Slytherins who had filled his head with nonsense about Tom’ greatness and who, after graduating, had pledged himself to Britain’s worst Dark Lord. There was also the matter that he was a Black. Yes, it was hypocritical considering Sirius was a Black as well, but Albus had seen Sirius reject all of his family’s teaching ever since he was sorted into Gryffindor. On the other hand, Regulus had actively embraced them. Until now, when he conveniently switched sides and brought with him the means of Voldemort’s demise. Could it be a trap? Could Tom be cunning enough to try and trick them like this? To what end? And why use Regulus? Because he had thought Sirius would trust his brother? In that case, Tom would have miscalculated. Sirius distrusted him more than anyone else. Maybe Riddle had thought Albus will offer a second chance to a young boy more readily than to a grown wizard?
There were too many questions and their time was too short. In the unlikely case the young Black was telling the truth they needed to act now. The Horcrux must be found as soon as possible. Yet, he could not forget the like hood of a trap.
“Alright, Mister Black, let’s assume I believe you and I am willing to offer my protection. You do understand you will have to tell me exactly where the Horcrux can be found. After that, you will come with me to the Order of the Phoenix’ headquarters – I assume you know what the Order is from your master – and tell us everything you know.”
“No.”
The firm word was so surprising that Potter and the older Black gasped and even Dumbledore’s eyes widen in surprise.
“You, Death Eater scum, have the temerity to..”
“Enough, James. Let’s hear him out”
Regulus took a deep breath. It was clear that he did not found it easy to oppose the great Albus Dumbledore. In his own way, the headmaster was as frightening as the Dark Lord. Yet, he had already chosen to stand against one, he will not let himself be bullied by another.
“Let’s make something clear, Dumbledore, I had once decided to join an illegal organization and follow blindly the orders of a very powerful, but slightly mad wizard, and as a result I have no intention of doing it again. I am not one of your Gryffindors who you can order around like a puppy…”
“Why, you liitle shit..”
Regulus paid no mind to either the interruption or the insult.
“…. nor am I a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff who’s willing to work for you for a greater cause amd as such will excuse you a great many things. I am a Slytherin, one that has already defied the Dark Lord. I refuse to trade him for you, Professor. I will fight against him and as such I will fight by your side, but do not think me another puppet. So, I will not tell you where the Horcrux is. I will show you. I want to be there when it is destroyed once and for all. After that…. We’ll see.”
If the older man was insulted by his harsh words he did not show it, he just nodded.
“I suppose I can agree with these terms. However, it will not be just the two of us that go to retrieve the Horcrux, we will be accompanied by a number of trusted people. And Kreacher.”
At the House Elf’s name both James and Sirius looked confused, while Regulus fought down the urge to swear. While asking for Kreacher to come with them was a rational demand as the elf was the only one who had entered the cave beforehand it was also a strategic move. Dumbledore did not trust Regulus and needed insurance it was not a trap. It did seem like the old man believed him when he had said Kreacher was the only creature he still loved. Sadly, the former Death Eater had no choice but to agree.
“One more thing, Mister Black.”
“Oh?”
The young man struggled to keep his face a mask of politeness, but it all fell apart at Dumbledore’s next question:
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes.”
He was proud of how steady his voice came. Meanwhile, Sirius and James were getting angry again and started pointing their wands at him. Reg fought the urge to do the same. He had too many unpleasant memories of being hexed by the Marauders at Hogwarts. He forced himself to not think about it.
“I killed two muggles. Mother and daughter two months ago.”
“You, bastard! How could you do something like that?!”
“Oh, shut up, Sirius. You tried to kill a classmate at he age of fifteen!”
“How… how do you know that? Did Snivellus..”
“Sirius” Albus tried to silence the Gryffindor. They could not afford to lose track of their objective. “Excuse me, Mr. Black, but I fell to see how your brother’s sins absolve your own.
This sobered Regulus.
“They do not. I know it does not mean much, but I did not want to kill them. The other Death Eater, they were torturing them. It was… horrible. I don’t even know why they were in the Dark Lord’s house but they were screaming and …”
And the woman kept begging me to help her daughter. I should have tried something, anything but I was too much of a coward.
“… and I killed them to end their suffering.”
He searched the faces of the first three who he had ever heard this confession. Potter looked disturbed, Sirius a bit mollified while Dumbledore betrayed no emotion. Just like the Dark Lord, indeed.
“I see. How did Voldemort react to your act of mercy?”
“I lied to him and told him that I thought any kind of attention given to Muggles is a waste of a wizard’s time. He seemed to believe me.”
Ironically, the other three did not seem as convinced. But Regulus has had enough chit-chat.
“Well, Albus” he used the Headmaster’s first name on purpose “if there is nothing else, I would like if we start our Horcrux hunt.”
“Yes, I believe that will be best”
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fanficfest · 4 years
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Ruusaan, Akaan, Am // Chapter 29
(Masterlist)
Taglist: @soclonely
Summary: Teagan has her whole life turned around when she ends up on a soaking landing pad on Kamino, a year before the Clone Wars begins. She remembers her home, but nothing about how she got to the new planet. Or how to speak Basic. Or anything about what’s going on, really.
Warnings: Umbara, canon-typical violence, Krell
Words: 1,491
Chapter 29
Jesse and Hardcase come to a stop at the edge of a main Umbaran road. Teagan walks up to them. “Hour who-knows on planet dreary,” Teagan says, trying to sound cheery, “Here’s your rations, boys.”
They take the ration sticks. “Thanks Te’ika,” Hardcase says, digging into his after chucking his helmet off.
“You’re holding up alright,” Jesse says, setting his helmet at his hip. “What was that, fifteen hours of walking?”
“I hitched a ride on one of the walkers for a bit,” Teagan admits. “Near the back, where Krell can’t see.”
Krell’s yelling in the background. They all wince when Rex’s number is used again. Teagan mutters something to herself.
“What was that?“ Jesse asks, putting his helmet back on.
“English terms,” Teagan explains.
“You still have to teach us English,” Hardcase points out, “I’d love to use whatever you just said.”
“Mom might be mad at me,” Teagan whispers, laughing.
“Well then it must suit him,” Jesse smirks.
Rex walks over.
“Well?” Teagan asks.
“We’re… attacking from the main route to the city,” Rex says.
“That doesn’t sound like a Skywalker plan,” Teagan states.
“It’s not,” Rex says, “it’s a Krell plan. And he’s insistent and in charge.” Rex nods Jesse and Hardcase to get into position with the others. “Teagan, you are staying with the General and Appo.”
“What?” Teagan asks. “But I’m a field medic now—”
“With no experience,” Rex says, “this is going to be worse than Skywalker’s plan. You don’t even have a gun, Teagan!”
Rex had noticed when he first saw her. It surprised him that she doesn’t, but he wonders what her aim would be even if she did.
Rex continues when Teagan doesn’t budge, “Fives would agree with me that you should not dive headfirst into your first battle, but be there after to help those that make it out.”
Teagan is bristling, looking like she’s got her own argument coming.
“And so would Echo,” Rex says.
Teagan deflates at that. She sighs, “Yes sir.” She then heads off to where Appo is standing. She hikes her medpac on her shoulders more and searches out Fives in the group below on her way. Rex turns and jogs to catch up with his brothers.
***
Appo stands next to Teagan on the ridge, listening to the rare chatter down on the road. Krell stands farther down the ridge, staring out at the horizon. Teagan stares out at the road as the men disappear around a bend. Appo realizes she’s searching for particular helmets. All his brothers have learned to read someone without seeing their face, so it’s easy enough for him with only her eyes covered.
“They’ll be fine, madam,” Appo says.
Teagan snorts, “‘Madam?’ Just Teagan, Appo, please.”
Appo smiles at his small victory.
“I’m not old yet,” Teagan adds.
“Of course sir, Teagan,” Appo states.
An explosion goes off up ahead, followed by screams. Teagan steps forward to rush ahead, but Appo holds her back.
“I should be down there,” Teagan says, stopped by his arm. “You’re brothers are getting hurt and I can help them!”
“Not if it’s what I think it is,” Appo says.
“Mines!” Rex yells through the comlink. “Nobody move!”
Appo turns to Teagan. She’s staring ahead at nothing. “Teagan?”
“Mines…” Teagan whispers.
“Appo! What’s wrong?” Fives asks.
“Focus, Fives,” Rex says.
“Teagan is still on the ridge.” Appo puts a hand on Teagan’s shoulder. She looks up at him and nods.
“Oz is down,” a trooper relays.
“So is Ringo,” another adds.
“How badly?” Teagan asks.
“Teagan, no,” Appo says.
“Can you scan for them, Fives?” Rex asks.
Fives turns on a scanner on the side of his helmet. “The whole road’s been booby trapped.”
“Everyone watch your step,” Rex says.
Then a strike comes from behind. Appo saw it even from the distance. A green like meteor hits the road. More screams cut through the comlinks.
“No!“ Teagan yells.
Appo listens to the comlink in his helmet.
“They’re pulling back,” Appo relays.
Krell turns to look at the troops pouring back to the ridge. “Feeble-minded clones.”
Teagan turns to glare at him, but he’s still talking.
“Get in there and save their necks!”
The clones on the ridge rush out. Appo stays back a moment, keeping Teagan in her place.
But Teagan’s having none of it, “I am a field medic, I won’t—”
“I have my orders,” Appo whispers. He readies his gun, in case any Umbarans reach the ridge.
“To what?” Teagan asks.
“Keep you safe,” Appo whispers back, but a tug in the back of his mind makes him realize Krell did in fact hear him.
“Who gave you that order?” Teagan asks Appo. “Fives? Rex?”
“Everyone,” Appo answers. “It was unanimous among those that know you for you to not be in an open firefight with no cover and no gun.”
“I could have picked one up,” Teagan says, “they didn’t have spares at the 16th, but I got training.”
“What’s done is done,” Appo says. Teagan then runs ahead of him to find someone to help to safety. She does select a gun off the ground, but doesn’t fire it. Appo isn’t too far behind, but he feels the last fifteen hours in his bones.
***
As the Umbarans retreat from the road, Kix starts sorting out the survivors. Teagan is next to him, her bag off her back as she picks a trooper to focus on. Kix can see he’s not going to make it, but that won’t stop Teagan from trying.
The injured trooper holds out a hand to his medic. She grabs it, tears streaming from under her visor. She tries to smile, so the last thing he sees is something good. “Can… can I see your eyes?” The trooper stutters, his leg blown clean off and his helmet cracked next to him.
Teagan complies, setting her visor on the ground. She wipes fruitlessly at her tears with her free hand.
The trooper shakes his head wearily. “I’s… i’s good,” he gasps, “you… you care, ‘bout us…” his mouth quirks up in the faintest motion. “Didn’… didn’ think… we’d…” his grip lessens. Teagan brings her hand to her mouth.
Kix starts to go to her, but she closes the dead trooper’s eyes, grabs her visor, and moves on with shaky legs. Kix puts a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs him off gently and crouches by someone she can save.
Teagan and Kix weave through the ranks, hearing Krell yelling at Fives and Rex.
Teagan hears a lightsaber ignite. She turns in time to see Krell place it right next to Fives’ helmet. She hesitates, then turns back and finishes with a hypo to help the clone she’s treating. Krell then walks off.
“Teagan, you’re shaking,” Kix says. She looks down at her hands. They have some bacta smeared on them from a leaky patch, but they are indeed shaking horribly.
“I’m… I’m fine.”
“…Maybe you shouldn’t have been put into the battlefield,” Kix suggests.
“No,” Teagan says, looking over the next trooper. “I…” she hesitates when she sees a big ash and burn mark covering his armor. She shakes her head and starts looking him over. “I just—”
“Fives,” Kix calls, activating the com on his helmet. Hardcase is next to them the next moment.
“Sorry Kix. Fives is busy talking to Rex. Can I help?”
Kix sighs, “Please sit with Teagan. She needs to talk to someone.”
“Kix, my job—”
“You can’t do your job if you’re in shock, Te’ika,” Kix says. Teagan relents, passing her patient off to the more experienced medic.
Hardcase sits down, “What is it?”
“My…” Teagan looks over at the previous battlefield, with pot holes where the mines went off. “My dad… he was caught in a mine field. That’s how he died.”
Hardcase wraps an arm around her. “I’m sorry.”
“I still… I still remember,” Teagan says, tears pooling, “when his buddies came by. They had the letter… saying he was killed in action… Mom collapsed in the doorway at the news.”
Teagan keeps staring at the piles of clones left behind down the road.
“It wasn’t even a battle. They just… were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
She lifts her hand and wipes at her tears. “Teagan,“ Hardcase warns, “Kix said you should rest.”
“I’ll rest when I know your brothers are cared for,” Teagan says, “it’s the least I can do for just watching.”
She stands up, but Hardcase catches her arm, “No one was expecting you to be out there. No one wanted you out there. No one, and I mean no one blames you, Teagan.”
Teagan nods, but Hardcase isn’t sure if she believes him. He lets go and she finds Kix, who begrudgingly lets her help. Hardcase sighs, “Why did they send her here?”
“Incoming!” Someone yells. Hardcase stands up and starting blasting at the Umbarans that came back for a second round.
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Trust Part 3
Summary: Jenna moves in across from Eddie and Venom after escaping an abusive relationship. Within hours of meeting the journalist, her ex-boyfriend winds up dead and she comes face to face with the creature terrorizing San Francisco.
Chapter Summary: Jenna and Eddie deal with the aftermath of his actions. 
Warnings: Anxiety, threats
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           About a week after the incident, Jenna returned to her apartment. She an Eddie kept up a friendly relationship but she kept her distance beyond that. They did neighborly things but never spoke about themselves beyond how their day was going.
           Jenna made him brownies once, which Venom proceeded to inhale once the door shut. Eddie helped fix her leaky sink faucet because the landlord wouldn’t do shit about it. They chatted if they arrived home at the same time. Jenna said she liked his recent articles and commented on certain news developments she’d heard of. Eddie made note of them and looked into writing about the subject just to impress her.
           Jenna had come to the conclusion that she was a terrible judge of character. Several abusive relationships would prove that, in her opinion. But Eddie just seemed like a softie who was passionate about helping people. She often stayed awake thinking about him. Her heart wanted desperately to fall in love with the man who had treated her so well. But her rational side was quick to scold her heart.
           Every man in her life had ended up abusing her. But at the beginning, Jenna thought they were perfect, despite huge red flags. Either she was ignoring the red flags again or Eddie was just a good guy. But she wasn’t ready to risk it and felt like her ability to love was slowly fading away. It was possible she could just live alone for the rest of her life.
===============
           Months passed and Eddie realized Anne and Venom were right. He was just digging himself a deeper hole the more he got to know Jenna. But he couldn’t keep his mind off of her. There was something about her that kept her name on his thoughts. She was soft-spoken but had a good sense of humor and seemed to be interested in the same things as him. Despite all she’d gone through, Jenna appeared to have a giving heart and she lamented about how most of the population didn’t care about those less fortunate or in dire need of assistance.
           It was a sure fire way to win over Eddie’s heart. But at the same time, he wanted to respect her. It was only a few months since he had killed her ex-boyfriend. The boyfriend that had beaten her and stole all her trust and took it to his grave. Eddie wanted to nurture the relationship between them and hopefully be the person that rebuilt her trust, but how could he do that if he was keeping a huge secret from her? The longer they knew each other, the harder it would hurt once she inevitably found out about Venom. But Eddie didn’t know how to tell her and it tore him up inside.
===============
           Meanwhile, the symbiosis relationship was becoming stronger. Venom alleviated Eddie’s anxiety and was able to talk him through problems like an old friend. Or a lover.
          It began when Venom started poking around in the memories of Anne and Eddie’s relationship. Then, one night, Venom inquired about kissing as they prepared for bed.
           “Kissing?” Eddie spat toothpaste into the sink. “Why d’you want to know about kissing, Ven?”
           “You and Anne used to kiss.” Venom sprouted from his shoulder and locked eyes with him in the mirror.
           “Yeah, a while ago.” Eddie nodded. “You snooping in there?”
           “Your memories are our memories.” He replied innocently because he knew they had already established that.
           “Mhm, right. Yes, Anne and I kissed when we were together.” Eddie rinsed his mouth and retreated to the bedroom.
           “You kissed in the forest. I was there.”
           “Yeah, I remember.” He sighed because of the ache in his back. Vigilantism wasn’t easy on the body. He settled into bed, minding the symbiote’s hovering head.
           “You would consider that our first kiss?” Venom rested his head on his host’s stomach and looked up at him with opal eyes.
           “Did you want to kiss me?” Eddie wondered. He wasn’t particularly flustered over the conversation. They had been dancing around the idea of love for a while now. “Anne said it was your idea.”
           “It was.”
           “Hm.” Eddie rested back into the pillows. “It’s not easy, Ven, you have to understand. It’s complicated.”
           “I am listening.” The symbiote’s voice sent a purr-like vibration across his stomach.
           “We are…two different species.”
           “Correct.”
           “So something like this has never been carried out before. It can’t be a typical relationship, you know that right?” Eddie wanted to be sympathetic to Venom’s curious feelings.
           “You are worried about what others will think.”
           “Not really.” He answered honestly and rested a hand on the alien’s head. “I kind of stopped worrying what the general public thinks of me. But I’m worried this won’t be what you expect. It’s not a-a Dan and Anne relationship.”
           “Because they are the same species and are not connected.”
           Eddie smiled and lightly scratched over his smooth, black skin. “Right, doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.”
           Venom’s eyes slid shut with contentment and he preened from the attention.
           “You make me feel complete, Ven, and I think that’s what a relationship is all about.”
           The symbiote’s eyes opened for a moment to look at him. “What about Jenna?” He inquired innocently.
           “It’s alright, you don’t have to worry about that.” Eddie didn’t want to make him jealous.
           “But, Eddie, if you desire her then I do as well.” Venom blinked as he stated his facts. He leaned up into Eddie’s hand. 
           “C’mon man, you don’t have to word it like that. I’m not infatuated with her.”
           “But you do, correct?”
           “I like her, yes.” Eddie reached over to turn off the lamp beside his bed.
           “Then I like her. So we must have her as well.” It seemed like a simple enough concept to Venom. “You are able to kiss both of us, that should not be a problem.”
           Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, it’s a little more complicated than that. I’m not even sure if she likes us back. Partly because she doesn’t know about you.” He reminded him. “And if she did, we’d have to tell her the truth. And if she doesn’t run away, I don’t know if she’ll want to be in our relationship. She might not understand.”
           “So, I am inhibiting your happiness.” Venom’s voice wilted.
           “What? No, no! Ven, I told you, you make me happy. Screw what other people think.” He tried to placate him but Venom seemed dissatisfied.
           “But you would be happy if Jenna accepted us and loved us?”
           “I…” Eddie let out a frustrated sigh. The symbiote was doing a good job of backing him into a corner even if he didn’t mean to. “Sure, I guess I can’t lie to you.”
           “It is impossible, we can read our thoughts.”
           “Right. It would be nice to have her company, sure. But I like what we’ve got going now.” He tried to end the conversation so they didn’t have to continue talking in circles.
           “You would like her to be a part of it.”
           “God, now you’re making me sound like a greedy asshole.” He protested. “I’m tired, will you let me sleep or are you going to keep me up all night?”
           “I will not keep you up. Goodnight, Eddie.” Venom seemed satisfied enough to let the man drift off. Now the symbiote had a clear plan to make Eddie happy, which in turn would make him happy. A real win-win just like their relationship was turning out to be.
============
           One morning, Eddie woke up earlier than usual. The sun had just barely broken over the horizon when he ventured outside. It was a little chilly and drizzling, so not ideal weather for a walk. But Venom had insisted they go out to get the chocolate croissants he loved so much.
           Halfway to the coffee shop, Eddie saw Jenna jogging down the sidewalk. She smiled and slowed when she caught his eye. “Hey!”
           “Hey, Jenna.”
           Venom stirred in Eddie’s chest at the sound of her name. “Ask her on a date.” He was quick to suggest.
           “I’ve never seen you out this early.” She wiped sweat from her forehead.
           “Yeah, I usually take my time in the morning. Dunno what got me out so early.” He stifled a yawn and shrugged. 
           “It was me. I am hungry.”
           “Do you always run?” He ignored Venom’s comments.
           “I take Sundays off.” She shrugged and rested her hands on her hips while her heart rate went down.
           “I could never really get into running.” Eddie folded his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. “I mean, I was good at running when I got caught being somewhere I had to be.” He chuckled and tilted his head to the side. “Hazards of the job.”
           “It’s a good stress reliever.” Jenna nodded with a polite smile. Everything about her demeanor screamed tension; she wasn’t usually like that so Eddie figured something was upsetting her.
           “Have you been stressed?” He asked trying not to sound as nosy as he was being.
           Jenna tightened her ponytail and became antsier. “I uh…yeah I have been.” She always told herself that showing your feelings meant you were showing weakness. It was a hard lesson she had to learn. But now she had just given her neighbor a sneak peek into her weakness.
           But his response wasn’t as predatory as she expected. He wasn’t the knight who swooped in to fix her then turn on her once she was vulnerable enough and too in love to leave. “You wanna talk about it? I know it’s personal. I just know that I’ve been through some shitting things recently and I had no one to talk to. And that probably made it worse.” He shrugged again. “I don’t wanna put myself in your business or make it seem like you owe me anything for it.” But if you don’t have anyone to talk to then I-I could just listen.”
           Jenna studied his face. Everything in her gut told her to reject the offer and just leave. But the proposal of an open ear was difficult to pass up on. It would give her the chance to put her worries into the open air instead of keeping them trapped in her mind. So, she made herself a deal. If he got even slightly invasive and weird, she’d leave.
           “Okay, sure. We can grab a coffee now if you’re not busy.” She agreed.
           “Yeah, I’m not busy.”
           “I still want croissants.” Venom said but he was pleased with the outcome. It would get them closer to winning over Jenna.
===========
           Eddie let Jenna take her time before confiding in him. She sat down at a small table by the window. It was close to the door so she could have a clear exit if necessary. She took off the lid to her coffee so it could cool down. Her conflicting thoughts raced as she glanced up at Eddie.
           He had a more relaxed demeanor about him as he gave her a gentle smile and waited patiently.
           “I guess you’re used to listening to people talk.” Jenna cleared her throat.
           “I’m not trying to interview you or anything.” He was afraid she thought he was trying to get a story about that attack on Tyler. “You talk about whatever you want. I won’t say anything or ask you anything if you don’t want me to.”
           “No, I know.” She waved off his worry. That was the least of her concern. “I’m just saying.”
           “Yeah, I guess I do listen to a lot of people.” He agreed. “But I’m the one who asks questions, I don’t have the answers. In other words, I can try to give you advice but I don’t think it’ll be any good.” He shrugged sheepishly.
           Jenna smiled. “No, that’s okay. I appreciate it anyway. You’re right, it’s just nice to have someone to hear the thoughts that are troubling you.”
           “Ask her why she is sad. Who made her sad? We will pay them a visit.” Venom huffed.
           “So what happened?” Eddie asked after the symbiote prompted him to.
           She sighed and anxiously tugged at her windbreaker’s zipper. “After Tyler died, and the news spread, a lot of his friends and family started coming after me.” She felt like she was diving into a pool of icy cold water while she launched into the story. “At first, I understood why they were angry. I seemed like the only suspect to them. Some don’t even live in San Francisco so they aren’t really as familiar with the reports around the city. I guess I just thought they would stop eventually or get tired of it. Especially since the police publically announced the cause of his death.” She inhaled shakily and reached for her coffee cup to keep her hands busy. “But they haven’t. They have been nonstop. I’ve already taken down my Facebook and Instagram, but they keep finding my email or my number. They even started going after my family and some friends.”
           “Jenna, that’s awful.” Eddie’s stomach sank and Venom seemed more than ready to get revenge.
           “They are bad guys. Can we eat them?” He begged.
           Her eyes welled up with tears even though she did her best to keep her cool. “I just…I don’t know what to do. They won’t listen to my explanation. They don’t care about the evidence. They won’t leave me alone.” She rubbed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Crying symbolized weakness.
           “You don’t owe them an explanation. You didn’t do it and if they don’t believe you then that’s their problem.” Eddie insisted. “But they can’t harass you like that.”
           She shook her head. “They send me threats, saying they want to come to do the same thing that happened to Tyler to me.” She told him in a trembling voice. “Eddie, I’m terrified they’re going to find where I live and kill me.”
           Venom hissed and continued to pester Eddie about making them pay.
           “Have you called the police?”
           “Yeah, like they’re going to help me after everything that happened.” She looked miserable. “I can’t move yet because of my lease and I don’t have the money. I guess I could change my number but they’re relentless. Someone even called my work asking for my personal information.”
           “We will protect her.” Venom vowed. “No one will be able to get near her without consequences.”
           Eddie wholeheartedly agreed with him. But he couldn’t exactly tell Jenna he would personally see to breaking any intruders’ legs. He wasn’t sure how else to comfort her.
           “Did you tell Anne this?” He asked. “She might have some suggestions.”
           Jenna nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t think about calling her.” She sat on the idea for a moment and decided it would be a good step. She trusted the lawyer more than most people.
           “Maybe start with that. You have my number too, just in case.”
           She felt like she could take deeper and slower breaths. “Thank you, Eddie, this was helpful.” He smiled genuinely but inside he felt immense guilt.
=============
           They walked back to the apartment building together. The weather was starting to clear up and the sun began to poke through the clouds.
           “I was wondering if you were ever going to do an article about that thing? The monster or whatever you’d call it.” Jenna spoke up as they approached the building’s entrance.
           “Yeah, I uh…I’ve thought about it. A few people asked because of my involvement with the Life Foundation fiasco.” He stopped in the lobby to check his mailbox.
           “So you would?” Her face lit up with hope. “It would help get recognition so these crimes are put to rest instead of people blaming the wrong people.”
           “No, yeah, I get what you mean.” He pretended to be more interested in the bills he was holding. “I just dunno if that’s something I can do.”
           “I think you could. You’re a great journalist, you look for the truth to help people.” Jenna stood on the first step and watched him flick through his mail.
           “Thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck and elbowed the metal mailbox door shut. “It’s just…it’s complicated I guess.”
           She looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
           “I’m just a little caught up in a tangled web of shit and I don’t think I need to get further involved, y’know?” He tried to sound as vague as possible in an effort to get her off his back about it.
           “Do you know something about it that the public doesn’t?” She hesitated and tensed up again. “Eddie, is there something you’re not telling me?” She asked in a low voice.
           “Be honest.” Venom said steadily.
           Eddie swallowed, doing his best not to look super guilty. “I uh…nope. I was just talking about, y’know…” He started climbing the steps to their floor. Jenna followed close behind, obviously not wanting to let the matter go. “Freelancing is tough.” He couldn’t find a viable excuse so he just floundered.
           She obviously didn’t look convinced. They reached their floor and she stood still, staring at him. “I don’t really remember a time when I trusted anyone.”
           He turned and met her sad eyes. The familiar ache returned when he saw the damage people had inflicted on her. It didn’t need to be visible, her eyes showed it all.
           “I-uh-my dad abused me and I guess that’s how I set my standard for love. A guy could beat the shit out of me but still loved me.” Jenna swallowed and wrung her hands together in a nervous habit. She looked hurt but she wasn’t weak. She continued to stay standing despite everyone that knocked her down. “But I found people, friends, who showed me that wasn’t what love was. Even after that I still put myself in those relationships. I don’t know if I thought that was all I deserved or-or if I was just asking for it. Because that’s what they told me. Over and over again. My actions. My words. My demeanor. Everything I did was a reason to hurt me.”
           “Jenna-” Eddie felt so much guilt bubbling up in his stomach and sticking in his throat.
           But she interrupted him before he could say anything else. “I’m not a victim, Eddie. It wasn’t my fault, what they did. But I continued to think I was worthless and that no one could be trusted. After what happened with Tyler, I’ve been trying to get back my self-esteem and learn how to trust others.” Her face hardened like stone. “When I met you after you helped me, I wondered if you would be the guy I could finally trust. And I know we still don’t know each other that well and maybe I’ve had my guard up, but if you’re keeping something from me…” Her breathing shuddered as she inhaled. “Something about that thing that killed Tyler, th-then this-” She gestured to the space between them. “This can’t happen.”
           “Tell her now!” Venom’s shout bounced around Eddie’s skull like a nasty migraine.
           “I…” He looked helplessly at her expectant face. “Jenna, I don’t know how to tell you.”
           Her shoulders deflated slightly and she shook her head. “Goodbye, Eddie.” She said firmly and went to unlock her door.
           She had one foot in her apartment when all hell broke loose.
           Venom shot out a black mass to grab her wrist and keep her from leaving. Jenna looked down and took in the arm protruding from Eddie’s shoulder a few feet away. There was a split second of dread as Eddie processed what the symbiote had done.
           His neighbor let out a scream and slammed the door shut on them.
           Venom recoiled and Eddie rushed over to the door.
           “Jenna, please, just let me explain!” He pled loudly his stomach tightened when he realized he was doing the same thing her ex had done months before, what had ultimately led to his demise.
           “Wh-what the hell was that?” She shrieked from the other side of the door.
           “That…I have a parasite.” He replied weakly.
           “For the last time, I will eat your lungs if you call me a parasite again!” Venom shouted among the chaos that was going on.
           “Then go to the hospital!” Jenna wasn’t sure a parasite could cause something like that to happen but she didn’t want to know anything else about it.
           “I did…I have. It’s not that sort of parasite. It’s more like…”
           “Let me speak to her. I will explain better than you can.”
           “No!” Eddie snapped loudly. “You’ve done more than enough!”
           Jenna’s apartment was quiet while she listened to her neighbor talk to seemingly no one. “Who are you talking to?” She asked shakily.
           “My…I’m host to a symbiote.” Eddie couldn’t keep it from her anymore. He just had to blurt it all out and get it over with. “We basically co-exist together. That alien you saw that night was…I was there. I was-that was me.”
           There was no response for a long time. Eddie slid down to sit by her door. The feeling of anxiety and helplessness filled his heart. Here was someone he really liked and he’d misled her and toyed with her trust. He knew she had issues with people who lied but he still kept the truth from her.
           Even Venom’s resolve wilted the longer they waited for her response. He rapped on the door quietly. “You don’t have to say anything or talk to me ever again.” He prefaced. “But I just wanted you to know that we would never hurt you. We both like you a lot and maybe the thing we did was wrong but we were only trying to protect you.” His explanation sounded flimsy despite how deep-rooted it was. “Ven and I, we don’t like bullies, people who go around hurting and taking advantage of others. We were afraid Tyler was going to harm you again and…” He sighed deeply. “I know the eating people thing is weird-never mind you probably don’t want to hear about that. Just, no matter what we wouldn’t hurt you. And we’ll leave you alone from now on. You won’t have to worry.” Eddie felt a hundred times heavier as he picked himself up and shuffled to his apartment door. The hallway was silent and Venom sadly curled up in Eddie’s heart.
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gray-autumn-sky · 6 years
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Lonely Heart of a Queen: Love and Nothing More
For Day 2 of @oqpromptparty, I filled a prompt that was sent to me for the DOQ fic that I wrote for Valentine’s Day, Lonely Heart of a Queen. I received two prompts for the first time Robin tells Regina that he loves her. While this is a DOQ fic, this part is just OQ with a brief mention of Mal. 
Regina’s eyes flutter open and she grins--a bit shyly and a bit lazily--as she bites down on her bottom lip, watching the way that Robin watches her.
He’s still between her legs, sitting back with his legs folded beneath himself; and his hands are still holding on to her hips, his thumbs rubbing firm but absently drawn circled into the bone--and he’s just watching, watching as her bare chest rises and falls as she tries in vain to catch her breath, slowly lulling herself down from her high. Her breaths are heavy and labored, and her heart is still beating wildly. Her skin is tingly and flushed with warmth, and her limbs are limp--and if it weren’t the middle of the afternoon, she’d be tempted to let herself fall asleep with him, just as as they are.
“You’re gorgeous,” he tells her, his voice husky as his eyes trail back up to hers. “Bloody gorgeous, you know that?”
“You might’ve mentioned it… once or twice.”
He grins, sighing a little as he pulls himself back and she feels him slip out of her.
She’s lost count of how many times they’ve been this way together--happy and content in each other’s arms--and it’s quite amazing that she has. She’s always been a planner, and for most of her life there wasn’t a single decision she made that she didn’t plan out completely. She was careful to a fault and she knew ever move she made was scrutinized by a group of men who wanted to catch her in the wrong. Yet, here she was--completely oblivious to anything and everything other than him and the way he made her feel. If she thought about it long enough, she could probably figure it out--after all, this had only been going on for a couple of months--but she didn’t want to do that. She didn't want to think about it--thinking about it might ruin it, it might make her consider the risks involved and the rational part of her might decide that it was too risky and that a little fun wasn’t worth everything she stood to lose. And the thought of giving up these wonderfully lazy afternoons--these stolen moments she’d come to crave--in this little cottage with its leaky roof and its dusty dirt floors made her sadder than she’d ever care to admit.
“How long can you stay?” He asks, rolling onto his side as his combs his fingers through the front of her hair. “Is it wishful thinking that you could be mine until the sun sets?”
“It is,” she replies, biting harder at her lip. “But I can take another hour or so, I think.” She turns herself toward him, rolling onto her side. “Henry has an archery lesson.”
“Archery?” He asks, brightening.
“Mm,” she nods. “He saw one of the guards practicing and he’s decided he wants to try it.”
“And I’m sure no one can say no to the prince.”
“No, they can’t,” she laughs. “It’s law.”
“Would it be asking too much for me to show him a few little tricks some times?”
Her breath catches in her throat. “Oh, I…”
Her eyes fall away from his. She wants to say yes--in fact, she’d love to say yes--and she has no doubt that Robin would be a wonderful instructor for her son. She imagines that he’d be patient and kind, and unlike the knight who’d been tasked with teaching her son to shoot, he wouldn’t be doing it out of some sense of obligation or because he had no other choice.
But she’d never invited him to come any closer and she wasn’t sure how she felt about bringing him into her son’s life. She worried that he’d be confusing for Henry or that the spark between them would fade and her son would be hurt. And though she hated to admit it, she worried how the Council would respond. Any indication that she’d taken a lover would cost her her crown, and though she didn’t care about her title or position, she wasn’t ready to force her child onto the throne.
“You don’t have to say yes just because I asked,” he tells her, likely sensing her discomfort. And then, before she can explain, his smile grows coy. “I just figured you’d want him to learn from the best of the best.”
“And you’re the best?”
“I am,” he says with a decisive nod. “And everyone around knows it.”
“Do they? Because I didn’t.”
His eyes roll as his fingers strum gently over her arm. “To be fair, you and I don’t do much talking.”
“Why would we?” She asks, grinning as a little laugh rises into her voice. “When there are much more enjoyable things we could be doing.”
“It is pretty enjoyable, isn’t it?”
“It’s why I keep coming back for more.”
He laughs, “And here I was thinking you were here for my charming personality.”
Her stomach flops a little and her grin fades. “I do care about you, Robin. This isn’t just sex.” She blinks as she bites down on her lip. “At least, not anymore.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, his voice soft as his smile shines through his eyes and his fingers continue to strum gently. “Because I think I love you.”
“You… think…”
“No,” he cuts in, a soft chuckle rising into his voice. “I don’t think it. I know it. I know that I love you.”
Her breath catches his her chest and her smile fades--and if her whole body wasn’t frozen in place, she’d pull away from him. “Robin, I… I can’t… I’m not…”
She swallows hard as her mind floods with all of the reasons that he shouldn’t love her--and the one reason that keeps rushing forward and taking precedence over all the rest, is Mal.
Mal, the woman she loves, and the woman she can’t ever truly have.
“I know you can’t marry,” he says, his voice still soft and his grin still sweet as his eyes narrow. “And that’s not at all why I told you that.”
“But isn’t that the point of falling in love? To… to marry and build a life together and… and grow old together and…”
Her voice trails off and her eyes press closed; and despite her best efforts not to, she finds herself imagining having that sort of life with him--and she finds that the mere thought of it fills her with a sort of warmth that she didn't anticipate.
And then, she feels guilt stabbing at her core as she thinks of Mal and as she thinks of Henry, and she pushes away those thoughts, not allowing herself to indulge in them.
“Maybe it is to some,” he says easily. “But not to, and based on your reaction, I don’t think that’s what it means to you, either.” Reaching out, he brushes the back of his fingers over her jaw. “I just… I thought you should know.” He shrugs and his grin brightens. “It doesn't really change much. Neither of us are in a position to marry. We both have…” His voice trails off and his eyes narrow a bit. “We both have other, um, obligations.”
“Yes,” she says, her mouth dry. “We do.”
“I don’t want to hold you back or complicate your life. I don’t want any more than you can give,” he tells her, his voice honest and soft. “And I know you’d never ask for more than what I can give.” She nods as a smile draws on to his lips. “I just wanted you to know, so that on the days when you can’t sneak away, on days when you feel lost and alone, on days when you feel you can’t quite measure up to the impossible expectations put on you… you’ll know that you’re not really alone, that someone loves you and is on your side.”
“That’s… sweet,” she murmurs, not really knowing what else to say. “I…”
“You don’t have to say it back.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want you to say it if you don’t feel it or if you’re not ready to.”
Her cheeks flush--and she finds herself wanting to say it back, but the words stick in her throat. She’ll say it, eventually, she decides, just not now. So, instead, she pushes herself toward him, pressing her lips to his as her tongue parts his lips. She kisses his hard--hard, but not hurried--as she pushes at his shoulder, easing him onto his back as she shifts herself over him. Grinning she breaks the kiss and sits up, pressing her hand to his chest as a smile stretches across her lips and a soft giggle escapes her, and she decides that, perhaps, words aren’t the only way to express feelings--and until she finds herself able to say the words, actions will have to suffice.
And as he smiles back at her, she can’t help but think he’ll mind the substitution.
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mosdrabblebabbles · 7 years
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A Turn in Time Pt.6
A/n: Here’s the next part! Enjoy! @givemehopeandtea @awkwardrebelpenguin
-Mo
Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    Part Five
~
The next morning, you and Newt woke up and got straight to work. You cleaned out the various pins, fed the creatures, and checked on the Graphorn. You were pleased to see that the beast was healing up very nicely, and should be released back to his home later that day. His usual aggression had returned, and you helped Newt fortify the protective charms around the habitat. After the morning chores were done, you and Newt went back to the hut and discuss your next move.
“We’ll need to stop by Diagon Alley and gather some supplies first. I need some more Dittany and it wouldn’t hurt to get more Skele-gro.” Newt was talking more to himself then to you, going over a list he had in the little pocketbook you had seen the other day.
“A Bezoar might be useful.” You chimed in, and Newt nodded, adding it to the list. There were many a creature, both magical and non that had poison. You didn’t want to be caught unawares. Newt added some potion ingredients, for things that you could make yourself. It didn’t take too much longer to gather things together. Once everything was set up, you and Newt left the case, and he checked out of the inn.
You met him outside, and once again he offered you his arm. Together, you walked down the road and when the coast was clear, you entered the woods. You braced yourself, and a second later Newt disaparated. You opened your eyes and found yourself in the exact spot you and Newt met just a few days ago. You let go of his arm and stepped back, giving him room to set down the case and open it.
Entering once more, you grabbed the last vial of Sleeping Drought and walked toward the Graphorn habitat. The creature must have sensed that it was almost home, and it was growing restless. Newt dropped the protection wards, and you slowly approached the Graphorn. Newt reached its side first, and gently started to calm the beast. He motioned you closer, never stopping his pats and shushing sounds. You made your way to the Graphorn’s head, and when it caught sight of you it snorted, shaking it’s head in protest.
“It’s for your protection, love. It won’t last long, I promise.” You said, and carefully brought the vial to the creature’s mouth. It opened up, and you poured the Sleeping Drought. Slowly, the Graphorn lowered itself to the ground and within moments it was sound asleep. You let out a breath of relief and looked to Newt with a grin. He smiled back, giving you an encouraging nod before levitating the beast into the air. You made your way back to the hut and opened the case for Newt, and climbed out.
Once Newt was outside, you closed the case once more and turned to watch as Newt lowered the Graphorn back to the ground. It continued to slumber, and Newt joined you back by the case.
“We should wait till it wakes up, right?” you asked, hoping he would say yes. He nodded and you grinned, pulling out your journal and opening it up. You sat down, and a moment later Newt joined you. He watched as you outlined, added detail, erased lines, and shaded. You had just found the right shade of grey and purple for the colour of the hide when the beast started to wake up. Newt stood up and you followed, packing your things back up and putting them away. It took a moment for the Graphorn to regain its bearings, but eventually it started to lumber off into the mountains. You watched it go with a smile on your face and pride growing in your heart. It was you first case, and you couldn’t be happier.
“So how does it feel?” Newt asked and you looked up at him.
“Hmm?” you were confused at first, not having heard the actual question. You had been too focused on watching the Graphorn all you had heard was his voice.
“How does it feel, knowing you were able to help?” he asked again, and your smile grew wider.
“Amazing. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job at the Ministry, but this,” you gestured to the Graphorn, who had just been joined by his family.
“This is what I’ve always wanted to do. And I finally get to do it.” You said wistfully. Newt gently, if a bit hesitantly, wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you a little closer.
“Welcome to the wonderful world of Magizoology.” He looked down at you and grinned. You laughed and pulled away. You grabbed his case and handed it to him before grabbing his free arm.
He disaparated again, and this time you found yourself along the side of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. You took a moment to gather yourself. You leaned against Newt’s side, head slightly dizzy. You weren’t used to disaparating in so small amount of time, and it had you feeling a little sick.
“Are you alright?” Newt asked, concern written across him face. You gave him a weak smile.
“Yeah. Just not used to disaparating multiple times in a short period of time.” You answered, and he nodded. He started to rub soothing circles between your shoulder blades, while he also set the case down. Reaching for his wand, he stuck his arm out into the road. He lowered it, and it took you a moment to recognize that he had just called for the Knight Bus. It arrived in a squeal of brakes and flying dirt. You and Newt paid for your fair, and entered.
“The Leaky Cauldron, please.” He told the driver, and you found seat just as the Bus started to drive.
The fast pace of the Knight Bus didn’t help your spinning head. The twists and turns had your stomach churning and you held on to Newt for support. He pulled you a little closer as the bus made a sharp turn and you started to slip down the bench. A second later everything came to an abrupt stop and you and Newt found yourselves sprawled on the floor.
“Leaky Cauldron!” the driver yelled, and you stood on shaky legs, leaving the bus. Newt exited right after you, and the Knight Bus left with a burst of speed.
“Here, put this on.” Newt said, handing you an old cloak and his Hufflepuff scarf. You wrapped the scarf around your neck, pulled the cloak over your head. You had thought it best to keep your identity hidden for as long as you could. You wanted to preserve as much as the timeline as was possible. It would be rather odd to hear about your own adventures with Newt Scamander in 1926 during Care of Magical Creatures in the 90’s. But at the same time, the Magical community was unsteady. Grindelwald was running rampant and you didn’t want to cause any panic by being all mysterious. So you kept the hood back enough that your face could be seen, but you pulled your hair back so the color couldn’t be easily discernable.
You took Newts arm again and together you walked through the Leaky Cauldron till you reached the wall separating you from the Alley. Taking out your wand, you tapped it on the bricks and waited. This was the first time you were using more than just a few simple charms and spells. You were essentially opening a portal, and you didn’t know how your magic was going to work. If it was going to work beyond those simple charms and spells, while out of your own time line. When the wall started to open you released the breath you had been holding and flashed Newt a smile. He pats your hand and then you walked through the archway and into Diagon Alley.
The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley engulfed you, and you found yourself smiling. Everything was the same. Though maybe a bit brighter and a little newer. But everything was in the same spot. Making your way through the crowd, you and Newt first stopped in the apothecary. You split up, and while Newt gathered the potions, you got the ingredients. You marveled at the prices, them being lower then you had ever seen them. You gathered everything up and met Newt at the front. You placed everything on the counter and once everything was purchased you walked back out into the crowds.
“You know I never asked where you get the money for all this.” You gestured to the bag in your arms and looked at Newt. He gave you a sheepish smile and you stepped in line for a produce stall.
“The man who asked me to write this book, Augustus Worme, pays for everything. He sends a monthly allowance for supplies and things. And any rooms rented get billed directly to him.” He answered and you nodded.
“Well, from now on I’ll do what I can to help pay for things.” You told him, and a strange look crossed Newt’s features.
“You don’t have to do that I can…” you raised your hand to stop him. He closed his mouth.
“No, I do. I dropped in on you quite unexpectedly. You took me in out of the goodness of your heart, asked me to join you. It’s the least I can do to for all that you’ve done for me.” You explained, and this time Newt nodded. You moved up in the queue a few paces.
“I completely understand what you are saying, but how will you do this?” he asked. He had a point there.
“I uh… I don’t know yet. But I’ll figure it out. I can… I can sell some drawings. Or at least my talent, get some extra pocket galleons.” You offered. Newt nodded again, and the topic ended. You reached the end of the queue and bought enough rations to last a fortnight.
Once again you and Newt split up. You stopped into Wiseacre’s wizarding equipment while Newt went to Flourish and Blott’s. You didn’t know exactly what he needed from there, but you couldn’t really focus on that. Gathering everything you needed, you took everything to the front and payed for it with the handful of galleons Newt had given you.
Walking out of the shop, you met back up with Newt in the center of the Alley. Finding a relatively clear spot to set the case down, you placed everything inside. Taking Newt’s arm again, you walked back to the Leaky Cauldron. You found a corner in the back of the room, and Newt looked down at you.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and you could feel a grin form. You looked up at him, and your heart gave a stutter. His eyes were shinning, and he had his signature smirk firmly in place.
“Let do this.” You nodded, and Newt pulled you closer before disaparating to your first great adventure.      
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mrsteveecook · 5 years
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what should I do when a see a coworker’s fly is down, can I review a rude interviewer, and more
It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…
1. What should I do when I notice a coworker’s fly is down?
What should I do when I notice a coworker’s fly is down? A colleague stopped by my office to chat, and I noticed that his fly was open. I felt too awkward to say anything in the moment, yet later I agonized over whether I should have addressed it. If he had a piece of spinach between his teeth, I’d have no problem mentioning it, but since it was the zipper on his pants I didn’t say anything. What do I do? Pretend I don’t notice? Tell him to “XYZ” (examine your zipper)? Should my approach change based on the gender and seniority of the coworker? Or am I totally overthinking it, and a simple “Hey Zach, your fly is down” will do every time?
In this particular case, he is a peer, we’re friends, and it was in the semi-privacy my office. I wondered if it would have better for me to casually advise him to zip up in case he happened to meet with the managers in our office before he noticed, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.
Additionally, the other day I bled onto my dress while I was on my period and no one mentioned it. I was mortified when I found out, but I can understand why my coworkers would shy away from alerting me to my wardrobe malfunction/leaky tampon (even though I wish someone had said something). Is that the same or different?
As long as you’re matter of fact about it and don’t make it a big deal, most people will be grateful for a quick, straightforward “Hey, I think your zipper is down.” I think you can do that regardless of gender and regardless of seniority — people will generally appreciate the heads-up regardless, as long as it’s not accompanied by leering or blushing or staring or anything else that makes it weird. Use the same tone you’d use to say “Watch out, there’s a mosquito on your arm” and it should be fine. (That said, some people will just never feel comfortable telling someone like the CEO that her fly is down. That is part of the price of being the CEO.)
With the bleeding, ideally someone would have discreetly told you about it, but yeah, more people are going to be weird about that than about zippers. But bless the kind people who have it in them to discreetly say, “Hey, I’m not sure if you know that you have a stain on your dress.”
2. Can I get blackballed for posting a negative review on Glassdoor?
Is it possible to get blackballed for posting a negative interview review on Glassdoor?
In this situation, the hiring manager called me at 6 p.m. on a Monday without notice. I said I couldn’t speak then because I was about to run out the door. She asked if I could call her back and I said I didn’t have availability the next day (due to having to travel five hours for another interview and the interview itself — but why do I have to explain this to someone? It’s perfectly rational to be busy), but I did have availability Wednesday morning. Here she kind of cut me off to say, “Actually I think I’m going to pass on this, we’re looking for someone actually interested in getting a job.”
I was so stunned that a professional said this to a potential candidate that I just said “Okay, thanks” and hung up the phone. And, I mean, I guess it was good for being so direct, but calling me at 6 p.m. after working hours when I would obviously be caught off-guard by an employer, and then getting frustrated with me when I’m busy because I’m actively interviewing other places is a bit insane. Or am I overreacting and maybe It’s my fault for being so flustered when she called? I just felt so angry about her telling me I wasn’t serious about getting a job when obviously she doesn’t know me or anything about what I’m doing. I’m just nervous about posting it on Glassdoor even thought I think the company should know an employee is speaking to people like this.
Wow, she was wildly out of line. You weren’t saying you couldn’t speak for weeks and weeks. You said you couldn’t speak at that exact moment (totally fine) and that you were fully booked the following day, but offered to speak the morning after that. That’s not necessarily ideal if they’re looking to fill interview slots quickly, but if it posed a problem for her, she could have just said, “Unfortunately that won’t fit with our timeline, so it sounds like it won’t work out this time.” Instead she chose to be an ass.
You should be fine posting this on Glassdoor. She may figure out who you are, but it’s highly unlikely that she’s going to blackball you from other employers for it. (It does mean, though, that you may never get an interview at that particular company again — so if you care about that, proceed with more caution.
3. My coworker’s students told me she doesn’t teach them anything
I work for a welfare-to-work program, running a job readiness program. I recently started handling more of the case management aspects of the program while a new coworker took over the instruction portion of the program. The coworker called out for the past week and I went back to instructing class. I was amazed to discover that the students hadn’t actually been taught any lessons for the past three weeks; this is significant because the class runs in four-week cycles. I crammed as much possible in the four days that I covered.
I am extremely bothered by the fact that my coworker apparently, per the students, doesn’t actually teach them anything but rather sits around watching YouTube with them four hours per day. I don’t know how to approach my manager, who is also new, about this. My concern is that we are grant funded and will not get future financing if the the students don’t reach the progress marks they’re required to. How does one approach their manager about a coworker who doesn’t do their job, being that it affects my job greatly, and about fearing that our program is being seriously jeopardized?
Just be direct and matter-of-fact: “I covered classes for Jane four days last week, and something happened that I need to pass on to you. The students told me they hadn’t been taught any lessons for the previous three weeks. They said that Jane watches YouTube with them instead of teaching lessons. I obviously don’t know if this is true, but I felt like I needed to flag it for you.” You could add, “Based on my time with them, it does seem like they hadn’t learned X, Y, or Z, which is a requirement of our grant funding being renewed.”
In other words, just the facts. No conclusions about Jane, just “here’s what I was told and what I observed, and it could have serious ramifications because…”
4. How can I avoid telling people where I’m going when I resign?
I work in an industry niche that really worries about trade secrets and proprietary information and such. Old job and new job are in the same niche. To be emphatically clear, I will not be bringing anything — anything — proprietary to my new employer. All the same, I worry there might be people at my current employer who are just crazy/vindictive enough that, if they knew, or could guess, where I was going, might do something to spook my new employer and/or jeopardize my offer. (I know what tortious interference is, but I’m not sure they do, is what I’m saying, and I don’t want a lawsuit, I want a job!)
Any advice on how to handle my resignation to minimize my risk? Can I resign without telling people where I’m going? I realize I could just say “it’s between me and my rabbi” or whatever, but my niche is small enough that the folks I’m worried about might see it as code and start guessing or sniffing around. I don’t want to flat out lie and say I didn’t know where I was going, or name another company. Is there an ethical way to throw people off the scent, at least until day one at new job?
Some options: * “I don’t want to jinx it until the details are finalized, but I’ll let you know as soon as I’m allowed to talk about it!” * “I’m not quite ready to announce it yet, but I’ll let you know when it’s finalized.” * “I’m still working out the details but should be able to share it soon.”
5. Should I re-contact this reference?
A few months ago, I received my first post-grad school job offer, after more than a year of job hunting. Once I accepted the offer, I emailed three people I’ve been using as references to let them know. Two responded right away with congratulations, but I haven’t heard from the third, and it’s been nearly three months. He receives a truly enormous amount of email and I know in the summer he does field work in places with spotty internet, so I’m not offended! But I was wondering at what point I should send him a second email? I’ve known him for five or six years at this point, so I’d like to think he would be interested on a personal level — but also I’d just like him to know that my long (looooooong) job hunt is over, and how much I appreciate the several times he gave a reference for me in that period.
I’m horrible at “networking” — or any casual contact with a person who is/was in a position of authority over me. So I’m unlikely to do the casual keeping-in-contact emails I know others do, which means realistically, it’s entirely possible that I’ll never see or talk to him again. (I know this is a whole separate problem.) But even so, I’d absolutely hate to leave things like this after I know (because I’ve been told so by interviewers!) that he gave such a glowing reference!
He may not think any response is required! Yes, ideally he’d send back a quick congratulations email, but it’s very likely that as a busy person with a lot of email, he saw your message, thought “that’s great news,” and moved on to the next email. He probably has no idea that you’re waiting to hear back from him! I’d just assume he saw the email and this particular interaction has been completed.
You may also like:
coworkers think I left a bad Glassdoor review, negative feedback in an open office, and more
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is it unprofessional to wear the same clothing item twice in a work week?
what should I do when a see a coworker’s fly is down, can I review a rude interviewer, and more was originally published by Alison Green on Ask a Manager.
from Ask a Manager https://ift.tt/2CrRmpH
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vincentbnaughton · 7 years
Text
Our New, Old Kitchen: How We Rose to the Remodeling Challenge
If the kitchen is the heart of the home, then ours was in need of a triple bypass.
When we bought a house halfway across the country - without having set foot in it - we knew there would be projects. Walls to paint, old carpet to pull up, a dingy bathroom to tackle.
And while the kitchen was certainly on the to-do list, we assumed we could live with the old appliances and chipped tile countertop for a time.
We were sorely mistaken.
With my husband Roger staying behind in New York to finalize the sale of our previous house, our dog Buck and I had already arrived in Omaha to handle the closing on the new home. (Well, Buck wasn’t involved in the closing. He’s not great with paperwork.)
After signing on the dotted line, I began exploring the house and discovered the many broken appliances that had been curiously omitted from the seller’s property disclosure form.
“The dishwasher doesn’t work,” I told Roger over the phone.
“We knew that, right?” he replied.
“Yes, but now I know why it doesn’t work - the garbage disposal also doesn’t work,” I explained. “And the garbage disposal doesn’t work because the drain doesn’t work.”
“Well, that can all be fixed,” he assured me.
“Maybe. But I don’t know if the smell can.”
Before: With broken appliances and dingy cupboards, this dated kitchen was screaming for a facelift.
The home’s last thorough cleaning had been sometime during the Bush administration (the first one). Aggressive dusting, vacuuming, and mopping improved the situation, but the suspect plumbing and appliances put up a fight.
Consequently, we soon reprioritized the kitchen from a six-months-from-now project to an ASAP project.
Out with (some of) the old
Roger and I have renovated dozens of kitchens for clients. We’ve reconfigured, rearranged, and repurposed kitchens in homes around the country. We even designed a line of cabinetry.
So, our biggest challenge in devising a plan for our charming Tudor wasn’t how to renovate, but how much to renovate.
The relatively small space could only be configured so many ways, so pulling out the original cabinets would likely mean replacing them with new cabinets of similar configuration and capacity. While they needed a good cleaning, they were all structurally sound, and the finish on the upper cabinets was still good, so we opted to keep them.
Other distinctive elements, like the convenient laundry chute and the breakfast nook’s original storage benches and bookshelves, were must-keeps.
So, what was on the chopping block? We ditched all the appliances - clogged disposal, broken dishwasher, rattling fridge, and a stove with what seemed to be a small gas leak - right away. The chipped tile countertops and backsplash had to go, too.
Finally, we removed the dinky cabinets around the stove that had been added in the ’80s. We had better ideas for that area.
Before: An old, leaky stove ready to be replaced with brighter, better things.
Renovation discoveries
Roger got to work meticulously painting the cabinets and drawers. We used black to create contrast with the white walls, bead board, and quartz countertops.
Open the drawers, however, and you’re greeted with a happy shade of robin’s-egg blue - a bright surprise and a practical choice that makes locating the proper utensil easier.
After: With new appliances, freshly painted cabinets, and sparkling countertops.
My dad (the true MVP of this project) and I pulled out the grease-splattered vent hood and upper cabinets above the stove. We had a hunch that the low soffit above these was hollow, so we cut into it for a peek.
The home’s original plaster hood had been boxed in, so we opened it up and incorporated it into the design. Roger painted black-and-white stripes (a recurring theme for this home) on the inside of the hood, and I designed laser-cut scalloped trim to finish it off.
After: Personalized touches like the special-order Italian stove completed the transformation.
The frustrating realities of product availability
Kitchen appliances are a longtime grievance of mine. I wish manufacturers would give us a broader range of colors and sizes that are scaled appropriately for older homes.
So, it is with some sadness that I - the guy who has been bored with stainless steel for a decade - ended up with a bunch of stainless steel appliances.
But you try finding a French door refrigerator with a pullout freezer that fits into an opening 4 inches narrower and 3 inches shorter than the current standard. That’s right - there’s literally one such fridge on the market. Guess what? It’s stainless.
We did manage to include one appliance that definitely stands out: our bright orange range. We special ordered it from Italy, and it took forever to arrive.
It lacks modern conveniences like a preheat function, a baking timer, or even a clock. But it’s stunning and fun, and painted in the same factory that paints Ferraris, and hey, I never told you we were rational people anyway.
Current but not characterless
The finished room incorporates everything Roger and I need in a modern kitchen - plenty of storage, LED under-cabinet lighting that makes the countertops glow, a functional ice maker, and even a garbage disposal that doesn’t smell like the La Brea Tar Pits.
But at the same time, it retains all the character we love about the home - charming cabinetry, adorable breakfast nook, and hardwood floors.
Do we occasionally long for features you’d find in new cabinetry, like a pullout spice rack or soft-close drawers? Sure. But we’ll take these squeaky old drawers and continue enjoying our one-of-a-kind new, old kitchen.
Related:
Pro Tips for Making the Most of Your Kitchen Remodeling Budget
Designer Lookbook: Caitlin Murray’s Minty Fresh Kitchen Revamp
Remodeling an Abandoned Home’s Kitchen/Dining Room
0 notes
danielgreen01 · 7 years
Text
Our New, Old Kitchen: How We Rose to the Remodeling Challenge
If the kitchen is the heart of the home, then ours was in need of a triple bypass.
When we bought a house halfway across the country - without having set foot in it - we knew there would be projects. Walls to paint, old carpet to pull up, a dingy bathroom to tackle.
And while the kitchen was certainly on the to-do list, we assumed we could live with the old appliances and chipped tile countertop for a time.
We were sorely mistaken.
With my husband Roger staying behind in New York to finalize the sale of our previous house, our dog Buck and I had already arrived in Omaha to handle the closing on the new home. (Well, Buck wasn't involved in the closing. He's not great with paperwork.)
After signing on the dotted line, I began exploring the house and discovered the many broken appliances that had been curiously omitted from the seller's property disclosure form.
"The dishwasher doesn't work," I told Roger over the phone.
"We knew that, right?" he replied.
"Yes, but now I know why it doesn't work - the garbage disposal also doesn't work," I explained. "And the garbage disposal doesn't work because the drain doesn't work."
"Well, that can all be fixed," he assured me.
"Maybe. But I don't know if the smell can."
Before: With broken appliances and dingy cupboards, this dated kitchen was screaming for a facelift.
The home's last thorough cleaning had been sometime during the Bush administration (the first one). Aggressive dusting, vacuuming, and mopping improved the situation, but the suspect plumbing and appliances put up a fight.
Consequently, we soon reprioritized the kitchen from a six-months-from-now project to an ASAP project.
Out with (some of) the old
Roger and I have renovated dozens of kitchens for clients. We've reconfigured, rearranged, and repurposed kitchens in homes around the country. We even designed a line of cabinetry.
So, our biggest challenge in devising a plan for our charming Tudor wasn't how to renovate, but how much to renovate.
The relatively small space could only be configured so many ways, so pulling out the original cabinets would likely mean replacing them with new cabinets of similar configuration and capacity. While they needed a good cleaning, they were all structurally sound, and the finish on the upper cabinets was still good, so we opted to keep them.
Other distinctive elements, like the convenient laundry chute and the breakfast nook’s original storage benches and bookshelves, were must-keeps.
So, what was on the chopping block? We ditched all the appliances - clogged disposal, broken dishwasher, rattling fridge, and a stove with what seemed to be a small gas leak - right away. The chipped tile countertops and backsplash had to go, too.
Finally, we removed the dinky cabinets around the stove that had been added in the ’80s. We had better ideas for that area.
Before: An old, leaky stove ready to be replaced with brighter, better things.
Renovation discoveries
Roger got to work meticulously painting the cabinets and drawers. We used black to create contrast with the white walls, bead board, and quartz countertops.
Open the drawers, however, and you're greeted with a happy shade of robin's-egg blue - a bright surprise and a practical choice that makes locating the proper utensil easier.
After: With new appliances, freshly painted cabinets, and sparkling countertops.
My dad (the true MVP of this project) and I pulled out the grease-splattered vent hood and upper cabinets above the stove. We had a hunch that the low soffit above these was hollow, so we cut into it for a peek.
The home's original plaster hood had been boxed in, so we opened it up and incorporated it into the design. Roger painted black-and-white stripes (a recurring theme for this home) on the inside of the hood, and I designed laser-cut scalloped trim to finish it off.
After: Personalized touches like the special-order Italian stove completed the transformation.
The frustrating realities of product availability
Kitchen appliances are a longtime grievance of mine. I wish manufacturers would give us a broader range of colors and sizes that are scaled appropriately for older homes.
So, it is with some sadness that I - the guy who has been bored with stainless steel for a decade - ended up with a bunch of stainless steel appliances.
But you try finding a French door refrigerator with a pullout freezer that fits into an opening 4 inches narrower and 3 inches shorter than the current standard. That's right - there's literally one such fridge on the market. Guess what? It's stainless.
We did manage to include one appliance that definitely stands out: our bright orange range. We special ordered it from Italy, and it took forever to arrive.
It lacks modern conveniences like a preheat function, a baking timer, or even a clock. But it’s stunning and fun, and painted in the same factory that paints Ferraris, and hey, I never told you we were rational people anyway.
Current but not characterless
The finished room incorporates everything Roger and I need in a modern kitchen - plenty of storage, LED under-cabinet lighting that makes the countertops glow, a functional ice maker, and even a garbage disposal that doesn't smell like the La Brea Tar Pits.
But at the same time, it retains all the character we love about the home - charming cabinetry, adorable breakfast nook, and hardwood floors.
Do we occasionally long for features you'd find in new cabinetry, like a pullout spice rack or soft-close drawers? Sure. But we'll take these squeaky old drawers and continue enjoying our one-of-a-kind new, old kitchen.
Related:
Pro Tips for Making the Most of Your Kitchen Remodeling Budget
Designer Lookbook: Caitlin Murray’s Minty Fresh Kitchen Revamp
Remodeling an Abandoned Home’s Kitchen/Dining Room
from Zillow Porchlight http://ift.tt/2hgC7Xf via IFTTT
0 notes
garynsmith · 7 years
Text
Our New, Old Kitchen: How We Rose to the Remodeling Challenge
http://ift.tt/2fyEH7c
If the kitchen is the heart of the home, then ours was in need of a triple bypass.
When we bought a house halfway across the country - without having set foot in it - we knew there would be projects. Walls to paint, old carpet to pull up, a dingy bathroom to tackle.
And while the kitchen was certainly on the to-do list, we assumed we could live with the old appliances and chipped tile countertop for a time.
We were sorely mistaken.
With my husband Roger staying behind in New York to finalize the sale of our previous house, our dog Buck and I had already arrived in Omaha to handle the closing on the new home. (Well, Buck wasn't involved in the closing. He's not great with paperwork.)
After signing on the dotted line, I began exploring the house and discovered the many broken appliances that had been curiously omitted from the seller's property disclosure form.
"The dishwasher doesn't work," I told Roger over the phone.
"We knew that, right?" he replied.
"Yes, but now I know why it doesn't work - the garbage disposal also doesn't work," I explained. "And the garbage disposal doesn't work because the drain doesn't work."
"Well, that can all be fixed," he assured me.
"Maybe. But I don't know if the smell can."
Before: With broken appliances and dingy cupboards, this dated kitchen was screaming for a facelift.
The home's last thorough cleaning had been sometime during the Bush administration (the first one). Aggressive dusting, vacuuming, and mopping improved the situation, but the suspect plumbing and appliances put up a fight.
Consequently, we soon reprioritized the kitchen from a six-months-from-now project to an ASAP project.
Out with (some of) the old
Roger and I have renovated dozens of kitchens for clients. We've reconfigured, rearranged, and repurposed kitchens in homes around the country. We even designed a line of cabinetry.
So, our biggest challenge in devising a plan for our charming Tudor wasn't how to renovate, but how much to renovate.
The relatively small space could only be configured so many ways, so pulling out the original cabinets would likely mean replacing them with new cabinets of similar configuration and capacity. While they needed a good cleaning, they were all structurally sound, and the finish on the upper cabinets was still good, so we opted to keep them.
Other distinctive elements, like the convenient laundry chute and the breakfast nook’s original storage benches and bookshelves, were must-keeps.
So, what was on the chopping block? We ditched all the appliances - clogged disposal, broken dishwasher, rattling fridge, and a stove with what seemed to be a small gas leak - right away. The chipped tile countertops and backsplash had to go, too.
Finally, we removed the dinky cabinets around the stove that had been added in the ’80s. We had better ideas for that area.
Before: An old, leaky stove ready to be replaced with brighter, better things.
Renovation discoveries
Roger got to work meticulously painting the cabinets and drawers. We used black to create contrast with the white walls, bead board, and quartz countertops.
Open the drawers, however, and you're greeted with a happy shade of robin's-egg blue - a bright surprise and a practical choice that makes locating the proper utensil easier.
After: With new appliances, freshly painted cabinets, and sparkling countertops.
My dad (the true MVP of this project) and I pulled out the grease-splattered vent hood and upper cabinets above the stove. We had a hunch that the low soffit above these was hollow, so we cut into it for a peek.
The home's original plaster hood had been boxed in, so we opened it up and incorporated it into the design. Roger painted black-and-white stripes (a recurring theme for this home) on the inside of the hood, and I designed laser-cut scalloped trim to finish it off.
After: Personalized touches like the special-order Italian stove completed the transformation.
The frustrating realities of product availability
Kitchen appliances are a longtime grievance of mine. I wish manufacturers would give us a broader range of colors and sizes that are scaled appropriately for older homes.
So, it is with some sadness that I - the guy who has been bored with stainless steel for a decade - ended up with a bunch of stainless steel appliances.
But you try finding a French door refrigerator with a pullout freezer that fits into an opening 4 inches narrower and 3 inches shorter than the current standard. That's right - there's literally one such fridge on the market. Guess what? It's stainless.
We did manage to include one appliance that definitely stands out: our bright orange range. We special ordered it from Italy, and it took forever to arrive.
It lacks modern conveniences like a preheat function, a baking timer, or even a clock. But it’s stunning and fun, and painted in the same factory that paints Ferraris, and hey, I never told you we were rational people anyway.
Current but not characterless
The finished room incorporates everything Roger and I need in a modern kitchen - plenty of storage, LED under-cabinet lighting that makes the countertops glow, a functional ice maker, and even a garbage disposal that doesn't smell like the La Brea Tar Pits.
But at the same time, it retains all the character we love about the home - charming cabinetry, adorable breakfast nook, and hardwood floors.
Do we occasionally long for features you'd find in new cabinetry, like a pullout spice rack or soft-close drawers? Sure. But we'll take these squeaky old drawers and continue enjoying our one-of-a-kind new, old kitchen.
Related:
Pro Tips for Making the Most of Your Kitchen Remodeling Budget
Designer Lookbook: Caitlin Murray’s Minty Fresh Kitchen Revamp
Remodeling an Abandoned Home’s Kitchen/Dining Room
from Zillow Blog http://ift.tt/2hgC7Xf via IFTTT
0 notes
feamproffitt · 7 years
Text
Our New, Old Kitchen: How We Rose to the Remodeling Challenge
If the kitchen is the heart of the home, then ours was in need of a triple bypass.
When we bought a house halfway across the country - without having set foot in it - we knew there would be projects. Walls to paint, old carpet to pull up, a dingy bathroom to tackle.
And while the kitchen was certainly on the to-do list, we assumed we could live with the old appliances and chipped tile countertop for a time.
We were sorely mistaken.
With my husband Roger staying behind in New York to finalize the sale of our previous house, our dog Buck and I had already arrived in Omaha to handle the closing on the new home. (Well, Buck wasn't involved in the closing. He's not great with paperwork.)
After signing on the dotted line, I began exploring the house and discovered the many broken appliances that had been curiously omitted from the seller's property disclosure form.
"The dishwasher doesn't work," I told Roger over the phone.
"We knew that, right?" he replied.
"Yes, but now I know why it doesn't work - the garbage disposal also doesn't work," I explained. "And the garbage disposal doesn't work because the drain doesn't work."
"Well, that can all be fixed," he assured me.
"Maybe. But I don't know if the smell can."
Before: With broken appliances and dingy cupboards, this dated kitchen was screaming for a facelift.
The home's last thorough cleaning had been sometime during the Bush administration (the first one). Aggressive dusting, vacuuming, and mopping improved the situation, but the suspect plumbing and appliances put up a fight.
Consequently, we soon reprioritized the kitchen from a six-months-from-now project to an ASAP project.
Out with (some of) the old
Roger and I have renovated dozens of kitchens for clients. We've reconfigured, rearranged, and repurposed kitchens in homes around the country. We even designed a line of cabinetry.
So, our biggest challenge in devising a plan for our charming Tudor wasn't how to renovate, but how much to renovate.
The relatively small space could only be configured so many ways, so pulling out the original cabinets would likely mean replacing them with new cabinets of similar configuration and capacity. While they needed a good cleaning, they were all structurally sound, and the finish on the upper cabinets was still good, so we opted to keep them.
Other distinctive elements, like the convenient laundry chute and the breakfast nook’s original storage benches and bookshelves, were must-keeps.
So, what was on the chopping block? We ditched all the appliances - clogged disposal, broken dishwasher, rattling fridge, and a stove with what seemed to be a small gas leak - right away. The chipped tile countertops and backsplash had to go, too.
Finally, we removed the dinky cabinets around the stove that had been added in the ’80s. We had better ideas for that area.
Before: An old, leaky stove ready to be replaced with brighter, better things.
Renovation discoveries
Roger got to work meticulously painting the cabinets and drawers. We used black to create contrast with the white walls, bead board, and quartz countertops.
Open the drawers, however, and you're greeted with a happy shade of robin's-egg blue - a bright surprise and a practical choice that makes locating the proper utensil easier.
After: With new appliances, freshly painted cabinets, and sparkling countertops.
My dad (the true MVP of this project) and I pulled out the grease-splattered vent hood and upper cabinets above the stove. We had a hunch that the low soffit above these was hollow, so we cut into it for a peek.
The home's original plaster hood had been boxed in, so we opened it up and incorporated it into the design. Roger painted black-and-white stripes (a recurring theme for this home) on the inside of the hood, and I designed laser-cut scalloped trim to finish it off.
After: Personalized touches like the special-order Italian stove completed the transformation.
The frustrating realities of product availability
Kitchen appliances are a longtime grievance of mine. I wish manufacturers would give us a broader range of colors and sizes that are scaled appropriately for older homes.
So, it is with some sadness that I - the guy who has been bored with stainless steel for a decade - ended up with a bunch of stainless steel appliances.
But you try finding a French door refrigerator with a pullout freezer that fits into an opening 4 inches narrower and 3 inches shorter than the current standard. That's right - there's literally one such fridge on the market. Guess what? It's stainless.
We did manage to include one appliance that definitely stands out: our bright orange range. We special ordered it from Italy, and it took forever to arrive.
It lacks modern conveniences like a preheat function, a baking timer, or even a clock. But it’s stunning and fun, and painted in the same factory that paints Ferraris, and hey, I never told you we were rational people anyway.
Current but not characterless
The finished room incorporates everything Roger and I need in a modern kitchen - plenty of storage, LED under-cabinet lighting that makes the countertops glow, a functional ice maker, and even a garbage disposal that doesn't smell like the La Brea Tar Pits.
But at the same time, it retains all the character we love about the home - charming cabinetry, adorable breakfast nook, and hardwood floors.
Do we occasionally long for features you'd find in new cabinetry, like a pullout spice rack or soft-close drawers? Sure. But we'll take these squeaky old drawers and continue enjoying our one-of-a-kind new, old kitchen.
Related:
Pro Tips for Making the Most of Your Kitchen Remodeling Budget
Designer Lookbook: Caitlin Murray’s Minty Fresh Kitchen Revamp
Remodeling an Abandoned Home’s Kitchen/Dining Room
0 notes