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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

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Before the Night Ends

Dean/Castiel, 2.1k words, post-Wedding/pre-Honeymoon

ao3

It's been a wedding for the ages. Dean and Castiel finally tied the knot, with guests flying in from all across America, Heaven, Hell - even the Empty. But everything must come to an end, and after a wonderful Roadhouse reception Dean and Cas drove off in Baby and off towards their honeymoon.

Except, it's a long drive from Kansas plains to California beaches. They stop close to midnight at a motel along the highway, to sleep, celebrate their wedding night and that it's Valentine's Day, too.

There’s a motel off Highway 70 called Angel’s Paradise, first established in the early 1900s, and last renovated in 1982. The owners back then, who remain so today, envisioned heaven as some tropical destination. That meant each room, alike in their simplicity and functionality, would be redone along these guidelines. Walls plastered with paper-print palm fronds and blooming, pink flowers. Bathrooms tiled a light blue – like waters from the clearest ocean – and little soaps shaped like shells to match the shell-patterned shower curtain. They’d have an entertainment unit housing a small television set would double as a dust collector, various ocean-themed knick-knacks cluttered atop it, ranging from homemade to store bought. A wicker table situated between two wicker chairs, a wicker dresser placed next to the entertainment unit and a wicker bed-or-beds layered by their own palm fronds, matching the walls. Finally, tying the décor together was a little (wicker) side table near the door with a plastic conch set to catch keys or loose change or cigarette ash. Given these changes, any customer might imagine they were in Florida rather then Colorado, or it was June instead of February. Especially in the crown jewel of Angel’s Paradise, the Honeymoon Suite.

Except the Suite’s current boarders were very aware of where and when they are. Probably because they have yet to see their room for the night.

Dean tucks his hands into his elbows, shivering outside the Suite while Cas fiddles with its doorknob. “Come on,” he whines, “what’s the hold-up?”

Cas pauses, turning to Dean. “Sorry,” he says, “the lady at the counter – she said they were having issues since the last occupants. Something about them breaking the lock?”

“Fuckin’ a…” Dean hisses, bouncing now. An icy wind cuts across the parking lot, Dean defenseless to it because he forwent a heavier jacket and how thin the material of his suit was. Castiel looks marginally warmer than Dean, wrapped in his trademark trench coat. Still, Dean notices how his hands tremble while holding the key. Cas’s hand flicks to the left, Dean’s gaze catching the silver band wrapped around his ring finger. One day, he may get used to it. Dean hopes he never does and can experience the same flutter of warmth rippling through his heart from seeing it. He leans into Cas, Dean dropping his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Who do I have to pray to for this door to open?”

“No one,” Cas declares, lock clicking in time with his words, “because it’s open!”

Dean curses under breath, smiling. “Great,” he says, “let’s get in there, then – hey… hey!”

Swept off his feet, Dean falls into the loving grip of his husband. Cas places one arm at his back, supporting most of the weight, while the other arm traps Dean’s knees, keeping his legs bent and Dean unable to wriggle himself free. Cas smiles down at him, laughing.

“You think this is so funny,” Dean scowls, holding onto Cas’s tie like it were a lifeline. “You little shit –“

“Mr. Shit, Dean,” Cas interrupts, kicking the door open and striding past the threshold, “I did take your last name, after all.”

“My mistake…” He huffs, burying his head in Cas’s chest while he uses the fingers not squeezing Cas’s tie to comb the hairs at his husband’s neck. “Dean and Castiel Shit… I can see the monogramed towels already.” Dean closes his eyes, purring like a kitten while he absorbs the heat that radiates from Cas. It’s inhuman how much of a furnace he was, especially after giving up his grace to live as a human, to be human with Dean. Like always, Dean’s smile widens at the thought. He tries hiding his rapidly flushing face, but Cas tears Dean off of him. He ungraciously dumps Dean onto the bed, blue eyes betraying his cool demeanor as they glow with mirth from Dean’s startled squawking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Going to get the bags,” he says, moving towards the door, “Why don’t you get comfortable, I’ll only be a moment.”

Dean shakes his head, situating himself better on the bed. He sits at the foot of it, toeing off his snakeskin boots and then peeling off the dark grey dress socks he wore with them. While pulling at his tie, Cas returns with their bags. He doesn’t close the door after, and a blustery chill fills the space. Goosepimples erupt in scattered bunches up and down Dean’s arms. “Close the door!” he yells, dumping the tie onto the slowly growing pile of discarded clothing. His suit jacket joins his tie and socks and boots as Cas deposits their bags by the television. He then hits the door with his elbow, shutting out the wind. Cas gestures at the closed door with a flourish and wry grin. Dean scoffs, “Ugh, who’s bright idea was it to do this in winter?”

“The same man who, on his birthday, said,” Cas drifts closer, helping Dean unbutton his shirt, “and I quote, ‘If you think you can propose to me and not expect us to get married as soon as possible, then you don’t know what you’re signing up for… buddy’.” Cas eases the shirt off Dean’s shoulders, kissing the exposed skin right above his t-shirt. “For the record,” Cas adds, whispering into his collarbone, “I expected it. It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Dean remembers. Their family, together, celebrating Dean’s birthday. His first birthday free from Chuck’s machinations, with a cake Jack spent all day baking and presents that lined the end of the table. He held Cas’s hand as he blew out the candles, mind blank because nothing he could wish for would match the happiness he felt in that moment. He tells Cas this after he asks what he wished for. And Cas, of course, proceeds to kiss him. Cas kisses him while Eileen cut the cake, while Jack helped plate them, and while Sam clapped Dean’s shoulders in warning to reign it in. Dean pulled back, gasping, unsure how he might respond to his then-boyfriend’s passion. Then Cas asked him that all-important, heart-stopping, mind-blowing question, opened a velvet box, and Dean knew exactly what to say.

“I would’ve waited,” Dean reveals, helping Cas with his clothes as Cas guides Dean’s legs out of his slacks. “Everyone knows how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you… I would’ve waited, even if we died and we had to get married in heaven.” Dean pecks Cas’s lips, divesting him of both jackets and his button-down shirt. “I’m glad we didn’t have to, though.”

“So am I.”

They stand together in t-shirts and boxers, barely an inch of space between them. No one speaks, not that they have to, but the usually comfortable silence makes Dean nervous. His focus drifts from Cas and onto the plastic conch behind him. Then, he notices how the rest of the room is decorated. Dean giggles, “Wow… it’s, this place is…”

Cas nods. Dean needn’t say anything else. “You should’ve seen the inside,” he snickers, “the staff were wearing Hawaiian shirts and shark-tooth necklaces.”

“Hey,” Dean shoves him, “don’t diss Hawaiian shirts.” He collects his clothes and boots, bringing them over to their duffels. “I’ve got about three packed away in here, and I’m planning on buying at least a few more before our honeymoon ends.”

“Should they even be called Hawaiian shirts if we’re not in Hawaii?” Cas asks. Dean hears the mattress squeak, and guesses his husband sat on the bed. He digs through the duffel, Cas monologuing in the background. “Are they called Coloradan shirts since we’re in Colorado? If we buy them in California, won’t they be Californian Shirts? Or is it because they’re made in Hawaii, and then shipped elsewhere? Can you imagine it – shirt factories, dotting the beaches? Oh, I’d hope the workers making all these Hawaiian shirts are at least being paid a fair wage, given how popular they seem to be…”

“There’s no factories on any beaches,” Dean tells him, “and – hate to burst your bubble, angel – but I doubt Hawaiian shirt makers are paid what they deserve, regardless of where their factories are.” Cas hums in that same, sullen note he usually does when the beginning notes of Sarah McLachlan play and Dean can’t switch channels fast enough. He folds his clothes, setting them aside. Then, Dean sneaks his hand into his stack of clean boxers, finding the surprise he hid for his husband. “Hey,” Dean rises, “capitalism sucks, but we can’t let it ruin our trip.” Dean drops onto Cas’s lap, delighting in the tiny ‘oof’ that escapes from his husband. “Here,” he says, “I was saving this for later… but hell, we’re running out of time. I’d rather give it to you before the night ends than a day later.” Dean hands him an envelope, Cas’s name scrawled on the front. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“A card?” Cas asks, flipping the envelope back and forth, “Dean… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“’Course I did…” Dean presses a kiss to Cas’s temple, ruffling his hair. “It’s Valentine’s Day… probably the first Valentine’s Day I actually wanted to celebrate in a long time, because I’ve got someone I love and want to celebrate. And sure, it’s not like we didn’t do just that… in front of all our friends and families… and a few exes… and uninvited guests –“

“The point, Dean?”

“Sorry,” Dean lays his head atop Cas’s, watching him peel away the envelope’s glue. “We’ll have tons more holidays and anniversaries to celebrate in the future… I just didn’t want our first Valentine’s Day to be overshadowed by our wedding. You mean so much to me that I’m not gonna just lump the two together like you’re some kid who was unlucky enough to be born on Christmas. You deserve it all.” Cas flips the envelope, shaking its contents free. A pair of red panties floats onto his outstretched hand. “Not just some stinkin’ card.”

Cas squeezes the panties. “Are you –?”

“About to show you how friggin’ fantastic married sex is?” Dean wrangles the panties from Cas’s fist, waving it about like a flag. “You bet. Let me slip these on and…“ He starts towards the bathroom, Cas slowly chasing him.

“You don’t have to,” his husband growls, “you can change here –“

“Cas, I won’t be long –“

“I don’t know if I can wait!”

“You’ll have to!” Dean closes the door on Cas’s face, laughing as he hears his husband bang against the door in protest. He yells for Dean, but Dean ignores him. Dean brings his hand to his face, covering his mouth with both it and the panties he carries. They smell like cherries. He forgot to tell Cas they’re edible. Cas will figure that out later.

He’ll also give Cas his real card later, as well. The one he wrote using all the words Dean was too afraid to say at the altar. Little details about the way Cas hogs all the blankets when he sleeps, and how his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and that Cas’s hugs chase away dark thoughts better than any drink might’ve. There were also bigger things he mentioned, in this card. About Cas and his unwavering faith in Dean, even at times where he didn’t deserve it. About the despair that bloomed whenever Cas left his side, a bouquet of horrid, wilted roses growing rampantly over his heart and piercing it with their thorns during those awful times it seemed their last goodbye truly was. About the love Cas inspired within Dean that changed his life, from the very beginning, from the touch of Cas’s hand on his shoulder. That simple act which broke him free from Chuck’s wheel again and again and again. Dean couldn’t say any of this in a crowded room. He doubts he can with only Cas. He already cried enough for one day. So, they’ll have sex instead. After they’ve burned through the remaining fumes that linger in their tanks, Dean will present the card, curl against Cas’s side with his head tucked underneath his husband’s chin, and listen while Cas reads how much he means to Cas.

But that won’t be until later. Now, Dean shimmies out of his boxers. He pulls the panties on, flicking the bow twice once it’s settled. “Are you ready?” Dean croons, jiggling the knob, “because it’s time to ride ‘em, cowboy!”

Cas pries the door loose, almost ripping it off its hinges as pull Dean forward into a searing kiss. Dean smiles into it, letting Cas take lead. Dean’s gift were the panties. Cas’s gift is putting in the work to get them off. Cas throws Dean onto the bed, his mouth attacking Dean’s neck. His hand trails down Dean’s side, tickling and teasing him.

He couldn’t have written a better ending to his story. Or imagine a better beginning to his next.

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #destiel wedding

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beeblebrox-be-damned · 4 years

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Hotel Happenings, Part 1

Alpha’s!Stucky x Human?Reader

TW: Nothing in this bit, kiddo’s. Still rating this as 18+ since later parts will be smutty.

AN: So I was going to wait until I had this finished, but then I got excited and,,,,,,, yeah here we are.

The wind whisked over the small motel nestled just on the edge of town. Small spits of rain stuttered out of patchy clouds, indecisive as to wear it should end its journey. Another journey was ending that night, and a new one would begin shortly after…

……………………

The package on the doorstep was small, placed just out of the light spring rain in the shelter of the curved trellis, covered in perfumed wisteria, that arched over the door. A small whine came from the mass, a thin cry that hardly permeated the howling wind. The cry grew louder after a moment, turning from a whine to a wail. It was enough to alert the house’s aging occupant.

“Abbey, look what we have here…” The woman spoke softly, a small bundle of rags nestled against her bosom as she pushed the door closed against the wind. She sat down in the old rocking chair- nearly knocking over the knitting she had been slaving over- turning on the pull-chain lamp beside on the table. A soft glow illuminated her wizened face, as well as the soft, new face swaddled within the bundle. The cries subsided as the old woman gently rocked, soothing the babe.

“Someone has left us a present, Abbey,” she cooed. A sleek tabby cat placed its front paws on her knees, stretching up to smell the wiggling mass of rags. A gentle purr emanated from its chest as it clamored up beside the woman, watching the small, squirming babe. “A little present on our doorstep… what do you think, Abbey?”

The cat, after several moments of perceived deliberation, gave a small mew. It may have had something to do with the tiny hand that emerged from the cloth and batted the feline’s nose, but the elderly woman saw it as an answer. “Yes, Abbey, I agree. It is rude to return a gift.” She stroked one hand over the sparse hair of the newborn’s head.

She gingerly pushed back the wrappings, exposing the tiny, shivering lass. “Such a small little one…” she cooed as she rubbed warmth back into the infant’s hands and feet. “Too small for an Other, so I’d say you’re a teeny tiny human, hmm?” The baby responded with a weak cry. “Ah,” she said with a gentle smile, “lets see if we have any milk in the icebox..”

..…………A couple handfuls of years later………….

“Thank you for staying! Come again soon,” the woman called as she waved to the businessman strolling out the door. He waved briefly, not the type to make a comment. Always on the go, always on the move. It made her sad to know there were people out there who couldn’t stop to enjoy the small things like a warm bed and home-cooked food. It satisfied her, though, knowing she could provide that for at least one or two nights.

A newlywed couple emerged from the hall, their suitcase rattling behind them. Both wore broad smiles as they trailed over the worn carpet towards the small front desk, settling their baggage as they paid for the stay. The woman behind it met their cheerful grins eagerly. She loved to see happiness, especially so early in the morning.

“Here’s the key, miss,” the shorter man said, placing the key with its jaunty frilled keychain on the desk. “Lovely room, thank you so much. The view of the town was incredible. Who knew such a little place would have such fantastic scenery! Almost pains us to leave.”

“No problem, hun,” the woman exclaimed as she hung the key back up on the wall behind her, ready for whoever would occupy the room next after housekeeping cleaned it up. “I’m so glad you enjoyed your stay. It’s always a treat to have newlyweds here. As you can imagine, not many people decide to spend part of their honeymoon in such a small, out-of-the-way town. Where’d you say your going next?”

The taller man answer, hand resting on his husband’s, caressing his knuckles gently. “Grand Rapids is the plan, but, well, who knows? Maybe we’ll find another charming little place to stay in along the way.” He glanced at his husband, smiling. It warmed the woman’s heart to see two people so enamored with each other.

“Best of wishes to you both, then!” she replied with a smile. The couple gathered their bags once more, checking them over. They departed with another round of gratuitous words.

“Y’know,” the shorter man said as they walked out the door, the woman barely overhearing, “It’s so nice to find a place that’s so inviting. So homey.” His husband nodded in agreement as they slipped into their car and drove away, onto their next adventure with each other.

The woman smiled as she turned back to her work. It made her day to hear comments like that. It was really why she kept the place going. If anything, it’d be easier to sell and find a small house and get a job at the local grocer’s or something like that, but this place was special. It felt like home to her, too, because it was her home. She supposed it always would be.

“Kiddo?” an aging voice creaked, interrupting her train of thought. The woman jumped up and walked quickly to the office, pushing open the door. It creaked, reminding her that it needed oiling later, just as the front doors did. And every other door in the ancient building. Oh, it was a labor to keep up with the place, but it was a labor of love.

“Yeah, Mama Ro? What’d you need?” She slid in the door gap, nudging a stack of boxed papers gently aside with her hip. The elderly woman seated in the rocker beside the window turned her face up towards her, smiling. Her eyes were milky and sightless now, but the woman swore they could still see right through her. Mama Ro was a sharp lady, even in her advanced age.

“Nothin’, sugar. Just a glass a water, if ya’ don’t mind.” Her voice was scratchy, as most voices become when they’ve been in use for nearly 97 years. It carried a tone of mischief that would startle anyone not familiar to her. Most would be surprised to find such spirit contained in such a worn vessel. Worn, but beautiful and wise. “Wanted ta’ ask if that cute pair ‘a kids enjoyed their stay. They seemed s’ sweet.”

The woman smiled and grabbed a paper cup, filling it from the water dispenser just outside the room. She returned and handed it to Ro, making sure the elder’s arthritic hands had a good grasp before pulling away. “They said the room was lovely. Mentioned the view too, just like you thought they’d enjoy. I swear, Mama Ro, I don’t know how you do it. It’s like you can read their minds!”

The elder woman chuckled. The wrinkles around her eyes were accentuated, years of smiling etched into her soft, dark skin. A smile bloomed on her face, nearly a mischievous grin. Scratch that, the woman thought, it was mischievous. Indeed, it was mischievous as always.

“Baby, it’s called 96 an’ a half years of experience. You don’t stick around as long as I hav’ without pickin up a few people-readin skills.” She laughed again, water sloshing out of the cup in her hand. “You’ll get there someday, I know it.” She nodded with a certainty that defied the rules of probability themself. Ro was a sharp lady.

The woman smiled, kissing Ro’s cheek. The old woman patted the younger woman’s hand as she pulled away. “Better go check the desk, young’un,” she instructed with a poke to the woman’s side.

The woman raised her eyebrows. “Oh? I didn’t hear anything…” It amazed her how acute Ro’s senses were sometimes. “I’ll check on you in a little while, alright Mama,” she said as she neared the door, looking back at the elderly lady. Both their expressions were nothing short of affectionate. She waved her gnarled hand.

“Shoo, baby, before the customers leave.” Her voice was jovial as ever. The woman smiled and ducked out the door with a quick yes ma’am. She made sure it was partially open, so she could hear if Ro called, before turning back to the lobby. She was shocked to see a large group of people crowded into the relatively small room, talking amongst themselves and examining the front desk curiously.

Hurriedly she returned to the desk, rushing to put things in order without further regard towards the nature of the guests. “Sorry about the wait,” she said quickly a she searched for the sign-in book. She finally found it, placing it open on the desk. She looked up to address the crowd again. “If you all could ple-”

Her voice died in her throat as she blinked rapidly. Now that was definitely something you would expect in a small town. She swallowed, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “U-uh, sorry. Just, please, um, sign in here.” She fumbled for a pen, placing it on the book. “I-if you’d group your names to show who’s rooming with who, I m-ean IF any of you are rooming together- We have plenty of sp-pace if not-”

The man at the front of the group chuckled. “Alright, Miss, will do.” He grabbed the pen and book, turning to his companions and allowing the woman a moment to process what exactly was happening. Her heart raced as her mind raced at equal speed.

The Avengers. In her lobby.

Definitely not something you’d expect in a small town.

…………………………

Tony Stark handed the woman the sign-in book. Tony Freaking Stark. She swore she was going to pass out. Who knows, maybe one of them would give her mouth-to-mouth. She almost passed out at the thought. She sat the book down and gathered up the room keys, sighing in relief when one remained, meaning she wouldn’t have to rush to clean the last room in a frantic mess in front of the motherfucking Avengers.

“Right this way,” she said, leading into the hallway that wrapped through the building. “Luckily, there aren’t any other boarders at the moment, so you’ll have the place to yourselves.” Each person filtered into the rooms with a smile and a thank you, all seeming eager for a rest. From the look of it, she’d guess they had been on some sort of long mission. “Dinner is at 7, just across the hall from the front if anyone would like to eat then. If not, there’s a couple small restaurants in town that are very nice.”

She took a deep breath as the last door shut, relieved to be out from under the scrutiny of the famous (or infamous, to some) group of people. It was an honor to have them want to stay there of all places, but it increased her workload by a lot. Heck, she didn’t even know how long they’d be staying. She forced herself to breath as she headed back towards the front. Might as well get a start on dinner now, she thought as she returned to the desk to make sure everything was in order, heaven forbid she be caught late in front of-

The bell above the door rang, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Two more men walked in, and the woman thought she’d absolutely die. It was THE Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. She swallowed thickly. She had thought the group had looked a bit small, and no wonder. It had been missing the two beefiest (Earth) people in the Avengers, the super-soldiers.

“We lagged a bit behind the others,” Steve said as he strode to the desk, “got a little caught up in the scenery.” He leaned down to sign in, flashing the woman a s mile that God would envy. She thought her heart was going to jump out of her chest as she tried to process what had happened in the past ten minutes. “Buck and I will room together, if that’s alright.”

“O-of course,” she stammered, nodding. She stepped back and grabbed the last key, frowning slightly as she realized she’d have to clean up the last room quickly as possible. “Oh, um. I-I’ll need to clean this room,” she said apologetically, ducking her head. “The couple using it left just before y-you all arrived. I’m so sorry about this, really I-”

Steve chuckled, patting her shoulder casually with a -massive- hand. “Don’t worry about it. We can always spend a little time in town while you clean. Or we could help, if that’s alright? I don’t want you to feel rushed.” His face was almost sheepish, his expression making her heart leap in her chest. With a wince she realized she had been staring. He seemed to realize he hadn’t taken his hand of her shoulder at the same time and pulled away, cheeks flushed an almost unnoticeable shade of pink.

Face blazing, she shook her head. “No, no, no don’t worry about that, it’s no trouble at all-” She paused, noticing the bags Bucky was carrying. “O-oh! Can I help you with those, they look heavy,” the super-soldier detail momentarily escaping the woman’s mind as she stammered.

Bucky smiled, something that was rare in and of itself. He never smiled in the news footage they showed. Her heart skipped a beat. It was every bit as beautiful as Steve’s, and oh lord if it wouldn’t be the death of her. “It’s alright, ma’am,” he chuckled. “Could we stop by the room to drop off our things before we head out?”

She nodded, twisting the key between her fingers as she turned towards the hall. “Of course. Right this way.” The two followed closely down the hallway. Steve examined the doors as they passed by, taking note of all of the features.

“This place looks pretty old, huh?” he asked casually as they reached the last room, “But well-kept too.” She opened the door and let them into their room, nodding. She hung the key on a hook by the door.

“Yes. Built in the late 1800’s. It’s been in Ro, the owner’s, family since then.” She headed into the room behind him, already busying herself with tidying the small space. She began to pull the sheets off the bed as Steve and Bucky placed their bags in the wardrobe.

“You aren’t the owner?” Bucky asked casually as he shut the door, watching her with a surprised look.

“Huh? Oh, no,” she chuckled. “I don’t own this place. Maybe someday, but for now I just work for the owner. Have since I was little.” She bunched up the sheets and placed them in the hallway to take to the wash later. Retrieving fresh ones from the room’s linen closet, she continued to work.

“So your family works for the owner’s family?” Steve inquired, walking over to help lift the corner of the mattress so she could tuck the lower sheet beneath properly. She made a mental note to look into bulk ordering some fitted sheets as she thanked him softly.

“No, I guess you could say I am family, sort-of. Ro raised me after I kinda just… showed up on her doorstep one day,” she explained as she turned back the sheets, spreading the quilt and fluffing the pillows just so. They had to be perfect, it was very important they were perfect. For what reason, she didn’t really know. “Ro is a saint, really.”

“Showed up?” Bucky said, confused. He didn’t want to pry but curiosity understandably got the best of him. Steve shot him a look. he grinned sheepishly back. The woman walked to the bathroom, kneeling down to retrieve cleaning supplies from beneath the sink.

“Yes, though not really of my own volition. Dropped of here as a newborn.” She wondered briefly if they’d find that odd, then wondered why she had even mentioned it. She usually kept that part of her life quiet. Small towns tend to be rumor pools, and she didn’t want the hotel to suffer just because some odd circumstances spawned weird gossip.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh, well, that’s a shame. I mean, not a shame, you seem happy here, I uh-” He stumbled over his words, Bucky choking back a laugh behind him. Even after all these years, Steve still didn’t know how to talk to women.

Bucky patted Steve on the back, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging him towards the door. “Don’t worry miss, I’ll get him out of your hair,” he chuckled, playfully shoving Steve out into the hall. She peeked out of the bathroom, cleaning rag in one hand.

“Alright, I should be done within an hour. Again, I’m really sorry about the wait.” Her apologetic ways were endearing. Something about her made Bucky’s chest feel oddly warm. From the look on Steve’s face, he felt it too.

“Don’t worry about that, ma’am,” he said as he stepped out of the room. “By the way,” he found himself blurting on a whim, “what’s your designation. I know that’s a bit of an odd thing to ask, but it’s hard to tell, a little. Maybe it’s just the cleaning supplies or something.”

She paused her work, confused. “I-I don’t have one,” she called back, brow furrowed. “I’m a human. Maybe you’re smell, er, scenting previous tenants?”

Bucky and Steve exchanged a confused glance. “Alright, sorry to bother. We’ll get going then, and thank you for the room,” Steve rushed awkwardly, shutting the door before things could get more embarrassing. Something was off here.

They walked back down the hall silently, thinking. Steve opened the front door for Bucky, musing.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” the brunette said, looking at Steve as they walked down the wooded trail that led to the town. “I don’t mean to imply she’s lying, but there’s no way that girl is human. I saw the way you reacted to her, and I sure as hell know how I reacted.”

Steve frowned, thinking. He nodded slowly. “Reacted… you mean you felt that too? Do you think she’s an Omega? Or at least a Beta?”

Bucky shrugged. “One of those. Definitely not an Alpha. Her scent is so faint though.” He went quiet for another few moments before speaking once more. “And I know for a fact that Natasha and Bruce are the only other Designates that have been in there in a long time, hell, even in the whole town. We were smelling her, not someone else. It had to be her.”

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shingekicornwrites · 4 years

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Agricultural Werewolves, pt 2

Fandom/Tags: Hero Academia, alternate universe/werewolves, mentions of past bullying, Counseling, Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences, modern fantasy, unreliable narrator, Katsuki is kind of an asshole please don’t take his commentary as my opinion or truth

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Anger Management Counseling, future Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, future Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

pt 1

It’s not that Izuku doesn’t remember Kacchan. He does. He remembers Kacchan really well, because Kacchan was his first friend and was super cool and everything he did was so much better than anything Izuku ever did no matter how hard he tried. It’s hard to forget someone like that. Especially since when he first moved, he talked about Kacchan all the time.

It’s just. He hasn’t so much as seen Kacchan since first grade. No letters. No texts after he finally got his own phone. He knows his mom still talks to Auntie, because Auntie was the one that told them about Kiyashi and got them in contact with the people here, got them their first home set up before Mom was given the hostel, but Kacchan has been…well, a non-entity in all the years since they packed up and left the city behind. He may as well have not existed outside faint memories.

He’s not even sure how to talk to him now.

Kacchan grew up pretty well. He’s bigger, still taller than Izuku is by a few inches. He still screams every word like no one will hear him otherwise. He’s still strong, and he’s got some muscle packed into his arms that shows he’s put in some serious work to stay in shape. Mom also told him some stuff, like how Kacchan has been at the top of his class for years and got accepted into a really nice school. Which matches up to all the memories just fine, Kacchan is still just as amazing as he was when they were little…

It only takes a few days for Izuku to kind of...want to wring his neck.

Like really bad.

Really bad.

“Kacchan, can you check on the chickens?” Izuku asks one morning, only a few days after Kacchan’s arrival. School doesn’t start until Monday and he’s spending most of his spare days at work with Gran, getting extra money. The return to after school hours is always a hit to his paycheck and he’s trying to savor every spare yen he can.

“No,” Kacchan replies. He stays seated at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and scowling.

Izuku sighs. That’s been the response he’s gotten every morning. He hasn’t told Mom yet, because she’s already so busy getting ready for the heavier tourist season and he doesn’t want to be some kid tattling, but Kacchan isn’t a customer so he really needs to help around the house. “Kacchan—“

“Stop calling me that, Deku.” Katsuki growls. “I’m not your errand boy and I’m not touching your chicken shit-covered eggs!”

He growls even more than Izuku remembers him doing.

When they were little, it meant it was time to bare his neck and stop talking. He remembers that much. He still has the urge to do it, to cower and make him stand down, but it’s...less than it was, before. It’s not a command. He doesn’t flinch like he used to.

If anything, there’s a flare of something in the back of his head telling him to growl back that he has to forcibly tamp down. That’s not normal for him.

“Okay then, no breakfast,” a new voice chimes in, right before Kacchan’s coffee vanishes out of his hand.

“Hitoshi, don’t—“ Izuku tries.

It’s too late. The coffee cup reappears across the room, in the hands of the other permanent boarder. Hitoshi comes into focus like smoke before he drains the cup all at once, which really is impressive since Izuku knows Kacchan takes his coffee blacker than tar, and slams it back down on the table with a wry grin.

“No. If he doesn’t do his chores he doesn’t get to eat,” Hitoshi taunts, before spinning to head for the back door. “I’ll get the eggs, and he can suck my dick if he wants an omelet.”

Izuku blanches. “Hitoshi!”

“Oi, you wanna die!?” Kacchan screams, knocking his chair over when he shoots up to possibly vault the table. Izuku hopes he isn’t going to. The table is an antique, he’s not sure it can take the strain.

“No, I want lazy assholes to do their share, “ Hitoshi sing-songs as he escapes the kitchen to the safety of the chicken houses out back. They can hear the clucking as the hens notice he’s coming.

Any day now the peace will break and they’ll fight. Izuku knows Hitoshi too well to think he’ll give up. He wishes he’d stop, but no matter how many times he tries to tell his kind-of-brother that Kacchan’s just rough around the edges and needs time to get used to things the more Hitoshi has to push his buttons.

Maybe he’d let it go if he wasn’t worried Kacchan would bring the hostel down on top of them just to get Hitoshi’s neck in his jaws.

________________________________________________________________

He’s filling grocery delivery boxes when he breaks. He has to ask somebody.

“Did you have trouble getting along with Yagi, after he grew up?”

Gran doesn’t move, when Izuku asks him this. He remains behind the counter of the store, perched on his stool and flipping through a booklet of tractor parts to fill out some customer’s mail order. He barely gives a signal that he heard Izuku at all. The only hint that he’s about to get an answer is Gran carefully putting his finger down on a row of information before his eyes grow unfocused from the page.

“What’s this about?” Gran asks, in a tone of voice that anyone else might think means he barely cares. Izuku knows different. Gran cares a lot.

He’s just also kind of a dick about caring, so he makes sure no one can tell he does. That’s why he works Izuku to the bone every shift instead of admitting he’s the old man’s favorite employee. The crotchety bastard barely lets anyone work at his general store but Izuku’s been allowed to drive his truck for two years now. That in itself is a miracle.

“Um. We have a new long term boarder. He’s my old friend—have I told you about Kacchan?” Izuku pauses while throwing carrots into one of the boxes.

“Not me, but you told Toshi plenty.” Gran rolls his wrist, motioning for him to get on with it. “I’ve heard some secondhand bits.”

“Right. Uh,” Izuku flushes and gets back to filling. “He’s staying with us now. It...it’s been kind of bad? I don’t know how to talk to him. He just yells at me.”

It’s an understatement, because Kacchan can barely even stay in the same room as him. It hurts, because Izuku has been trying to be as nonthreatening as he can be to make him feel comfortable, but Kacchan just tells him to get the fuck out every time Mom isn’t around.

“Why’s he here?” Gran asks.

Izuku blinks. “Uh…”

Gran heaves a sigh and reaches for the tea he’s left cooling near the register. “Well he’s gotta be here for a reason, boy.”

He knows that. Kacchan has made it clear he doesn’t want to be there, so it’s not really his choice. His mom hasn’t talked much about it but she seems stressed; she’s had a pinched look when she hears Kacchan’s screaming. She’s been making phone calls to the therapist, too...it all comes together to form a picture, but he can’t be certain of what it is without asking questions he’s pretty sure no one wants him to ask.

“I’m not sure,” Izuku admits slowly. “It’s not my place to pry. Mom said it’s pretty serious, and he had to turn down a really nice school to come here, and he’s been so angry that I can’t even really ask—“

“That so?” Gran interrupts. His tone has shifted. He’s serious, now. He watches Izuku like a hawk from the counter and it takes a lot not to hunch his shoulders in shame as he nods.

“...is he growling a lot? Baring his teeth?” Gran asks.

Kacchan growls more than he speaks. He always makes sure his teeth are showing so that Izuku shuts up, so that Izuku leaves, so that he’s left alone to scream and kick things.

“...yeah. Every day,” he admits.

Gran rolls that over in his head, wiping his face with one hand and looking so much older than he already is.

“Shit,” he sighs. “Sounds like he’s a bite risk.”

Izuku’s hand twitches, at that. The scar tissue aches with an old memory he’s mostly forgotten.

“He can’t be,” Izuku mutters, more to himself than to Gran. “He’s always been so in control.”

Kacchan was the first wolf he ever knew. Kacchan taught him so much; how to eat, how to smell, how to deal with the weird way his brain had started to work; he owes a lot to Kacchan’s help when they were little. Kacchan had always had such perfect control of himself. Not like the mess Izuku was. Kacchan never made his family have to move.

Kacchan never had to uproot all their lives so that he could function. If anything, it proved Kacchan was a better wolf as a kid than Izuku was at fifteen.

“You and I both know that isn’t all there is to it.” Gran cuts off his thoughts, bringing him forcibly back to the present. Izuku rubs at his hand and frowns, anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“It’s just—he already learned once, right?” he tries. “He should know better. He knows what happens. He knows how serious it is. He saw what happened to me, so—”

Gran silences him with a glare. “You can’t speak for him, kid.”

Izuku’s mouth snaps shut, and he slouches. He knows that. He can’t put words in anyone’s mouth.

He just...he really doesn’t want Kacchan to be a bite risk. That’s the kind of thing he could go to jail for. That’s not the kind of person Kacchan is.

Gran watches him, losing some of the sternness in his face, and beckons him forward. Izuku comes with only a mild hesitation toward the cane hanging from the countertop. Gran makes sure their eyes are level and he’s got all of Izuku’s attention before he speaks again, low and serious.

“Toshinori and I had some issues, but that’s because our personalities aren’t that great to each other. At the root of it, he’s afraid of me and I see him as a little snot and not a grown man. But we manage because at the very least, we respect each other,” Gran explains with a patience Izuku hasn’t seen in years. Not since he was a lot younger and deathly afraid of the man. “You’ve got a little snot of your own who’s gotta learn to respect other people. That’s not something you can fix.”

“I—I know he can do better, though—“ Izuku tries, an old admiration at the tip of his tongue that he wishes he could make people understand.

“Maybe he can. But it ain’t your job to get him there. Just stand your ground and don’t let him bulldoze you.”

Izuku breaks and looks at his feet. He doesn’t think he can do nothing. He can’t stand the thought of doing nothing.

“He was my friend. I want to help.”

Gran pats his shoulder with a gentleness that doesn’t match him at all, becoming the anchor keeping Izuku tethered to the present.

“Kid, if you really wanna help him then do exactly what I said. He’s not gonna get any better until he’s told ‘no’.”

Maybe so.

But Izuku, somewhere deep inside, is afraid to be the one who has to tell him.

#My Hero Academia #Boku No Hero Academia #Izuku Midoriya #Katsuki Bakugou #Hero Academia fic #skell writes #agricultural werewolves au

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the-headbop-wraith · 4 years

Text

3_42 Carbon Dating

When the shutters went up, work began none stop until closing. For a full twelve hours customers came and went, leaving overworked and troublesome vehicles, whilst others departed with their serviced transportation fresh from the garage. The bell in the lobby chimed, announcing the imminent arrival of their next client from the open lot outside.

A large window was set in one wall, and allowed those within the office to see a portion of the garage itself as the crewmen toiled. The backdoor that led out of the office and into the work zone of the shop always remained open, vivid reverberations from within the garage seeped through on the low hanging perfume of the mechanics lair. Always the office smelled of fresh oil and plastic, crisp smoke curled from embers, mingled with the ozone dripping from scalded hydrogen of the pressurized pipes. Pumps wheezed, wrenches cranked, drills squealed with vivid passion; a symphony of metal, an unchallenged configuration that flowed throughout the blazing intensity of the shop lamps from dawn till dusk.

“Would someone get that hamster OUT OF HERE!” Somewhere a tool clattered on the floor, the unmistakable rhythm of feet hitting cement faded in the back room.

Lance heaved a sigh and sank down a little more in his shoes. “Look,” he grumbled, into the phone at his ear. “I’m sayin it. Not payin’. Not one cent. I’m not gunna argue this over like a broken record, get your facts straight on that customer report. Bottom line, you sent us the wrong parts.” He stepped a little past the corner of the doorway and checked the customers lined up at the counter. “Uh-huh. No. No, don’t go there. I promise, I can break you. Let‘s be civil about this.” Behind him, one of the crewmen raced by, bent far forward with his arms outstretched. Whatever he was chasing, it wasn’t close to getting caught.

The door parted by a fraction and two more customers entered behind a woman and child. “You can always tell what’s going on inside, by the way the different angles the cars are parked outside.” Mystery shuffled through the thin gap in the door, while casting dubious glances up at Arthur. “Uncle Lance! Yellow!” Arthur waved his arm, but turned away from the line of customers as he began another fit of hacking. “Is this a bad time?” Mystery barked twice, and looked to the lady that was staring at him. Them. The dog frowned behind his smart spectacles.

“I know you can’t close the transaction, and to be honest that ain’t my problem, is it?” Lance covered the mouth piece of the phone and stepped into the lobby. “I was wonderin’ when you’d be getting back ’round. Your trip go well?” The worker that had been racing around in the back now moved into the window, he began waving his arms high over his head and making wide sweeping gestures toward Arthur.

“About that,” Arthur hiccupped, eyes fixed on the dancing figure. He moved by the customer line and met Lance at the gap in the counter. “We made such good time—” He was cut off when Lance shoved the phone into his hand.

“Here. Talk to this guy, you’re good with the phone stuff.” That said, Lance turned and motioned the clerk at the counter assisting their next client. “When you’re done here, can you go check inventory for those new fangel fuel lines?”

Arthur put the phone to his ear. “Er, hello? Parts?” The worker that had been motioning to Arthur earlier, now came over with a clipboard and a thin page tethered to the front. The crewmate pulled the first page up as Arthur read the transcript over, the guy pointed to the distinctly varied numbers in orders and deliveries. Arthur pinned the phone under his chin and motioned to the guy with his fingers. The crewman gestured back and smirked.

Oh dear, they’re doing this again? Mystery rolled his eyes and sat.

“I’m good fixing phones, not talking people,” Arthur mouthed. The crewmate pantomimed talking with his hand.

“I’ll give you a bonus if you can save us a buck,” Lance grumbled. Once the clerk had finished with the customer, they darted back into the garage through the doorway. Lance moved over to a stepstool built against the counter, and made a rather graceful leap – for someone of his stature – onto the sturdy stoop. He pulled the keyboard over for the computer and began typing. “I’m sorry about the wait, Miss. Name?”

“Yes? Hello?” Arthur chirped. “You‘re the manager? Good-good.” He adjusted the phone at his ear, and leaned over the counter as he read over the provided page on the clipboard. “I’m looking at the order form right here. Yes. You don’t need to be snooty. The invoice says we ordered five cases of the model G, but we only use the model T. The serial number’s off.”

The crewmate made a series of gestures to Arthur, to which Arthur gave a sideways shrug. The crewmate plopped his hand back to his side when Mystery darted by, toward the back door the clerk left by.

“I’m just sayin,” Arthur went on. He paused and rubbed his palm to his brow. “Yes, totally. We can keep the parts, and we can sell them to another shop, and loose some money – that’d be about equivalent to the money we’re gonna lose in the shipping expenses. Hmm? Is that so?” Arthur pinned the phone to his ear with his shoulder, his hand reached up over his brow and began straightening up his darker hair tufts. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now listen, you’re about to lose a loyal, paying customer over a serial number typo, that’s in your invoice copy. I’m sure Ratchet N’ Clanks would— Whas’that? You will?” Arthur began nodding. “That is super-duper, you are such a wizard with bizz to bizz relations. Uh-huh, yeah, you have a good day too.”

Arthur groaned under his breath. He handed the phone back to the mechanic and smacked his forehead to the countertop. The crewmate gave Arthur’s back a light pat before returning to the garage. It took a little too long for Arthur to get his bearings together, he didn’t feel inclined to move too fast.

Lance finished assisting a figure in a maroon hoody. “I suppose you’ll want that bonus?” He snatched a piece of paper that slid out of the printer and handed it to the figure. “If you’ll step outside, someone will get you set up.” Lance pulled a small handheld communicator from his belt and spoke a brief message into it.

“Put it on my tab,” Arthur mumbled. “I need to commission some work on the van.” Without meaning to, Arthur dragged out the word ‘some’.

Lance nodded, his hand already directing the mouse on the screen to his nephew’s active account. The lobby was currently empty, the door slipped shut on their most recent customer. “The usual oil change? Check up?”

“Um,” Arthur grimaced. He shuffled a little closer to the computer Lance worked on and leaned on his bent arm. “I managed to get that done already. Er, what I was thinking….”

“Yes?” Lance narrowed his eyes minutely.

Arthur kneaded the edge of his vest with his fingers and took a breath. “Some inner restoration, new batteries, tires changed, and I need to schedule to get the side repainted.” The sentence was spoken in a hasty blur. When he finished, Arthur pressed his lips together tightly and leaned far-far back from the counter.

A slow blink was Lance’s response. “What?”

“I thought you were kidding!” Lance grated. “I thought!… you were…” Lance’s voice ceased and he shut his eyes. He took a deep breath and reevaluated the notary details of the van presented to him. Was this really the same vehicle? It was unfathomable that Arthur, of all people, would let - THE Van - come to be in this condition. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Hey Uncle Lance,” Vivi hailed from the back. The van was parked beside the furthest shutter of the garage, currently empty of customer automobiles, the passenger side and back doors left wide open. “I’d go over the details, but it looks like we’ll be sticking around for a while. So, no rush on work.” Vivi held up her hands and motioned Lance to keep it calm. Though no outer countenance gave away Lance’s inner turmoil, his face was beat red and his fists were clutched tightly at the sides of his belt. “And you can do whatever you need inside to get it ship shape, we’re gonna unpack everything, and I mean everything.” Vivi tucked her hands behind her back.

Lance hadn’t looked Vivi’s way, he was still staring at the once pristine yellow clad box of the Mystery Skull’s transport. “Do I want to know?” he grumbled, at last. “No! I don’t. But this’ll keep me up all night… No! I’ll regret’t if I ask.” Vivi stared as Lance pulled a hand up and tugged at his beard, he turned away continuing with his gruff mutterings. “I’m sure there is a safe, uneventful, tale attached to this happenin’? Isn’t there?” Vivi’s frown deepened, lips screwed tight. “Your usually both such careful drivers though.” He sighed.

“Uncle Lance?” Vivi ventured. “It was just an accident with the equipment. You know how the laptop always overheats?” Vivi stepped off the bumper and leaned on the inner side of one door, hands crossed behind her back. She moved a little more out of the way as Lance trudged forward.

“An accident. Right,” Lance mumbled. He heaved himself up onto the floorboard and stood. “This is the ceiling.” He stabbed at the flanking headliner with a finger, and looked back at Vivi. “The. Ceiling. Its ruined.”

Arthur leaned around the door opposite of Vivi, the corner of his mouth tugged back in a grim smirk. “It was an interesting experience.”

“Are these scorch marks on the seats!”

Vivi turned to Arthur wide eyed, and brought a hand to her mouth. “We… I don’t know if you’d understand.” To Arthur she mouthed, ‘When did that?’

Arthur sniffed and shrugged. He sipped at the cup of coffee he carried. In the garage slot they parked near, Mystery’s barks rang out as he dashed after the squeaking wheels of a certain orange fluff. The little ball zipped around basement boarders and across the yellow/black striped caution tape adhered to the floor, while Mystery kept in hot pursuit.

“Hey,” Arthur called. “Are you forgetting who your favorite person is?”

The orange fluff zigzagged out of Mystery’s path. Mystery kept running, even as Galahad made a beeline out of the garage. Arthur set his cup on the floor and held his hand down for the plump little rodent plush.

“Aw, look’t you,” Arthur cooed. “I swear you get bigger everyday. What’re you eating? Uncle Lance? What’re feeding Galy?” Arthur stood and ran his thumb over Galahad’s hair tufts. He ignored Vivi’s sly grin.

“Oh, y’know,” Lance grumbled, as he pulled some of the ruined ceiling away. “Crickets, pizza, fish crackers, eggs an’ bacon. The usual.”

Arthur and Vivi exchanged horrorstruck faces. “That’s not what I told you to do!” Arthur yelped.

The van creaked under Lance’s weight as he tromped out, and hopped onto the pavement. “Doesn’t seem to be hurtin’ the little fella.” Lance gave Galahad a pat on his head, then straightened out his belt and walked off. “We’ll need to get some pictures. For the website… What d’you feed him, anyway?”

“What? I feed him hamster pellets, like a normal, responsible pet owner!” Arthur bent his thumb under Galahad’s chin and scratched. Galahad didn’t care, he was a hamster getting scratchies.

Lance scoffed. “Yuk. No wonder he wouldn’t eat. I fixed that for you.”

Arthur groaned and turned to Vivi. “A little help?”

Vivi sniggered. “I’m the last person you should ask. Mystery won’t even look at dog food.”

Arthur swung his stump in the hound’s direction. Mystery walked by, nose upturned. He wasn’t getting involved. “He’s different!” Arthur winced back when Vivi began fixing his vest collar. He glanced at the flashlight Vivi carried, as she moved it behind her back.

“How do you know Galahad isn’t?” Vivi murmured. “We’ll start getting everything together. You have the keys?”

Arthur nodded, only partially getting what Vivi had said. He spun about and looked through the garage, the trucks and cars with hoods raised, the cough of a torch, the sparkle of embers and the buzz of electricity. His element. “It’ll be good goin’ back to what I know,” he spoke, softly. “People think our work is easy?” He chuckled. “This is what I know.” He looked down on his hand. Galahad was curling down into a relaxed puff, little by little the hamster’s eyes slipped shut.

“Really, Art?” Vivi posed. “Is that all?” She frowned at the flashlight when she tried the switch, but it wouldn’t turn on.

“Well, that’s hardly it,” Arthur admitted. “A change of pace, I’m looking forward to it. Huh Galy, you missed me? Tell her.” Galahad was fast asleep.

Off a ways inside the repair shop, Lance hoots back, “Did you remember to plug your arm in?”

Arthur groans, and realizes he’s unable to face palm effectively. “It’s not that kind of prosthetic!”

Some of the equipment needed retooling and inspection, following up the assortment and extended use they had taken throughout the course of the trip. They didn’t have the boxes or time at the hour to get the work done today, but Arthur did sift out some of the gear that got the heaviest wear, and took that on up along with a few personal bags. By a small marvel, Vivi managed to convince Arthur to cart up these items in smaller units, rather than the ‘superman’ trips Arthur was initially dedicated to.

One trip down, Lance managed to catch Arthur as he was bouncing down the steps from the top level. Lance stood by the doorway that opened into the main work room, as Arthur was slinking by, and said, “If you need a few off, to get your bearings. I’ll understand.” Lance raised his eyebrows when Arthur paused. “We’re busy, but what’s new?”

“No, no,” Arthur chocked out. “Vi and,” Arthur caught himself, and shook his train of thought off into a series of coughs. “Mystery and Viv-vi. They’ll unpack and stuff at her place, everything‘s cool. Trust me, I kinda, um…need some distraction.” Arthur reached a hand behind his neck and rubbed at the edge of his shirt collar.

Lance tugged his gloves a little tighter over his hands. It was no secret between uncle and nephew that Lance was deliberately avoiding the One question. “Rough case?”

Arthur moved his hand up to a rub at his hairline, and nodded. “Well, it was mostly— I mean, we did some other stuff along the way.” Galahad was suddenly on his shoulder. How he got there, Arthur was clueless to that rational. He scooped the Hamster off his shoulder and debated on whether Galahad could still fit in his pocket. “Vivi drove most the way back, but she’s not expected back at the Tome Tomb for another two days.”

Lance nodded, without dropping his eyes from Arthur’s face. “Don’t overwork yourself, lad. If you need, ask one of the crew to take over. But whatever you do,” and here, Lance’s voice got low. “Don’t make me drag you away from your work. Understood?”

Arthur made a little sound as he nodded. He clutched Galahad to his chest as Lance stepped forward and gave him a firm pat on his good shoulder.

“Now go do your thing.” With that, Lance spun on heel and returned to the garage. Arthur stood there for a moment, struggling to take that all in.

A question began to bubble within Vivi as she navigated the van, carefully, among the traffic of their hometown. She wasn’t wondering about the final verdict of their case, didn’t mull over the reasoning of the College’s quick decision; she didn’t even fret over the prospect of Lewis assisting in unpacking what gear remained in the van, though she did ponder a multitude of small, unrelated, aspects.

“You’ve been to my apartment? A couple times?”

Lewis, in the passenger seat, had looked from the window and stared at Vivi for a full minute. It didn’t bode well with her. “I think you… moved,” Lewis petered. He peered up through the windshield at the complex of building clusters, all set about the acreage of land that was undoubtedly property to the same host. “I don’t think, you never lived here. From what I remember.” Lewis didn’t want to say anymore. “It’s nice though.”

“Thank you,” Vivi mumbled. She guided the van through the entrance gate and rolled along the open asphalt parking lot. There are a lot of cars parked in their respective spaces at the building entrance doors, open yard plots and brush filled up the areas that weren’t road. “I… y’know, I think I moved in the first place.” She had a hard time putting it into words. The implications, the sorrow budding in her soul; the yearning and sensation of forgetfulness – she forgot something. The radio was sometimes left on, she always double checked the oven before she went out anywhere, nothing in her apartment had ever been misplaced, far as she knew – she had a bad habit of leaving small curious in inappropriate places, but never lost anything important. It was this nagging in the back of her head, but now she knew the source of it. “—Felt like I had to get some space,” she settled on saying. “This feels kind of open, and Mystery could get out and run like a normal dog.”

A subdued ‘oof’ bounced from the vans back.

The van was parked two spaces down from the entrance doors of the apartment cluster. A cool breeze ran between the neighboring building clusters, tumbling down through the bare branches of the trees and ruffling Vivi’s cushy scarf. The air around her was soaked in yellow with tinges of amber, or it could’ve just been the van she was standing beside. It took a bit more time than estimated to let Arthur get himself unpacked, and the sun was already winding its way downward with every tick of the minute. Soon it would be dark, but it would be dark in her own home.

Vivi shuddered and fixed up her scarf around her neck. She rounded the side of the van and popped open the back doors. Mystery was within, moving around the smaller bags that he could manage and some of the leftover groceries.

“Ugh, we should have left the ice chest with Arthur,” Vivi chided, aloud. Mystery pinned his paws to the top of the cooler and shoved the sloshing box out of the way. “It’s his anyway.” She looked up when the anticipated reassurance failed to drift her way. The purplish pompadour was still hovering by the headrest, the door remained shut. “You okay, Lewlew?”

Lewis raised his shaded eyes over the bench seat. “You sure no one’s gonna care? Seeing me around?” Lewis’ voice took on a soft warble, the echoing tone that had drenched his shaded self. “They might start asking around, getting nosy.” He had the door opened already and slid out, nearly slipped through the door itself.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” Vivi muttered, as Lewis joined her. She reached out and patted Lewis on his vest’s front. “Really, nobodies’ gonna ask about you. Most the tenants are so clueless about what’s going on around them – I actually thought there was an unnatural reason for that. But! Trust me, it’ll be fine.” She returned to the vans interior and began heaping up what bags she could manage; she didn’t want Lewis to catch the little hint of a scowl she felt tugging at her lips. “Daylights awasting, better get a move on!” On second thought, she shoved the accumulated bags up into Lewis arms. “Got that? Never mind, dumb question.”

Mystery lead the way. He carried quite a bit for a dog, some of the backpacks and a sleeping bag were tied together and looped over his backside, an extra bag of groceries was clenched in his jaws. He had some difficulty elevating himself in such a way, that didn’t force the bags to topple off his shoulders and onto the floor. It took some coordination to get his paw up high enough to hit the elevators call button.

“I’m on the third floor,” Vivi mentioned. The buzzer chimed as the doors opened to the lift. As the three boarded, Vivi hits the number panel with her elbow and backs up to make room for Lewis in the tiny box. The doors grated shut and following a short intermission, a faint chime signaled the lifts begrudging ascent.

As the numbers morphed on the digital panel at the upper corner, Vivi bit at her lip in the stifling silence. “But we… the group,” she began. The elevator dinged, the number read two. “I don’t know why I moved in the first place.”

Lewis glanced her way. “Did Arthur help you?”

Vivi shook her head. Not all the time Arthur spent in the hospital was for recovering from his amputation. “Where would you stay? Normally?” she inquired. The lift chimed as the doors part, and Mystery led the way out. Vivi didn’t move. “You don’t have any place to hang out, is what I’m trying to say. But I don’t remember if you were once crashing at my place, if that’s how we did it, and it felt really awkward to ask.” She tilted her head sideways, a slight shrug. “You need someplace to… wait, how should I put this? A place… where you��re known about, and don’t have to hide all the time?”

Lewis kicked his foot into the sliding door when it began to close. He mulled over what Vivi was saying, though his thoughts had gone to another place. “Whoa, hold the phone!” he crowed. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

Vivi squinted her eyes behind her glasses and nodded. “Sort of. Last time, we didn’t really do anything about it? You hung around the van, and even if it didn’t need to hit the shop, that wasn’t right.”

Lewis kicked the door again. The elevator didn’t like him. “That was fine? Best for me,” he admitted. “The van, it was a good place to start. I told you this.” Vivi marched by and Lewis followed, the elevator doors snapped at his rear. Lewis kicked a foot out backwards, the sound of his ‘heel’ hitting the door reverberated throughout the narrow corridor like a dish crashing on a tile floor.

Vivi whirled back. “You WANT me to get evicted?”

“It started it!” Lewis defended. He adjusted the bags in his arms and followed. The hall wasn’t very long, and at the furthest door Mystery stood unable to sit or anything. “De todos modos, como usted recordará? I wasn’t really presentable during that time.”

Vivi scoffed a little. “You hardly are now, but we manage.” She swayed over to Lewis and nudged his side with her elbow. “Mystery? Which bag had the keys?”

When the door of the apartment opened a crack, Mystery zipped inside and hurried to a couch situated near the kitchens bar and doorway. It was in the open living area, the sparse furniture there… felt empty. A few petite lamps camped at the corners of the room, and the end tables of the couch sported Vivi’s customary candles. There were pictures on the wall.

Mystery sprang onto the couch cushions and shrugged off the multitude of bags, then plopped down onto the carpeted floor and rolled on his back. His fur was a mess!

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Vivi chided. She dumped her keys into a shallow basin on the kitchen counter, and added her collection of bags to those that Mystery had dumped. “I swear sometimes.” She sighed, and looked through some of the grocery bags. “If you want to,” she spoke, as she looked to Lewis shutting the door. “Wait, no, go back. Lemme try again.” Lewis stood and stared at her, baffled. “You should stay here. Would you?”

Lewis nodded. He placed the bags he had – equipment, sacks, a pillow – onto the largest countertop inside the kitchen doorway. The layout of the apartment was nice; it was sizable for the estimated square footage he reasoned the individual cells were spared on each floor. “If you don’t mind a… haunted apartment, I guess.” He couldn’t resist saying it, and the clear delight that bloomed on Vivi’s face made it all worth it.

“Oh my gods, that’s right!” she cheered. Vivi nearly bit into her knuckles when she clutched her fists against her chin. “But wait, what if stuff starts to act up with you hanging around? Should I be worried about that?” And a little under her breath, “Guess I could do some freelance documentation.”

Lewis grinned, and took his sunglasses off. “Take it easy, my blue. I’ll try and keep my influence to a minimum, if that eases your tension.”

“What tension? This is gonna be cool!” Vivi picked up two of her bags from the couch, and motioned over her shoulder. “Go ahead and make yourself comfy. I just gotta check the water closet right quick. Unless, you wanna start puttin’ things away? On second thought, I shouldn’t be asking that. Just relax for now. Settle in.”

Lewis moved over to the couch. “Unless you really don’t want me to, I can start organizing the gear. But it’s no problem.” He looked through the grocery bags; no doubt the kitchen is where he should start. Mystery poked his head up and began nosing at the bag closest to him.

“I’ll leave it up to you, then,” Viv replied, as she walked into a connecting hall. “Be out in a jiff.”

“Tome su tiempo,” Lewis responded. Most of Vivi’s cabinets were tucked tight with instant meals and Ramen packets. Lewis was in the process of putting away some of the chip bags he had picked up, when he picked up on the door click. This was as good time as any. “Mystery? Hey.”

Mystery had opened a package of pastry bear claws on an end table, and was lapping up the gooey icing stuck all over the wrapping. He glanced up when Lewis came over with a walkie-talkie from one of the bags. What? You can’t eat it. The dog turned his snout down to examine the communicator, a piece of twine wrapped around the speak toggle. Do you remember what happened last time we did that? Mystery crossed one paw over the other and gave Lewis a reproaching stare.

“Just let me know if she gets out, before I get back. Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Lewis hissed. “I have to… get something.” Mystery took a deep breath and sighed. “Do this for me, and I’ll cook you up a whole chicken.” At that, Mystery’s eyes popped open. “Rotisserie style, with bacon, butter, slow cooked. You’re not willing to forfeit a chicken, are you?”

Mystery tapped his claws on the table’s surface. Lewis set the communicator down and left with another walkie-talkie in hand.

The shower was going when Lewis returned. Pipes whistled within the walls, muffled by the depth of plaster and wood, the resonance’s depth lurched as Lewis seeped through the door. Mystery still wrestled with his gooey desert, and was working to get his paws clean in the kitchen sink. The dog glimpsed towards the kitchens entrance, upon hearing the apartment door shut delicately. At current, Mystery was scrambling to heft his body up by his elbows the last few inches, in order to shut the sinks faucet off.

“Okay, so,” Lewis began, as he edged around the corner. He watched Mystery sit and begin drying his paws on the dishrag tucked around the handle of the fridge door. “Will you help me hide this? She doesn’t know about it, right? I guess I could’ve left it with Arthur, is he the one that hid this stuff?”

Mystery scrubbed his fur until most of the moisture was gone (it was such a chore), he barely gave Lewis his focus until he realized what it was Lewis had brought up. Why do you have that! The fur on Mystery’s shoulders stood on end, his glasses nearly fell from his snout.

“I’m not risking someone poking around and finding it,” Lewis hissed, face dimming and skull winking through momentarily. “And you don’t have any better ideas.”

True. Mystery released the rag and lowered one paw to the linoleum floor, the other he curled under his chin in his ponder. His sharp ears twitched as he listened to the shower run, there were numerous areas in the apartment that Vivi flat out shut up and never revisited; any one might do, but it wouldn’t do to be rash about this.

Mystery made a decision. He padded to the entrance of the kitchen, his steps slowing as he approached Lewis. The hound turned his snout up and followed Lewis line of sight as he passed. Lewis broke his gaze and took a large step out of the dog’s general perimeter. Mystery gave his coat a hard shake, his dog tag rattled at his collar, but he kept walking. Lewis followed.

Parallel to the bathroom in the narrow hall was a door, and as Lewis suspected it opened up into a closet. Lewis held the dust brushed container in one arm, as he held the door open with the other. He listened to the shower running at his back and gauged how much time he ‘might’ have to work with. If he knew Vivi like he thought, she didn’t savor a shower unless it wasn’t optional. Unless, celebratory returning home shower? Well, Lewis didn’t need to get caught hanging around outside the door like this…. Ahem.

“She won’t look in here?” Lewis pressed.

For emphasis, Mystery sneezed. The shelves within were filled with old books and an Encyclopedia collection of tattered used notebooks – the notebooks retirement home and graveyard. Other shelves were stuffed with a few extra blankets, most in shades of blues and reds. The hound tilted his head far back on his shoulders and directed his snout to the topmost corner. He used the lowest shelf before him to balance, and stood up on his back legs. Mystery ambled sideways, nose and ears aimed at that shelf, he yapped, and clicked his jaws.

“I’m trustin’ you, then,” Lewis answered. Mystery shrugged his shoulders and dropped down to his four legs. He sauntered off to the living area, leaving Lewis to his personal business.

The highest shelf wasn’t too high for Lewis’ stature, but he did raise himself an extra foot to allow for some careful organization. He shuffled around some overburdened boxes filled with knickknacks and curios, some he recognized from a far ago time, from another adventure. Lewis concealed the box in the out of the way space, and packed in the other cartons that had been misplaced by its introduction. A blanket, a wall of notebooks, and more boxes – but Vivi was sharp when it came to ‘organization.’ Lewis kept going, and began reorganizing some of the souvenir containers. Actually, he recognized a lot of these things, but there were artifacts Lewis couldn’t bring himself to hardly look at. He couldn’t decide if it was for some vague reason he disassociated with, or if it was the item itself. Most of them were not typical charms, they were authentic but Lewis had never considered what that would mean until now. It couldn’t be good for Vivi to be hoarding all this stuff.

Lewis must’ve been caught up in the fleeting touch with nostalgia for some of time. He lost himself flipping through old journals, while looking at a large black cylinder of some sort of rock that might’ve been granite, but probably wasn’t. The door beside him swung open, and Vivi very nearly stepped and into him.

Freshly clothed, a towel tied around her head, Vivi brought her raised hands down to her face when she saw Lewis, but only for a splint second. A collection of papers scattered through a flash of embers, the black stone hit the carpet with a Thump! Vivi winced and shielded her eyes, more from the light than the wash of heat.

“Oh gosh, Lewis!” she gasped. Vivi looked around, squinting. The so named ghost was absent. “Lew. How’s it possible for a big guy like you, to get startled by someone like me?” She tried to stifle a giggle as she knelt and gathered up the torn pages. “Are you here, or did you vanish to Timbuctoo?” There was no answer, and Vivi worried. She postponed book retrieval and sat on her knees, staring about the thin slit of the hall. It felt smaller now, confined. “Lew?”

“I’m here,” the disembodied voice rang out, softly. From the hall, there was little of the living area itself that was visible, but that’s where the voice resonated from. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Vivi felt a little of the weight lift. “I was getting nervous. Do what you need.” She dithered, as she flipped a page less notebook open. “A-are you… okay?”

“Peachy,” Lewis answered. It tried to sound chipper, his speech, but remained a little off. “Yeah, I was a little startled. Even big guys like me get spooked if you, y’know, sneak up on them. You have a habit of doing that.”

Vivi sniggered, and resumed pulling the torn papers together – some of the edges were tinged yellow and black flacked off. As she tucked the pages together, she reviewed some of the presented files. “I don’t know why I keep all this old stuff. We put it all on the computer, eventually….” This was partially a lie, it was hard to sit down and do more writing than was absolutely necessary. “I should probably be more concerned with why you were poking around in my stuff.”

Lewis poked his head out around the halls end. “Mystery! He said it was fine!”

A bark of indignation shot from the living room.

“This is your stuff too, though.” Vivi rolled the weighty granite ball into the closet, beside a pair of red dog shoes. “But that doesn’t excuse you for being nosey.”

Lewis stepped over to Vivi and crouched down. He had not managed to slip out of his death suit, but a vibrant purple ascot was wrapped about his collar. “Lo siento, mi Estrella. I…” Lewis reframed from uttering a noise of mangled, broken static. Arthur had asked him about those ‘off noises’ he made occasionally, and Lewis was horrified to learn that the debative hums he thought he was making came across as the pop-crackle that faulty radio speakers were so eager to share. “I think I’ll be sleeping on the couch. Can I borrow some blankets?”

Vivi stuffed the pages into one of the stripped empty notebook, and gave Lewis a curious look. She was without her glasses and the corridor was dark, but the locket on Lewis’ suit front was very bright. Her eyes moved from it, to Lewis’ face. “It’s not no where near time for bed,” she said. “Besides, if you want a bed we’re bringing up the blankets too. These are,” she reached over and patted one blanket on the shelf, and coughed. “Not very hospitable, don’t you think?”

Lewis helped Vivi up when she began to rise; she stuffed the books back between their cousins and distant relations on the shelves. For a minute Vivi stood and stared at the cluttered shelves, possibly evaluating where she could stick the next new series of fresh documentations.

“I’ll just head on down and unload some more stuff, then,” Lewis offered. Vivi shut the door and walked with him to the living room. A tall shelf by the window held the stereo, its radio was on and the volume low while Mystery listened. Mystery let his head slump over the couches armrest, ears slanted comfortable as the dog dozed. “You should rest for a bit,” Lewis went on. He turned from the sight of Mystery, and indicated Vivi with a finger, lightly accusing. “And I know you didn’t let your guard down once, at all, on our way back.” He froze when Vivi threw her arms around his sides and hugged. “¿Qué, cariño? I’m comin’ right back.”

Vivi mumbled into his chest. “I know. I wanted… I need to try and appreciate you more.” She removed her hands from around Lewis and stepped back from him. “I sometimes wonder….” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the end of her scarf. “No, it’ll be fine. Don’t get yourself lost, or I’ll come find you.” A wide grin alit on Lewis face, and he leaned down to give Vivi a little peck on her forehead. Vivi shivered, and Mystery gave one of his over-the-top dog sighs.

“You won’t even miss me.” Lewis left her by the couch and went straight to the door. He gave a small wave, before he pulled the door shut at his back.

Vivi had a hand to her face and was trying not to grin. She turned to Mystery when he grumbled noisily. The hound was facing her now and had his arms crossed over the armrest of the couch, head tilted and a curious smirk on his snout. Vivi was concerned for a moment, as Mystery’s bright eyes moved from her and over towards the door Lewis left by. Mystery’s grin only grew wider.

Then it hit Vivi like a tsunami. Vivi raced to the door, backpedaled and grabbed the sunglasses left on the countertop, then burst out the door screaming (as softly) as she could muster without alerting Kingsman Mechanics. “Lew! Wait! You’re not descent!”

#msa #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls fanfic #msa fanfiction #fanfiction #msa lewis #msa vivi #msa mystery #msa arthur #mystery skulls ghost #mystery skulls fanfiction

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tiakennedy-beecher · 4 years

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Marble flooring:

I would like to have marble floor in my pop-up shop as I like the clean, polished look of them. To achieve this affect I will print out an image of marble on paper to place at the bottom of a cardboard box which is where my visual merchandising will be situated. I want to have white walls as I feel that if the walls were to be that of my colour palette the space would become too dark and would have to heavily rely on artificial light. Furthermore, I believe it would be quite tacky to have such coloured walls within a high end fashion store. Not to mention the fact that green walls are known to make some sick.

Spiral staircase:

I would like to have a spiral staircase in my pop-up shop as I like the sophisticated look of them. In addition to this, they are also the centre point or central piece within a room. To achieve this affect I will use cardboard and lollipop sticks.

Rugs:

Paired with the minimalist colour of the flooring and walls I believe that red, blue and green rugs would go well with my aesthetic as it will add pops of colour while not being too overwhelming. I will make this by either printing out an image of rugs on paper to place within the shop floor of my visual merchandise in a box.

Wooden furnishings:

I believe that wooden furnishings with details of gold would go well with the aesthetic by adding some balance due to the neutral shades. I will make display cases by using cardboard, lollipop sticks and paint.

Sofas:

I want to make a sofas or my shop to fill up space and allow customers an area to sit and relax while receiving a luxury experience like none else. Customers will be able to receive a range of beverages and food while waiting for their products. I could make this out of styrofoam and felt or velvet material along with wooden dowels or toothpicks for legs.

Large frameless mirror:

I would like to add a large frameless mirror as it gives the effect of more space by opening up the room. It also will allow customers to see how they look. I will make this out of cardboard wrapped in tin (aluminium) foil. I would also like to add large windows too allow natural light in as it would bring out the natural tones within the store.

Visual Merchandising in a Box Plan

I have designed and planned ideas for my visual merchandising in a box. I have created a plan by collecting images of various items and products that visually represent how I envision my pop up shop to look. I have designed and created my own visual merchandising in a box.

Visual Merchandising in a Box

I have created my own visual merchandising in a box for my brand by making a pop-up shop. I have done this using a cardboard box, glue and scissors. I created the mirrors by cutting out a rectangle out of cardboard and folding aluminum foil around it and gluing it down to secure it. I then made the wooden furnishings by cutting out a series of rectangle out of cardboard and gluing them on top of each other and using a golden permanent marker to create the gold details. I made the rugs by cutting out a square out of cardboard and colouring it in with a coloured permanent marker. I made the coffee tables by cutting out a series of circles and rectangles out of cardboard and gluing them on top of each other using a golden permanent marker to create the gold details. Finally, I made the sofas by drawing out a series of circles and a square half way down the circles onto cardboard and gluing them on top of each other. I then did the same thing for the armrest of the sofa the only difference was that I made a 1cm boarder creating a cutaway. Finally, using a coloured permanent marker to fill in the colour. I have faced problems and challenges while completing my visual merchandising in a box (such as creating the spiral staircase). However, I overcame them by cutting the cardboard at an angle and using a cylinder shape to bend the cardboard into shape. I also had difficulties with the flooring as my printer ran out off ink. However, I drew rough, quick squiggles using a pencil onto plain paper to create the marble effect. I believe that my visual merchandising in a box works well as it has allowed me to showcase my ideal pop-up shop. I need to further adapt my visual merchandising in a box by possibly using bigger box as I felt that I had to scale down my design. Luxury fashion stores are usually quite large and have over two floors. I wanted to communicate this with my designs to the full extent that I wanted to. Unfortunately, I was not able to do so as I had to use materials that were available to me.

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bornxidols · 4 years

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The Proposal || CLOSED ||

@huntersxhunted

This wasn’t something Yoongi had decided on the fly. The rapper had never planned on doing anything like this with anyone in his life. Marrying someone just wasn’t really his thing, nor did he think he’d ever find someone he’d want to marry, but he’d softened to the idea over time after joining Ilkwan’s group. As it was, a majority of Yoongi’s time was spent with the wraith and although he tended to sleep quite a bit, if the woman was around, more likely than not he’d stay awake just to enjoy the woman’s silent company. She didn’t drain him like everyone else did. Her presence was a nice break from the ever draining company of people around who felt like they’d sucked all the energy right out of him. She was comfortable to be around, and even through her less than gentle personality, she was still there for him on his worst of days, even if it was just laying there with him in silence until he felt better. She was the first he’d ever actively gone to when he had a particularly bad low, and in turn she was the first to offer him the support and understanding he needed. It was a decision made over quite a long time, battling himself, going back and forth between whether he wanted to do it and risk her saying no, or just keep things how they were.

In the end, Yoongi had decided that he’d risk the possible rejection and then came the planning. The decision itself took a long time, but the plan on just how to do it took even longer. He wasn’t sure how long, exactly. A year? Two? It was much longer than he anticipated, but he knew it couldn’t be just a normal proposal. That just wasn’t either of their style. Too sappy, too soft, and definitely not them. But there were things in their own way that elicited softer, gentler sides of themselves, he just had to make it perfect. He’d gotten two styles of knives handmade for him, buying more than enough for his project to still have plenty left over. One was a detailed turquoise dagger with sheaths that resembled that of a turquoise serpent with a black background. Most of the sheaths wouldn’t be necessary, but he kept them for later so she could keep the knives if she chose to. The other was a jagged, lightning shaped knife with similar detailing to the japanese throwing knives he’d gotten her in the past, customizing the handle to black to match the color scheme. While those were being made, and admittedly taking quite some time considering the insistence that they all be handmade, Yoongi looked for the perfect ring. He already knew he’d let her pick one she liked if she did say yes, but for now he wanted something that’d fit the theme. He decided on a two million, four hundred thousand Won ring made of white gold with twenty individual diamonds scattered around it. The ring itself was shaped similar to a knives edge, and the handmade detail around each diamond resembled a small knife as well.

Once he had everything he needed, he got to work on completing his plan. A fancy, detailed block of wood was chosen easily and probably the quickest out of everything. Placing the ring in the middle with a note on the inside lid of the box that read ‘Will you marry me?’, something that the rapper would no doubt verbalize awkwardly without the written words to help. Yoongi got to work measuring and planning out exactly where each knife would be positioned, and at what angles they needed to be to properly hide the ring inside. After his measurements, Yoongi got to work stabbing each knife with precision until the ring was completely out of sight. As a last minute touch, the rapper used safe and easily removed adhesive on four of the sheaths to stick them to each side of the block of wood to act as a boarder, making it easy to clean them to later use the sheaths for the knives. After days upon days of working on finishing the project perfectly, Yoongi finally finished and sighed in relief. It was tiring, but it had come out exactly as he’d planned it to look, and that’s what counted. He didn’t expect her to say yes, nor would he blame her. Would he be disappointed? Definitely. But ultimately, it was her decision and he’d respect it no matter the answer. He didn’t give himself time to rethink the decision, walking into the wraiths room and handing it to her with a few seconds of silence before he finally spoke, “think of the knives as a wrapping paper and open it, there’s something for you inside.” He no doubt looked exhausted, and his expression itself was almost a poker face if it weren’t for his eyes and their focused gaze with a light twinge of anxiety hidden deep under that focus.

#huntersxhunted #c; Yoongi #Cause he loves her #You created this monster #I hope you're proud of yourself #And if you match length #I'll kill you

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thisbitchinthecorner · 5 years

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1942 Day 29- Glitter

For @drawlight I really fell in love with the idea of them trying to pick glitter off each other, and then this happened.

Glitter prompt

In an antiquated bookshop in war-torn London, a familiar presence is felt as a demon sweeps into the comfortable surroundings. He brings a gift of sorts, one designed to create a little mischief, and perhaps, make an angel smile.

“Got you a little something, just a card but I thought you’d like it. It’s got an angel on it.” Crowley offered as he set his hat upon the rack. “Oh, and some chocolate too. It’s hard to find decent chocolate in London, nipped over to Switzerland to get these.

Aziraphale eagerly ate a chocolate as he opened the red envelope and removed a beautiful holiday card covered in a reflective substance he had not seen before.

“Oh how lovely! These little flecks of red and gold are just magnificent. Look, I have one on my hand.” The angel said as he shook his hand, unfortunately it was the hand still holding the card.

The demon snickered, eagerly watching what he knew was inevitable.

“Hello! Now there’s more and it’s managed to get all over the floor too!” An increasingly flustered Aziraphale noted. “And it’s on my coat! Crowley! What is this stuff?”

The demon just laughed as he watched the angel attempt to wipe the sparkles from his coat, only to spread more with each pass.

“Help me get this off! What sort of demonic work is this?” Aziraphale cried out in frustration.

“Like it? This is one of mine. Gave some American the idea a while ago, seems it finally made it’s way to London.” Crowley grinned. “It’s called glitter, and it gets everywhere!”

“Glitter? Well it’s most diabolical of you...ahhh choo!” The angel sneezed, a spray of glitter flew into the air, landing all over the pair. “Ow! Now it’s in my eye! Crowley, help me! It hurts!”

“Come on now, let me have a look.” The demon leans forward, his hand resting against the angel’s cheek. He removed his glasses in attempt to see better. “Hold still, you’re more wiggly than I am!”

“I’m trying to, but it hurts!”

“Almost..there! Got it!” Crowley victoriously raised his finger in front of the angel, showing off the offending particle.

“Thank you for that.” Aziraphale offered a cheeky grin. “You’ve got a little bit on your face. Let me get that for you.” The angel rubbed his fingers against the delicate skin under Crowley’s eye. “How in the Hell are there two of them now?” The angel cursed as he successfully brushed the glitter away. The demon gave a shiver in delight at the angel’s touch.

“You’ve got a bit...riiiiiight there.” Crowley carefully inspected.

The angel stood, breathless as he felt the demon’s warm finger slide across his lower lip, the most intimate gesture ever to pass between them, tempting the angel to his very core.

Crowley’s eyes darted from the angel’s mouth to his eyes, and held his gaze. He swallowed hard, feeling as if he might fall straight through the floor and continue falling; yet it would be worth it for what might come next. He leaned closer, and to his amazement, so did Aziraphale. He could see the gold of his eyes reflecting in the angel’s, they were a breath away, so close he could almost taste the chocolate the angel had just eaten a moment before, so close the tips of their noses brushed, so very close...

The bell on the door chimed and an elderly woman wandered into the bookshop, startling the angel, sending him forward, knocking the demon off his feet and sending them both tumbling to the floor with a thud.

“Excuse me, do you sell that book about the curious monkey? I think his name is Hans or Cecily or something.” Her shrill voice called out from the door.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale called to the woman, yet his eyes were upon Crowley. The angel stood up, and offered his hand to the demon, hoisting him easily to his feet. Nervously, Aziraphale fiddled with his tartan bow tie before addressing the intruding customer. “The what now?”

“The monkey! I want that book about the curious monkey that gets into trouble. I like monkeys.” She yelled back.

“Uhh, no, we don’t carry children’s books here.” He grumbled, frowning as the old lady slammed the door behind her.

Once more, they were alone.

“There’s glitter everywhere, this stuff really is a menace.” Aziraphale said quietly as he brushed a layer from his coat, trying to steady himself.

“One of my best, if you ask me.” Crowley offered a weak smile, clearly disappointed by the intrusion.

“How ever will I get it from the hardwood?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened, his lip pursed in a pout.

“Ok. Fine.” Crowley snapped his fingers, destroying all the errant glitter in the shop. “Better?”

“Yes, much. Thank you.” Aziraphale, still flustered, turned to busy himself with a stack of books.

“Suppose I should be off then.” Crowley shrugged. “Will I see you for Christmas? I was invited to Mr. Olivier’s for Christmas Eve, care to be my plus one?”

“Is that one of your new American friends? Is that where you were all those years?” Aziraphale tried to hide the jealously in his voice.

“Just an actor from Hollywood, angel. And I doubt I’ll be headed back to that foul country again. Next time Hell asks, I’ll tell them to send Hastur.”

“Americans.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t give me an answer. Care to go to the party with me?”

Aziraphale knew he should politely decline, give an excuse- any excuse to shield Crowley from potential danger. Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I must decline. He practiced saying it in his head first. “I...that would be lovely.” Aziraphale surprised himself by agreeing. Judging by the demon’s reaction, he was equally surprised.

“Right. Pick you up at 8 then?” Crowley offered as he put his hat on.

“Yes. Tip top.” The angel turned quickly, trying to calm the heavy beating of his heart. What are you doing? You’re being ridiculous and you’re putting him in danger. What if Hell were to find out?

Aziraphale continued to pace the floor with worry. It is just a party, and there will be lots of people there, and perhaps I can do a little good, given the state of the world. He reasoned. Besides, what happens inside the bookshop is beyond Hell’s reach. They cannot breach my defenses. But I must be more cautious, this can never happen again. I cannot lose him. He glanced at the glittering Christmas card; the angel on the front looked familiar, as did the serpent designed to look like a lovely boarder around the edge, letting the angel know that this card was handmade by the demon. He sighed as he put the card into his box of keepsakes. I cannot lose you because I love you.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #goddamnoldlady #justenoughofabastardtobeworthknowing

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robertsnavely · 5 years

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New Port Richie Pet Grooming Business For Sale

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BBF – 8940-296287 — Absentee run pet grooming both in store and mobile units, self service pet wash, pet sitting. Family owned and operated for 10+ years, database over 8,000 customers and located in a perfect area with multiple new homes being built and growth to the area. Owner willing to finance qualified buyers.

Annual Sales: $250,000

Owner Benefit: $55,000 (on only 20 hours/week)

Asking Price: $139,000

Cash Down: $75,000

–> Pasco County Business for Sale <–

. 10 Ideas to Expand your Pet Grooming Business

As you consider this pet grooming business for sale, it might be useful to consider some marketing ideas that have worked for others and inquire if this company has ever tried them. (And even if they have, they might work quite differently once you put your own spin on them. Life changes all the time, especially as an area grows. Some things that didn’t work before may well now as the market matures.)

If you are a frequent reader of the blog, some of these concepts will be familiar to you. that’s because I believe that they work in a variety of retail situations, and that it is good to keep in mind the fundamentals, like

Customer referral Program. Give your current customers an incentive to refer their friends. Maybe a discount on a next service, or a perk not usually available. The more fun you make the referral, the easier it is for your customers to follow through. This is the fastest and most enduring way to build a business. don’t forget to have everyone leave you a positive review online!

2. Update and Improve the current website. Most consumes are looking for new businesses on their phones. Is the website mobile-compliant? How is it optimized for search? Does it have the right language and tagging so that the business comes up in “near me” searches and questions about <city name> pet groomers? Plus, a fresh, clean website with large images and snappy copy makes the business seem alive and thriving.

3. Socialize. Marketing online doesn’t stop with just the website. There are social sites that need to be fed. Are you customers on Facebook – then the cute puppy videos and rogues’ gallery of fluffy clean animals needs to be updated there a couple of times a day. If it is Instagram or Twitter or… NBT (the Next Big Thing) you need to be there. The good news here is that this business is both highly visible and extremely appealing!

4. Expand The Menu of Services. See the gift box, er box, on the right hand column. (If you’r eon your mobile, it will be lower down)

5. Network with similarly aligned businesses. Vets, Boarding places, Dog Parks, Adult Ed, etc.

6. Community Events – how can you fit in and add value?

7. Promotional Products that your customer will use to carry your logo around for you.

8. Special contests, Giveaways, Promotions – often seasonally related, but there are all sorts of holidays…and some can create an unusual amount of buzz. Who would have thought that Talk Like a Pirate Day would take off?

9. Frequent Users Plan – aka Customer Loyalty Program. And again, how you reward your customers is entirely up to you. An original idea might be a special treat that the dog likes best, that only you as its groomer knows. Or a varying gift box along the lines of a Bark Box.

10. First Timers Offer. You will see hairdressers offer a coupon or glaze/treatment as an “extra” for first timers. For pet grooming there will be something similar. Consider a skin conditioning or a special treatment that would normally be an up-sell.

The Cost of Starting Your Own Pet Grooming Business

A new pet grooming business can run to $50,000 to get it up and running. This includes the business license, the lease or building and the equipment. If you are hiring people to help or technicians, that is an additional expense, as is the inventory.

Then there’s the cost of making mistakes as you learn what works in the area.

Probably simpler just to buy an existing business, no?

The Pet Grooming Business is Booming

According to Ibis World, an international statistical research consultancy, over 123,900 businesses are currently operating as dog groomers and boarders in the U.S. with an average growth rate of 8%. 218,674 individuals are employed in the grooming industry alone.

The American Pet Products Association publishes statistics annually that estimates 2019 spending at $75.38 billion. This constitutes growth of 264.5% since 2001.

Actual Sales within the U.S. Market in 2018

In 2018, $72.56 billion was spent on our pets in the U.S.

Breakdown: Food $30.32 billion Supplies/OTC Medicine $16.01 billion Vet Care $18.11 billion Live animal purchases $2.01 billion Other Services $6.11 billion

Source: https://www.americanpetproducts.org/press_industrytrends.asp

Don’t most people own a dog?

47% of all pet ownership is of dogs, says the American Pet Products Association.

Source

Stay Nimble

To compete with the ecommerce trends in your sector.

Amazon recently emailed all Prime members trial discounts on all Subscription and Discovery Boxes. Magazine subscription they’ve been doing for a while, but this was the first time I noticed the Pet boxes. There are a lot.

KitNipBox

BarkBox

PawStuck

Bark If You Want Some

PupJoy Dog Day Box

The Dapper Dog

This means there is opportunity here. You can capitalize on it too. What can you put in a box and either deliver or have available when the pet comes in for the next treatment? Or maybe the box is a monthly treat box and gets delivered anyway? After ll you have the van, and most of your customers are local? It simply gives you a way to set your business apart.

Call Dave DeCamella for more information and a Non-Disclosure Agreement to hear more about thisPort Richie Pet Grooming Business for sale.

Source: https://buysellbizfl.com New Port Richie Pet Grooming Business For Sale published first on https://buysellbizfl.com/

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lisafreman · 5 years

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New Port Richie Pet Grooming Business For Sale

youtube

Annual Sales: $250,000

Owner Benefit: $55,000 (on only 20 hours/week)

Asking Price: $139,000

Cash Down: $75,000

–> Pasco County Business for Sale <–

. 10 Ideas to Expand your Pet Grooming Business

4. Expand The Menu of Services. See the gift box, er box, on the right hand column. (If you’r eon your mobile, it will be lower down)

5. Network with similarly aligned businesses. Vets, Boarding places, Dog Parks, Adult Ed, etc.

6. Community Events – how can you fit in and add value?

7. Promotional Products that your customer will use to carry your logo around for you.

The Cost of Starting Your Own Pet Grooming Business

Then there’s the cost of making mistakes as you learn what works in the area.

Probably simpler just to buy an existing business, no?

The Pet Grooming Business is Booming

The American Pet Products Association publishes statistics annually that estimates 2019 spending at $75.38 billion. This constitutes growth of 264.5% since 2001.

Actual Sales within the U.S. Market in 2018

In 2018, $72.56 billion was spent on our pets in the U.S.

Breakdown: Food $30.32 billion Supplies/OTC Medicine $16.01 billion Vet Care $18.11 billion Live animal purchases $2.01 billion Other Services $6.11 billion

Source: https://www.americanpetproducts.org/press_industrytrends.asp

Don’t most people own a dog?

47% of all pet ownership is of dogs, says the American Pet Products Association.

Source

Stay Nimble

To compete with the ecommerce trends in your sector.

KitNipBox

BarkBox

PawStuck

Bark If You Want Some

PupJoy Dog Day Box

The Dapper Dog

Call Dave DeCamella for more information and a Non-Disclosure Agreement to hear more about thisPort Richie Pet Grooming Business for sale.

Published first on https://buysellbizfl.com New Port Richie Pet Grooming Business For Sale posted first on https://buysellbizfl.com/

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rudiddayear2infographics · 6 years

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After doing some research about the creation of chocolate and how its made I wanted to create my own chocolate bar and some simple branding and then make a info graphic based piece of work were you can look at maybe some of the creation of the bar and the content of it using icons and digital imagery. The first thing I am going to do is look at examples of chocolate bars and brands.

Here are some popular chocolate bars I have found.

For my chocolate bar I want it to be a variety of different layers with different flavors clashing with each other. For the base I want it to be a ginger and caramel bass and then in the middle some sort of creamy marshmallow fudge filling like in a mars bar and then a very thin layer of peanut butter with vanilla extract/flavor in it and then the whole thing will be surrounded by a thin milk chocolate shell.

I then drew some sketches of icons and graphics I would create to represent the filling in the bar and the actual bar. For the chocolate bar instead of it being a normal rectangle its going to be a square because theirs so much filling.

Once I had my idea of the chocolate bar and its filling I came up with a name for the brand. I did some brain storming and these are the names a came up with.

Thick

Chunky

Burst

Squidge

Sweet

Rush

Dream

Fill

Jumbo

Drip

Stuffed

Cloud

Clouds

Fluff

Out of these names I decided to pick clouds as the brand and chocolate bar name. For the advertisement that I was going to make I knew I wanted to show the chocolate itself, the layers of the filling in the chocolate and some sort of simple packaging idea. For the layout I wanted there to be some sort of logo at the top of the page and then the packaging and chocolate bellow it and then under that the information and icons explaining the different flavors and layers of the bar.

I then looked at some packaging and advertisements of other chocolate brands to help me get a better understanding of colors and type that fits with this type of product.

This is an advertisement for cadburys dairy milk chocolate bar. For the layout there is a large piece of text in the middle and underneath is the actual chocolate bar and then the logo. For the type its a large sans serif piece of type that has the effect that its made of milk. The type is then surrounded by lots of different fragments and pieces of the chocolate bar, this shows what the chocolate looks like but because its broken you can also see whats in the middle of the chocolate and its just milk chocolate all the way through. There are also dashes of what looks like milk emerging from the chocolate bar at the bottom making the poster look full and busy. One of the main things that is commonly advertised with the dairy milk bar is that it contains one and a half classes of milk so they are once again expressing this here with the milk drips and text that look like its made of milk which pushes to the viewer that this is milk chocolate. At the bottom you have the chocolate bar which is half wrapped, this is clever because it allows the viewer to see what the packaging making it more noticeable if they were to see it in a shop and then you also get to see the chocolate so you understand what you would be buying and whats underneath the wrapper. The color scheme is very simple and only contains a few colors which are mainly gradients of purple, different shades of whites and light grays.

What do you like?

I really like how busy it looks and I really like the main typeface with the slogan and how it look like milk which follows there whole branding of the bar which is that is contains one and a half glasses of milk hence the glasses of milk in the dairy milk logo. I also like how they have managed to show both the bar and packaging in one allowing someone to know what the bar will look like in a shop but also whats behind the wrapper.

What do you not Like:

The only thing i am not a huge fan of is that theirs lots of broken bits of chocolate around the page working as a boarder for the slogan. I think that larger bits of broken chocolate look fine but there are lots of very small bits and crumbs which gives me the thought that when eating this chocolate it could get messy and its just going to fall apart and get everywhere. Another thing is that this advertisement is very heavily focused on the slogan by using hierarchy and making it the main focus of the poster, maybe the poster should focus more on what there trying to sell which is the chocolate bar and show more of it.

Wonka is a company owned by nestle, They Sell lots of different sweets under the name wonka and one of them is chocolate. The whole brand identity is based of the franchise willy wonka hence the name wonka, the color schemes and logo relates heavily to the film which you can see in there branding which uses lots of bright colors which remind me of this scene in the film.

For the logo its a thick bold typeface with lots of little swirls and tails coming off it making it almost look like a script typeface. It also resembles the original wonka logo that was on the chocolate bars in the film.

As you can see it follows similar letter forms with swirls on the W, K and A

What do you like about the brand?

I really like all the bright colors they use and I also Like there logo with its swirly tails on the letters and the iconic hat that willy wonka wears above the letter W. I really like lots of there branding and how busy and fun it looks with all the swirls and high contrasted colors.

What do you not like?

There is not a lot that I dislike except that fact that its not very original and it is a massive rip off of willy wonka.

The next thing I did was start creating my advertisement for my clouds chocolate bar. Here is my final design:

What was your final idea?

The final idea was to create a chocolate bar and make some sort of branding and advertising for it. I decided to Create a poster/advertisement that showed the chocolate bar i came up with and the content inside it essentially a poster promoting the chocolate bare.

How did you arrive at this idea?

After doing research into how chocolate is made and looking at other chocolate bars and there advertisements I decided that I would prefer to try and create my own brand of chocolate allowing me to try and create my own brand identity and advertisement for my made up chocolate company.

What inspired you?

I have always been more interested in the more branding and advertisement side of graphic design so this is why I wanted to try and create something that was an advertisement. I also really like all the branding and set design in the willy wonka films with the bright colors and different sweets this is why i looked at the wonka brand to inspire me.

What went well during this final production stage?

At first I didn't think it would look right combining 2d flat designs and then some more 3d designs for the icons that represent the flavors in the chocolate bar but I actually think it works well and adds another element to the design which makes it more interesting to look at.

What issues did you encounter along the way?

I think I struggled to make everything make sense and that I am trying to show whats inside the chocolate bar so I did find it hard to create a layout that would make all the elements and pieces of design come together. Also for a long time the designs were just not looking finished and were not coming together so I was beginning to worry a little that I wouldn't be able to create my idea.

How did you overcome these issues?

For the layout I used a custom grid that I made which helped me section everything almost into 4 columns I also made a piece of chocolate and there is a path going from the chocolate that leads to the flavors within it so this is how I tried to show the inside of the chocolate. Towards the end I spent lots of time adding small details and shadows which I think made the design look a little better and up the quality.

What have you learnt during this project?

I have learnt lots about the history behind chocolate and the process in which it is made I have also learnt a little more about branding and advertisement styles within the chocolate industry.

What do you like about your work?

I think at a first glance it is eye catching and looks fun with all the colorful elements of design. After looking at cadburys advertisement With its chocolate bar half in its package allowing you to see what it looks like in its wrapper and underneath I tried to create my packaging with this in mind so Its a box surrounding the chocolate but you can actually see the chocolate through the box.

What don’t you like about your work?

I think the icons/designs for the flavors that are in the chocolate for example peanut butter and vanilla look like separate sweets and not flavors for example they sort of look a little like mints. Also for the packaging idea the chocolate in it has too many squares of chocolate when theirs only meant to be 9 so I could of switched them out. I like the layout and think there is a good use of higher ache but the general composition and layout could look a little crammed. This piece of work is also meant to be to do with info graphics and I think that is something I really forgot about as you can see there are not lots of icons or info graphic like designs also I do like all the bright colors and variation in color but the color pallet is very big and for info graphics you would usually have a very minimal approach in the colors and design and that is something I feel I didn't follow very well.

The design was mainly made in illustrator using main tools like the pen tool, shape builder, tool and shape tools allowing me to create and build different shapes and items. After I finished the design and layout I put it into Photoshop and added some light texture and changed the color channels with a filter giving it a slight red and blew glitch to it making the design look a little bit more retro/vintage. Here are the images i used for texture.

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cleansimply1-blog · 6 years

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Simplify The Moving Process With End Of Tenancy Cleaning London

Normally, being moving from one rented property to another, there was obviously a slight overlap and maybe you have a few days to get all of your possessions through the current property and into the new one as well as to decontaminate the property that you leaving.

Convenience - Your move does not have to be extremely exhausting. With these practitioners, you should have a smooth and worry-free exit. You are focus on properly transporting your belongings instead of tiring yourself too much. They can take care of all of your cleaning needs and double check that they leave the vicinity sparkling.

Another area you can improve in your property is the store your medicine. If you're anything like me, you receive sick much and have gathered up a considerate amount of pills, creams and salves you don't necessarily use, but have in your home, a person have paid out them as well as the expiration date is a long way away in the future. Organizing by height or size doesn't help as your personal tell which serves what purpose. A plastic file container along with a drawer committed to medicine as by type - now this is per game changer. Also, they don't really try that much space.

Just think about how a lot of things you own that ought to be plugged in so supply work. A television, a computer, a hairdryer and doubtless many other. Now, what would happen if it turned you can get is a problem with the electrical supply and you've already signed the written agreement. Boy, wouldn't you feel silly. To guarantee that is why should you check everything including the light-switches. Be as thorough about this as possible and you may be hello there.

If it feels appreciate your home has got smaller, it likely has. Just for a thorough End of Tenancy Cleaners London clients can ask any connected with professionals to get rid of the clutter and additional stuff offers accumulated in the holidays. Startup a workstation and toss out the terracotta patio clock your Aussie relatives sent you for Christmas '96.

That's pertaining to to changing. In fact I've just packed a newbie box, discarded years value of useless junk and am moving to a larger place with my girl. It's been a massive undertaking. I never realized just how much stuff I had acquired within the last few seven years or more. My girl called me a "cleaning catastrophe" did not take long seems that she will make sure Certain let my old habits follow me into our new home-based. It's never easy throwing away stuff have surrounded you for so long but, the way they say, enough is enough.

Still, there is a vivid distinction between hoarders. If everything I wrote above applies to you, but the mere thought of getting gone that old bicycle fills you through intense sense of dread and horror that boarders with panic, then perhaps you've gone off the wagon and desire to seek some professional guidance! After all, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) isn't something with regards to in the tv shows.

Home cleaning is this particular type of crucial task especially if you live london, uk or any kind of part of UK since there are big houses there that wish to be cleaned thoroughly. Components to the actual equipment firm will use in cleaning the house so how the task possibly be cleaned inside instant with interior damaged. There are companies that use harmful tools and materials in which harm paints and other interior fixtures of the property. You ought look to enjoy a company that will takes proper care of their customer's needs. http://cleansimply.co.uk/end-of-tenancy-cleaning/

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delightedcrow-deactivated · 6 years

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RaspberryPi Wall Display: Buildup

LONG post incoming!

It took me forever, BUT I FINISHED PUTTING WALLBERRY TOGETHER!

Aww, thanks Wallberry, you look nice too!

Putting Things Together

I’m not really experienced at anything hardware related so this part of the project was a particular challenge. Since I don’t have access to a lot of tools or a workshop space I tried as much as possible to use out-of-the-box solutions or hack stuff together from odds and ends around the house.

The easiest solution for the frame was to order a custom frame (I went with a simple wooden one from American Frame), which was surprisingly cheap since I didn’t need the acrylic glass or the mounting board:

American Frame didn’t have an option for cutting matboard as small as I needed (I only needed enough to cover up the screen’s ugly silver bezel where it peaked out from under the frame), so I thought “Michaels is having a 50% sale, why not get some matboard and cut it myself, how hard could that be?”

Oh my god what a pain in the ass, I DO NOT recommend doing this if you huge amount of area to cut out (I have 21x12 inches here) unless you have one of those big professional mat cutters with a backstop. Eventually I got something I could live with:

Aaaand this is the point where I realized that getting matboard with white backing would give me an ugly white boarder around my screen... ugh. But hey, that’s what Sharpies are made for, right? Right.

In retrospect, I should have ditched the matboard idea altogether, covered the half-inch of silver bezel with black electrical tape and called it a day. Live and learn, lol.

Cable Management Is The Worst

Now everything gets to go in the frame, and wow am I reminded that I hate cable management!

I put an extra layer of matboard against the back of the monitor screen as a buffer between it and the other components and used a bunch of (appropriately Halloween-themed!) electrical tape to fasten everything to the back of the screen and frame. Once I know for sure where I want everything to go I’ll find more permanent methods to secure everything, but the tape works great for now and makes it easy to change things if I realize something needs to move.

The raspberry pi is secured to another piece of matboard with plastic zip-ties, which at least makes it really easy to get it out again if I need access to it later.

Ideally I would have found much shorter cables and cut back on some of the mess, but in the spirit of using things around the house I just did my best to keep the ones I had from exploding all over the place.

Probably the most annoying thing is how much extra space is needed by the the monitor’s outward-pointing power and HDMI cable outlets. If you have extra time and money to spend on monitors I’d definitely suggest getting one with outlets oriented parallel to the screen.

I also should have gone with a much deeper frame, at least 2 or 2.5 inches instead of the 1.5 I thought I could get away with. For now I’ve solved the problem of needing some extra depth by sticking some styrofoam blocks on the back as spacers:

I’ll have to invent something classier later. At least there’s a ton of space for air flow and heat dissipation :)

All in all, it looks pretty awesome from the usual vantage point of standing at the whiteboard, so I’m happy with it.

Up Next: Software, Finally!

Wallberry is currently running a vanilla install of MagicMirror2 (which is what you see displayed in the photos above). I really love MM2 so far (super modable and has a GREAT community), but I’ll probably change the look and feel significantly from the intended mirror theme to something more like a traditional wall display. I’m really looking forward to this part!

Thanks for reading! If you’re interested in the post where I tear apart the monitor I used, check it out here.

#wallberry #magicmirror2 #RaspberryPi #makersgonnamake #long post

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sweetimagines · 6 years

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We Could Be Dead Tomorrow - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Armitage Hux x Poe Dameron

Description: The end of the war is near and Armitage is on the winning side.

Warnings: None I can think of.

Word Count: 2209

A/N: In case you’re reading this on mobile, I apologize about the dividers that don’t show. It makes the time skip unnoticeable...

Armitage observes his reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing his own image. He doesn’t feel like himself without his uniform, loose hair and, even worse, having a stubble on his cheeks.

No matter how uncomfortable he’s feeling right now, it doesn’t even compare to what he’s been through before. And just like every time he’s been forced down, he gets back up.

He gathers his strength, pets Millicent and walks out of his shared quarters, one of the few places he currently has security clearance to. That, the mess hall and the gym, they’re still more than he predicted, but the bare minimum he worked - sacrificed - for.

He watches dirt piling on top of his shoes as a nice chilly breeze passes by him on the threshold of D’Qar’s hangar. A beautiful, purple and orange hued sunset fills his eye.

The sunlight blinds him temporally - not quite like on Starkiller Base, but he has sensitive eyes - so he squints down, gazing at the duracrete path before him, decorated with a few sunblossom petals - pretty but deadly, like Hux - and candles, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

A narrow, short walkway leads to Poe Dameron, who’s standing with General Organa by his side, ready to initiate the ceremony as the few guests sit on chairs placed on each side of the path.

Hux looks around at some of Dameron’s friends and fellow rebels - including the traitor FN-2187 whom Poe insists on calling Finn, the stormtrooper he once saw leading potential, even Captain material, before he renounced the First Order - who put aside their personal feelings towards the former First Order General to support their friend’s decision.

Among all the faces, the one that stands out is the one that’s missing: Kes Dameron.

Armitage hates himself for damaging Poe’s relationship with his father to the point in which Kes doesn’t even comm anymore.

It all escalated when Dameron decided his mother’s ring would belong to Hux. Wearing it now only reminds him that he’s not worth it.

Even though he wishes Poe could have his father there, he’s more than glad that Brendol is not alive to witness this - thank the maker (or Phasma) -, not because he’s ashamed but because he’s proud.

It unfortunately also means there’s no one else there for him.

His mother was taken from him so young he barely remembers her, his best -only - friend is gone, and having a cat attend a wedding is unwise - specially when said cat is aggressive towards strangers.

Either way, the only person he really needs to be there is just a few feet away from him.

Poe’s dressed in a ragged suit, without a tie - even a bow tie would be too much to hope for -, that compliments his body perfectly. He’s clean-shaved for once in his life and even managed to tame his curls - which sounds nicer than it looks, since the whole rebel style fits Poe Dameron like a glove.

Armitage’s anxiety returns as he discovers concern stamped on Poe’s face when he glaces up at him. He wonders if it’s because Poe’s not used to seeing him so unstylished.

Of all the reasons to feel insecure since defecting, his uniform has been number one. The clothes provided to him by the Resistance are in no way uncomfortable unlike he expected. They’re fitted to his size and made with quality fabric, but they don’t provide the confidence his uniform did - since it was custom-made.

Dameron’s worry has little relation to his look and more to him not moving, though. Hux isn’t even aware of how long he’s been stuck in the same place and he tries to walk, but simply can’t take one step forwards, nor backwards.

Poe rushes to him and, in that moment, the past few weeks become real and it all truly sinks in.

Armitage defected the First Order to be with Poe. The Resistance did not execute or imprison him for his crimes in exchange for information and valuable secrets only a man with Hux’s talents would have access to. General Organa allowed him to marry the love of his life and even agreed to officiate the ceremony, instead of breaking their deal, throwing him on a cell and losing the key.

General Hux is a traitor now and he doesn’t feel the least bit guilty. He’s relieved to be rid of “Supreme Leader Ren” and his childish, reckless and impulsive acts - including force choking. Other than that, he doesn’t quite know what he’s experiencing, since this is the first time he has the freedom to express anything other than rage.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His fiancé asks softly, breaking his chain of thought.

They’ve been through so many moments like this that Dameron knows how to approach him like the palm of his hand. Hux despises being a burden to the person he loves the most, the only one he loves. He feels broken and his soon-to-be husband is the glue holding him together.

“I’m nothing more than a thin, white as a sheet of paper, covered in scars, weak-willed, evil man.” Armitage’s voice falters as he quotes some of many of his father’s insults towards him. He hated Brendol in life and all the more so in death, because even though he made sure his father got what he deserved, his words still, against his will, echo inside Hux’s skull, the scars still ache and the damage seems irreversible. “You can’t possibly want to marry me. You deserve so much better than a rabid cur, a deserter, a coward.”

Poe cups his cheeks, caressing it with his thumb. A soothing motion done more often than not nowadays. It always calms Armitage and today is no different.

Hux matches his breathing with Dameron’s as his friends wait not so patiently for all of it to be over. That spites him further more.

He chooses to think about something else, otherwise they will never move on. His mind instinctively goes back to the moment that got him to where he is now.

Armitage agreed to another of Poe’s spontaneous trips. There were only a few weeks to go until their next scheduled meeting and he learned the hard way that denying his boyfriend only makes him more determined.

After an hour into the course to Batuu, Hux raises his eyes from his datapad and notices Dameron’s nervous. His fingers are fidgeting and he’s unusually quiet.

Hux’s first instinct is to think there’s something to do with a Resitance strike. He doesn’t voice his concern. They both know the only way their relationship works is if they don’t discuss the war.

Then he considers the fact that Poe might have had enough of the secrecy and guilt of their romance and wants to end it. If Armitage were to break up with a man that carries a vibroknife on his sleeve, he, too, would be nervous.

He decides to test the waters by reaching for Dameron’s shaky hands. His fears are eased when his boyfriend smiles and tangles their fingers.

They drop out of hyperspace and Hux holds on tightly to his seat as Dameron dares himself to fly through the Surabat River Valley because its tall-pointed spires of rock make it difficult for pilots to navigate. Hux tries to reason that.

“I’m not just any ordinary pilot, Hugs.” Poe smirks proudly.

“Why do you have to be so cocksure, Dameron?” Armitage covers his eyes with his forearm as they almost colide with a large rock.

Surprisingly, against Hux’s predictions, Dameron manages to fly them safely through. He knows Dameron will never stop gloating.

Poe lands by the edge of the river on a flat rock. They disembark to watch the sun set with their feet on the water.

Armitage doesn’t much see the appeal of getting his feet wet and watching light dim but he does appreciate the orangy sunset making Poe’s tanned skin glow.

Once the sky is fully blue again, they take off, heading into the village, docking on the ancient ruins rather than on the bays, since First Order troopers have been spotted on one of them.

They change into civilian’s clothes before disembarking. If they’re not in uniform, most people have no reason to glance at them a second time.

Hux is still vigilant about any unwanted attention. He knows, even though Dameron looks completely relaxed, that he’s also analyzing if they’re in any danger.

Poe insists they take a selfie holograph with the ruins on the background before going to the cantina on the other side of the village.

Armitage knows how dangerous it is to possess such a holo, but denying Poe is almost impossible, so he caves. “ONE holograph and you have to promise not to show it to your Rebel friends.”

He poses next to Poe after he swears, but, a second before pressing the button, Poe stands on his tiptoes and kisses Armitage’s cheek.

“Not fair, Dameron. Delete that and take another one.”

“You said ONE holo, no do-overs, Hugs.” Dameron smirks. He has the tendency of getting what he wants and it simultaneously annoys and impresses Hux, whose face really shows it.

They walk through Savi’s path all the way to the cantina. “Black was the spire that... called me to stay.” Armitage reads the Aurebesh statements on the boarder. “Charming...” He doesn’t mean it.

It doesn’t look half bad on the inside, though. Hux inspections some costumers’ food from the corner of his eye and concludes it’s fit for human consumption.

They order dinner but can’t decide on drinks so the bartender suggests they try the Blurrgfire.

Dameron choses a secluded table on the corner so they can have some privacy. Hux is thankful for that.

Poe’s back to his usual chatty self as their food arrives, making Armitage loosen up. They finish their meal laughing about one of Poe’s infamous Academy stories.

Just after they order dessert, Poe pulls out a nice, small, matte black, velvet box from the inside pocket of his jacket. Armitage’s heart stops beating at the sight of Shara Bey’s ring, the one Poe had been carrying with him since she died.

“Marry me?” Dameron asks simply - since he knows Hux isn’t one for romantic gestures.

Hux can’t believe his eyes or ears. “You’re serious...?”

“When I think about my future, there are many variations, but the one thing they all have in common is you. I want you by my side. I want to take care of you and Millicent and someday maybe younglings of our own.” Poe holds Armitage’s ring hand. “You don’t have to answer now.”

“I’ll marry you, Dameron.” Hux takes the ring with great care and slides it on his finger. It’s the most precious thing he’s not allowed to own after this trip is over.

Right now, he doesn’t care to think about the logistics of how their marriage will work. He just wants to enjoy being engaged to Poe Dameron, the dashing pilot who stole his heart.

Poe holds his fiancé’s ring hand, looking at him straight in the eye, standing on the tip of his toes to match his height. “You’re the only one for me, Armitage Hux. You’re the strongest man I know, most elegant, covered in cute freckles and incredibly brave for defecting.” Poe holds his hands. “I know you’re more than what the First Order shaped you to be. I want to be by your side as you figure out who you are without them.”

A single tear escapes Armitage’s watery eyes. Poe traces it’s path with his thumb. “If you want to call the wedding off I understand. I love you and I’ll wait.”

Hux nods a hurriedly no. “I want to be yours.” He takes a slow deep breath, lets it go fast along with all insecurities. As long as he has Dameron by his side, he knows no matter what happens, they’ll be fine.

They walk down the aisle together, hand in hand. Suddenly, he doesn’t care about the judgment tattooed on the guests’ faces. He focuses on Poe Dameron, the love of his life, the man he’s about to marry.

Leia skips over to the formalities and goes directly to the pronouncement of marriage, knowing everyone is anxious to the reception, which will probably be their last time to relax before the big mission.

“Do you, Armitage Hux, take Poe Dameron to love and respect for as long as the force allows you?” Leia smiles at him as if she can see past the actions of General Hux of the First Order. She uses an almost motherly tone, making him question how Ren could have ever given her up.

“I do.” Hux answers, facing Dameron. He’s smiling, for what feels like the first time.

“Do you, Poe Dameron, take A...” Organa doesn��t have the chance to finish her sentence.

“I do! I do! I do!” Poe replies, eager to kiss his husband.

Armitage smiles through a breathtaking kiss from his husband. “I love you, Poe Dameron.” He knows he doesn’t say it enough.

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