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writingwip · 3 years

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A fic I probably wont finish but the thoughts there. Anyone’s free to take it up if they want. Basically Five wakes up and finds out he’s the god of a cult. Klaus better explain this one in .5 seconds or Five’s gonna have his head on a stake.

Five had found himself sat on a throne of sorts, expression wild and confused. People were lined up on both sides with fruits and drinks held neatly on platters and kneeling stiffly with faces respectfully angled downwards. They all had on similar clothing, soft flowing fabrics that draped over them but fit nicely, deep blues and soft beiges. The room was lit with candles and incense that made him feel sleepy and lightheaded.

A bizarre experience is how Five would put it. Bizarre and slightly amusing and confusing and interesting.

He had caught the eyes of a figure standing out among the rest, closest to him and wearing slightly altered clothes. He had a little cylindrical hat with funny symbols Five realized were his math equations, only if all the letters and numbers were shoved into one image haphazardly made to look semi-symmetric. His eyes lit up as they made eye contact and a smile quickly took over his face. Five already wanted to punch him.

“Awake at last, my lord,” and oh jesus, he was being called a lord. What had he gotten into this time? “We have long awaited you to arise. Welcome back, dear lord,” and the man deeply bowed. Five wasn’t sure whether to run yet or see where this was leading. “Lord Klaus had predicted today would be the day you awoken and joined us once again. Such divinity has blessed us and we had quickly gotten ready for your arrival.” Klaus? What had that oaf done? Five sighed and stood up.

He had been sitting criss-cross on a soft, velvet pillow sat on a raised platform. Surrounding it were more candles and a burning stick of incents strong enough to make Fives head dizzy. This was ridiculous.

“Where is Klaus?” Five asks the man. He seemed downright euphoric that Five had spoken, let alone directly to him. He was quick to fully stand and reach his hand out, offering support as Five’s legs wobbled. Five shot him a glare and raised his hand as a warning. He would slap this man if it came to it which, judging by how he’s acting already, it will.

“Lord Klaus and Lady Vanya are awaiting you in the congregation room,” The man says quickly, shuffling forward slightly before turning back to Five to see if he was following. As if he were a child. Five sneered and walked in front of the man if just to prove a point. He felt an ache in his chest and eyed the food platters suspiciously, taking an apple off of one. The woman who was holding it squeaked and when Five looked away he heard a bang. He was pretty sure she passed out. Five had half a mind to tell everyone to fuck off but his head was too busy trying to figure out what was going on to really put the thoughts into action. He wondered idly if it were poisoned or drugged, but quickly pushed that thought away. These people were way too adoring of him to try to touch him, let alone poison him. Plus, he was almost sure Klaus wouldn’t let a weird cult drug him. Almost. He shoved the apple into his mouth and made it to the end of the room, pushing the two doors open with a grunt.

Sweet, succulent fresh air invaded his lungs. It wasn’t choking in incense and body heat. Thank god. The door opened up to a bright room with an arched dome ceiling entirely made of glass. Sunlight streamed in and lit up the white pillars supporting it all, dancing across the fresh green leaves that decorated the walls and sat prettily in the center of the room. It had soft looking benches lining the walls, though other than that it was barren. It was a room made to look pretty and that’s about it, apparently. Such a waste of space. Five stepped in and looked around. There were three doors on each wall. Five looked back to the man trailing behind him and gave him a pointed look. The poor buy was sweating bullets.

“Right this way sir,” He stumbled out and veered off to the left. The air was fresh and crisp and slightly cold, like a cloudless october morning. It made his fingertips cold to the touch. He rubbed them together and followed the man.

“Who are you?” Five asked, just so he could stop calling him ‘the man’. He jumped up at the broken silence and looked nervously towards Five.

“I’m the head priest, my lord. Priest Bence, of your religion, sir,” Five’s brow rose at ‘your religion’ but otherwise didn’t comment on it. He’d grill Klaus on it when they got there, for now he’d like to enjoy the pretty scenery and let his stiff joints loosen up and pop.

They ventured through a few more rooms with similar architecture, though some were more furnished than others and were obviously meant for people to hang out in. It was all very cozy and bright, something Five wasn’t much used to.

With a final push of a door the lighting changed. It was still bright but it shone with a dulled yellow glow. Soft pews lead up like dominos to a stained glass window portraying… something. Five couldn’t really wrap his head around the colors, though they were obviously meant to represent a silhouette of a scene. Five wasn’t much of a visualiser anyways.

Directly below the intricate glass were his siblings. Two of them at least. Klaus was sat on a bright pink bean bag chair that looked wildly out of place front and center in a church setting, gesturing bodily as he narrated whatever odd story Klaus spun. Vanya was standing, leaning against the wall and looking at Klaus with a smile.

When the door closed behind them, the two looked up. Smiles, soft and warm and kind and so uncanny directed at Five, were immediately on their faces.

“Five…” Vanya said, voice choked up as if she were about to cry. Five really hoped she wouldn’t because he was lacking in social skills and wouldn’t know how to comfort her. Thankfully she seemed to be holding it in.

“Five, buddy! We’ve been waiting like, forever for you! Took you long enough, sleeping beauty!” Klaus was grinning ear to ear and even he seemed a little choked up. What was going on? Five made his way up to his siblings as they patiently waited. Head Priest Bence trailed after him like a lost duckling all the way, making as if to grab for Five then quickly putting his hands back. It was odd and awkward and Five just wanted him to leave.

When he got in front of them Vanya leapt in for the kill, hugging Five tightly and burrowing her head in his shoulder. Klaus was standing now, kicking the bean bag slightly to the side and squeezing the two siblings.

“Group hug!” Klaus laughed. Fives fingers twitched. There was silence for a second before Klaus looked directly at Head Priest Bence. “Dude we’re having a moment. Go, shoo, off to the dinning hall or whatever,” and before he could even finish his sentence the man was out the door, eager to accept any of their orders it seemed. Five watched him go with detached amusement. He pulled away, though both siblings looked dejected. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Five asked first, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Vanya and Klaus looked at eachother knowingly. This can’t be good.

“Straight to the point as always, Five-o!” Klaus grinned. Vanya snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s good to have you back. It's… it’s been a while,” she said and her eyes fogged up again.

“How long exactly?” Five glowered. He felt like he wasn’t going to like this answer. The two siblings sent each other looks again. He really hoped they didn’t learn telepathy or something. Vanya looked away first and Klaus looked victorious.

By god they did, didn’t they?

“It’s uh… it’s been a couple… hundred… years?” She stutters out and looks at the opposite wall with great interest, fiddling with her hands. Five wants to either slam his head through the stain glass or scream into one of the very soft pillows. Possibly both if he positioned himself right. Klaus looked at him with a shit eating grin. He knew exactly what this was about.

Five could settled for neither of those options and instead wanted to punch his brother directly in his stupid nose.

“You really are sleeping beauty with your hundred year rest,” Klaus grins.

It would be so easy. He could probably break his nose.

Surprising even himself, Five showed an impressive amount of restraint. He only punched him in the gut. Vanya choked on a giggle as Klaus hunched over.

“I wasn’t even the one to tell you,” he wheezed out pathetically. “This is totally unfair.” Five scoffed.

“You know damn well Vanya’s my favorite,” and Klaus said nothing to that, admitting defeat and slumping down to the floor. Five looked down on him like a lion looks down on a prairie mouse. Vanya smiles goofily next to him, crouching down and patting Klaus’ back.

“Why didn’t you guys just, i dunno, wake me up?” Five hisses, arms tightening around himself. Vanya opens her mouth to reply but Five cuts her off, “And before you say it’s one of those self-induced healing comas, I know I had like a thousand viles of that kick start you could have pumped into me”. They’re both quiet.

Klaus still seemed winded so Vanya spoke up after a few hesitant seconds. “Your lab… may or may not have… blown up…” She smiles nervously. Five clutches his arms tightly against his chest and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting his tense shoulders unwind. He opens his eyes and smiles back.

Vanya screams, sharp and ringing, and books it towards the door. Klaus is scrambling to stand up and clutch the bean bag up to his face, cowering in a corner. Five’s smile widens and a vein throbs in his head.

He had been awake for less than twenty minutes and he already felt a headache ebbing its way into his temple.

With pinpoint accuracy he picks up the nearest object, a wooden pedestal that was probably supposed to have a book on it, and chucks it directly at Vanya. She’s out the door in time, however, and now there's a wooden pedestal halfway out the door. He hadn’t been trying to actually hit her, he never would, but hearing that sentence had him teetering the line more than he had ever thought possible.

By the way she said it, she definitely had something to do with it.

Five looks over at Klaus with a cold glare and he flinches deeper into the small corner. He sighs, head in his hands, and takes a minute to compose himself. Klaus peaks his head over the bean bag and gives him an innocent look.

“Okay, I’m fine now,” Five declares and Vanya shakkily opens the door. Wood Splinters rain down from the gaping hole only plugged up by the pedestal itself. She creeps up to him, though she has no real fear lining her shoulders.

“So let me get this straight. I was out of commission for a few hundred years and since none of you could wake me up, you decided to start a cult,” Five practically growls. Klaus is now stomach-down on the bean bag, kicking his feet to make it slide back over to his siblings.

Klaus makes a placating expression of contemplation before shrugging. “Yeah pretty much,” He says.

Five contemplates murder, for just one second. One beautiful second.

“And why am I a part of it, pray tell?” Five asks, annoyed. He had made it specifically clear that he didn’t want to be a cult leader or a ‘god’ a good few thousand years ago after the train wreck that was his first and last cult. At least, it used to be his last. He was genuinely confused, knowing his siblings would comply with at least those restrictions when asked to. Vanya's face screws up a bit, looking almost pained.

“When you, uh, were attacked and put in that state, we weren’t sure where your body was. We’re still not entirely sure. We just got word a few hundred years ago that there was a small cult forming around an ‘immortal sleeping child’ and we were willing to take a gamble and look into it,” Vanya muttered out, seemingly embarrassed. So they had lost his body then? How?

“What happened? Why was I attacked in the first place?” Five asks, walking over to Klaus and sitting next to him. He leaned heavily onto the beanbag and Klaus shuffled over, though Five never climbed on.

Vanya’s fingers grew somehow more twitchy. “That's the thing…”

Klaus beat her to it, though his usual happy air was completely gone. He looked serious for once.

“It was one of us, and we don't know who”

#tua au #five hargreeves #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #tua #anyone can adopt this work #god knows I have no clue where I'm going with it

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slasherscream · 5 years

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billy x reader x stu moving in together w/ their s/o headcannons?

A/N: the sheer level of stress this would cause is incomprehensible.

billy loomis x reader x stu macher ft. moving in together

——————–

Billy is the one who suggests it honestly. He’s possessive. He’s clingy. He’s insecure. Triple threat? Dream guy? Precisely.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you (or Stu) it just is what it is. So after you graduate high school he wants you all to move in together like …. yesterday.

You can resist him for a little while on it but he wants it so bad that he doesn’t instantly turn into a huffy asshole the first time he’s told no (even though this is his natural state).

Instead he dials his manipulation and charm up to a solid ten™. He’s gonna get what he wants and for something this big he's willing to play it sweet and understanding until he gets it. The bastard.

It's just as much about keeping an eye on you as it is just a regular, clingy boyfriend mood of always wanting you around. Stu agreeing with the idea so readily and eagerly is mostly due to the second reason because he does #Not have the same ...issues...Billy has. He is, however, just as needy!

Once you get worn down by the constant badgering and annoyance ahem TLC?? Get ready because you ain't seen nothing yet in terms of trouble coming your way!

Rich boy Stu is obviously going to pay for this. No apartment because of their little “hobby”. He’s an only child so he can just get whatever the hell he wants so y'all wind up in a rented house (he offered to buy it but that was just #Too Much).

Just picking the places to look at was a nightmare. Stu wanted something close to people, ever the extrovert. Billy wanted something as far away from people as possible since people are fuckers (he should know). Constantly driving to places they've each picked out and having to stop fights before you've even gotten out the car.billy: in the middle of downtown?? are you fucking serious?? stu, mockingly: in thE MidDLE oF DOwntOWN?? aRE YOu sERioUS?? and that’s just a disagreement in location.

You want to know what fucking HGTV shows they’ve been watching behind your back to make them so fucking obnoxious about this. Did Billy just say something about the lighting of the kitchen?? You're going to have a fucking conniption.

Eventually you get fed up with how extra they’re being about the whole process, which is already naturally stressful and time consuming, and confront them.

Determined to make you feel bad they reveal that they’re actually just stuck on picking the perfect place because this is such an important step in a relationship. It’s the start of a life together. Your first home (not a house a home). They want it perfect. As perfect as the future they can imagine having with you. Sappy?? Yes.

Stu did most of that admittance while Billy kinda looked out a window, busy grinding his teeth to dust at the emotional vulnerability pervading the room like too much perfume in a department store. This turns into sex which he is infinitely better at than talking. Also he admits to more shit (feelings) after sex like he can just pass off anything he says as?? Orgasm mush mouth?? Idiot.

Once you’re all on the same page you can work as the well oiled machine you truly are. It doesn’t take long to find a place after this.

Your suffering isn’t over by a long shot though. This is your first place together and other than clothes and personal items they want everything in the house to be brand new or new to all of you at least.

So now you have to fully furnish the place. Billy the edgelord surprisingly wants the place very cozy? Talking warm and bright colors. Soft throw pillows. Shit ton of trinkets. Picture frames. He wants your place to look like a family could live here. Wants it to look like it'd take forever to move out. The word minimalism (though he doesn't know it) makes him want to throw up.

Getting a mattress is bullshit because Stu likes his beds soft and Billy likes his firmer. It's like trying to pick a very permanent fixture of furniture with two equally annoying Goldilocks. The mattress salesmen wanted to die. You wanted to die.

You guys almost got kicked out because at one point to test the mattress you all made out on it? Also?? Jumping on them. Jumping on them like five year olds. How did Stu convince you to do it? Unknown. Billy sat on the bed dignified as you two did this. He’s being jostled but his face is absolutely impassive. The chaos jumped out. Stu tipped well at least.

They can both agree they want a TV in the bedroom though. Hooray for agreeing on something! But honestly? Don't let them do this. That means you'll never again know peace. Imagine knowing you have class tomorrow morning while Stu is sitting next to you in bed?? Spilling popcorn on the sheets and talking about the random final girl's breasts while Billy is telling him to not "get the fucking sheets dirty" while he is going off on a tangent about the unrealistic blood splatter?? Veto the bedroom TV.

Stu doesn't really care about the decorating much?? Because he's not uptight like Billy. He just wanted to get a really nice place for the three of you. Now you've got a nice place "Anything else is whatever man."

If pressed about something though he doesn't like white walls very much? Would rather some other color. Nothing crazy? Just ...not white. Light grey? Maybe a blue? Tan? Brown? He doesn't care! But if he's asked now he for sure wants to paint everything a non-white or only have white as an "accent wall" (seriously you're going to cry where are they hearing this shit??)

He starts to paint. Gets brushes. Rollers. Tarp. Tape. The whole nine yards. Gonna do this the right way! Doesn't even splash Billy with the paint more than twice (because he's an adult dammit ... and also because the second time it got too close to Billy's hair and the look on Billy's face was... scary).

He runs out of steam for this project so fucking quickly. Bless his heart. Admirably he probably gets one entire room done. Other than that? :/

The only things he doesn't half-ass are murder and loving you and Billy. He will never change! He will never improve! His brain power is limited and he's chosen his tasks. Like how you can only equip a Sims character with like three traits? That's Stu.

Doesn't just leave you and Billy hanging to finish it alone though (because Billy would literally stab him). He throws a "house party" where a whole bunch of his friends come over and help to paint. Then they get all the free booze they can drink and pizza they can eat while they watch whatever sports game happens to be on. You had to tell him booze comes specifically after the finished job because he doesn't have the foresight to know drunk twenty-somethings painting a house would be a nightmare. Crisis averted before it starts.

The house has all new appliances of every sort because Stu wants the best of everything and has no impulse control. He doesn't even drink coffee but you have a brand new coffee maker in your kitchen one day. Billy the rat doesn't let things go to waste so he starts drinking coffee every morning.

Are you into decorating? No? Better get into it! Stu did his one thing to personalize the house and you have to do something too. It's part of Billy's fucking...the word is anxiety but he'll never use it. He wants you to be so involved in the making of this space for the three of you like that would stop you from ever leaving it one day? Show visible enthusiasm or god help everyone. Can we get a therapist in here? Can we PLEASE get a therapist in here-

This is literally Stu annoying the shit out of you and Billy during the ikea trip. Stu wants so badly to get kicked out of IKEA just for the purpose of saying he was once kicked out of IKEA. Billy won't allow it because this is "fucking serious, Stu" and “we have shit to do”. Stu can thus only release his chaos energy with puns and he does it to the fullest extent.

Setting up/assembling the furniture literally gets put on pause so the two can go out and murder someone because if they don't?? They'll kill each other. "Did you drop the fucking screws for this somewhere?? Do you want me to stab you with this screwdriver?" and "You know what? This is why I laughed when that shelf you put up fell on you, you dick-"

They come back in the dead of night soaked in blood and you come out the bedroom squinting at them. The coffee table is now set up. Yay??

Honestly all the aggravation and tiny fights are worth it once you're fully settled in? There's a sort of peace to Billy that he'd been lacking before. You guys have carved out this little spot in the world that's distinctly the three of you and just for the three of you and he loves it.

He's much more confident about the relationship now than he ever was before. Let him make you a shitty cup of coffee in the morning and kiss your forehead only for Stu to grumble about how everyone should still be asleep because it's Saturday guys-

*cue sappy but quirky romcom music*

You're living a domestic fairytale that features a little bit more blood than average but hey? Isn't that a low cost to pay for true love?

——————–

#billy loomis x reader x stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #slasher x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #slasher imagine #scream #this was so fun adjkl #BILLY IS A DESPERATE FOR BUILDING A FUCKING PERMANENT LOVE NEST ASS BITCH #you CAN'T change my mind or buy my silence thank you very much #billy w/ a knife: we are all going to live in this house and be domestic or i will begin committing acts against god-#stu who just always wants attention: this will force you both to be close to me 80% more no matter how annoying i'm being welcome to hell-

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something-tofightfor · 5 years

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What does their home look like? Their room? For Logan and Billy.

I’ve been sitting on this because I wanted to think about it... and I have your answer.

For HNH Billy, his apartment is very lived in. It’s small - but not tiny, full of things, but not cluttered. It’s the apartment of a man that has interests, but doesn’t go overboard when it comes to decorations. I talk a little bit about Billy’s apartment in the HNH headcanons, but to elaborate:

- He doesn’t have much artwork on the walls, but there are a few pictures (him and the Castles, him and his unit from each overseas tour, him and Frank, the two of you in various pictures)

- The kitchen is SPOTLESS, magnets organized on the fridge, dishes never sitting for longer than a few hours at a time in the sink ... but there’s ALWAYS a short grocery list on the fridge, written in Billy’s neat handwriting, hung up with a magnet in the shape of a cactus

- The furniture is cozy and well-worn; he got it all secondhand, because he never intended to stay in the apartment for as long as he has... but the day that Frank helped him lug the couch, chairs and tables up the elevator and then down the hall is a good memory for Billy. The only thing that he truly “splurged” on was his bedroom set, because if he was gonna spend so much time in bed, he wanted to be comfortable. Also, Billy’s one of those people that buys new pillows every couple months. (He uses three pillows; one shoved against the headboard so there’s no space between the mattress and the wood, the one under his head that gets pushed against/on top of the first, and then the one he uses when he’s sleeping alone - either with one arm thrown around it, or the pillow shoved somewhere else on his body (between his knees, under his stomach, pressed against his back.

- Overall, the apartment just feels comfortable. It’s not cold, but not overly warm. It’s not a family place, but it’s not sparsely furnished. There’s nothing of great value in it, but each of the items within it was picked with precision.

- Billy’s bed coverings and pillow cases are soft and comfortable. He knows what it’s like to sleep in the desert, in an uncomfortable cot, and he refuses to do it at home. He’s got a king sized bed, and prefers his sheets and blankets to be in shades of gray and or blue.

* * * * *

Logan... I’m going to go with Here Comes the Sun Logan

So, Logan lives on the ocean, and I HC his house to be this one.

He used to live closer to LA back when he was still doing drugs and making his way through the men and women he met; a large condo in Brentwood did the trick, and it wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t Logan, either. He had a housekeeper, a staff that made sure there was food in the fridge and cupboards, someone that ensured that there were meals prepared for him, the laundry was done and the house was clean-ish and presentable... but more often than not, Logan didn’t eat much, didn’t spend a lot of time in the house, and didn’t care what it looked like because he was so out of it.

He bought the Malibu place once he sobered up and decided to get rid of William and try to focus more on Delos - knew he needed move away from the city, away from the temptation and closer to Delos. It was a way to help himself - and a way to prove to Jim and Juliet that he was serious.

The house itself is decorated in a very similar way to the listing; I think that putting out of place furniture into it would change the feel of the house - Logan’s used to opulence, and even though he forgot that for a few years, when he saw the interior of the house, he knew that he had to do it justice. Juliet helped him pick out some of the furnishings (different kitchen table chairs, darker material for the couches and chairs) but for Logan, it was really important that he had places to hang his paintings, since he’s got an extensive art collection.

Your bedroom set got moved into a spare room, because Logan’s bed is the most comfortable thing you’ve ever slept in.

He likes to keep the windows open whenever possible, because smelling the ocean air and hearing the sounds of the water and the cars that are passing by is important to him... and he likes the fact that it’s still so much quieter than the city.

He also likes having the grass, even though it means an added expense each month, because it reminds him of growing up and spending time on the Delos estate with his mom and Juliet. He likes it bright (though he DOES have blackout drapes in the master bedroom suite because you have a lot of late nights) ... but you convince him more often than not to keep them open because what’s the point of so many windows if you don’t utilize them?

I could go on, but I won’t because I feel like I’m rambling. Thank you for asking this!

#ask something-tofightfor #thanks for the ask!!#logan delos #billy russo #house headcanon #headcanon #here comes the sun #he's not here #hes not here #logan delos x reader #billy russo x reader #drinix #i love logan's house so much and i would move in with him in a heartbeat

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fullmetaldevil-blog · 6 years

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Stitched AU Short: A Sick Day

While talking to a friend I was encouraged to try my hand at a few writing prompts since writing is new to me.

Anywho Batim Stitched AU short summary: A lot has happened for Allison, Tom and Benny since they got out of the studio and the last thing they need is a cold.

Early morning had risen on a modest home, and within a demon was stirring. Benny tossed and tuned on his bed moaning in his sleep before snapping awake and sat up looking around the room in fear. The demon looked around the space he was in dreading that he would see yellowed walls and endless hallways coated in ebony ink. Yet he was met with a soft baby blue wall and white trim. The spot were he was resting was his bed that Tom and Allison had recently bought for him. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the morning sun was shining through his window, and yet no one had come to get him. He was used to being woken at a set time by the the other residents of the home and yet he slept in. He listened carefully and come to realize that there was no sound of pattering feet or grumbling in the hallway. The normal sounds he had come to associate with mornings.

He lifted his blankets up and slid out of bed carefully to not make any noise. He opened his bedroom door slowly and saw that house had remained as still as it was the night before. The house itself was still sleeping and its occupants weren't a stir except for himself.

Benny quietly crept down the hall to the living room and den, no one was there. He drifted to the kitchen to find that it too was void of activity. He quietly groaned to himself that no one was up. The coffee pot was empty, there was no figure at the stove cooking, nothing. Just empty silence. The house was never quiet in the morning, someone was always up. The lack of sound was starting to make the little demon uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of the silence of the studio except for the occasional drip of ink or the moan of a tortured soul.

A sense of panic started bubbling up within the plushdemon. Why is he alone? Is this a bad dream where he thought he got out of the studio? Is he going to wake up and find the familiar yellowed walls of the factory and the stench of ink so thick you could gag? Will he be alone again?The edges of his eyes started to produce small droplets of ink before a rough but warm hand rested on the top of his head.

Benny whirled around and was met with a pair of tired eyes. "Hey, Benny. Good morning".

Tom smiled down at Benny and then noted the hints of ink at the demons eyes and knelt down. "Hey, whats wrong?" He rubbed his thumb on the demons cheek to wipe away the ink. A look of worry across the older man's face.

"I didn't see or hear anyone. There was no one here and I thought...I thought..." Benny's voice devolved into small whines as he leaned into Tom.

"Hey hey hey, it's ok" Tom hugged the toon and started to rub his back. "We're here and aren't going anywhere."

Tom knew all to well what Benny was probably going through. It was common for all of them to have horrid nightmares of being back in the hell hole of a studio. The yellowed wooden walls, the seemingly endless hallways dripping with ink, the creaks and moans of the building as ink was pumped through it like veins with the Ink machine at it's heart. Tom at least had Allison with him, but the plushdemon was separated from them. He didn't know what all the little devil had gone through since Benny didn't talk about it much, nor did he want to press him on it. One thing he knew for certain is that the demon had grown very attached now that the three were reunited. Benny had developed separation issues after the reunion, but he couldn't blame him. Benny was alone for so long just trying to survive the hell hole like everyone else. The only thing he could do was to be there for the toon whenever he needed him.

Tom just stayed there kneeling on his knee rubbing Benny's back while he waiting for the little toon to calm down. Benny's whining slowly stopped and he looked up at Tom. "Thank you".

Tom smiled and pointed at his leg for which Benny gladly clung to, sitting on top of Tom's foot as the man moved throughout the kitchen.

Benny watched as Tom drifted through the house opening up cabinets and drawers pulling out dishes and utensils. He set the table quickly and walked over to a stack of boxes and rummaged through them pulling out brand new pots and pans. Benny quietly sat and watched the man work his thoughts drifted to how he got to this point in his life.

It had been 2 weeks since they got out of the studio and Tom and Allison had no home to go home to since they were gone for years from being trapped in the studio. They had to start anew with nothing but the ink soaked clothes on their back and an old car long since rusted, a dead battery and flat tires. Luckily they still had a sizable bank account and managed to buy a house nestled in between some hills overlooking a valley. So much had happened so fast Benny had no clue what to make of it. The three of them had to move from one place called a 'hotel' to another one every few days, and they had to move at night so no one would see him. It felt like forever with moving from place to place with either Allison or Tom gone all day. He still remembered the day Allison came to the hotel room all grins shouting something about them finally getting a place called a 'house' and that they could move in in 3 days time.

This 'house' as he was told, is where he would be living from now on. It was much bigger then the hotel. He didn't quite know what to make of the place at the time since there were only walls, no bed, couch, fridge, or a device called 'television'. Tom insisted that Allison and Benny stay at the hotel one more day so he could try and get furnishings, but Allison countered with the argument that they needed to use the money for clothes, blankets and other necessities instead of a night in a hotel. Allison had told the man that she would gladly sleep on the floor of her new home and be at peace, then at a hotel. Tom was only able to bring home two sleeping bags since the beds would be delivered the following day, but it was more then enough for Allison. Their first night in the house was spent in sleeping bags on the living room floor with Benny sleeping with Allison.

The first few days made Benny's head spin. Either Allison or Tom were gone all day and would come home multiple times with boxes and boxes of stuff. Though when the delivery truck arrived to set up the beds and deliver the couch, Benny ran and hid under the kitchen sink till the crew was gone. As soon as the beds arrived Allison and Tom divvied up the rooms, he learned that he was getting his own room right next to theirs. He didn't like being separated from Allison, but Tom insisted that Benny have his own room so the he could have his owns things and his own personal space.

Though the house had little things that Benny liked about it. There was a strange wall where light came through the ceiling that Tom called a 'atrium' that spanned one side of the living room and opposite of it was a large structure called a 'fireplace and mantle'. He liked the living room cause it was large and he could run around, but his favorite place of all was the kitchen. Allison would always be in the room making something good to eat. He would watch her drift throughout the room opening cabinets and drawers stocking them with new utensils and china they just purchased. He always looked forward to what foods Allison was gonna make since the first room that was stocked with necessities was the kitchen. He often sat on the chair and hummed with her while he watched her cook. He really enjoyed it when Allison would ask him to help out, she would show him little things like how to cut fruit or vegetables without hurting himself.

His thoughts drifted to why Allison wasn't up yet and why Tom was. Normally it would be Allison up making breakfast and Tom would stumble out some time later. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice "Benny? Benny? You listening?"

Benny looked up to see Tom looking down at him with a worried expression. "I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. What were you saying?" He looked up at Tom sheepishly.

"I asked; what did you want for breakfast, cause we only have eggs or cereal."

"May I have some cereal please?".

"Ok." Tom walked over to the cabinet and pulled down 2 bowls, a box of cereal from the adjacent cabinet, and set them down at the table. He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of milk and he stopped and looked down at the still clinging toon while chuckling. "Benny you're gonna have to get off my leg so you can sit at the table to eat" Tom nearly forgot the toon was there considering Benny was pretty light, but if the toon expected to eat, he would have to let go the man's leg.

"...ok" Benny slowly lifted himself off Tom's leg and soon found himself being picked up and sat at the table with a freshly poured bowl of cereal being placed in front of him "Thank you".

"You're welcome little guy". Tom smiled while pouring himself his own bowl of cereal. He returned to the fridge and put the milk away and came back to the table and started to eat quietly.

Benny didn't take a bite of his food, but rather looked around before looking back at Tom. "Where's Allison?"

Tom stopped eating and sighed slightly "She caught a cold and isn't feeling well, so she is sleeping in for now."

Benny got instantly worried "Will she get better?"

"Yeah, she just over did it and tired herself out. All she needs is medicine and rest." he smiled at the worried demon.

Tom couldn't bring himself to say that both he and Allison were exhausted. Neither have been able to catch a decent break since once out of the studio they were jobless and homeless. It would have been one thing if it were just the two of them and they could take a little more time on things but with having Benny, they couldn't wait too long on anything. They had to hit the ground running. They were thankful they still had their savings from working with the studio and Henry was more then willing to help with lodging, but neither Tom nor Allison wanted to burden the older animator, especially now that he had his own demon to deal with.

Tom and Allison ran around everywhere and to their dismay, so much had changed. Stores they used to know were no longer around, and some areas that used to be grassy fields were all covered in either houses or shopping centers. Cars were a a different story all together. There were new vehicles and designs that to Tom looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, but it helped prove a point that neither he nor Allison liked: they were frozen in time while the world left them behind. Both he and Allison had to adjust to their new world just as much as their new companion, but they couldn't show that they were just as lost and scared as the toon was. Henry was heaven sent as he spent a bit of time catching Tom and Allison both up on current events and managed to show them around town so they wouldn't feel so lost. He was also kind enough to help them with the house search since he too was also moving out of his apartment and into a new home since he now had Bendy to look after. His small apartment just wasn't cutting it for the energetic devil.

"Is there anything we can do for her in the meantime?" Benny's voice breaking Tom out of his thoughts.

He looked down at Benny and smiled at the thoughtfulness of the toon "Actually, there is something we can do."

"What is it?" Benny leaned over the table, tom had the toons undivided attention.

"Well, we can make her some soup and get her some medicine, so she can get better faster."

"Yay! " Benny was about to leap off his seat when Tom caught the plushdemon's arm.

"Finish your breakfast first young man." Benny was met with a stern look from Tom.

"Ok!" Tom watched as Benny seemed to inhale his cereal before hopping off the chair with his bowl and dashing to the sink. He got on a step stool and placed his bowl in the sink before swiftly returning to Tom's side eager to get started.

The man nearly choked on his own food while trying to keep from laughing at the energetic devil. This was something he was going to have to get used to. Tom finished his cereal and washed the dishes with Benny following him like a little demonic shadow. He reached back into the box of pots and pans and pulled out a small pot and handed it to Benny.

"Here, can you set this on the table while I get the chicken?"

"Ok." Benny took the pot and step stool over to the table. He hopped up on the step stool with the pot and set it on top and waited for Tom to come over.

Tom went to the fridge and pulled out some chicken breasts, carrots, celery, an onion and 2 potatoes. He approached the table with all the groceries in hand and set them down. He returned to the drawers and pulled out 2 knives, 2 cutting boards, a potato peeler and returned to the table.

Tom washed and cut the chicken breasts very thinly and slid them in the pot and filled it with water, setting it to boil. While he waited, he helped Benny peel and cut up the veggies into small pieces so all the food could cook quickly. He was thankful Benny spent a lot of time with Allison in the kitchen and didn't have to watch him too much as Benny handled his knife carefully. The toon handled each vegetable carefully and steadily cut each one in equal sizes at a steady pace in comparison to Tom's 'slow and steady wins the race' pace. Tom felt a little embarrassed that the toon was faster at chopping up the vegetables, but at least Tom knew how to cook.

It didn't take too long for the chicken to come to a full boil with Tom stirring the pot on occasion. He grabbed the cutting board with the veggies and poured them into the pot along with some seasonings and let it continue to boil. While he waited for the veggies to cook, he gathered up the dishes on the table and started washing them and handed them to Benny so he could dry them. Benny couldn't quite reach the cabinets to put the cutting boards away but was able to put the utensils away. After handing Benny the last cutting board he waited for the toon to finish drying it and gingerly took the board from him and returned it to the cabinet.

Tom returned to his former position over the stove occasionally stirring the pot, while Benny had brought his step stool over and was was watching next to him. He took out a small fork and stabbed a piece of potato. Benny asked why he was doing that and he told him that when a fork can penetrate a potato easily then it is ready. He went to one of the cabinets and pulled out a box of macaroni noodles and poured them into the pot. After making sure the soup was on a high boil he covered the pot with it's lid and immediately shut the flame off.

"Why did you do that? The noodles aren't cooked." Benny looked up at Tom confused. He had seen Allison cook noodles for a dish called 'spaghetti' and she would only turn the flame off after the noodles were cooked, and that took awhile. Not in the matter of seconds.

"Bring water to a high boil and throw in noodles and cover it, after 10 minutes the noodles will be cooked from the heat contained within the pot." Tom smiled while scooping Benny off his step stool setting the devil down on the floor "Now, While that is cooking I need go to the store to buy some medicine."

"What do I do in the meantime?" Benny looked up at Tom.

"You can be a good boy and watch Allison for me while I'm gone, but don't disturb her. She needs her rest.".

"Ok". Benny gave a small mock salute.

He watched Tom put a coat on over his Pajamas, grabbed his car keys and headed out the door. Once Benny was sure Tom was long gone he turned on his heel and headed for Allison's room. He knew Tom told him to not 'disturb her', but how would he know if she was ok if he didn't check on her? He quietly approached the door and turned the nob slowly opening the door to be as quiet as possible. The lights were off, and he could make out a mound of blankets rolled up on the bed.

"Allison?" he quietly called out, but didn't get a response. He walked over to the bed and carefully crawled up on the bed and scooted over to her. "Allison?"

The blanket mound finally stirred and Benny was greeted by a tired shaky smile. "Hey, sweetie." Allison whispered.

Benny laid on his stomach and was inches away from Allison's face and whispered " How do you feel?"

"I've been better." She lifted her hand and gently petted him between his horns.

"Tom went to get medicine. Do you need anything?" He leaned into her hand purring slightly. It was then he felt how clammy her hand was, the contact made him frown slightly.

"Some water if you can. Please." She whispered. It was clear she was exhausted and very much out of it.

Benny nodded and removed himself from her touch and slid off the bed. He walked to the doorway and looked over his shoulder at the woman frowning slightly before leaving.

He walked into the kitchen and looked up at the cabinets that housed the glasses and the faucet where he could get water. All of them were out of his reach. He needed water, and normally he wouldn't care if he had to climb up on a stool to get and glass and fill it with water, but the last thing he wanted was to spill the water by accident cause of his small size. He took a deep breath and thought to himself that in his normal state he can't do much, but in his larger form he is taller then a human and can. Though Tom didn't seem to approve of his other form, but if it's for Allison, it should be ok.

Benny felt the fabric of his body expand as the ink within him adjusted and grew. Ink seeped from his face completely coating his right eye and half the stitches on his left either expanded or snapped all together, partially encasing a large singular black eye and yellow iris. His teeth grew sharp and his horns grew long as he gained height. His body grew lanky with the stitches on his stomach pulling open and large white teeth protruding from it's edges. His arms separated at each respective stitch and only remained connected to his body by the threads that held them together. Allison had dubbed his alternate form "Rag doll" due to how shredded and broken his body looked, but it was a form he needed at the moment.

With height now on his side, he walked over to the cabinet and gingerly pulled out a glass and filled it with water from the faucet. He had a bit of a tough time with the faucet since his gloved hands are much larger then a humans. With glass in hand, he walked down the hall and re-entered the Bedroom.

Allison looked up at Benny and smiled tiredly at him. She didn't seem to mind the demons change in physical appearance.

"CaN yOu SiT uP?" His voice came out garbled and deep. He winced at the sound of his own voice, but tried to smile without looking like a horror show.

Allison nodded and started to push the blankets off so she could sit up. It was then that Benny noticed her sheets were soaked as well as her clothes. He frowned at seeing her looking so pale, he didn't know what to do. He knew how to take care of himself, but never a human, let alone a sick one.

He watched as she seemed to struggle with sitting up, her body seemingly not cooperating. He carefully slid his large hand behind her back and helped her to sit up properly "HeRe" he handed her the glass of water and sat next to her.

"Thank you." Allison took the glass and started drinking.

While she was drinking the water, Benny got up from the bed and walked over to her dresser. He opened up the drawers looking for a change of clothes for her. He knew at least that humans change clothes when their current one is soiled, and she was soaked from sweat. Allison protested about Benny rummaging through her belongings, especially when he accidentally held up a bra and underwear. He settled on a change of pajamas and brought them over to her.

"PuT tHeSe On." He held out the clothes. His cheeks were dusted with hints of pink from finding her undergarments by accident. His eye darting around to look anywhere but her.

Allison smiled up at him and took the clothes from him "Thanks". She wanted to laugh at how shy and modest Benny was acting. He very much reminded her of Tom when he would stumble in on her while she would be changing ,and instantly hide his face or turn around.

Benny watched as she slowly got up from the bed, groaning the entire way up, and headed for the bathroom to change. While she was gone, Benny pulled the soaked sheets off the bed and tossed them in the laundry basket. He grabbed the bedding from his room even though they were a bit small and used them to cover the bed back up. They still didn't have a lot of bedding yet since they were still trying to make the house properly livable, but for now it will have to do.

He quickly made his way back to the kitchen to grab a water basin and fill it with cold water, taking care to not get any of the water on himself. He knew that humans sweat when they get too hot and he hoped that a cold cloth will help cool her down. While the basin was filling with water he checked the time and saw that more then 10 minutes had passed. The soup should be ready. He opened up the cabinet and grabbed a bowl filling it with the chicken noodle soup. He shut the water off in the sink and opened up a few kitchen drawers till he found a cloth and soaked it in the basin. Satisfied, he carried the basin in one hand, the bowl of soup in the other, and returned to the bedroom. He laid the basin on the floor near the nightstand and set the soup on the nightstand making sure to not knock over the lamp.

Allison came back to the bedroom and chuckled at the change of bedding, the basin sitting on the floor in front of the nightstand and a bowl of presumably soup atop the stand. She instantly recognized Benny's bedding. The demon in question was standing next to bed and tilted his head.

"ArE yOu FeElInG aNy BeTtEr?"

"I am now sweetie, now that I was able to freshen up a bit and that you're helping me out so much" Allison walked over to Benny and lifted her hand up and caressed the demons cheek which he eagerly leaned into humming a strange garbled purr.

With the demon satisfied Allison sat on the bed and grabbed the bowl of soup examining its contents, while Benny sat on the floor next to her. It was a very basic chicken noodle soup, tom's proclaimed 'specialty'. The man was very basic in his cooking saying that 'all you need are the bare necessities, nothing more, nothing less.' she picked up the spoon and started eating, all the while under the watchful eye of the over sized demondoll.

“Is It GoOd?” Benny looked up at her, a hint of nervousness in his eye.

“yes it is.” Allison smiled warmly. Truth be told she could hardly taste it, but for the little she could taste, it was delightful.

Benny hummed at her appreciation for the food “I'm GlAd, ToM aNd I mAdE iT tOgEtHeR.”

“And you two did a wonderful job” Allison reached over and scratched Benny between the horns resulting in a much louder purr. The demon clearly happy from her liking the food he helped make, and the show of affection he was getting for it.

Allison ate the soup slowly, savoring it's taste bite by bite. Such a simple meal yet contained so much love within it. Once she finished her food, Benny took the bowl from her and returned to the kitchen while she laid down in the bed trying to rest again. Benny came back to the room and double checked her sheets making sure she was tucking in for bed while he resumed his spot on the floor next to her.

After awhile he noticed that she would toss and turn in the bed and seemed to be shivering again. He lifted his hand up and placed it on her forehead to gauge her temperature and she felt quite warm. He knew he himself wasn't nearly as warm as what was viewed as the 'average' human temperature, but he was sure they weren't supposed to be that hot. yet she was acting like she was cold. That couldn't be right, she was sweating a lot earlier cause she was hot and now she's acting like she's cold? She has several blankets on the bed, including his. Yeah sure his blankets were smaller in comparison, but he laid them end to end to equate one adult sized blanket, so how is she cold?

"ArE yOu CoLd?"

"I can't seem to get warm for some reason." Allison pulled on her blankets tying to get more comfortable.

Benny frowned slightly, but smiled when a thoughtful idea came to his mind.

Benny made sure his stomach mouth stitching was nice and taut before he carefully slid his hands under Allison tucking the blankets under her, wrapping her like a human sized burrito. She noted the sudden movement and looked to see what he was doing "Benny? What are you doing?"

Benny slid his hands under Allison again getting a small squeak from the woman as he lifted her and moved her to the edge if the bed. With the opposite side of the bed cleared, he crawled next to her. He pulled her body close to his and curled up around her as best he could. His body dwarfing hers, he laid his head next to hers and had his arms and threads wrapped around her to keep her blankets close to her.

Allison instantly caught on as to what the large plushdemon was doing. His body was primarily fabric, and he was using his own body as an additional blanket. "Thank you sweetie" she pressed herself into him, already feeling warmer with the addition of the little body heat he generates.

Benny felt her body relax under him as he himself relaxed. He extended the threads of his arm and reached behind himself and pulled the cloth from the basin. He squeezed it as best he could and brought it back to his main body and laid the cloth on Allison's forehead. He watched her drift off to sleep while he occasionally would remove the cloth, re-soak it and reapply it. It seemed that Allison had finally stopped shivering and wasn't sweating as much anymore, he could only hope that whatever was making her hot and giving her chills had passed.

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

Tom pulled up to the house cursing that his 'easy trip' to the pharmacy took longer then expected. Traffic was a nightmare thanks to an accident and then at the pharmacy an old man was bitterly arguing about wanting his discount of all but 5 cents off his bill, while Tom stood behind him wishing the man would get a heart attack and drop dead so he could at least pay for his things and leave. Getting back home was a rerun episode of 'return of the traffic accident', 2 cars got into a minor accident and were arguing it out on the road like idiots instead of moving to the shoulder to clear the road. Tom could only hope that Allison was feeling better and that Benny wasn't too much of a handful. While the demon was by no sense of the word a 'problematic child' he was a touch concerned about Benny being left alone for extended periods. Yeah Allison was there with him, but she was sick and in no state to deal with the devil. He steeled himself for potential trouble and opened up the door to pure silence within the home.

"Benny?" He quietly called out. He didn't want to shout for fear of waking Allison, but was confused as to why it was so quiet.

"Ben?" Still no answer.

Tom closed the door and walked into the kitchen. The kitchen was undisturbed except for a open cabinet and a bowl in the sink. He then went to the living room and there was no one there either. Tom sighed and started checking the bedrooms. Benny's door was left open, and his bed had been stripped to the mattress. Tom investigated the room, but other then the missing bedding everything else was in perfect order. He knew he didn't need to spend any energy on the spare room since it was still empty and that only left the last room, his and Allison's.

Tom walked to their room and carefully opened the door and was instantly stunned by what he saw.

Before him, lay Benny in his Rag Doll form curled around a mound of blankets. Tom still wasn't quite used to this form of the toon. He had remembered the day Benny was born how the toon acted, curious and sweet. It was hard to believe that what happened in the studio would warp the sweet little toon into that of a monster. What surprised him the most was despite the demons physical appearance he was still the same sweet demon born of a doll and ink.

Tom walked over to the bed and Benny lifted his head to look at the man. Tom noticed that Allison was under him, she looked peacefully asleep, unlike her fitful sleep through the night as her cold worsened. He noted that the bed was covered in Benny's blankets and that their own blankets were no where to be found. The man smiled and set the medicine on the nightstand and look over to the large demon.

“Thanks Benny. When she gets up tell her that there is some soup. Ok?” the man whispered as to not disturb his wife.

“I gAvE hEr SoMe SoUp EaRlIeR”

Tom smiled, Benny was doing his best to take care of his wife while he was gone. “Thanks Benny” he reached out and caressed the demon between the horns.

Benny purred under Tom's hand and then laid his head back down resting next to Allison. Tom nodded, turned on his heel and quietly left the room shutting the door behind him. He knew his wife was in good hands, Benny would make sure of that. The demon more ways then one, viewed Allison as his surrogate mom and would do anything and everything for the both of them.

#benny the stitched devil #benny the stitch demon #benny the stitched demon #benny the stitch devil #allison pendle #allison connor #thomas connor #family fluff #writing prompt

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mtraki · 5 years

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(TW: Allusions to child prostitution/forced prostitution)

“... So this is a real thing?”

Miss Schofield gave him an amused look and answered dryly, “Mister Morgan, I would like to believe it’s clear I’m rather fond of you, but I am not so fond as to spend an evening arguing with Dutch van der Linde over a false lead, thereby lying to his face, just to ride out several days in the wilderness with you to eventually return to him empty handed. Even I am not so brazen…”

Catherine adjusted her blouse and attempted to brush dust from her sleeves, “It’s not his house. It’s his autumn and winter retreat. His house is in Boston.” Suffering Arthur’s disapproving look, and interrupting before he could give her a scathing reply on what he thought about that, the lady continued, “I only make mention of it because he has likely only recently arrived and will therefore not be anticipating company.”

“Is that important?” The outlaw wanted to know.

“It might be. It will likely affect how many people are on the property and how easily he can send word to town if he decides it’s prudent-- which reminds me, we should scatter the horses or lock them all in the barn or something…”

Nodding, he motioned for them to turn off the road, into the trees, “An’ yer sure he’ll speak to us?”

Grinning, Catherine indicated herself, “... I’m Catherine-Louise Schofield, remember? If nothing else, I’m his social peer. It’s his obligation to treat me graciously and provide me whatever hospitality he has at his disposal. He’ll see us.”

He shrugged and shook his head, “If you says so…”

“There _are _rules, Arthur,” She told him with a sigh, “Real rules. Having a lot of money doesn’t mean there aren’t rules to follow, it just means there are different rules.”

It left a bad taste in his mouth, and sour memories crept forward from the dark, threatening to tug at his heart, “... I know…”

She gave him a long look before saying in a soft voice, “... That sounds like a story, Arthur…”

“Maybe. Later.” The outlaw wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready to tell Miss Schofield about Mary, “Speakin’ of stories… I suppose yer gonna want t’sell one t’this feller?”

“Well, as briefly amusing as it might be to introduce you to Mister Walker as ‘Mister Arthur Morgan of the notorious Van der Linde gang’, I don’t think that will assist us in getting any useful information…”

“Probably not… ‘Mister Walker’ you said?”

“Abraham Fitzgerald Thomas Walker, the Third,” Catherine explained with an off-hand gesture, “His family has packed ammunition since the start of the industry and has bought out most other labels. I think it’s his older brother, however, who’s in charge of all the business…? You’ll probably hear all about it tonight…”

“I can hardly wait…” The outlaw rolled his eyes, “So…?”

The lady gave him an appraising look, “... It depends on what sort of story you’re willing to go along with, Mister Morgan.�� As much as I’d like to portray you as a man my father has hired for my protection, I don’t have the materials and you have made clear your disinclination to wear a disguise.”

“I don’ play dress-up.” He replied firmly.

“Indeed,” It was Catherine’s turn to roll eyes, and she grinned, “So perhaps it would be easiest to explain you as an ill-advised paramour?”

“... What do you mean? You want to tell him I’m your lover?”

“Essentially. You’ll be Dutch.”

Arthur snorted a laugh, “... I cannot tell you how poor a Dutch I make…”

“No, you’re filling his role, not play-acting as him! I ran away from home and my father to join you on your adventures!”

“What ‘adventures’ would those be?”

Catherine looked him over, then shrugged and said simply, “Bounty hunting.”

“You ran away from home to be a bounty hunter?”

“No, silly man, I ran away from home because I was seduced by your rugged charms and untamed lifestyle!”

Arthur gave her a very dubious look, “You think he’s gonna buy that?”

“I’m going to sell that.” She smiled confidently back, “Will you help me?”

“... I don’ have any better ideas… So I guesso…” He shrugged, looking aside uncomfortably, feeling heat climb his throat at the idea of acting as if he fancied Miss Schofield when he was so used to spending all his effort acting like he didn’t, “... Though usually when I need to get information out of a man--”

“--I know. But it’s not as if he’s alone, he’s going to have _some _security around the premises. Even if you could shoot our way out of there again, we don’t need a massacre drawing all kinds of attention. Believe me, I know you think beating him half-senseless and putting a gun to his head is easier, but this time, it’s really easier to just sit down and have a nice dinner and talk.”

“He’s gonna feed us?”

“Of course. He’ll ply us with expensive liquor too if you like. That’s all you have to do, my dear Mister Kilgore,” She smiled winningly at him, “Accept what he offers you, answer questions or decline to answer them politely-- ‘I’d rather not say’ will do-- watch, and listen, and ultimately make sure we leave again. Under no circumstances do we stay the night, though he will probably offer to put us up.”

“Kilgore, huh? Tacitus Kilgore?” “It’s one of your better stage names.”

They finished locking half the horses in the stables and scaring the other half out the open back gate of the pasture. They saw noone and went unchallenged for the entire endeavor, and even all the way to the front door of the sizeable lodge.

Arthur’s loud knocking brought a barrel-chested man to greet them, his impressive size blocking them from seeing, much less trespassing, indoors.

“... Who’re you?”

Placing her hand lightly on Arthur’s forearm, Catherine smiled winningly and answered, “Miss Schofield, calling on my dear family friend, Mister Walker.”

The man’s distrusting scowl deepened, “Mister Walker isn’t expecting friends to come calling, Miss…”

“Oh, I understand entirely, but will you please let him know we’re here anyway?” Was her reply, her radiant smile never flinching.

The man closed the door again-- making no attempt to hide his disdain in the gesture-- and Arthur and the lady shared a look.

“Don’t worry.” She assured him confidently, despite the quirking eyebrow he’d noticed.

It was only minutes later that the same man opened the door again, this time looking much more chastened and respectful, which Arthur supposed was good enough that he wouldn’t have to arrange for it himself. As he’d fully intended to.

“My apologies, Miss Schofield. Mister Walker will see you in the sitting room. This way…”

The cabin was large, and to Arthur, who had seen any number of rustic homesteads, it looked strange. The rooms too spacious, their arrangement too manufactured and furnishings too polished. An artifice. A rich man’s approximation of what living on the brink of civilization looked like without giving up too much of the luxury and elegance with which he might be accustomed. Before even laying eyes on the man, Arthur decided he very much did not like him. He was everything wrong with this country.

His opinions didn’t change when he saw the man in the sitting room. Upon seeing Miss Schofield, the gentleman rose and approached, a broad smile on his face.

“My dear Catherine-Louise! My God, just look at you! One would hardly think it possible, but I am quite certain you are more beautiful every time I see you!”

He was a spry middle-aged man of average height, and save for some thickness around the waistline, slender in a waistcoat and collared shirt, cravat loose around his neck. His narrow face featured prominently a long, beak-like nose and was crowned with thick, curly hair of a warm brown, trimmed neatly along the sides, but longer and more wild at the top of his head. With long booted strides, he crossed the wooden floor to the young woman, and for a moment, Arthur thought he would pull her into an embrace.

The big outlaw cleared his throat and held back every other urge to interfere more directly.

Catherine demured and smiled, “Mister Walker, it’s so nice to see you again! I’m glad you seem to be keeping well.”

Another woman was stepping gracefully to meet them. She appeared perhaps not too much older than Catherine-- maybe closer to Arthur’s own age-- and somewhat fuller figured. Her blonde hair was pinned up elaborately and dressed with a comb and sprig of lavender to match her patterned dress. Her wide blue eyes lowered to the floor and she blushed visibly under Arthur’s brief examination, which made him immediately uncomfortable and turn his attention back to the more out-going Mister Walker.

“Me? But it’s you who-- I’m forgetting my manners. I do not think you’ve ever the pleasure of meeting my charming and manifestly superior half! Miss Schofield, this is Missus Delilah Walker. My dearest, this is Miss Catherine-Louise Schofield, Robert Schofield’s daughter.”

The women shook hands, smiling fondly at each other, and then Catherine reached for Arthur’s elbow, “Meanwhile, I have the singular pleasure of introducing you to my dear, intimate friend, Mister Tacitus Kilgore.”

“Abraham Walker, a pleasure.”

Arthur accepted the handshakes offered him, “Sir. Ma’am.”

“Wonderful, delightful, please, won’t you sit?”

They moved to the seating area, and Catherine took the outlaw’s hand, causing him to freeze at the side of the couch and look at her in surprise. Still holding his hand, she smiled and sat herself elegantly, using his arm for support. It occurred to Arthur that she’d just created the illusion that he had the first idea of what to do or how to behave in this room with these wealthy socialites. Dipping his head to her in acknowledgement, he noted the movement of her eyes toward the seat beside her, so he went and sat somewhat stiffly and awkwardly next to her. Meanwhile, Mister and Missus Walker had settled into a pair of overstuffed chairs across from them.

Quite suddenly, it began.

“It’s quite a ways from Boston, my dear. What brings you to West Elizabeth?” Asked Abraham, smiling pleasantly.

Catherine’s smile and tone were mildly teasing, by contrast, “You would be well acquainted with the distance, wouldn’t you? Seeing as you travel it every autumn and spring…”

“I’ve said it before haven’t I? I cannot abide the frigid winters, and here the punishing summers. I’d much rather escape both.”

“It’s only just now started to cool a bit, isn’t that right, Mister Kilgore?” When Arthur nodded, attempting to make a thoughtful sound in his throat, Catherine continued, “Which is a welcome relief. Still, I must say you are depriving your lovely wife by taking her out of New England during the prettiest of its seasons.”

“It is sad to leave behind the fall colors,” Missus Walker confessed quietly, but then she smiled at her husband indulgently, “But I suffer deplorably in the chill. My husband is so good to look after my health.”

“I’m more surprised to see you leaving behind the vibrant northeastern autumn,” The husband interjected, turning the topic back toward the one he’d intended. “I know how much you used to enjoy them.”

“A sacrifice, I assure you, but one gladly made,” Catherine replied casually, giving Arthur a long glance he couldn’t immediately interpret outside of it being part of the act and not an actual communication-- or so he hoped, “but I had more than the harsh winter to escape, Mister Walker. I’d appreciate your discretion on the matter…”

For all his apparent foolishness, Abraham Walker was quick, “... My dear Catherine, don’t tell me you’ve run away?”

“I’m a woman grown, Mister Walker,” was the contradiction, “I’ll thank you not to infantilize my desire for freedom like I’m some wayward girl.”

“No, no, that wasn’t my intention, forgive me. But do you mean to say you are here against your father’s wishes?”

Shrugging, Catherine answered, “As of late, I know very little of my father’s wishes, and have even less concern for them. I tired of being his prisoner, so I left.”

Mister Walker did not immediately reply, instead his gaze fell upon Arthur, noting the number of weapons as if just now realizing they might signify a danger, “... Is that where you come in, sir?”

Considering carefully, the outlaw picked his words with trepidation, meeting the other man’s eyes, “... A lady tells you she wants to go west, are you gonna say ‘no’? ‘specially a lady like Miss Schofield?”

“Ha, you make a fine point, Mister Kilgore!”

“I find it strange,” Catherine observed, smoothing her skirts, “that this is the first you are hearing of this. I was certain my father would have enlisted your aid in the matter months ago.”

“He might have,” the gentleman replied, “were we still on speaking terms.”

The silence was abrupt and stifling, chasing tension through Arthur’s shoulders and into his hands. He looked at Miss Schofield. What now?

Catherine blinked her surprise, “...This is astonishing news! I was not aware you and my father had had a falling out…”

“I’m embarrassed to confess that we had a… very severe disagreement.”

“It must have been, so,” She replied, “The two of you have been friends longer than I’ve been alive!”

Mister Walker shrugged, smiling sadly, “It is my understanding that there are two sorts of men in this world: the sort who, after confession, feel gratitude, and the sort, who, after confession, feel nothing but resentment.”

“You will not surprise me by revealing my father numbers among the latter.”

“Most men do, my dear Catherine. Still, I think it a shame to lose his companionship. I have long admired the ingenuity and energy of Mister Robert Schofield.” Then the gentleman’s head tilted a little to the right, and his expression changed, as if the new vantage provided a whole new perception of the woman sat across him, “You much re--”

“--I am aware of our familial similarities, Mister Walker, and would prefer not to be reminded,” Catherine’s voice was cold, but then she softened again, “...I cannot say that I share your opinions of your situation, for your own sake, but I do confess it complicates my own endeavor…”

Abraham straightened in his seat, “You come to me in need. How may I be of assistance, dear lady?”

“... If you are no longer in contact, then I suppose you do not know anything about my father’s plans for Manzanita Post--”

“Miss Schofield.” Arthur rumbled, checking her tongue. It was part of their approach: the moment she mentioned the location, he was to interject.

It worked amazingly well. Immediately, Mister Walker’s interest only sharpened, they could see it in his face and in his dark eyes, but then he deflated again.

“No, I can tell you nothing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s just as well,” The young woman relented with a sigh, seeming to sink into the couch, “Nevermind, Mister Walker. I’m sorry to trouble you over it.”

The man started to protest that it wasn’t any trouble at all, but Missus Walker smoothly rose to her feet.

“Our guests would probably like to refresh themselves before supper, my dear. Miss Schofield, will you accompany me upstairs?”

Catherine stood with equal grace, prompting both men to their feet as well.

“Yes, yes, of course!” The gentleman, addressed Arthur directly, “You will be staying for supper, of course, won’t you?”

“Well…” He wanted to say no. If Mister Walker didn’t have the information Catherine was after, then they needed to make themselves scarce and find something else to take back to camp. Absolutely, under no circumstances, did he want to return to Dutch with nothing to show… not with what little he could remember of leaving him. Besides that, he didn’t like this man, or care for his company

But then he felt Catherine’s fingers slide against his calloused palm as she took his hand, and he turned his face to meet her look.

“... We could use a good meal,” Were her soft words, “and I could do with a proper bath…”

She’s trying to communicate something more, he knew it, but he just couldn’t tell what it was. Chafed with frustration, the outlaw held her hand fast and pulled her after him, away from the couch and to the corner of the room without even an ‘excuse me’. He knew it was incredibly churlish, even for a coarse man, but at present, he didn’t give a damn. Thankfully, Miss Catherine went without protest, and didn’t resist when he tugged her into the corner and blocked out their hosts with his broad back. Ignoring the gasps and alarmed mutterings, he kept his voice low and minded his words carefully-- they could probably still hear him. They were most certainly listening…

“If you want a bath, I’ll take you into town--”

Her smile was all sweetness, her pale eyes wide while she adopted his hushed tone, “My dear, I didn’t mean to offend! You take such good care of me, I’ll be sure to make that very clear--”

“--That’s not… I don’t… What’re we doin’ here?” Stamping down his frustration of the situation was hard enough, but now she’d assaulted him with the embarrassment of the implications of the act they were putting on, and already Arthur could feel heat climbing up from his collar.

“We’re going to have supper,” She told him quietly, squeezing his hand that still held hers, “I’m going to wash up beforehand, as is only proper, and I’m certain you’ll have the opportunity as well, should you want it. In the meantime, I’m sure you and Mister Walker can find something to talk about…? I’ve gone and monopolized the conversation, as usual…”

“... Catherine…” He ground out the syllables between his teeth, making clear along with every facet of his expression how much he did not want to talk with the gentleman.

“It’ll only be a little while,” She promised, “just for a bit of tidying up-- Oh, but Missus Walker will probably want to show me the rooms upstairs…”

“... You know I ain’t got patience for long conversation, Miss Schofield…”

“Your best manners, you promised me…”

“Did I?”

Mister Walker called from the middle of the room, “Is everything alright?”

Holding Arthur’s look for a moment-- and he was impressed as well as irritated with the sharpened steel he saw there in her pale eyes-- Catherine smiled all graciousness at the gentleman, “Yes, of course, everything is quite well. My dearest Tacitus is just unused to the usual motions of social calls. Now, Missus Walker, we were going upstairs, weren’t we?”

The outlaw did not hold on to her hand to keep her from going, despite his every desire to do so. Part of him wanted to haul her over his shoulder and stride out the front door no matter how she might holler at him for the indignity…

Together, he and the gentleman watched the ladies ascend the stairs. The mousy Delilah was whispering something in what Arthur thought looked like a _nervous _fashion, and that Catherine smiled over her shoulder at him made clear she was commenting on him and his behavior. She was probably mentioning how poor a match they were…

He’d warned her, dammit. He couldn’t play these complicated smooth-talking roles!

“... She’s quite something.” Abraham said after the women had vanished through a doorway, “Always has been, that Catherine-Louise…”

“...Mhm.”

The gentleman turned his gaze to Arthur’s face, and the lightness in his tone vanished, turning it very grave, “... Do you plan on keeping her, Mister Kilgore? Or just until the fancy passes?”

Scoffing a light laugh, Arthur fixed Abraham a hard look, “I ain’t in the practice of havin’ nothin’ taken from me, Mister Walker, if that’s what you’re suggesting…”

Watching the rich man squirm almost made the evening worth the trouble.

“... I don’t want to give you the wrong idea… Just a friendly warning: if you care for her, and intend to keep her, then stay far out of the reach of her father.”

“I’ve heard some of dear ol’ Daddy Schofield.” Arthur shrugged.

“I don’t think you understand…” The gentleman tugged at his collar, “... You see, she’s what? Nearly thirty now? It’s an important time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… she’s nearly too old to be of her… previous uses to him… So now his only recourse is to marry her off to the highest bidder!”

“... Excuse me?”

“Do you think it is an accident she is so charming? Do you imagine you are the first man she has beguiled? My dear Mister Kilgore, the poor girl is only doing as she was trained to do!”

“I’m the ill-bred man,” Arthur snarled, “and here you’re talkin’ about a lady like she’s no more than a trained hound!”

“We are all products of our training, Mister Kilgore.” Abraham said quietly.

“Unless you want to see what my training has turned out, Mister Walker, you’ll shut your goddamn mouth about Miss Schofield!”

He was quaking with anger. Still, he knew silencing the other man was a mistake-- whatever information he had, even the distasteful sort-- was information he shouldn’t turn aside out of hand.

But he couldn’t help himself. He kept picturing Catherine in the moonlight, on the ridge, telling him she intimately understood already that she was an object, a plaything, for men, despite all her fierce independence and cunning. Catherine, bent over the little side table, her face distant, as if she’d turned dead and cold inside-- like it was a familiar habit-- while Dutch rutted into her.

Catherine wanted vengeance on her father. That much had been clear since the very beginning.

Abraham had said ‘nearly thirty’ was ‘too old’ for her ‘previous uses’. Arthur wanted to tear him apart.

Their eyes met, and Abraham was solemn, not afraid.

“If you care for her--”

“--Shut up--”

“-- take her far away. This is not nearly far enough.” The man shook his head, “Heed my advice. She’ll think it silly. Overcautious. But she has always famously underestimated him.”

“If I was you,” Was the low reply, “I’d worry more about my own damn self, the way you keep on…”

With a heavy sigh, Mister Walker made a gesture as if sweeping the matter aside. Then he brightened.

“... Can I offer you a cigar, Mister Kilgore?”

Supper was a brief, bright event. Arthur’s appetite had abandoned him, though, and Abraham did not seem to be faring much better, no matter his attempts to maintain a cheerful demeanor. Catherine must have sensed the change, for she did not protest when Arthur suggest they bid their farewells and move on for the night.

The Walkers did not invite them to stay.

Once out of sight of the cabin once more, they mounted up where they’d left the horses in the near-dark just after sunset. The lady’s pale gaze looked far beyond the road when she spoke to him, her chin held proud, but not haughty.

“... I’m sure you’ve heard a little about my history. I knew it was a risk. So I would appreciate it if you kept whatever it was to yourself, Arthur.”

“... I didn’t hear anythin’ worth repeatin’, Miss Catherine.” The outlaw shrugged, scowling as he adjusted his hat, “... I’m just hopin’ you did.”

“No, but I did find this…”

He saw her pull the folded memo from her skirt and took it when she passed it over.

“Missus Delilah Walker is a lovely, trusting soul, bless her.” The young lady sighed, “She didn’t even notice while we were in his upstairs study. It was on the desk, under a few less interesting papers.”

Smirking, Arthur shook his head and offered the paper back-- but she held up her hands for him to keep it, “... If I had known you meant to steal somethin’ like this when you went for yer bath, I wouldn’t have made a fuss!”

“You were brilliant, Mister Morgan. I couldn’t have scripted you a better part.”

“Hush.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #Arthur Morgan #ao3fic #revolver fic #my mic

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lunasterial · 6 years

Text

BTS FIC RECS: Yoonmin (PT. 1)

yes, you read right, that does say part one. i was writing a draft for this post and it was just so many. so i decided to split it into two instead (although god knows when the next one’s gonna be posted).

just like my taekook fic recs, this is in no particular order except alphabetical and i have labeled my favourite fics with a star (☆)

a lie for my first love

the car smells like cigarettes, and it shouldn’t because jimin has never smoked one in his life, and yoongi quit two months ago because jimin begged him to, refused to kiss him until he did.

yoongi’s piercing gaze felt heavy on jimin’s conscience. it’s spoken so matter - of - factly, element of surprise completely lost, as if he’d known all along.

“you’re cheating on me.”

Actions Speak Louder Than Words ☆

Fuck the feelings away, don't let them takeover. (Friends with Benefits AU)

Art or Pornography

Yoongi is an art student looking for participants for his university project. It's an important piece for his final year project, but it's difficult to find people willing to agree to read a book with a vibrator inside of them on camera.

Enter Park Jimin, a walking morality issue who makes him question his sanity.

Boop

based on a tweet: au where yoongi turns into a kitten when someone boops his nose and jimin accidentally boops his nose

but i’d be yours, if you’d be mine ☆

As spring approaches, the air becomes charged with a static that Jimin hasn’t felt for a long time. He wonders why Yoongi is coming to him now, wonders if there’s any longevity between them this time, but then he remembers a late autumn evening and shy smiles beneath neon lights, the taste of sickly sweet cocktails between meeting mouths and a hand, warm and heavy on his waist.

Jimin thinks, regardless of the outcome, the beginning is always his favourite part.

jimin's in love. yoongi's trying to learn what that means.

Cotton Candy ☆

"He could get used to sitting next to Yoongi like this. To have him around. To have the band around. To smile and feel happy. To see Yoongi sitting in front of an instrument and having him play just for him.

'If this was my happy ending,' Jimin thinks, resisting the urge to lean his head on Yoongi's shoulder, 'if I wasn't who I am, I'd just let you have me whenever you want. You could have me anytime.'"

As spring turns into summer, school band Cotton Candy unexpectedly loses its singer and the members are forced to look for a new vocalist. Six boys find one in the form of the promiscuous pink haired boy Park Jimin who makes a home in their hearts and finally finds a place he belongs.

Days Of Theft ( Part 3 of the Scheherazade series) ☆

“Tell me a story,” the girl says, but there’s only ever one story.

Things coming together. Things falling apart.

domestic bliss (is when i’m with you)

“Babe do you want sugar in your coffee?” she asks, though its rhetoric as she knows exactly how she takes his coffee.

Jimin shakes her head when she doesn’t get a response and carefully carries both cups into the living room. Yoongi is lying down on the couch, curled up on his side, fast asleep.

“Honestly,” she mumbles as she perches by his feet, setting his cup down before reaching a hand out to shake him awake, “hey, wake up. I can’t believe you fell asleep, I made this for you, you dick.”

In which Jimin has a domestic week with Yoongi.

Don’t come closer (I’ll bite) ☆

“Hmm, really?” Jimin hums thoughtfully, a glint of mischievous in his eyes. “Are you saying that you prefer us doing it in secret?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers out of reflex without actually thinking over what Jimin just said. When he finally registers the younger’s playful question in his mind, he almost gasps in horror.

“Wait, no. What do you mean by ‘it’?”

First Love (Part 1 of the First Love series)

Jimin is being courted for the first time. He doesn't really know what to do.

GAME OVER

“‘Hyung,’ Jimin says and Yoongi looks at him curiously and maybe a little alarmed, but he doesn’t need to be, ‘there is something I’ve been thinking about, something I’ve really wanted to ask you.’

‘Uhm, okay? Go ahead.’

‘That night, when you broke into my bedroom—,’

‘Mhm—,’

‘Was that the first time you did that?’”

Yoongi is a thief and Jimin is hella rich. This is the story of how they fall in love and become each other's world.

Help Desk Ticket ☆

That one where Yoongi is the IT guy and Jimin is really, really bad at computers.

here, kitty kitty

Yoongi's in love with his cat Jimin. They do everything together, and he'd take a bullet for the cute little critter.

He just didn't know, you know? That his cat could turn into a person. Or that he was hot.

Home

Room available in a large two bedroom penthouse. 12x12, large windows, high ceilings. The rest of the apartment is fully furnished. Full kitchen with granite countertops and new appliances. 400/month, utilities included. No pets, no smoking. Available immediately.

i'd take my heart clean apart (if it helps yours beat)

Yoongi is a tattoo artist in training who needs someone to practice on, and the homeless kid sleeping behind the studio is a willing volunteer.

Love Is Stupid and You’re Stupid

Yoongi and Jimin were friends in high school but now they hate each other for ~reasons. Now Yoongi works as a grill cook at a restaurant and wants to forget all about Jimin. Enter Minji (Jimin disguised as a girl for ~reasons). Yoongi ends up hating her too... and then not so much... and then not at all... and then maybe he falls for Minji but he still definitely hates Jimin.

A combination of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers and the trope where one person crossdresses and the other person thinks they're an entirely different person

Midnight Blue ☆

“flareSUGA: the universe just creates stories

flareSUGA: it creates stories with all our existences and gives everyone of us a lead role that we're sharing with someone else… we're just stories and the universe watches a hundred thousand times how we meet, how we fall in love, what we make of it. The perfect love story with a happy ending time and time again”

They’re living in a world where they lose their voice on their 21st birthday if they haven’t met their soulmate yet.

My Heart Across the Ocean (Part 1 of the Special in My Heart series)

Where sober Park Jimin is too shy for love, but drunk Park Jimin says otherwise.

Once Upon A Dream

“Somebody once promised they’d find you, and that they’ll love you more than they already do,” Yoongi murmurs, a smile on his lips when recognition sparks in Jimin’s eyes, “somebody once promised they’d ask you to be theirs when they can finally do so again.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything—just leans into Yoongi’s touch, that same shy smile Yoongi has grown to love still on his face.

“Be mine, Park Jimin?”

(or alternatively: "that yoonmin soulmates AU where you can see a glimpse of your past life on the eve of your 18th birthday and Jimin dreams of a forbidden Joseon era love story with an upperclassman Min Yoongi, popular basketball player in uni, 18384/10 out of his reach".)

One Night Stands Are (Sometimes) The Answer

Yoongi has been trying to get himself out of the trope of the Romantic Comedy for ages: he's a 27-year-old hopeless romantic that's starved for artistic attention and works at a dive bar. Not only does he think it's a good idea to go to bed with the asshole customer he had served one month prior (who, at the time, was in a relationship), but things go downhill when he wakes up and everything is in colour.

(Soulmate AU: You can only see colour once you've made skin contact with your soulmate.)

Out of My System ☆ ☆ (my absolute favourite ym fanfic!)

Yoongi likes one night stands and he understands how they work. What he doesn’t understand, however, is how he ended up in bed with a probably-not-legal kid crying in his arms about his broken heart, because he’s pretty sure (and correct him if he’s wrong) that a babysitting job was not what he was looking for when he went to the opening of his friend’s new club.

Scheherazade (Part 1 of the Scheherazade series)

They’re not good people. Yoongi certainly isn’t, anyway.

Sea la víe

Yoongi finds a strand of pearls caught on his fishing hook, but when he tries making off with them as goods to sell he’s not prepared to find an annoyed mermaid glaring at him over the edge of his boat, demanding he give them back or else.

Just what’s a guy supposed to do after he’s pissed off a mermaid—merman...merperson? Easy, make a deal with them and watch his life change.

Seawater Kisses ☆

Jimin is a Siren, they're known of, but not many have the pleasure to see one, let alone know one personally. Yoongi meets Jimin whilst out on the ocean, studying the creatures and such. However, the Sailor didn't quite expect to get so caught up in Jimin and who he really is.

haters to lovers/friends to lovers, a slowburn au of a bratty mermaid jimin

smile like silver (Part 5 of the prompt fills series)

Anonymous said:

could you do a yoonmin fic where yoongi gets a tongue piercing ? and jimin just really likes it

Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty

“Didn’t they tell you, hyung, I passed all of my exams. I know what I’m doing.”

Passively, Jimin extends his arm, his hand brushing Yoongi’s thigh, though he doesn’t have much of a grip and lets his arm fall. He looks distraught over this.

Yoongi knows that he has to say it, has to make himself clear to prevent any further anguish on Jimin’s behalf, even if it might only inspire more.

“Jimin, I didn’t buy you to have sex.”

or, Yoongi's buys a kitten hybrid to be less sad and promises himself and everyone else that it's strictly platonic. Jimin ends up being a lot more work than he expected.

Someone Special

Jimin really wants to ace his Composition Course but songwriting really really really isn't his forte.

At least the new attractive TA is there to help.

Soulmates (Part 5 of the BTS Angstverse series)

Yoongi doesn't want to hurt Jimin anymore.

He knows who he deserves, and it's not Jimin.

As much as it hurts him, he needs to let him go.

Sweetpea Essence (Part 1 of the Gardens of Seria series) ☆

Park Jimin, the prince, is so in love; it hurts.

There is practically nothing that can get him out of his shy shell, though. He won't let Min Yoongi, the bachelor warlock who has everyone's mouths watering, know of this (not so) little crush of his.

Right?

the one with the new ra and the wrongly-accused third year

There's a new RA on Jimin's floor at the beginning of his third year of university, and he is anything but excited to have to deal with him the next time Taehyung, his troublemaker roommate, decides to wreak havoc.

The Result Of Jealousy (Part 2 of the The Results Series series)

Jimin wants Yoongi to come to one of the many parties he attends. He doesn't expect an ex of Yoongi's to be there.

The Result Of Love (Part 3 of the The Results Series series)

When Yoongi returns after being away from campus for a week, he tries to figure out if it's just in his head that Jimin's acting a bit different.

The Result Of Proximity (Part 1 of the The Results Series series )

Min Yoongi knows his friend, pretty boy Park Jimin, is a flirty, beautiful brat. So he doesn't pine over him (except he totally does). When Yoongi needs a place to crash for the weekend, and ends up at Jimin's, their friendship is suddenly a lot closer than ever before.

"Yoongi knew Jimin could make him blush like no tomorrow, and what was worse was that he knew Jimin knew he could too. He enjoyed making Yoongi blush, and no matter how many times Yoongi insisted to himself that he didn’t like Jimin, that he wouldn’t pine over him, the damn boy sure could make his insides grow warm and fluttery. Damn him."

Untitled.mp3

Jimin doesn't expect being suddenly evicted from his apartment right before his senior year of college. He also doesn't expect to move in with his quiet neighbor.

And he's definitely not expecting that neighbor to be his newest music teacher, Professor Min Yoongi

when you’re in love all the lines get blurred (Part 1 of the when you're in love series) ☆

Jimin isn't sure what possessed him to lie to his mother and tell her that he had a boyfriend, but now that he's opened the position, he has no choice but to fill it. Yoongi is, apparently, his only option.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaand done

for now :D

most of my All Time Reads aren’t here actually, since they’ve all been rec’ed at some point and i tried to recommend some fics that aren’t all that famous but i’ve enjoyed all the same. happy reading!

(also, feel free to message me if you read any of these and want someone to scream at because i’d be happy to be of service)

#yoonmin #fics recs #yoonmin fic recs #yoongi #jimin #park jimin #min yoongi #bts #bts fanfics #bangtan #bangtan fanfics #fic recs

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icecoldflames · 6 years

Text

(Chap. 6 + Chap. 7) When Parallel Lines Meet

Masterlist

Next Chapter | Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

The flying car was racing straight towards Patton and he had just enough time to dart out of the way.

Then Patton realized a tree that was right in the flying car’s path and he turned away as he helplessly heard the flying car smash into the tree.

Then, Patton turned around, feeling guilty that he didn’t do anything to stop the crash.

The round vehicle that was only self-driving was leaning sideways, the glastic windshield cracked so it looked like a spiderweb.

Patton hurried up to the flying car quickly, seeing some smoke coming out of the back and hoped no one was in it.

The glastic front slid up and an old lady stepped out of it.

“Stupid flying car,” the lady muttered, tapping randomly at the control pad in front of her. “This would have never happened if real cars existed today.”

Patton was relieved that the lady was okay. He walked up to the flying car. “Do you need any help, Ms?”

The seat belt retracted as lady turned her head and broke out into a crooked grin. “Well, at least there’s one person in this town who’s polite. Yes, I’d like some help. Can you help me get out of this stupid vehicle?”

Patton nodded and walked closer to the lady, holding out his hands as she stepped out of the car.

“Want to get my groceries too? I was just on my back from the store when this vehicle turned me down a side road and hit into this tree!” The lady said, crossing her arms and eyeing Patton.

Patton nodded. “Okay.” He leaned into the flying car and tapped in a few directions and the car stopped smoking and the back compartment popped open. “I’m James Norice,” Patton told the lady as he walked to the back of the plum purple car and pulled up the lid of the back compartment. Inside were three brown bags with rope handles.

“Sirena.” Sirena replied. “Now, my house is near here. Let’s go.”

Patton heaved the bags out of the trunk. “What about your car?” He asked, closing the trunk door.

“My son’ll buy a new one for me.” Sirena said nonchalantly, beginning to hobble down the streets.

Patton glanced back at the car before rushing up to Sirena.

“I’m gonna get my son to sue the car company!” Sirena mumbled. “That car was obviously a faulty.

“Who’s your son?” Patton asked curiously.

“Glendon.” Sirena told Patton as they passed a couple of houses and turned down a road. “Of course, he’s married but that cow doesn’t deserve my Glen.” She added in crankily.

The road which Patton and Sirena turned on was a street with large houses of varying shapes. Ovals, circles, the traditional square or rectangle, there was even a cone shaped house.

Sirena walked into the front yard of the rectangle house. It was a baby blue and the windows were tinted black, no doubt the windows where you could see out but not see in.

Sirena placed a hand on the front door. Patton heard a small click before Sirena opened the door to reveal a finely furnished house.

The floor was a soft white and the walls were a blush pink. The furniture was a blinding white leather and there was a holo-fireplace in the center, all kinds of bright, fake, green, plants scattering the area.

“Come along to the kitchen,” Sirena said as the door closed behind her.

Patton followed Sirena into a large wooden kitchen with a tile blue backsplash. The carpet turned into more tile and Patton felt blinded. The contrast between the dark wooden cupboards and the white and blue tile was very prominent.

“Just put them on the table. My robo-maid will put it away soon when she powers on.” Sirena instructed, pointing the the island table in the middle which had a bowl of fruit in the center of the counter.

Patton lifted the bags on the countertop and as soon as his arms dropped back to his side they felt oddly light.

Patton glanced at the time on the stove. It was about midday.

“Mr. Norice!” Patton heard Sirena call out from a room over.

“You can...call me Pat-James.” Patton said correcting himself as he came into what seemed to be a living room. He didn’t like to be called by his last name, let alone his fake last name.

“Mr. Norice,” Sirena said, emphasizing the name “Norice”. She was sat on a white leather couch and had her ankles crossed. “Sit down.”

Patton sat down next to Sirena robotically. It was something about how Sirena’s piercing blue eyes and her neatly put up grey hair that made Patton nervous. Was it possible Sirena knew that he wasn’t normal?

“What were you doing on the outskirts of the town?” Sirena asked curiously.

Patton breathed a sigh of relief. “I was going for a walk.” He lied. Patton didn’t often lie and he wished he didn’t.

“Not many things to look at,” Sirena commented. “When I was young I walked to the outskirts of town and there were plenty of trees and shrubs and berries everywhere.”

“That sounds nice.” Patton nodded. “Everyone must have been healthy with all the green.”

Sirena snorted. Patton was taken aback. Since he had met her Sirena didn’t seem to be one who snorted.

“The olden days were green but everyone was not healthy. Everyone was glued to their phones and there was enough take out and fat in food for forty five Frenchman.” Sirena said. “Everyone’s ‘healthy’ today because all you lot was born in a lab.”

At that moment Patton’s stomach growled loudly.

Sirena stood up. “Come along Mr. Norice. It’s about time for lunch.”

***

Throughout the day, Roman was getting worried for Virgil. Where was he?

His mind was filled with thoughts and doubts, something that had never happened before Virgil had arrived.

He wanted to leave this place as fast as possible.

A little voice in his head repeatedly told him that Mr. Edra would never in a million years give him his contract he signed two years ago.

But Roman couldn’t figure out a way passed asking Mr. Edra.

In the end, Mr. Edra had to know because he was the one who watched over all the children. It wasn’t like Roman would steal the file or just escape. No doubt Mr. Edra had some kind of tracking device on him.

Anyways, after that, where would he go? His parents could have moved houses and Roman could barely remember his street name and house number.

It was lunch time when Roman couldn’t bear to eat anything when the door opened and Mr. Edra walked through with a little girl clinging to his hand.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in a braid and her long bangs fell into her eyes. She had on blue denim overalls with a pink shirt underneath.

Mr. Edra was smiling like a proud father. “Children, we have a new child joining you all today. I would like you to all give a warm welcome to Canace.”

There was a chorus of “hello” and “welcome”. Canace didn’t look up through the entirety of it.

Mr. Edra bent down and said something quietly. Canace slowly made her way to the table Virgil had sat alone at just yesterday.

“Wonder where she came from,” Remy murmured.

“Maybe an orphan?” Roman shrugged, looking over to Mr. Edra as he silently shut the door. There were plenty of orphans that Mr. Edra had taken in.

It took a minute before the usual chatter arose.

A question popped up in his head. “I wonder who her scientist is.” Roman said quietly to Remy. “They must have employed a thirteenth scientist to test on her.”

Remy shrugged.

Roman knew all twelve of the scientists by name and which child they were paired up with.

Roman stood up. “I’ll ask her.” He stepped over the bench and walked over to Canace.

He sat down across from her. “Hi.” He smiled warmly. “I’m Roman. Roman Achbor.” He introduced. “Welcome to the children’s ward.”

Canace finally looked up and Roman noticed her eyes were brown with flecks of honey gold in them.

When she finally spoke Roman wasn’t sure if he heard correctly. “I’m Canace Edra.”

Roman’s throat went dry and his eyes widened. “Edra?” He gaped, feeling like he was a fish out of water. “You’re-“

Canace nodded slowly, looking back down at her lap. “I’m his daughter.”

Roman felt like faint. He forgot why he had come to talk to Canace in the first place.

Roman couldn’t believe Mr. Edra could put his own daughter through the torture of this. Going through the testing, the feeling like they were in a jail.

The whole reason of this entire thing not being illegal was that Mr. Edra had the consent of all the children. And Canace looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

Canace held her head and made a small squeaking noise like a mouse.

Roman felt sick. He wasn’t sick like in the olden days when people caught influenza and the cold. Lab-born babies were genetically modified to not catch viruses. And that included migraines.

And Roman only got his first migraine a couple of days ago when Dr. Cross injected that duper power liquid in him.

“Oh my gosh,” Roman mumbled. “Your scientist put that stuff in you to make you have a super power.”

Canace’s lower lip trembled and her face was pale. “It hurts.” She said quietly. “I wanna go to grandma’s!” Canace said, a couple of tears beginning to drip out of her eyes.

Roman didn’t know what to do. So, he began to talk. “I have a sister, you know.” He began to babble. “Always fiery and was always her own leader. She sort of reminds me of you,” he said.

“She would be sixteen now.” Roman continued, noticing that Canace was slowly looking up at Roman. “My house was a bright red and the window that was in my bedroom was an octagon.” He described.

Roman kept on talking, racking his brain for more details about his family he had selfishly left behind when he wanted to become powerful and be like Mr. Edra. He talked right until lunch time.

By that time, Canace was completely enthralled in what Roman had been saying. She was no longer crying.

However, she started back up again when lunch came to an end and all the other children began to go to their after-lunch testing.

“I don’t want to go back to him.” Canace said. “Please, I want to stay here. Talk about your sister again.”

Roman couldn’t. As much as he wanted to help the kid out he was putting the both of them in danger. Whichever scientist was assigned to Mr. Edra’s daughter must be completely under Mr. Edra’s spell. He would probably tell Mr. Edra if his daughter didn’t show up.

“How about this,” Roman said, standing up and taking Canace’s hand. “I’ll walk you to the testing and then speak to the scientist and see if he has anything for you headache.” Roman knew that after the migraine the pain would spread all over but decided that that would just make Canace cry even more.

Canace bit her lip and nodded, standing up and following Roman to the scientist hallway where then 12, now 13, scientists had their testing rooms.

There were plenty of extra rooms as the hallway was long. Only the first 12 rooms had been used.

Roman walked to the 13th door, thoroughly curious to see who the scientist was.

When Roman opened the metal door and saw the scientist Roman, electricity buzzed through his whole body.

Roman felt faint again and he let go of Canace’s arm. “What?” He said, his jaw touching the floor.

“Do I...know you?” Virgil asked, cocking his head to the side, looking at Roman like a stranger.

***

“Hey there,” Logan said, looking at Connie. “We don’t want to jump into a rescue mission.

“It’s risky. There’s so many things that need to be planned out first,” Kate said, nodding.

“What are you all talking about?” Ben asked. “We aren’t going to sneak into the government. The Markku group just wants dirt to spread about the government and then take the government down.”

“Virgil Bolter most definitely has dirt on the government.” Connie said. “He worked there, for goodness sakes.”

“She does have a point, Ben.” Kate said.

“And while we’re at it we can save all the children too. It’s not right that Mr. Edra keeps the kids to test on.” Connie added in, still standing up, a fiery passion in her eyes.

“Whoah, hold on there, Connie,” Kate said. “I agree with busting Virgil out but all those kids? There must be a least a dozen of them. It’s simply not possible that we could get thirteen people out of the government alive. Let alone that most of them are under the age of 14.”

Logan pushed up his glasses, wanting to intervene but not sure how.

“But it’s wrong.” Connie said, sighing irritatedly. “Keeping twelve kids as lab rats isn’t right.” She suddenly seemed to get a spark of an idea. “Plus, if we break them all out that’s 12, plus Virgil, who will speak out against the government.”

“How do you know that those kids don’t want to be there?” Ben asked.

Connie swiveled on Ben, her fists now clenched and her jaw set. “Would you like to go into the government and let all these people poke and prod you like some...some...some kind of animal!” She screeched. “Getting poked at and getting treated like some rats in a cage?” She added in. Connie looked close to tears. “Getting ripped away from your loved ones?”

“Alright, alright. Okay.” Logan said, standing up as well. He looked over at Connie calmly. “Sit down, please.”

Connie sat down with a sniffle as she wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Kate handed her a tissue.

“Let’s talk this out calmly and professionally.” Logan said.

Ben opened his mouth to speak.

Logan cut him off. “I’ll call the rest of the Markku group over for supper. This is something that everyone needs to talk about, not just the four of us. And I need to leave in about an hour, anyway.”

Ben clamped it shut. “This is a bad idea, Logan.”

At the same time Connie said, “where are you going?”

Logan decided to ignore him and turned to Connie. “Nothing you need to worry about. Now, meanwhile we’ll all go downstairs and see if Virgil has made an appearance.”

“All of us?” Connie repeated. “Me too?”

Logan nodded briskly. “Yes. Now, let’s go. I doubt Mr. Edra killed him.”

They climbed the steps down and Kate powered on the computers.

Connie took a seat behind Kate and Logan and Ben sat down together.

“I’ll get into the security cameras,” Kate said quickly.

“I’ll send out the message to the rest of the group.” Logan nodded to Kate.

He picked up the landline phone which was black. He pulled out a single sheet of paper with the phone numbers of all of the group members out and began to punch in the numbers.

“What can I do?” Connie asked curiously as Logan waited for Eric to pick up.

“Just watch Kate and Ben.” Logan nodded to where Kate and Ben were. You’re new here.”

“AKA, this a precaution so you won’t do something stupid.” Ben said, clicking away at his computer.

“Oh, shut it, Ben.” Kate rolled her eyes. “She’s one of us now, treat her with some respect.”

Logan finished calling everybody in record time and when he got off the phone with Sophie, Kate was calling him over.

“Logan,” Kate said, her eyes not looking at him, instead fixed on the screen. “You might want to come here. I found Virgil Bolter.”

Kate turned up the volume and the four of them crowded around the computer.

“Virgil! It’s me! Roman!” Logan recognized the man from the other night, the man Virgil had brought along when they had been trying to escape.

Logan noticed that Virgil was in a lab coat and there was a little blonde girl standing next to Roman. She could have only been six or seven.

“I...don’t recall your name. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to do some testing on Canace, here.” Virgil said, clearly annoyed.

Virgil-“ Roman began but Virgil cut him off.

“Please call me Mr. Bolter from now on. It isn’t professional.” Virgil said, leading Roman out the door.

Roman looked panicked and Kate turned the view of the camera so they could see both of the men again.

“Mr. Bolter! Please!” Roman suddenly stopped and must have decided to change tactics as he then said, “Canace has a bad migraine from the stuff you gave her before lunch.”

“I’ll make sure to give her something for it,” Virgil nodded and practically pushed Roman out the door.

Kate turned the volume down again and spun to Logan and Ben, not saying a word.

“He did something to Virgil’s memories. Him and Roman talked to each other earlier before Mr. Edra took Virgil away. Virgil should know Roman.” Logan said.

Ben nodded and Kate bit her lip. “Then we can’t talk to Virgil if he can’t remember anything.” She said.

“But we can still get the kids, right? They still have their memories, yeah?” Connie piped up.

Logan crossed his arms, thinking. “I...don’t know.” He composed himself. “We’ll have to see. I already called everyone here for tonight.”

Logan then went upstairs to get some drinks and a quick snack for them all, before he had to leave, leaving Ben and Kate downstairs.

“We have to go in a save the kids,” Connie said, following Logan up to the living room and into the kitchen. “They can’t stay there like that.”

“I don’t know, Connie.” Logan sighed, shaking his head. “Trying to break out 12 children is quite a bit of work. It might take weeks or maybe months to work out a firm plan.”

“But we have time,” Connie insisted, getting four coffee mugs out of a cupboard.

“I don’t know how much time we actually have,” Logan said. He put a coffee mug back up into the cupboard.

“Hey!” Connie protested.

“You’re too young.” Logan said. “Caffeine isn’t healthy.”

“And you and Kate and Ben are going to drink it.” Connie argued.

“Yes, and the three of us wish we hadn’t.” Logan said, putting on the coffee maker.

“I’m 16! I can make my own decisions.” Connie protested. “Anyway, what can I have to drink other than water?”

“You can have freshly squeezed lemonade,” Logan said, opening the fridge and taking out a pitcher of yellow liquid.

“Lemonade was my brother’s favourite drink.” Connie said, almost subconsciously.

“Brother?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, ahm, he’s gone to university.” Connie said, waving the question away. She turned to Logan and took the pitcher of lemonade, grabbed the coffee mug Logan had put back, and poured herself a cup of lemonade.

Chapter 7

Roman wanted to puke. Right then and there.

What had Mr. Edra done to Virgil? He didn’t even act the same. He wasn’t like the rebellious, back-talker, sarcastic, person anymore.

It was like Mr. Edra had completely brainwashed the guy to a carbon copy of Mr. Edra.

He at least hoped Virgil, or Mr. Bolter now, had enough of a heart left to give poor Canace some painkillers or something.

Roman walked into Dr. Cross’ room a couple minutes later.

“You’re late, Roman.” Dr. Cross noted.

Roman shrugged.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. Cross asked, closing a cupboard she had been opening.

Roman sighed. “It’s Virgil. Mr. Edra completely brainwashed him.

Dr. Cross blinked a couple of times. “What? You mean Mr. Bolter? That new scientist Mr. Edra brought in today?”

Roman nodded. “Yeah. Him. He used to be in the kids ward. But he didn’t go to testing.” He added in, looking up at Dr. Cross.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to spill everything to Dr. Cross or not.

For one thing, it would be nice to tell someone—especially an adult. But on the other hand, Roman didn’t know if he could trust Dr. Cross. What if she told Mr. Edra already that he was thinking about leaving and was asking about his contract?

Roman bit his lip. And swallowed down the words that were bubbling up in his throat.

“So, what am I doing today?” Roman asked Dr. Cross.

Dr. Cross glanced over at Roman again before walking to the cupboard and pulling out a glass jar. She placed it in front of Roman.

“See if you can make a rain cloud in the jar,” Dr. Cross explained. “Mr. Edra said it is of the utmost importance for you to try your very hardest.”

Roman nodded. “Okay.”

Roman stared at the jar and imagined a stormy grey rain cloud. Grey like rocks. With rain droplets tumbling out.

Nothing happened and Dr. Cross sighed.

During class all Roman could think about was Virgil and Canace.

And to think, he had wanted to become like Mr. Edra just a few days ago. A powerful figure who got to the top from hard work and dedication.

Sure, Roman wanted to rise to the top. But he didn’t want to be like Mr. Edra. Brainwashing a kid and putting your own kid through testing? No, Roman never wanted to become Mr. Edra.

Mr. Edra went from an idol to a nobody and Roman was glad.

“Alright, Roman,” Dr. Cross said, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. “Better run off to you next class now.”

Roman nodded and walked out of Dr. Cross’ testing lab. He glanced down the hallway and began to walk down the hallway. All the way to room number 13.

Virgil was still in the lab, writing something on his clipboard.

Roman awkwardly coughed.

Virgil’s head shot up and a face of recognition filled his face; and not in the good way. “Please go away.” He said simply.

“Um, I’m sorry for, uh, being rude when I came in with Canace.” Roman said. “I was just...surprised to see you here. Oh! By the way, did you give Canace some painkillers?” He added in.

Virgil set down the clipboard and stepped a bit closer to Roman. “Why were you surprised? I’ve always worked here. And yes, I did give Canace some pills for her migraine.”

Roman gaped. “Al-always worked here?” He managed to choke. “You absolutely have not!”

Virgil frowned and he seemed annoyed. His lips pursed and his eyes burned into Roman’s face. “I have. I’ve been here for five years. What do you know? You’re just some person we’re experimenting on.”

“Did Mr. Edra tell you that?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded, picking up his clipboard again, twirling an everlasting pencil between his fingers. “I had a car accident and lost my memory. Now I’m back working.”

“You honestly believe that?” Roman asked. “You called him an old bat-”

Virgil cut him off. “You must have me mistaken for another Virgil Bolter. I would never call Mr. Edra an ‘old bat’, as you put it.”

What did Mr. Edra do to Virgil? Brainwash him and put him through finishing school? Roman sighed and shook his head. “No! Of course not! You’re Virgil Bolter...you…” It suddenly occurred to Roman that he knew nothing about Virgil. Absolutely nothing.

Roman couldn’t do the cliche where a character has amnesia and another character spurts off these hidden facts about the amnesia character, making the amnesia character trust the other one.

Roman hit a blank.

“I won’t tell Mr. Edra you’ve been here,” Virgil then said, filling the silence. “Just go on. You need to get to class anyway.”

Virgil put a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he led Roman out the door.

Roman glanced down at the clipboard in Virgil’s hand and saw a list. A long list with boxes in front of them. There were a few checkmarks in the boxes.

Roman’s eyes trailed down the list. Water Manipulation. Fire Manipulation. Invisibility. Flight. Mind-Reading. Teleportation. Astral Projection.

And then, in all caps, on the bottom of the list was WEATHER MANIPULATION.

Virgil, for a second time that day, pushed Roman out the door, shut it, and locked it with a click.

***

Patton liked Sirena. She may be cranky and old-fashioned but that was what made Patton like her so much.

He was almost as bad with working with technology than Sirena. She had said the reason why she had so much tech stuff was because her son insisted.

“My son is coming over tonight,” Sirena said mindlessly, pushing more leftover food she had cooked yesterday towards Patton.

“Um, no thanks.” Patton shook his head. His stomach lurched at the sight of the noodles with crumbled Cheppers on top. “I’m full.”

“No, go ahead. I have plenty more food.” Sirena said. “You should stay over to meet him. I’m sure he’ll like you. Today’s a busy day,” she added in, changing the topic. “Saturday’s are when Glen and his ugly wife come over for supper and Mr. Goda comes over for lunch. We go through my old picture books.”

“Photo books?” Patton repeated curiously. “What are they?”

Sirean frowned. “Young people these days…” she trailed off before answering Patton’s question. “Photo books are books where you put pictures you took with a digital camera for safe keeping.”

Patton fumbled in bag and held up the camera his parents had given him. “Like this one?” He asked.

Sirena looked at the camera, leaning in. “Now, where did you get that?” She breathed, reaching a hand out to touch it. “It works?” She asked.

Patton nodded. “Yeah. My parents got it for me at a second hand store.”

“Mr. Goda will be impressed. I haven’t seen a camera like these in ages.” Sirena said.

“When’s Mr. Goda supposed to be here?” Patton asked curiously. The man, whoever he was, sounded into old things.

“Soon, soon. I’m sure he’ll like you too.” Sirena said. “You must stay for the rest of the day. Meet Mr. Goda and my Glen.”

Patton shrugged and smiled. “Of course”. He had no lead on Logan and a day couldn’t hurt. Anyway, he didn’t want to disappoint Sirean after being so kind to him. “Can I see your photo books too?”

Sirena grinned and stood up, going into the living room. Patton followed, leaving the food on the table.

Sirena pulled out about a dozen multicoloured books with thick bindings from a chest in the center of the room. She sat down on a sofa.

“Here they are.” Sirena said, taking the top one, patting the spot next to her, and opening it up.

Patton sat down next to Sirena and looked at the first rectangle. On each page of the book were two pictures that were rectangular. They were all black or brown with some white.

“How come they’re black and white?” Patton asked curiously, reaching out a hand curiously to touch the photo only to feel plastic.

“My grandparents didn’t have colour cameras. You could only take pictures and videos with black and white.” Sirena explained.

“How did you know what colour things were?” Patton asked, inspecting the first photo which had a group of people sat on a step outside. Only one little girl with short curly hair was looking at the camera.

“You either had to remember or guess.” Sirena shrugged. “That’s one of my ancestors,” she explained, pointing to the girl looking at the camera.

They went through the entire first book and Patton soaked it all in. It was interesting to see these old pictures and hear the stories that went along with them.

The second book had coloured photos. So did the third and the rest of them.

“I had an old fashioned camera like yours right up until Glen graduated high school. Then it disappeared one day and I never could find it again.” Sirena explained, opening up the last photo book.

The first photo was one of a teenage boy with sharp features and a shocking head of raven black hair. It was curly and seemed to have a mind of its own. His eyes were a deep emerald green and his face was pale; making him look almost sickly.

The photo was only of his shoulders and up, the background a light blue. He was looking straight at the camera.

He was handsome, there was no doubt about that, but in the way a dead tree was. Or a cemetary. Both were eerily beautiful.

“My handsome Glen.” Sirena smiled, her pointer finger tracing his face. “He was a catch, wasn’t he? A real ladies man.” She paused. “Such a shame she married that horrid woman.”

There was a kind of familiarity about Glen but Patton shrugged it off. Maybe Glen was some famous actor or something. Obviously he wasn’t that famous if Patton couldn’t place him.

“That’s me, Glen, and my husband, Aemon, bless his soul, he’s gone to Heaven now.” Sirena said, pointing to another photo.

The photo looked to be a picnic in the Greens. The green grass and green trees. And the green shrubs. It looked even more beautiful than how Patton remembered it when he went with his family when he was five.

The blanket was red and white checkered and a wicker basket sat between the three figures.

Glen looked the same as he had in his school photo. He was wearing a black shirt with a denim jacket on with some dark jeans. Patton felt sweaty just looking at him in his dark clothes on what looked like a warm summer's day.

The younger version of Sirena looked so different yet the same. She had Glen’s shock of dark hair and pale face but her eyes were a golden brown. She was petite and had an arm around Glen lovingly.

Glen had Aemon’s muscular form and dark green eyes. However, his skin was a tan and he looked tall. He was sat on the opposite side of the wicker basket and Glen and Sirena. He was leaned back against his forearms and he had a cocky kind of smile on his face.

“That’s a really nice photo,” Patton complimented. “Who’s taking the photo?” He asked. He was sure back then they didn’t have the floating cameras they had today that stayed still and snapped the photo when someone yelled “cheese!”

Sirena’s face hardened and she rolled her eyes. “Winslow. Or Winnie as everyone called her. Glen’s ‘perfect’ bride. They were dating there. They started dating in tenth grade and got married as soon as they were of age.”

“Do you...have a photo of her?” Patton asked curiously, treading slowly as he knew Winslow was a touchy subject.

“One.” Sirena snapped. “Graduation. Took it outside of our house by the big old oak tree. Glen was all prettied up and I do have to admit Winnie looked good too.” She managed to spit out.

Sirena flipped to the last page in the photo book.

The day looked slightly cloudy and Glen and Winnie were the focus of the photo, both smiling joyously at the camera.

Winnie had long honey blonde hair that was curled and pulled up out of her face, a few tendrils framing her face. Her eyes were a baby blue and she looked so happy. She was tall and willowy, just a couple centimetres shorter than Glen.

Her dress was a plum purple, like Sirena’s car, and it hugged her body and flared out on the bottom. It was covered in tiny sequins. She had on a white lily corsage around her wrist.

Glen’s hair was in a different haircut and it was tamed with just the little bit of gel. He had on a black suit and a tie the same purple as Winnie’s dress. He had on a lily boutonniere pinned to his jacket.

The doorbell rang.

Sirena closed the photo book and glanced at her watch around her wrist. “Ah, that must be Mr. Goda. Always punctual.” She muttered, going to the front door.

Patton followed like a lost puppy, excited to see Mr. Goda.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, the perfect place. He’d be able to see everything that happened—except for Mr. Goda himself—until Sirena actually let him in.

Sirena opened the door. “Great to see you again, Mr. Goda.”

Sirena turned to look at Patton. She opened the door wider to reveal Mr. Goda.

“This is James Norice, Mr. Norice, this is Mr. Logan Goda.” Sirena introduced.

***

When Sirena introduced James to him Logan immediately knew that he was a natural-born baby.

He knew the signs. The signs weren’t something that could be explained with words. It was...sort of just a feeling along with little things.

Like James’ figure was of a natural-born baby. Logan didn’t know what the difference was but there was one.

And the glasses. They were a dead giveaway.

Whereas Logan wore glasses with no prescription just because Patton’s were.

The question that Logan has in his mind as he stared at James and James stared at him was: what was he doing with Sirena?

Logan hoped and prayed Sirena didn’t see the signs of James and also hoped that Sirena’s son and wife didn’t come earlier than normal.

“It’s good to meet you.” Logan nodded politely, trying to squash down his cacophonous thoughts.

“You too,” James smiled brightly. “Sirena’s told me a lot of stuff about you. All good things, obviously,” he babbled.

“You too can get settled,” Sirena said, patting Logan on the shoulder. “I’ll get some food for lunch.”

“Uh, no thanks,” James called out as Sirena began to walk to the kitchen. “I’m stuffed.”

“Did she give you food and kept it coming like a machine, expecting you to eat it?” Logan couldn’t help but say, letting a small smile on his lips.

This James seemed nice and he definitely had a familiar aura around him.

But Logan wanted to tread carefully. Who knew where this man came from? He must have been a good hider or else he’d have already been killed like the rest of the illegal babies, children, and adults.

As soon as Sirena was out of sighed James had a serious expression on his face. “Virgil has something for you!” He blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Logan asked, his eyes widening.

James’ right hand went over his mouth. “Please don’t tell me you aren’t Logan Markku.”

“Excuse me?” Logan repeated, not processing this. He needed another coffee.

“I’m Patton Fitzroy! Remember? We used to live in the same street and play together!” Patton exclaimed.

Logan frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “Patton? The one who moved away without saying anything?”

Patton looked suddenly ashamed. “Yeah, sorry about that. Family stuff. We had to leave quickly.”

Logan was pretty sure family issues was the broad term for it. It was probably because of his natural-borness.

Logan’s mind immediately went back to Patton’s first shocking comment. “What do you know about Virgil Bolter?”

“He broke into my house.” Patton said bluntly. “He’s looking for you. I don’t know where he is now but he gave me a letter to me to give to you if I ever found you.”

Logan decided to not tell Patton yet where Virgil was. “Where’s the letter?” He asked, trying to mask the demanding tone.

Patton skittered off into the kitchen and came back with an old bag.

He pulled out a folded up sheet that looked like instructions to bake a cake. Logan frowned. “This better not be a joke.”

Patton shook his head. “No. That’s the only paper he found when he was hiding in my kitchen cupboard. I didn’t read it by the way.” He added in.

Logan wanted to know every detail of when Virgil broke into Patton’s house but now was not the time.

He unfolded the torn out recipe page and began to scan the paper.

The writing was tiny and scrawled darkly over the printing to make a chocolate cake. The writing was slanted and Logan had to squint in order to read it.

It took up all the page and Virgil had signed it on the bottom.

Logan read the letter quickly. When he finished it he felt light headed.

The Markku group wanted dirt on the government. Well, now they did.

He didn’t know how bad everything was.

Connie had said they had plenty of time to break the 12 children and Virgil out but he wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

“Well…?” Patton asked, breaking Logan out of his spinning thoughts.

Logan blinked, the lights on the ceiling now seemingly blindingly bright. He had forgotten that Patton was there.

“Thank you for,” Logan coughed. “Giving this to me.”

A loud ringing of the house phone reverberated throughout the building.

“I’ve got it!” Sirena muttered from the kitchen. “Ought to turn that thing down. Gonna give me a heart attack one day.”

The ringing stopped. Logan’s ears still rang. He had always hated the phone-house hookup.

“No problem.” Patton smiled.

Logan could sense that Patton wanted to know what was written down but Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to tell him just yet.

“Was there anything else Virgil left me?” Logan asked, hoping there was more but preparing himself for nothing.

Patton shook his head. “Sorry, no.” Logan’s heart fell. “But, I found his old shelter and brought his diary and everlasting pencil along with me. Some pills were there too so I brought them along.”

“Can I see? Did you read his journal?” Logan asked.

Patton shook his head once again. “No. I didn’t want to invade his privacy.” He bent down to take the journal, pencil, and bottle of pills out of the bag.

The journal and pills were interesting, he recognized the pills as sleeping pills, caffeine pills, and anti-anxiety pills, but the pencil was what really got his attention.

The sharp engravings in the pencil was odd. The rectangles and squares as the thin line went from one side of the pencil to another. Multiple ends of the line with seemingly only one way to get through the entire pencil. It was like a maze from one end of the pencil to the other.

Logan inspected it until he heard Sirena’s footsteps come this way and him and Patton shoved everything back inside his bag.

Sirena was beaming. “Great news!” She frowned suddenly. “Why are you still out standing here in the porch? It’s freezing out here!”

Logan didn’t bother to tell her that porches were no longer drafty in this modern age.

“What’s the good news?” Patton asked, picking up his bag and beginning to walk in the direction of the living room.

“Glen is coming for lunch and for supper in a couple of minutes! He’s on his way. He’s not bringing Winnie either, thank goodness.” Sirena smiled, a spring in her step.

Patton beamed as well. “Oh yay! That sounds fun! I can’t wait to meet your son!”

Logan stopped dead in his tracks. Of course this day. Of all days, this day.

“That sounds wonderful,” Logan said through gritted teeth. “Sirena, why don’t you get back to preparing for Glen to come home. Patton and I were having such a pleasant conversation.”

Sirena smiled. “Good idea! I better cook up some more food for Glen!” She left the living room.

As soon as Sirena left Logan turned to Patton, every muscle in his body tensed up. “We have to leave. Now.” He said urgently.

Patton cocked his head to the side. “How come?”

“Because you can’t be here when Glen is.”

“Why?” Patton asked.

Logan wanted to smack Patton across the head. “Sirena must not have told you about ‘angel boy’ Glen.”

“What about Glen?” Patton asked curiously.

“Because Glen is Mr. Edra, the most powerful government official, and he will murder you if he sees you!” Logan snapped, trying to keep his voice low so Sirena wouldn’t hear him.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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5hfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Progression - Chapter 1

(Dinah’s older than Camila in this, but really, everyone’s ages are kind of screwed up.)

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? If we were in a dorm, we’d be rooming with random people. You know me, and you know Mani.” Dinah deadpans, nudging the front door all the way open with her foot.

Camila sighs deeply, setting an incorrectly marked box on the kitchen counter. “But we don’t know Lauren.”

“We’ll get to know her. Besides, if Mani says she’s good people, then I trust her, and so should you.” She sets the scissors next to the box and starts back through the door, calling out, “Now shut up for 5 minutes and help me.”

Camila frowns at Dinah’s blind faith in a girl she doesn’t know. Sure, Normani trusts her, and while she is a great judge of character, but she hasn’t seen her properly in over three years, and a lot can change in that time. Aside from that, Normani’s character doesn’t determine Lauren’s, since everyone knows, good people can have the worst friends. Yes, Dinah has a point that this is probably better than a random room assignment, but the fact that they signed a lease, a legally binding contract, and now all their money is tied up in this apartment for the next two years, is stressing her out. Damn Dinah and her overly convincing puppy-dog eyes.

The younger girl follows her friend outside to where the moving truck is parked, containing all four roommates combined belongings. “Get that side.” Dinah juts her chin out toward the opposite end of the couch she’s holding.

Camila obeys her friend’s orders and they lift it easily, even though Dinah would be fine on her own, but that would look suspect. The taller girl starts the trek upstairs, smiling in thanks at the young adult male holding the door for them.

“You two good?” He questions in a thick accent she can’t quite place.

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks.” Camila interjects curtly, noticing the flirtatious look taking over her friend’s features. If she allows Dinah a word in, they could easily be standing there for an exceedingly long period of time for someone carrying an item of furniture that weighs four times what they do.

The boy just nods and exits once they’ve completely gone through the doorway. Dinah glares at Camila for sending away a potential mate, but says nothing. The Latina sighs thankfully, knowing she takes flirting very seriously, and was glad to have stomped it out before it could get started.

Over the years, Camila has seen a great deal of amorous exchanges involving her friend, and she completely understands why. Dinah is easily one of the most attractive people Camila knows. Granted, she doesn’t know very many people, but she counts people on the television, and shop customers as well. Physically, the older girl is pretty perfect; she’s tall, tan, and muscular, with insanely soft and thick hair that was usually some shade between brown and blond without really being either, and was “built like an acoustic guitar”, as Ariana had once put it. The statement had earned her a slap to the back of the head from one of Dinah’s large hands, her abnormally long fingers leaving red marks on the back of the petite girl’s neck for a solid 24 hours, an action the assailant soon regretted when the remark was explained.

The two make it up the stairs silently, efficiently, and slide the plush piece through the doorway. While Camila is content with leaving it in the previously designated area, Dinah suddenly finds a fault with it’s positioning, and keeps moving it in minute, nearly indistinguishable jerks in all directions.

“Dinah, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to center it. Don’t you think it looks weird?”

“No, because there’s only one place to put it,” Camila gestures around the now fully furnished living room, “and it looks fine.”

The older girl sucks her teeth and frowns at her friend. “If I wanted to live somewhere ‘fine’, I’d have stayed at home. I want my apartment to be poppin’.”

“Dinah, we’re college students now. Like, 95% of our income goes to bills and food. We can’t afford to pop; we can’t even afford to sizzle.”

“So we’ll save up, and pool our money. Then we can buy furniture that doesn’t make me want to claw my eyes out from looking at it for longer than 5 seconds.”

“Well, you can spend all your disposable income on popping, and sizzling, and frying, or whatever, but don’t come to me when you’re hungry or need gas money.” Camila kicks off her shoes and places them on the mat beside the front door.

Dinah laughs lightly and follows suit. “You say that like you really think you wouldn’t give me anything I asked for.”

“I want us to do this right, Dinah. You’re 18 now, I’ll be 18 soon enough…Ally’s trusting us not to live at home this year, and I really don’t want to give her any reason to think we’re irresponsible.” She pauses for a moment. “More irresponsible. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

The taller of the two smiles gently and pulls her friend into a strong, but not crushing, hug. “Jesus, Chancho. I’m the legal adult here, remember?” While her tone is teasing, her hold is firm, because she knows everything about this situation is new and had been worrying Camila since the idea had first been proposed almost six months ago. “Everything will be fine. Ally already trusts you, even more than Zayn, and he co-owns her businesses. If anyone should be putting in extra effort, it’s me-which I will, promise-so don’t worry.”

They stand in motionless silence for a few minutes. “We’ve been in this apartment for 5 minutes, and it’s already made you all sappy and gross.” Camila mumbles tiredly into the Polynesian’s chest. Indisputably, Dinah give the best hugs in the entire universe; it has something to do with the perfectly balanced combination of her warmth, softness and comforting scent. Unfortunately, that precise mix is currently working to put her to sleep.

“You always gotta ruin the moment.” Dinah rolls her eyes and shoves Camila back, into the the blue and white striped fabric recliner Ally had given them. “I’m gonna start with the kitchen. Can you unpack the bathroom stuff?”

“Uh-huh.” Camila nods, but makes no effort to stand up. Her body suddenly feels too heavy to support itself, so she just tucks her legs underneath her body and lays her head on one of the arms. She nods off quickly to the sounds of Dinah moving around, occasionally making noises of agreement to whatever was being said until she was too far gone to reply.

“Did you pack the wire rack with the kitchen stuff?” Dinah calls out, waiting a bit for a response before moving towards the more open area of the apartment. “Walz?”

She smiles at the sight of her small friend curled up in the chair, sleeping peacefully. Although she could use the help, she goes back to unpacking without even attempting to wake her up. Aside from Camila’s deep breathing, and the more distant sounds of other inhabitants being alive, it’s pretty quiet; Dinah Jane Hansen cannot stand quiet. Long stretches of silence are uncomfortable to her, and it makes her feel too close to death, unless she’s trying to sleep, then anyone making any type of noise is at risk of literally being close to death. This was one of the many reasons Ally had moved them to separate rooms, multiple times. Camila enjoyed the environment Dinah despised, thrived in it, in fact. Her own love of loud music, television and people had always clashed with her friend’s dislike, a concern that was sat at the back of her mind when she’d realized, for the first time in over two years, they’d be sharing together again. As well as they get along, she doesn’t know if she can survive another second rooming with “Can you turn it down?”, and “D, I have a headache, please?”. It’s not her fault that Camila has sensitive ears.

Since she’s not a total asshole, and doesn’t want to risk waking Camila up, she works without music. This could also be explained by the fact it would be practically impossible to find the box with her headphones inside at this point in time. Naturally, her mind begins to wander, and she remembers Camila’s earlier concerns. For as far back as her memory goes, she’s lived with Ally, and, while she was more than ready to spread her metaphorical wings with little concern for how things would play out, the older woman had been hesitant to let her go. Eventually, they’d reached an agreement where Dinah could go if she could convince Camila to fill the final roommate position Normani and Lauren were looking for. This was difficult simply because Camila didn’t want to move out, and was, although she’d been accepted to the same college as Dinah, planning on going to a different university based solely on the location of the campus. In the end, it took a solid month of groveling and guilt-tripping before she agreed, and thus, papers were signed and money was put down, much to Ally’s displeasure. It was understandable for her to be so upset, as she’d literally raised Dinah, and made her dismay known by dramatically sulking around the house for nearly a month after they’d graduated. A small part of her wondered what her birth parents would say, how they would feel to see her graduating. Ally had refused to tell Dinah what had become of her biological family, aside from something about an “unfortunate accident”, claiming she would learn the full story when she was older. Of course she had a difficult time believing 32 people had all succumb to the same fate, but she was happy with the people she did consider family, and still held onto the belief that Ally would tell her one day.

Frowning, she took a deep breath to clear her head of the negative thoughts and stepped back from what she was doing. She looked around in mild surprise, unsure of when she’d packed away four full boxes worth of stuff, and checked the time.

7:08. It’s been a little over an hour since she started, and about another one to go before Normani and Lauren were scheduled to arrive. Peering over the back of the chair to make sure Camila’s not stirring, Dinah scrolls through her phone and starts playing a random playlist in her “Bops” folder, but still on a low volume, just in case.

Music really is a great way to pass the time, because just as she’s deciding if the top shelf should house mugs or plates, there’s a key turning in the lock.

“Hey, DJ.” Normani grins widely from the doorway, almost instantly being lifted into Dinah’s arms.

“Manz! I Haven’t seen you in-” Dinah quickly lowers her volume and friend, remembering the sleeping girl a few feet away, “forever.”

“What’s wrong?” Normani asks confusedly at the sudden behavioral change. Dinah tilts her head in Camila’s direction as they separate. “And here I thought she’d be the one doing all the work while you were off somewhere drooling.”

“It’s not my fault Walz usually does everything. I’m not lazy, she’s an overachiever.” Dinah doesn’t even attempt to claim that she doesn’t drool, as Normani, Camila, and Ariana had all been too enthusiastic to show her the embarrassing proof in the past.

“How long did you try to wake her up for?”

“I didn’t. She’s taking a nap outside of the full moon or being sick for the first time in like six years; it’s better to just let her sleep.”

Normani nods, knowing Dinah speaks the truth. She’s never met anyone who hates being asleep more than the 17 year old in the recliner. Changing the subject, she raises a large brown paper bag Dinah had previously missed. “Anyways, I brought you guys something.”

“Food?” Dinah questions, although the answer is obvious, and snatches the bag from her hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I thought I was actually going to have to…you know.”

“You mean cook?” Dinah hates cooking as much as Camila hates sleeping, and Normani has trouble understanding either sentiment.

“Yeah, that.” Dinah takes a generous bite out of a random burger and turns towards the partially open door. “Where’s Lauren? I thought she was coming with you?”

“She was, but her parents wanted to have a family dinner tonight, so she transferred to an early morning flight.” Normani pulls the front door shut and locks it. She’s not risking someone just walking in and slaughtering them in their sleep. It won’t matter if Dinah and Camila are there if they get to her first.

“Don’t her parents live in Miami? That’s less than a three hour drive.” As she speaks, a chunky, liquefied mix of meat and bun spills down her chin, dyed yellow from the high ratio of mustard to pretty much everything else between the pieces of bread.

Normani hands Dinah a napkin, not particularly disgusted by the display, as she’d gotten used to her and Camila’s disastrous eating habits long ago. “It was at her uncle’s in Tennessee,” she stretches out on the couch and gestures to the three of them, “so it’ll just be us this evening.”

“If Mila even bothers to wake up.” Dinah replies before realizing something. “Hold up, who said you could sit down?”

“What?”

“Girl, get yo ass up and do something.”

“But Mila-”

“She’s allowed to sleep because she actually did some work before. Did you really believe you could bring us some food and we’d let you get away not doing anything?” The innocent look on Normani’s face says everything, and Dinah laughs loudly. “Hoe, you thought. Now go unpack the boxes for the bathroom.”

Normani sighs theatrically, but starts down the hall anyway, not wanting to feel Dinah’s wrath over something so insignificant, and also because she knows damn well it won’t get done otherwise.

They continue to talk back and forth for a while, calling out to each other across the apartment after they’d determined Camila probably wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

“D, what the hell are these?” Normani rounds the corner holding an cartoon rocket ship bath mat and Space Invaders shower curtain.

“Ally got those as part of our going away present, even though we’ve only gone like an hour and a half away.”

“Did you make sure to tell her you guys were starting college and not kindergarten? It looks like she’s a bit confused.” Secretly, Normani finds the gifts cute, because she’s gotten to know Ally thoroughly over the last four years, and it’s just like her to do something all sentimental like this.

“Walz didn’t want to hurt her feelings by not bringing them, and I don’t want to risk her just showing up and not seeing them in place, you know?” The soft tone in the younger girl’s voice contrasts starkly with the pained grimace on her face. It’s like she’s physically hurting from just being in the presence of the brightly colored accessories.

“That’s really sweet of you, to sacrifice your sanity out of love and fear.”

“Fear? What are you talking about? I’m not afraid of Ally.”

“That’s such a fucking lie and you know it.” Normani smiles knowingly at Dinah’s overly defensive stance: arms crossed, brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and annoyance, and legs shoulder width apart. “She’s your mom, you pretty much have to be scared of her.”

“Yeah, but I’m not. The only time I’ve only even mildly feared her was those couple of times when she got really mad at me, because believe you me, when the 'a’ in Ally stands for angry, you don’t want to be anywhere near her.”

“It’s hard to imagine Ally like that.” Normani sets the mat and curtain on one of the few boxes not yet pushed into it’s proper room yet; not that they even know what it is, since Lauren and Normani decided drunk and tipsy packing, respectively, would be a good idea.

“It’s good you only have to go based off imagination and not experience. Trust me, she’s like a little volcano.”

“What am I when I’m angry?”

“You’re like…a slowly melting block of ice.”

“I don’t-what?”

“You’re all cold towards whoever you’re mad at, and you don’t show it at first, but then you start getting all snippy and stay salty for as long as you’re pissed off. You aren’t an explosive person.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s true. And you’re not either, most of the time. Unless you feel really threatened, or somebody does something seriously messed up, you’re pretty calm.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want people to know I’m angry with them, all the time, and get all suspicious. Why do you think I’m so good at pranks?”

“Because you lowkey want to be a bully, but you know Ally would have your ass, so you found a slightly less abrasive outlet.”

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to stop talking to Walz. Her and all her deep thinking is fucking you up.”

“Are you saying I’m not a deep thinker?”

“No, but you’re not like her, and believe me when I say that’s a good thing.”

There’s a slight pause before anyone speaks again. “What about Mila?”

“What about Mila?” Dinah reiterates, not understanding Normani’s question.

“If Ally’s a volcano-”

“Little volcano.” She can hear the smirk in her voice, even though she isn’t looking at her.

“-and I’m a block of ice, what’s Camila like when she’s mad?”

“Walz doesn’t get mad.”

“Dinah, you’ve known her since she was six.”

“I know that, but I’ve never seen her anything more than moderately annoyed, usually by me or Zayn.”

“I know Mila doesn’t have a bad temper, I mean she spends most of her time with you, we’d know at this point, but nothing?” The eldest resident sits on the arm of the recliner and looks down at it’s occupant, tone dripping with incredulity.

Dinah takes a moment to think before replying. “There was this one time I remember when she was really genuinely upset. We were like eight and three of my friends-you remember those annoying ass girls I told you I used to hang out with right before middle school?-came over to stay for April vacation. Walz had already been there for a couple of weeks, and I was sick before, so of course she got it, but Ally already agreed to watch those terrible children, so she put in place her standard quarantine procedures.” Dinah doesn’t elaborate, knowing Normani is fully aware of Ally’s behaviour when anyone in her household is ill. “It was like halfway through their stay and Ally was in the kitchen, when Walz comes downstairs for the first time in days, looking for her. We were in the living room, so we saw her first, and Sierra, of course, decided to cause a problem.”

“Sierra was the one with the parents that owned those condos, right?”

“That was Genevive. Sierra’s parents bought that amusement park that closed down like two years later.”

“How did you know these people?”

“Public school. Go figure.” Dinah purposely avoids answering Normani’s actual question in favor of finishing the memory. “Anyways, they were just talking all kinds of mess, and I just kinda stood there, because, you know, I was a stupid elementary schooler and these were my cool friends. Then Sierra went too far and threw Q outside into the downpour, Mila went after him, and they locked her out. Genevive and Evie went in the kitchen to make sure she didn’t try to come in through the front door, and I…” Dinah trails off for a moment, noticeably uncomfortable. “I pulled the blinds in the back so Ally wouldn’t see her, then we helped with lunch. By the time Ally found her, she’d already been outside for like three hours.”

Normani’s brow furrows, having heard other stories of how Dinah was kind of an asshole at that age, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting. “Please tell me Mila came for you.”

“No, but Ally did after I told her what happened."

"You actually told Ally?” Normani asks skeptically. The Dinah she knows would do almost anything to stay out of trouble, or at least modify the truth enough to spare herself too severe of a punishment. Admitting to laughing with your 'friends’ being mean to your friend, then locking said friend outside in the rain with no plans of telling anyone isn’t exactly how one would prevent that.

“Believe it or not, eight year old Dinah Jane still felt guilt on occasion. I couldn’t not tell her, especially when we found out Walz had pneumonia. Ally blamed that on the rain, and even though the doctor said that’s not what caused it, I wasn’t going to try to use that to defend myself. Not the point, so Q was all muddy and gross, and Ally told Mila she was going to wash him, you know, the common sense thing to do, and she lost it. She started crying her eyes out and begging Ally not to, like she almost threw up from crying so hard. It was terrible. My friends were staring in surprise and disgust, and I was so embarrassed. Yes, I know, I was a terrible friend, stop looking at me like that. And Ally was completely freaking out because she’d never seen her like that, and she couldn’t figure out how to calm her down. So she just carried her upstairs.”

“Wow.” It’s a well known fact that Camila is a very emotional person, but Normani has never seen her cry, at least not the way Dinah was describing it. Sure, she’d seen her shed a couple tears at the sad scenes in movies, or from laughing way too hard, but nothing so emotional. “I don’t get it. Why was she crying?”

“I don’t know. We never asked her. I don’t even think she remembers it happening, so Ally decided to just blame it on her fever. You know how Ally likes to be prepared for everything, so that kind of fucked her up for a while. Really though, it was so…unexpected, and out of character. I mean, when I was teaching her how to ride a bike, she fell down the side of a rocky hill, into a stream, and didn’t make a sound. This was something else.”

“You guys had a real weird childhood.” Even though she already knows this.

“You tell me that anytime I tell you anything. And not really, yours was just super boring.”

Normani snorts. “No, my childhood was normal. Ally literally owns a magic shop. Where is the normality?”

“It’s normal to us.” Dinah says with an air of finality, not wanting to dwell on negative memories. “Now, go finish setting up the bathroom.”

“Dinah! Really? You’re gonna make me do more work? It’s nighttime.”

“Yes, now get up.”

“I’m tired."

"Mani.”

“No.” The darker girl whines, stretching out the word.

“I wasn’t giving you an option.” Dinah throws a pillow at Normani, her previously unmoving target effectively dodging the projectile, causing it to hit the sleeping girl in the face.

Camila groans quietly and shifts in her sleep, forcing her eyes open as she knocks the pillow onto the floor. “I…was asleep?”

“You were.” Dinah glares at Normani, more playful than serious.

“Mani?” Camila mumbles around a yawn, recognizing the familiar perfume coming off the figure above her. “I thought you weren’t getting here until tonight.”

The older girl grins down at her friend, and gestures towards the hall windows where the blinds are still open. “It is night, Mila.”

“It’s-wha?” She rubs her eyes, confused as to how it was pitch black out when the sun had been shining brightly just minutes before.

“It’s almost 9:30. You’ve been out for nearly 3 hours.” Dinah’s voice replies from behind her.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Camila speaks to Dinah, but extends her arms towards Normani, signaling she wants a hug.

“You were barely sitting down for 5 minutes before you fell asleep. If I woke you up, you’d just be cranky and do a shit job at unpacking.”

Normani slid down into Camila’s lap, wrapping the Cuban up in her arms. “Plus, you probably wouldn’t have woken up anyway. Dinah’s been playing music this entire time, stuff was being moved around, and we were literally talking right over you for the past 20 minutes.

"And, I made smoothies.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Dinah opens the fridge and pulls out three glass bottles, each containing a different colored puree. Honestly, she hadn’t even remembered she’d made them until now. “Try me again.”

“Shit.” Camila knows she can be a heavy sleeper, but their blender is basically a small glass lawnmower for food items. “Is one of those mine?”

“Of course that’s what you focus on.” Camila adjusts Normani in her lap, so she has a free hand to hold the bottle Dinah passes her.

“Thank you.” She takes a sip of the thick liquid, savoring the, overwhelmingly to every other living being, banana flavor and peanut butter aftertaste. “Have I ever told you that I love you more than most things?”

“Only every time I give you food.”

“Those are very good times.”

“Speaking of food,” Normani interjects, remembering something important. “Lauren wants to have lunch with you guys tomorrow, since she can’t make it here tonight.”

“Sure, I’m free between 12 and 2. I have to get to the bakery for 3:30.”

“I’ll be back by 12:30, since I’m opening tomorrow.”

“Lauren and I are both available then, so lets say, 12:45 at that Italian restaurant across from the town center.”

“The one with the yellow tomatoes in the salad and butter that kind of tastes like gravy?”

“That’s the one.”

“Now I’m hungry.” Normani hears Camila speak the complaint into her shoulder.

“You were hungry the moment you woke up.” Dinah hands her the not completely cold take out bag from the fridge. “Here. Normani brought burgers, so I saved you one and a half. There’s also most of a large fries-don’t you dare look at me like that. You’re lucky I didn’t eat all your fries.”

“You’re a literal angel.” Normani has no time to respond before Camila grabs her face and kisses her wetly on the cheek, then starts in on the stuffed half turkey burger.

“Anyway,” Normani starts, wiping the saliva off her face in disgust, “she’s really excited to meet you guys. I’m just kind of worried, you know?”

“Why?” The word vibrates her arm, which lays limp across Camila’s chest.

“It’s just, I’ve built you guys up so much, she’ll probably be disappointed when the real thing is right in front of her.”

There’s a loud clapping sound as Dinah’s hand connects with Normani’s back, nearly knocking her over. “Girl, you scared me for a second! I thought you were being serious.”

“You could be an actress. That was really convincing.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I’m being serious. Plus, you’ve got the face for it: acting, modeling, all that picture stuff.” Camila’s voice is muffled as she holds the rest of her burger between her teeth, digging through the empty paper wrappers Dinah left in the bag in search of the spilled fries.

“Yeah, and besides, you’re a great actress, and dancer, and once people get a look at that face, they’ll be dying to plaster it up all over magazine covers, and billboards, and giant posters that’ll hang in horny teenager’s bedrooms.” Dinah admits honestly as she flops down on the couch.

“And park benches!” Camila adds excitedly, probably only really thinking of the park portion of the suggestion.

“Thanks, but I really don’t think I want anyone sitting on my face.”

“Yet another thing you and Walz don’t have in common.” As Dinah Jane is the biggest fan of her own jokes, she fails miserably at holding back the laugh that Normani lets out in full.

Camila waits for the giggles to subside before attempting to respond. “You say that like it’s not one of the greatest experiences ever, for all parties involved.”

“I am the sitter, not the on being sat upon, thank you very much. A face like this must be admired at all times, and that’s kind of hard to do when someone’s ass is all up in it.”

“DJ, the only thing to ever admire your face, aside from you, is your phone camera.”

“On a good day.” Camila holds up a couple of fries, silently offering them to Normani who declines, but reaches her hand into the bag in search on a moderately clean napkin to wipe the ketchup off the Cuban’s face.

“You’re both so damn rude, I swear. I can’t believe I agreed to live with you two. And I was so nice to you, Mani.”

“Right, because everyone wants to hear that they’re attractive enough to be masturbated to, or to be on a mossy, shit covered bench so people can sit on their face in the least sexual way.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so good.”

“Whatever. Can we watch a movie now, or something? Talking to you for longer than 10 minutes at a time is tiring.”

“I’m down, as long as it isn’t a horror movie, or a psychological thriller.” Camila tosses the balled up paper bag into the garbage by the couch, and grins at the offended look on Dinah’s face.

“Chancho, come cuddle.”

“What? You don’t want me?” Normani asks innocently, pouting playfully at the huffing Polynesian.

“No, you can stay right over there.” Dinah scoffs, then her voice returns to it’s previous demanding whine. “Walz, here. Now.”

“Sorry, Cheech. No Mani, no me.”

The two youngest stare at each other, both waiting for the other’s resolve to crack. Eventually, it’s Dinah who relents. “Fine, both of you get your traitorous asses over here.”

“We love you, Dinah Jane.” Normani announces in a sing-song voice, after her and Camila squish the still mainly unwilling addressee into a hug.

“Now you do. I’m picking the movie, and no arguments.” She yanks the remote out of Normani’s hand and snickers at the simultaneous groan from the bodies on either side of her.

They were midway through the first season of some weird British show Dinah had found when Normani attempted to make conversation again. Turning her head towards them to speak, she discovered they were both already asleep. This wasn’t surprising at all, but gave her the time to review their future living arrangements.

Lauren was a great person, even though highschool had been a kind of rocky time for her, and, well, she was a lot like Dinah in certain respects. She enjoyed having a good time, and whatever the definition of that may be at the time, partying till all hours of the night or playing charades in her pajamas, and didn’t let anything get in the way of that. Although their recent conversations had gone significantly better than the ones they’d had over the previous few years, she knew a couple of her highschool friends would also be attending, one of the reasons why she was so glad Lauren had reached out to her to share an apartment, since she wanted to keep her away from those people. Lauren’s parents, Mike and Clara, knew of her past troubles, and were more than ecstatic to hear she was talking with Normani again, who was easily their favorite of their daughter’s friends. It was more difficult to convince them about Dinah and Camila, particularly the latter, as they had been stalking Dinah’s social media since Normani had given them her name, and saw she appeared to be just a normal teenager. Everything she said about Camila, on the other hand, seemed to fuel their apprehension towards their eldest living with her. She didn’t know the answers to the questions they were asking, which made them suspicious, so much so, that Mike had offered to pay for the final forth of the rent if she could get Camila to find a way out of the lease. Now, unbeknownst to her roommates, her parents had taken it upon themselves to invite them all over for Christmas day dinner, after she’d mentioned that none of them had any big plans for the holiday season. She knew how protective Lauren’s parents had become, without being controlling, for the most part, and was slightly concerned with extending the invitation. It would look bad if they didn’t show up, like they were really hiding something, but there would be a lot of questions, probably bordering on the invasive side, and Camila didn’t enjoy talking about her personal life, very much unlike Dinah. She’d tried to say that they were unavailable on the day, but Clara pressed that they could both bring their families, which posed another problem. It was time to talk to Ally before she stuck her foot further in her mouth.

This is a thing now?

It’s also on Wattpad: RetreatingBackwards

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #angst drama #scifi supernatural fantasy #submission #Progression

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jinlian · 8 years

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unlimitedgoats replied to your post “i’m bored ask me about character headcanons”

What's Viktor's preferred home/interior decorating style? What's Yuuri's?

victor:

this actually is probably gonna break with majority opinion but i think victor probably has a really... old-fashioned aesthetic. he likes antiques, things that are wooden and old, pieces that maybe look a little weird. when he’s in charge of decorating, things look a little... haphazardly thrown together, there’s not much a sense of style at all. but because it’s a jumbled mess of old things, it feels... homey.

he has books everywhere -- collections in four different languages, strewn wherever he can leave them. there’s an antique clock on the wall that was his grandmother’s, a photo of his great-aunt and great-uncle. big wooden dressers and drawers, a dark wood bedframe. he loves art nouveau, loves the colors and complexity of the lines. that he keeps mostly in his bedroom, but he likes landscapes and puts those up wherever he finds space. victor loves museums!!

yuuri:

yuuri’s taste is basically... he knows what he doesn’t like, but he couldn’t really tell you what he does.

victor has some really weird furniture, but yuuri couldn’t tell you for the life of him how he’d replace it to make it all come together to look better. he knows that it definitely doesn’t look good, but look, he lived in a furnished dorm room with posters of his fiance all over his walls for years, he’s new to this.

but he does find himself liking simplicity, though that doesn’t mean he likes nothing. just... soft, solid colors. not a whole lot of visual noise going on. he grew up in a traditional inn, and while he doesn’t mind more european sensibilities, that traditional aesthetic is always going to feel a bit like home: low tables, sliding doors, lacquered bowls.

basically he just wants to be comfortable. their styles are pretty easy to meld together when they move in together, first in russia and then when they move back to hasetsu -- they just slowly adapt, getting rid of something or buying a replacement every once in a while.

their bedroom is full of a lot of dark navy blues lit by bright pastels. there’s a dog bed in almost every corner of the house.

#unlimitedgoats #yuri on ice #victuuri #anna writes meta

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rebirthcorbenik · 8 years

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WIP McHanzo Fic

I’m gonna post this fic that I’ve been working very slowly on. This is just the first sequence that I’ve written so there’s not a lot of excitement. It would be lovely if people left critique because this is the first work of fiction I’ve ever written. c:

The vast stretch of farmland unfolds before Jesse McCree's honey colored eyes as he rises to begin his day, his shaggy, chestnut hair still somewhat messy from sleep. The grounds outside are lightly frosted in the late March sunlight. He immediately grabs his lighter, places a cigarette between his lips, and smokes as he goes about his morning routine. He turns on the water for his shower, and while he waits for it to warm up he slips on a coat and boots to fetch the morning paper. Jesse had this routine down to the last second, knowing exactly when his aging shower would be the perfect temperature. His cigarette lasts long enough for him to walk to the mailbox and back. The burnt butt of the cigarette just manages to make it to the ceramic ashtray sitting outside of the front door on the porch. Toeing his boots off inside the door, Jesse sheds the coat and skims the newspaper as he makes his way back upstairs to lay his clothes out for the day. By the time he finishes reading the front page, he strips off his plain white t-shirt and washed-out navy lounge pants.

Once he steps into the shower the hot water glides over Jesse's tired body, tracing old scars and soothing sore muscles. Most of his old scars were from his early days in the Deadlock Gang where the older members would often torment the new recruits. Sometimes someone might put a cigarette out on skin, other times someone might get drunk and draw a knife. Jesse couldn’t remember anymore how or why he had gotten most of the marks that dotted his skin, and most of time he didn’t care to. The sore muscles came from more recent work on the farm. Not having much mechanical help made everything he had to do a little bit harder, especially since Jesse was approaching 40. His back always seemed to hurt and his joints were aching with the onset of arthritis, but the hot showers everyday made his body feel better at least for a little while. They were some of the few moments of peace that Jesse was able to have where he could let his mind wonder. While he was actually working he had to concentrate on giving proper care to his animals, his dwindling orders from customers in town, the slow decline of his farm… No he doesn’t want to think about that now. When the shower starts to cool he turns the water off, hesitating to start his day in earnest.

Jesse towels himself dry in the bathroom, hanging his towel back on the rack before he saunters back into the bedroom. He has his usual clothes laid out on the bed: washed out American flag print boxers, ragged blue jeans, and a brown button-up shirt. He mechanically dresses himself and finishes the ensemble with his BAMF belt. The belt was another holdover from his days in the Deadlock gang and for some reason he couldn’t convince himself to get rid of it. However, it always gave his customers a good chuckle when he delivers supplies to them. Jesse wears chaps as well when he works on the farm, but he usually waits until right before he leaves the house to put them on as they aren’t the most comfortable. When he finishes dressing, he is in the state of mind he needs to be in to make the farm work. Jesse has slowly been losing customers because he simply cannot meet their demands for produce and meat by himself. Now mentally ready to face the day he heads downstairs to make himself some breakfast to get him through the first half of the busy day.

He's enjoying his last sip of coffee as he gathers up his dirty dishes and places them in the kitchen sink. Jesse was going to rely on the caffeine for the next few months because his small herd of cows were on the brink of calving and crops needed to be planted. He sighed, exiting the humble two story farmhouse, which was in desperate need of repairs, draped in his fading red serape.

The farmhouse had been bought after he had left the Deadlock Gang almost twenty years ago. Then, it had been fairly new, but the years had not been kind to it. It also didn't help that Jesse didn't have a whole lot of money lying around since he had left a very lucrative occupation and settled for a safer, less illegal way of life after a close encounter of the Fed kind. In the beginning the house had almost been too much for a young man who had had almost nothing during the course of his life. The house had been sparsely furnished and decorated with only the essentials: on old couch he grabbed that was headed for the landfill, a kitchen table and chairs he bought at a discount store, and a few lamps he found stashed away in the attic. The only thing Jesse allowed himself to splurge on was the bed. He had slept in hard cots or two-size-too-small beds all his life. Jesse used a large amount of his saved money to buy a king-sized bed that was as soft as down feathers, and he still thought that bed was the best damn purchase he'd ever made. Like anyone who lives in a place for a long period of time, he had steadily accumulated odds and ends to fill his house. In its current state, he had more furniture a single man who hardly had company would ever need and a ton of junk he had been given or just found at some point.

His farm is relatively small compared to those in the surrounding area, just a few acres for his crops and livestock. He still does almost everything manually from harvesting his vegetables to milking his small herd of cows. It's hard grueling work, but compared to the life he lived before, it's much more satisfying and rewarding.

#corbenik posts #fanfic wip #mchanzo #overwatch

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bajancopywritingunicorn-blog · 7 years

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Top Ten Bajan Christmas Gifts 2017

I know you’ve been sitting on the edge of your seat and I’m sure you’re gonna love the gifts on this year’s list of Bajan products. Sure, you could buy anything that’s imported but there’s something so special about getting a gift that was made right here in Barbados. Let’s get right into it then.

10. Sophisticated Centrepiece - Jalans Creations - One of the most important parts of the Christmas celebration in Barbados and around the world is having Christmas lunch with the family. Perhaps one of the most underestimated but memorable elements of this feast is the centrepiece, so why not give the gift of decor this Christmas? Whether you have a complete tablescape planned or you prefer the minimalist approach, your centrepiece will be a focal point at the dinner table. Before I go any further, you need to know that Bajans are veryyy crtitical. They will have no problem telling people that your table “had look pop down” or “stink”. Five years from now I guarantee they will still be talking about it. That’s why I was so relieved to stumble upon this Blue Bouquet by Lana Nurse, founder of Jalan’s Creations. I kind of wish I could have one in every room. It makes me feel like I was spirited away to a fairytale sprinkled with magic dust. Just gorgeous! If you want one you better hurry though because Lana tells me you have til December 21st to place your order.

9. Vegan Cork Bags - Ole Luck - Guys, cork bags are a thing now and they look so cool. I have to admit, this was the first time I ever heard of Vegan bags. Accessories can be vegan now? I couldn’t help but wonder how they taste. Now before we start chowing down, I want you to rest assured that buying a woman a bag for Christmas is always a good idea. Still, what makes these bags so special are the fact that they’re environmentally responsible. No harmful plastics and for the animal lovers among us, no leather. Don’t ask me how, but a guy by the name of Andy makes all these gorgeous bags by hand. If you’re feeling really patriotic, you can get a wristlet with 246 or the broken trident on it, but I fell in love with the Wayuu purse. The Wayuu are indigenous people living in Colombia and Northwest Venezuela, described as the people of the sun, sand and wind. Wayuu women make a specific type of woven bag with unique vibrant patterns reflected in the sash on these Ole Luck beauties. Fun fact: The Wayuu language, which is called Wayuuniki, is part of the Arawak family.

8. Crocheted Bikini - Chain Loops Crochet - My gawd! What can I say about this talented diva? Owner Jessica Martindale creates customized fashion and soft home furnishings, while crocheting her way into your heart. Now the first time I saw her crocheted bikinis I knew I had to have one of her pieces. I ordered two. Forget your grandmother’s doilies. Jessica designs one-of-a-kind crocheted jumpers, skirts, dresses, chic baby blankets, earrings and even slippers. Yes, you heard me. She crochets frikkin slippers. But back to this sexy bikini tho. I’m not even telling you to buy this for someone else. This thing will make your life ten times sexier. You worked hard all year so you best believe you deserve it. Yasss!

7. Gold glitter Barbados Throw Pillow - ChicFit Inc - This cute little cushion stopped me right in my tracks. This ain't no run-of-the-mill throw pillow. You can decorate any space with it, no matter the colour scheme. Classy level 1000! Listen to me. ChicFit is not messing around. They put a dang Barbados map on a black pillow and glitterized it in gold. What the what?! This throw cushion will change your life so you're welcome. Just gaze upon its glory. Also, can I just say how much I love ChicFit's logo? It speaks to me. It says “I love yoga times infinity”... or someting* so.

6. Deck The Halls - Classy Raggs Interiors - You have no idea what this means but you will. The brainchild of Ana Gill, Classy Raggs will leave you in stitches. If you’ve ever imagined what a home makeover should look like, then Ana should have her own TV show. Her work is phenomenal. She creates bespoke furniture, soft furnishings, you name it, she can bring your dream to life. Just look at what she did to this yacht! Yachtastic!

5. Smell My Nuts - West Indian Soap Co. - Not to be left out of the game, there’s definitely something for the guys too. As gross as it sounds, this was one of the most hilarious Christmas gifts I’ve stumbled upon thus far. There’s Man Soap, Man Wash and Man Lotion. Your man does not need another tie. Stop it. He wants you to get creative and think outside the box. Get him a gift that’s both playful and practical. Go ahead! Smell deez nuts... coconuts, that is ;)

4. A Pinterest Box - HomeMade Luxe - If you’re heavily into DIY and crafting or you’re all thumbs like me and need detailed instructions to make anything, then this is the gift for you or someone you know. Former Barbados athlete Keitha Moseley-Dendy, The Bajan Texan, as she calls herself, started this business from a simple idea to bring Pinterest into real life. Stop pinning and start crafting, folks. Take all those cute projects you love online and decorate every room in your house with them. Brilliant idea! One might wonder where the mother of twin girls could possibly find the time but she spent many nights on her living room floor packing hundreds of boxes to keep her customers happy. That type of sweat equity deserves some kind of award. Now that HomeMade Luxe is finally available in Barbados, don’t lag!* In minutes you can have the sexiest pinned projects in your home. This month’s box is a Starburst Mirror. Who doesn’t love a gift that is both fun and functional? Shoot, you could even get some friends together and throw a Pinning Party.

3. Pillowgrams - Simmone Thorpe started thinking the other day about how wasteful cards are. To be honest, I never really know what to do after I read a card someone has given me. It’s so pretty I can’t bear to throw it away but I can’t really hang it up either so it invariably gets shoved down in a drawer somewhere, only to be found months later. You can’t enjoy the beauty of a greeting card from inside a drawer. Simmone wanted to find a way to make the memory last in a way that’s visible and functional. That’s how the Say it With a Pillowgram message pillow was born. This gift can be cute, funny, inspirational, sentimental, you can even add a photo of you and your loved one to create a wonderful keepsake. Pelt* a few of these customizable throw pillows into the mix to enhance your decor. Ladies, don’t we always try to stop at two and end up buying six?

2. Galaxy Eyeshadow - Fenty Beauty - This one was tough, I put this at the top of my personal Christmas Gift List because Rihanna. Seriously, though, what girl on earth doesn’t want eyeshadow that shines like diamonds and reflects all the colours of the milky way? I want my face to sparkle like the night sky too. Basically giving any gift from the Fenty Beauty line would make any woman in the world scream, from Match Stix to lip gloss to Trophy Wife highlighter. I’m dreaming of a glitter eyeshadow Christmas.

1. But First... Prosecco - West Indian Soap Co. - Start clutching your pearls ladies because this next gift will change your life. You know that moment when you never thought something was even possible and then all of a sudden Jesus and the whole universe answered your silent, unspoken prayers? This is basically what the But First Prosecco line of decadence is all about. Drowning your sorrows takes on a whole new meaning when you can literally bathe in your favourite sparkling wine. Cleopatra bathed in milk so the mere thought of bathing in Prosecco and smelling like it just tickles me pink. I can’t wait to be drenched in Prosecco.

Stay tuned for full features of some of these wonderful Bajan businesses. Big shoutout to the members of Women Making Money Work ladies networking group.

Bonus*

Bajan Glossary

If you’re not a Bajan here’s a key to the terms you need to know.

Had look pop down/ had look stink: This means that whatever you were talking about looked terrible, not just bad. Basically pop down and stink are interchangeable.

Someting: This means something. Someting so: This means something along those lines.

Don’t lag: This means don’t get caught napping/ don’t delay.

Pelt: This means throw, but forcefully.

#Christmas Gifts TopTen Bajan Barbados marketing

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