#and she has her recipe for peach cobbler on there too
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Forged Divinity Chapter 28: Leannan is Miserable
1401 words
CW: past institutionalized slavery, religious themes, negative self-talk
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~~~
Leannan spent the next two days wallowing in bed. Enjolras or Jeanette would come by occasionally to coax him into eating something, but otherwise he was left alone.
No punishment came. No balancing of the scales.
Everything was too much. The lies were too much. The books were too much. The fact that his sister didn’t believe in God was too much. The humiliation was too much. His new family was too much.
So he tried not to think about any of it.
Instead, he thought about Phineas.
Sure, if Leannan was human, then the way Phineas had treated him was wrong – but Phineas didn’t know that! As far as Phineas knew, they had been treating Leannan properly. Fairly. The worst thing they’d ever done to Leannan was something Leannan has asked for, no, begged for.
They listened to Leannan. Sometimes. And they were… funny, and protective, and possessive in a way that made Leannan a little giddy, and they’d saved Leannan so many times.
Leannan missed Phineas. He missed their presence, their smile, their authority, their ownership. He even missed being intimate with them. The realization brought tears to his eyes.
He’d never felt like this about a master before. Not even the good ones.
He fantasized about what it would be like to see Phineas again. He’d tell them about how he was actually a human, and Phineas would completely understand. But maybe Phineas would still like to be his master anyway, just to keep things in order.
Leannan had no idea what to do without a master.
Enjolras had made it abundantly clear, and Leannan had finally accepted it: she was not his master, and never would be. He was masterless, currently, and felt horribly adrift because of it. Leannan often had his own goals and interests, certainly, but those usually aligned with the goals and interests of his current master, or the aim of being sold to a new, better master.
He didn’t have high hopes for learning to live without one. The rest of his family had had twelve years to adjust. Meanwhile, Leannan had lived twelve years constantly relying on another person.
Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
He was a misfit here. He didn’t know how to play with the children, or handle the chickens, or milk the goats. He didn’t know how to… be the way the rest of them were.
Happy, maybe. They seemed happy.
Until they were around Leannan, anyway.
He combed over previous conversations and encounters, convincing himself that he had been constantly making people uncomfortable, disgusted, sad. How miserable it must be for them, to have finally gotten him home only to realize he was a fucked out whore who didn’t know how to live like them, how to be normal like them, how to be human like them.
All he’d done since arriving was ruin things.
Leannan spiraled.
~~~
“Okay, that’s enough!” Enjolras declared. She shook Leannan’s shoulder gently. “I’m on duty to help with lunch, and you’re coming with me.”
Leannan groaned and curled up tighter around his pillow.
“Do I have to?” he grumbled.
“You know what? Yeah, I think you do.”
Aisling was already getting things started in the restaurant kitchen when they arrived. She did a double take when she saw Leannan, but she smiled.
“Hey, good to see you!”
Leannan nodded, not quite looking at her. Enjolras nudged him forward.
“What can he do?”
“We’re reheating soup from last night, and making salad and a peach cobbler. The cobbler recipe’s on the table, or…” she hesitated, remembering that Leannan couldn’t read, “He can chop veggies for the salad.”
Enjolras nodded and went to work, setting up a station with a knife, a cutting board, and a bowl of washed cucumbers. She parked Leannan in front of it.
“Have at it!” she said brightly, and bent over the cookbook to figure out what she needed for the cobbler – but when she glanced up a minute later, Leannan hadn’t moved.
“Leannan?”
“I don’t know how,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing red. He looked like he might cry.
“That’s okay!” Enjolras assured him, “Let me show you.” She took his place in front of the cutting board. “Hold the knife like this, okay? And then you hold the thing you’re cutting like this, with your fingers curled under so that you don’t chop them off, yeah? And then you want to slice it… about that thick. Okay, you try.” She put down the knife and stepped back.
Leannan slowly picked up the knife, rested his hand on the cucumber, and sank the knife into it with hesitant, jerky motions. The slice that fell away was thick and lopsided. Leannan stared at it blankly.
“Okay, um… Hey, Aisling!” Enjolras called to the other woman, “Do you want to switch with Leannan? Let him stir the soup while you chop?”
“Oh, sure…” Aisling started to say, but Leannan burst into tears, dropping the knife onto the counter and pressing his hands over his face.
Enjolras deflated a little. She had been hoping that some honest work would pull Leannan out of his funk, and it was already backfiring.
“Leannan,” she spoke softly, “Can you tell me what you’re thinking?”
“I don’t – I can’t, It’s too hot in here, I can’t think!” Leannan wailed.
“Okay, that’s okay,” Enjolras took his shoulders and began to gently guide him away, “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”
She exchanged a somber nod with Aisling as she steered Leannan out of the kitchen. They’d talked, the day after Leannan had burned the books – Enjolras and all the other adults on the island. Enjolras had been a bit more candid. Jeanette had filled in some blanks as well. What they had concluded was Leannan’s experience had been far worse than any of them could imagine, and worse than they might ever even know, and his mental state reflected that. They couldn’t punish him, nor could they force him to live like they did. They needed to give him space, encouragement, and love, and to understand that he wouldn’t always react the way they expected. It would take him a while to let go of certain things.
Enjolras sat Leannan down at one of the dining tables, and pulled a chair for herself up next to him. The dining room was completely empty, allowing them some privacy.
“What just happened?” she asked him, sitting down.
“I don’t know how to – how to do anything,” Leannan lamented between hiccuping sobs, “I’m not made for this, I don’t belong here.”
“Leannan, you’ve only been here for, what, four days? It’s going to take time for you to adjust, but you will, I promise.”
Leannan lifted his tear-streaked face from his hands, his cheeks red and snot running.
“But all I do is mess things up! All I do is make people miserable,” he choked out.
“That’s not true,” Enjolras said, putting an arm around his shoulders and squeezing him, “You don’t make me miserable.”
Leannan pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest.
“I’m the oldest,” he sniffled, “For years I thought I was the youngest, and then that I was the only one, but now I’m the oldest, and I don’t know how to be like them at all! I don’t know how to be part of… a family. Or maybe I used to, and I forgot.”
“Leannan, it took everyone a long time to learn how to live outside Iowa City,” Enjolras said, “You’re feeling exactly what Aisling felt, what Shannon felt, Clary, all of them – nobody knew how to live free when they were first rescued. They had to learn, and they had to do a lot of it on their own, but you don’t! You have everyone here to help you, and everyone wants to help you. You just have to let them.”
“Do you believe in God, Enjolras?” Leannan asked unexpectedly. Enjolras took a moment to shift gears, but she answered.
“Yeah, actually, I do,” she said, “Not the God you were raised with, though, something a little different. A little kinder.”
“Why doesn’t Shannon?” Leannan whispered.
“That’s not a question I can answer for her,” Enjolras said, “How about…”
“Enjolras!” Clary popped up at the top of the stairs, “Radio for you!”
Enjolras frowned slightly.
“Now’s not the best time.”
Clary shook their head.
“It’s Phineas.”
~~~
Previous, Masterlist, Next
Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik
#posting it NOW because I WANT to#whump#whump fic#whump writing#forged divinity#cw slavery#cw religion#cw negative self talk
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For the headcanon character thing: Sarah Wilson! (feel free to do as many or few as you want!) ☾, ■, ☮, ♦, ☯ , ♒
hi, chase! thank you so much for the ask!!!! i answered a couple of these but here are the ones i didn’t get asked yet :)
and none of these are by any means a complete list
bedroom/house/living quarters
if there is one thing sarah cannot abide? it is clutter. she cannot go to bed if there are still dishes in the sink and, yes, she IS going to wipe down the counters every single day, thank you very much for asking. 99% of the furniture in the wilson home has been there for decades, this dining room table was carved by darlene’s great-great-great grandpa gideon, who was one of the freedmen living in antebellum louisiana. but she did splurge on a king-sized mattress for herself and new beds for the boys’ with some of the money from her husband’s life insurance policy
likes/dislikes
she likes being in nature, spending time with her boys (the definition of which has expanded to include not just her own boys and her brother but also bucky and joaquin), cooking for and with her boys (although bucky has been temporarily banned from the kitchen), spicy foods, nature documentaries, helping her community, goofing around (she is EXCELLENT at doing silly voices, aj and cass love when she makes their veggies talk); she dislikes rude people, having to balance the checkbook, people who don’t help others even though they have the means to do so, being asked if she played/plays basketball because she’s so tall, people who hate children (kids are people, too, and we all used to be one and she doesn’t understand why it’s so easy for people to forget that), small dogs (what is even the point? why not just get a cat?), rodents, bankers, and baseball (but she will watch games with bucky because he likes it and she likes him)
cooking/food
sarah loves cooking with other people, she loves sharing food with people (she always lets bucky try a bite of her dish on date nights), she likes listening to music while she’s cooking, she’ll follow recipes when she feels like it but she’s not terribly strict unless she’s baking because baking is science while cooking is jazz (but also because she knows if she tries to mess around with grandma ruby’s peach cobbler recipe, ruby will haunt her for the rest of her days), she prefers savory over sweet but nothing beats a hot fudge sundae
send me headcanon asks
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Sasha: We should totally get a clown for Jean's birthday. Too bad we don't have any good references. Connie, already dialing the juggalos: As a matter of fact...
Today on episode 346 of Traumatizing our good friend Jean Kirschtein...
on a not reay related note--just got struck with the idea of Jean's mom having been an avid Deadhead. Like either met his dad at festivals or was her life prior to meeting his dad. But like Jean has absolutely no idea. Sure she plays the records a bunch but like she never talked about any of that until maybe you're over one day,
hanging out with her in the kitchen learning her famous peach cobbler recipe and just gabbin. And then conversation leads into her telling you about some of her wild days back in her younger years. Jean walks in on an out of context conversation and wants to melt into the floor cause he's dramatic as fuck
#laughing forever#aot shenanigans#jean kirschtein#connie springer#sasha braus#nat talks aot#aot headcanons#nonnie#answered asks#jean headcanons#jean x reader
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That cowboy!harry part just reminded me of something I said the other day, so you know how he's gonna be in the better homes and gardens, well when I'm on vacation and I'm at my grandma's house, her, my mom and I like to look through that magazine so I was telling my mom that she'd gonna look at that issue like who is this guy and I'm gonna be like that's your future grandson in law 🥰🥰 and I always joke around like my grandma better love my husband bc she loves my cousin's husband but a lot of us think he's a loser bc he is 🙄 but aw omg the little cousin 🥺🥺
- 🍓
You sound drunk again PLZBDHRJE have fun on vacation when the time comes 😭
My gma told my cousin that she has the best husband out of anyone in the family and it was so funny but also so true he’s so nice to everyone in the family and even talks to me 😭 and is so sweet to my gma I’m like… yeah… cowboy Harry would be like that and he would be so sweet to her gma always praising her about how good her peach cobbler is and he’s like “you know I’m going to squeeze that recipe out of you sometime, love!” And she would pinch over his cheeks like “over my dead body, handsome”
And he would get along with everyone, even the cranky teenagers
Like especially the ones who kind of just stray away and try not to talk to people he would plop done next to him all like “not a people person?” And I’m about fifteen minutes he would have them talking about anything and everything like they were old friends
The whole family would love him so much omg
And when y/n came around with him they would all be like “Harry! You’re here!” And y/n would be in the corner like “okay, yeah. I’m here too! And I’m very very extremely pregnant.” Harry would get all giggly and be like “s’okay darlin’, come sit with me while I talk to them.” And he would sit her on his lap and rub her big baby bump while he talks to them
And a couple hours in he would be like “m’… maybe we should get home. You need your rest with our baby in your belly.” Plz everyone would swoon like “ugh, you have the best man.” And even though they definitely liked Harry more than her she didn’t care because she’s got the best man 😔 and even tho she is jealous sometimes of how much attention he gets/gives it didn’t matter because he’s all hers 😔😔
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🌺🍄🍁 for blackjack
🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?
making myself nauseous even thinking about the answer to this TRIGGER WARNING DYKE ACTIVITY but if blackjack wakes up from a nightmare usually all she needs to feel better is to open her eyes and see that mj is there next to her in bed 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 sometimes she'll go check on the kids if her dream made her worried about them, or shell wake mj up if shes especially upest, but mostly she can just go back to sleep. before she ran away blackjack had a stuffed fox, a gift from her uncle marty from when she was a baby, and that helped her, but shes been too nervous to ask her family for it back. if blackjack is alone and she cant get back to sleep shell make herself some tea and start working on a case or doing sudoku, something to keep her mind off it
🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?
blackjack used to loooove canned peaches, but they make her kind of sad now bc they were her #1 favorite food during like the worst period of her life. but she still likes peaches! her mom has a peach cobbler recipe that is like incredible and perfect and delicious and blackjack misses it sooo much i think eating it again would like fix her. also blackjack loves cooking and baking and shes really good at both :3
🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?
blackjacks #1 alone time spot is the gas pump. it is very hard to find alone time when you have 3 children and a strange eyeball creature and a disgusting dog and a girlbestie who is obsessed with you so if she wants to think about things quietly she will stand outside for longer than she has to while filling up her gas tank. blackjack would love to have a comfort corner and i bet she will soon :3 rn the party has to leave their new house they just bought and go all the way back to the michisino to stop everyone from dying or something but when she gets back blackjack is going to make herself a reading nook and shes going to plant a garden and it will be BEAUTIFUL
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s/o that likes to cook & bake | slashers
:)
pairing(s): baby firefly X reader, bo sinclair X reader, brahms heelshire X reader, bubba sawyer X reader, rz!michael myers X reader, otis driftwood X reader, thomas hewitt X reader, vincent sinclair X reader.
warning(s): mention of blood & killing someone on baby’s, mention of blood on otis’, swearing (again,, do i need to tag it), i don’t think there’s anymore idk.
— baby : she loves watching you cook/bake and loves it even more when you let her help <33
✰ when you first came around, you helped mother firefly cook dinner for the family and noticed how baby would hover around the kitchen as you did
✰ the first time you let her help she spilled flour everywhere cause she was so excited and was telling you about how blood can be a substitute for eggs and suggested you try it; you kindly declined, telling her, “maybe next time,,,”
✰ she loves your baking so much she always begs you to make a cake or something along those lines after she kills someone, usually calling it her reward for doing a good job
— bo : good cause he likes to eat plus then you could make yourself useful while stayin’ safe in the house
✰ most definitely looks forward to coming home to a nice meal made by the love of his life after dealin’ with dumbass teenagers
✰ especially likes friday afternoons since he convinced you that you needed to make food(s)—like burgers, etc.—that go well with beer and the two of you could stay up and watch friday night football while having dinner together
✰ he won’t ever admit it but he’s a sweets loving guy; specially cookies since it reminds him of what tiny bit of good he had in his hellacious childhood
— brahms : you’re his caregiver of course you should like to cook and bake for him isnt it like,, an unspoken rule or something?
✰ wants to learn to make things besides peanut butter sandwiches but doesn’t have to attention span to listen or read a recipe so,,, yeah
✰ he would try to help but he’d rather stay in the walls and watch till dinner’s ready, but if it’s something he doesn’t like,,, oh boy get ready for the ultimate tantrum and him just begging for you to let him eat leftover cake instead
✰ never give in EVER; you’ll create a monster and fuck yourself over in the future since from then on out he’ll think he can eat whatever he wants for dinner if he doesn’t like what you make <\3
— bubba : he loves loves loves eating what you make since it tastes much better than drayton’s cooking
✰ always smiles as he’s eating and babbles happily to ensure you know how much he likes it and appreciates the hard work you put into it
✰ he would love to help you out sometimes but he’s too scared he’ll do something wrong or drop something and you’ll be made at him :( but if you do need him to taste test something he’s up to the task
✰ SURPRISE HIM WITH SWEETS—he loves them so much omg he’ll sob happily while eating the peach cobbler you made just for him and him alone (though nubbins does attempt to sweet talk you into getting one for himself as well)
— mikey : kind of like otis and doesn’t give a huge physical or vocal reaction, but he does nod his head after taking a bite of something you eat
✰ you usually attempt to ask him what he wants before cooking since his usual response is just a shrug; “michael, i- that doesn’t help me.”
✰ will probably be fine with any dish with any type of protein or poultry since he’s a large man and he needs it after half of the days he has
✰ you can see a teeny-tiny smile on michael’s face when he eats the cakes and pies; however, he’s a simple man and does thoroughly enjoy chocolate or banana pudding and will express he prefers it
— otis : “cool.”
✰ despite not giving you a major vocal or physical reaction, he does like to hover and watch what you do if he’s not busy in his room or around the house dealing with victims
✰ he will definitely tell you the same thing baby does about blood substituting eggs but would give you blood and make you substitute it in whatever you’re making—whether it be a cake, pasta, anything.
✰ totally says “my compliments to the chef” after eating the meals you prepare
— tommy : another approval nodder™️ cause he’s just happy you have something to do while he’s having to work (these didn’t save the first time and i can’t for the life of me remember what they said exactly so :,) yay)
✰ even though he’s a mama’s boy, he does prefer your cooking over luda mae’s and knows it makes you happy when he enjoys himself while eating
✰ he will ask for multiple bowls of any stew or soup since it’s easiest to eat through his mask, plus it tastes good and you told him yourself you make a surplus of it so he can eat as much of it as he pleases
✰ another southern sweets lover and since he loves everything you make, he doesn’t particularly care what you make or when, though he is slightly bias towards key lime pie
— vinny : it makes him happy that you have a hobby that’s like his in a way and he loves sweets so it’s a win in his book
✰ much like his brother, he looks forward to coming home and having a meal made by you and with you (emphasis on with you cause he’ll make you eat with him no matter how late he gets back from the museum)
✰ prefers southern type meals rather than someone fancy; for example, his favorite foods would probably be things such as chicken and dumplings or even fried fish
✰ similar to bubba, if you ever surprise him with sweets he will cry like sob because he thinks it’s the sweetest thing ever—MAKE THIS MAN A PECAN PIE PLS PRETTY PLS
other slasher works.
meatmutt-sfw © 2021 all rights reserved.
#🔪. slashers#slashers#slashers x reader#slashers x you#slashers imagine#slasher imagines#baby firefly#baby firefly x reader#bo sinclair#bo sinclair x reader#brahms heelshire#brahms heelsire x reader#bubba sawyer#bubba sawyer x reader#bubba sawyer headcanons#rz michael myers#michael myers#michael myers x reader#otis driftwood#otis driftwood x reader#thomas hewitt#tommy hewitt#thomas hewitt x reader#vincent sinclair#vincent sinclair x reader
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Saturday
Pt 5 of the Jailbait AU
Pt 1 ~ Pt 2 ~ Pt 3 ~ Pt 4
Dear Arvin
I wish I could see you. You’ll know the security is even tighter since the riot. I hope you’re doing ok, and I hope you think about taking some classes, learning a new skill. It can make the time pass more quickly.
I think about you a lot. Every day, actually. Multiple times a day. Especially before I go to sleep.
I’ve (very prematurely probably) set up a PO Box so you can write me back. If you want.
Florence (like Florence Nightingale, you know?) x
*
Dear darlin’
Imagine my face when ol’ Warden Fisher says I have mail. I couldn’t think of who’d write me ‘cept Grandma, and she usually visits instead. She did send some cupcakes once.
I’ve read your letter at least five times since I got it this morning.
I think about you too. Every moment, seems like. Dream ‘bout you too. ‘Bout the last time we saw each other. Heaven ain’t got nothin’ on your lips.
I’ve signed up for a carpentry course. Reckon it’s no more’n doin’ the county’s work for no pay, but you’re right that it’ll keep me busy. The devil makes work for idle hands, or so my Grandma always says.
Arvin
*
Dear Arvin
That’s great! I hope you enjoy the course. I’ve seen too much alone time hurt inmates before. I don’t want that for you. Are you talking to anyone? Do you have any other inmates near you?
Tell me about your life before.
Florence x
*
Dear darlin’,
Spoke to a couple guys in my row. Just shootin’ the shit. It passes the time. Sometimes we play cards in our little section, if it’s deemed we’ve behaved well enough.
Warden says I’ve been here six months now. Hard to tell what day of the week it is, or even what month, when every day’s the same.
The carpentry’s good. You were right. Keeps me occupied. I like workin’ with my hands - always have. Did fix to be a mechanic one day, but guessin’ that avenue’s closed to me now.
My life before? Well, you know ‘bout Lenora. She was younger’n me. Fragile, sweet, too good for this piece of shit world. Creepy-ass preacher got his claws into her, got her pregnant, cast her off. I ain’t never fired a gun before that. I couldn’t let him live, not when he as good as killed her and her baby.
I had work, too, weren’t much but I earned a fair wage off construction by route 60. Was savin’ for a new truck.
I miss you. Tell me somethin’ good.
Arvin
*
Dear Arvin
I’m so happy you like the carpentry.
Something good? Well, my mama recently gave me a book of very old, handwritten family recipes. I’m working my way through them. The peach cobbler is amazing, I wish you could try it. The beans are pretty great too, I fried them up with bacon and made some hot biscuits. You’d like them, I’m sure.
Please make an appointment with me. I want to see with my own eyes that you’re okay.
Florence x
*****
A few days pass after you send your letter to Arvin. You go to work, don’t see him in the yard, go home, worry about him. Think about his soft brown eyes and wish you could feel the lean stretch of his body above your own.
The next day, there’s a couple of messages on your desk. Including an appointment request from Arvin. Thank God.
The letters you’ve swapped over the last two months have kept you going, and in some small way, you had hoped that distance from him would help you put him out of your mind, and him you.
But neither of you seem to have succeeded.
In your heart of hearts, perhaps you didn’t want to put him from your mind.
You schedule him first, because you can’t bear to wait. You make yourself take several deep breaths a few minutes before his allotted time.
You had an idea last night, but in the cold light of day, you’re not sure if you can go through with it. Can you? Dare you?
The sound of the tumblers in the lock dropping as the door opens draw you from your reverie. You turn to see Arvin being led in by Warden Fisher.
“Afternoon, ma’am,” he says. His eyes are clear, darker brown than you remember. His hair has been trimmed, and he’s freshly shaven. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and you suppress a shiver, remembering the frantic, deep kisses you shared in your office.
“Good afternoon, Mr Russell. Please, sit.”
The warden takes a few steps back as Arvin, still cuffed, sits. His gaze finds yours and he looks up at you, the light from the small window catching on the flecks of gold in his cocoa-brown eyes.
“How can I help you?” You sit opposite him, brushing your hands against his as you do, hoping it looks accidental. The softening of his expression tells you he appreciates it.
“Been feelin’ under the weather lately.”
“All right.” Your fingers tremble a little as you reach for the usual equipment. “Let’s do the normal observations, shall we, take it from there?”
“Sounds all right to me,” Arvin agrees. You’ve missed his deep, syrupy drawl, sugar on grits, so much.
You take his blood pressure, listen to his heart beating. It’s heaven and hell, being this close to him, breathing him in, without touching him the way you want to.
“How about eating, drinking? Is that okay?” You hold his gaze while you say it, hoping he gets the message.
“It ain’t been that great,” Arvin says softly.
“Let’s have a look at your mouth, if you don’t mind?”
He opens for you.
You make a show of using your little torch. “Mr Russell, I think you might be quite unwell. Contagious, in fact.”
Fisher steps back, and then steps back again. “How contagious?” he asks.
“Potentially very.”
He takes another step back. “Do you suggest we implement quarantine procedures?”
You click the torch off. “I think it would be in the best interests, yes. I’ll oversee it, of course. You can use the quarantine cells down the hall from here.”
Fisher is already crossing to your small office and picking up the shiny black telephone handset. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
While his back is turned, you run a hand through the soft pile of Arvin’s hair.
“Missed you,” he murmurs.
“Missed you, too. The days seemed interminable.”
He makes a little sound of agreement, leans into your touch. You stroke your thumb over his cheek and he turns his head to press a kiss to your fingers.
You spring apart at the sound of the telephone being set back in its cradle, and Fisher ambles towards you.
Arvin looks away, down at the floor.
“Arrangements are made. One of the other wardens’ll be along with the quarantine keys for you, and I’ll stay here until then. Make sure you don’t unlock the cell for any reason, unless one of us is with you, are we clear?”
“I have worked here for six years, Warden,” you remind him, but gently. Fisher isn’t that bad.
“Just lookin’ out for you,” he mutters.
You nod and thank him, and try not to make too much eye contact with Arvin. Tonight you’ll be alone together. No one watching. No one interrupting. Your stomach is heaving with butterflies and your inner muscles are already fluttering greedily with the possibility of feeling him intimately. You shut your eyes and struggle for calm.
After all, there’s hours to go yet.
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What Baking Can Do (Rosnali) - Athena2
Summary: Rosé keeps making food for Denali as a way of expressing her crush, not knowing that Denali feels the same way.
A/N: Writing has been slow for me lately, but I'm glad I was able to finish this! It's basically just pure fluff, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave some feedback if you'd like, I really appreciate it! Thank you to Writ for betaing!
Title from the song from Waitress because I'm basic.
Rosé might live in the city now, but in the small southern town where she spent most of her childhood, every woman had an arsenal of pie and casserole recipes to whip out at a moment’s notice for birthdays, funerals, and new neighbors.
Rosé just so happens to have a new neighbor, and as she knocks on the door, a fresh strawberry pie in one hand, she feels the pride her mother must have felt in welcoming someone new, giving them a nice gift.
Even if she’s already friends with the new neighbor she’s welcoming.
“You didn’t have to do this, Rosie,” Denali says as she takes the pie, a huge smile on her face showing her dimples. “I mean, we’re already friends. Hell, I should make you something for telling me about this apartment in the first place.”
It’s true that Rosé had gone right to Denali when she found out the apartment was up for sale, knowing that she and her roommate Kahmora hated the tiny apartment they had, with the shower that always broke and the heat that never went on. She was just helping out a friend. A friend she’s just happened to have a crush on for a year now, since the night Jan introduced them at some club.
“It’s nothing,” Rosé insists. “You know I like to bake.”
“Why complain, Denali?” Kahmora asks. “It’s food that’s actually edible.”
“My food is perfectly edible!” Denali sputters. She bites her lip as Kahmora stares, and nods in admittance to herself. “Look, no one’s ever died from eating my cooking.”
“No one’s ever really enjoyed it, either,” Kahmora mumbles under her breath.
Rosé holds back a smile. Denali’s struggles in the kitchen have been well-known in the time Rosé’s known her, with Rosé’s favorite being the pancakes that Denali somehow burnt and left raw at the same time. She’s always been so busy with skating and work that she never got much practice at cooking, and Rosé pushes away the thought of teaching her, of her hand curling around Denali's as they mix ingredients.
“Keep mumbling, Kahmora. Maybe I’ll eat the whole pie myself.”
“I’ll see you, Denali.” Rosé leaves them to fight over the pie and heads back down the hall, passing apartments full of people she’d welcomed with food at one point. There’s Kylie and her roommates Ra’jah and Scarlet, who loved the peach cobbler Rosé made. Then Brooke and Vanessa, who demolished her chocolate cake, next door to Raja and Manila, who she still makes almond tarts for from time to time. It’s Rosé’s favorite part of making something, really--to have someone love it so much. Rosé thinks of the smile on Denali’s face and knows this won’t be the last time she makes her something.
—-
Rosé’s normally much smoother, more confident. If Denali were anyone else, Rosé would’ve been open about her crush and already asked her out months ago. But there’s something different about Denali, something that makes Rosé hesitant to take such a leap, to confess her feelings, because if it ruins things between them, then she’d lose a friend she really cares about.
Food is safer than feelings, so Rosé ignores everything and busies herself in making dinner, not realizing how much spaghetti she’s making until it’s all piled in the bowl. There’s enough to feed a village, even after she and Jan eat. Rosé stares at the bowl and figures Denali wouldn’t mind some.
Her heart leaps into her throat when Denali opens the door. Her hair is up in a bun and she looks adorable in her tie dye sweatshirt, soft and sweet in a way that makes Rosé’s chest hurt.
“I made way too much food,” Rosé says, handing Denali the bowl. “I didn’t want to waste it, so I figured I’d give you some.”
“Thank you.” Denali flashes her dimples. “Hey, do you want to come in? Kahmora’s out with some friends.”
“Sure.” Rosé follows close behind Denali, moving past boxes she hasn't unpacked yet on their way to the kitchen. The apartment feels like Denali already, with sneakers by the door and video games in the living room.
Denali hums with joy as she eats the first bite, and Rosé grins, her body buzzing with that rush of someone loving what she made. No matter how many times it happens, it will always be special to her.
“How was work?” Rosé asks.
“It was good! My coffee tasted so good this morning, and all my lessons went well, and I saw this adorable dog—not as adorable as you, Donut,” Denali adds to her dog, who’s curled up under the table.
Rosé just laughs as Denali talks, and it’s easy. So easy. Easy being friends like this, just talking and laughing. Watching Denali’s eyes widen and listen to her laugh just makes Rosé like her more, but it also makes her want to hold back on admitting her crush a bit more. Because the more she likes Denali, the more she has to lose if things go wrong.
Denali bursts into laughter as Rosé shares stories of her day, and it’s enough.
—-
It’s nice, knowing Denali is open to accepting leftovers. Rosé usually makes small recipes for her and Jan, and it’s nice to make whatever she wants, even if it feeds a crowd, and just bring some down the hall instead of giving herself a headache trying to halve fractions of ingredients.
She makes chicken and potatoes and cookies and brownies, extras carefully wrapped up and delivered to Denali, each one letting them have time to talk and just be around each other. They talk about work, about friends, about funny things Donut did that day. And Rosé loves every second of it.
Rosé finds herself making more things than she probably should, but she can’t help it. Cooking started out as a stress reliever for her, when she and Jan were up to their eyes in paperwork trying to open the dance and vocal studio. Jan suggested she make something to relax, and Rosé remembered how much she had loved to be at her mother’s side when she was little, watching her roll out pie crust. She remembered how much she loved creating something out of a pile of ingredients, the soothing repetition of mixing batter, the joy of watching someone eat what she made.
She’s made things all the time since, and part of her knows she’s making more now just so she can give them to Denali. Jan’s always teased her for baking enough to run a bakery when she’s in love, and Rosé doesn’t want to admit how true it is. Because baking is a form of love for her, a way of transforming her love and work into something people can eat. A way of caring for them and loving them at the same time.
Not that Denali knows any of that.
---
Denali sighs as she shuffles to the elevator after the skating class from hell. She had parents almost fight her because costumes haven’t come in yet, like Denali controls the mail, then yell at her some more for not giving their kid the solo in the group performance.
Rosé slips in the elevator with her, and Denali smiles a bit just seeing her, with her big green eyes and soft red waves. Rosé always makes her happy, since the night they met, and being around her just feels right to Denali. So right that Denali likes to invite her in when she drops off food, just for an excuse to spend more time with her. So right that Denali wishes they could do it all the time, that they could always be close, maybe even close enough to kiss--but no, they’re nothing more than friends. Especially not when Denali is standing here in old sweatpants and smelling like a skating rink locker room. How could Rosé ever like her back anyway? She makes fancy pastries with fancy names and Denali almost set ramen on fire once.
“Rough day?” Rosé asks.
Denali groans as her answer. “If I ever become a parent, please don’t let me be like the ones at the skating rink.”
Rosé snorts. “Tell me about it. I’ve had parents follow me to the parking lot because their kid isn’t famous yet.”
Denali manages a smile. It’s nice to know she isn’t the only one, that someone else understands.
“Is there anything I can do?” Rosé asks.
Denali’s heart flutters at how she’s always so caring, so kind. Just friends, they’re just friends. “I don’t think so. I’ll probably just take a bath and watch TV. Thanks, though.”
“Of course.”
They head to their own apartments, and Denali soaks in the tub until the water runs cold, the stress of the day leaving her.
There’s a knock on her door as she turns on the TV. Denali groans and throws the door open, only to find a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the welcome mat.
Still warm.
---
Rosé turns down the hall and almost smacks into her neighbor, Kylie, who’s on her way to walk her dog. Gizmo licks happily at Rosé’s ankle, and she would pet him like she normally does, but her hands are full of the pan that might be just a little too big, if Kylie’s staring is any indication.
“What’s that?”
“Mac and cheese I made for Denali.”
Kylie blinks at her. “Hun, are you sure that’s for Denali and not a school cafeteria?”
“Well, I mean, she can freeze it if she wants,” Rosé stammers.
“I hope she’s got a big freezer.” Kylie looks at her thoughtfully. Rosé’s always thought Kylie has some sixth sense, able to figure out your feelings and what you need to hear just from looking at you, and she’s about to be on the receiving end of it. “You should tell her,” Kylie says softly.
Rosé doesn’t bother to ask how she knows. “I don’t—I don’t want to lose her if she doesn’t feel the same way,” Rosé says, eyes on the floor.
“I don’t think you have to worry.” Kylie heads for the stairs, and Rosé stands in the hall like an idiot before taking a breath and going to Denali’s door.
Someday. Maybe someday she’ll tell her.
—-
Denali knocks on Rosé’s apartment, trying to calm her heart. There’s no reason for it to be racing like this, not when she’s knocked on Rosé’s door to bring back her food containers a dozen times. Not when she talks to Rosé almost every day.
Denali isn’t sure if she’s disappointed or relieved when Jan opens the door.
“I just wanted to bring Rosé her plate back,” Denali says.
Jan nods. “I’ll give it to her. You can come in, if you want. There’s some leftover blondies on the counter.”
Denali follows her inside, taking in the apartment with wide eyes like she’s never seen it before. Being in the kitchen feels special, like she’s in Rosé’s sacred space. Denali peeks at the soft pink stand mixer and utensils beside it, at the worn recipe box and well-used cookbooks on the other counter. She thinks of Rosé standing here, carefully measuring out ingredients, flour in her red hair, and her heart tugs painfully. What she would give to be around Rosé in her element like this, at her side while she cooks. “She really likes cooking, huh?”
Jan rolls her eyes. “You have no idea. She loves cooking for people, especially when she really likes them. It’s basically her love language. When she was with her last girlfriend, this place was like a freaking bakery. Not that I’m complaining, because her stuff is amazing. Even if she makes a giant mess of the place.”
“It is,” Denali says, but then she freezes as Jan’s words hit. Especially when she really likes them. Does that mean Rosé likes her? Likes her as more than a friend, if she cooks this much when she really likes someone? If cooking is her love language? It’s normal for Rosé to cook a lot, Jan said so. And Rosé still cooks for other people, has her friend Lagoona over for dinner every week. But Denali thinks of how many carefully-wrapped plates and full containers Rosé has given her the past few months, juicy chicken and thick soups and buttery shortbread cookies, and knows it’s more than anyone else has gotten. Rosé likes her, and the food is her way of showing it.
Denali usually isn’t so oblivious. Then again, she usually isn’t so hesitant around her crushes either. But maybe she was so oblivious and hesitant with Rosé because she didn’t possibly think Rosé could like her back.
But Rosé does. She likes Denali.
And if food is love to Rosé, then Denali has an idea.
---
Rosé hums as she unlocks her apartment. Jan has a date tonight, so it’s just her, and she’s really in the mood for takeout. Maybe she’ll order from that Chinese place--
Rosé drops her keys when sees someone in the apartment, and she drops her heart when she realizes the person is Denali. Denali, who’s standing in her living room for some reason.
“Um, not that I’m not happy to see you, Denali,” Rosé says, easing her way inside, “But what the hell?”
Denali’s cheeks are flushed and some hair has escaped her ponytail, and her smile is one of the brightest she’s ever seen. “Jan let me in so I could surprise you.”
“Well, I’m definitely surprised.”
“But not surprised enough,” Denali gloats.
“There’s more? Haven’t I had enough near-heart attacks today?”
Denali just smirks and leads her into the kitchen, where Rosé sees the table laid out with candles and a fancy tablecloth and huge platters of food.
“I thought I’d cook for you for a change,” Denali says. “I’m not the greatest, but they’re my mom’s recipes and I had her FaceTime me to help, and I don’t think you’ll get food poisoning or anything—“
“You cooked for me,” Rosé says softly, looking at Denali in awe.
“I did.” Denali bites her lip, and her cheeks flush even more. “Rosé, I--I realized how much cooking means to you. And what you were trying to tell me with your food. I want to tell you that I...I feel the same way. I like you, I’m trying to say, and that’s why I wanted to cook for you.”
Rosé reaches for Denali’s hand, squeezing it gently for proof that this is real. That Denali really does like her too. That Denali took all the love Rosé puts into her cooking and gave it back to her. “I like you so much, Denali. For a while now. I just wasn’t sure if you--”
“Well I wasn’t sure if you would like me,” Denali laughs softly.
Rosé snorts. “We could’ve done this a while ago if we weren’t idiots.”
“But we’re doing it now.” And then Denali is leaning in, her lips meeting Rosé’s like coming home. Denali’s kiss is soft and sweet, just like her, warm and passionate yet still gentle. It’s everything Rosé has dreamt of, and she can’t resist going back in for another.
And another.
“Hey, the food’s gonna get cold,” Denali says, and they laugh all the way to the table.
#submission#rpdr fanfiction#denali foxx#rosé#jan sport#kylie sonique love#rosnali#lesbian au#fluff#athena2#concrit welcome
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Snippets of partially written fics that will never see the light of day, part one!
--
He keeps a battered spiral notebook in the back pocket of his Levi’s like some sort of behavioral scientist. Life Among the Gorillas, Jane Goodall through and through, beginning when the car is parked on Cherry lane.
Billy considers the slopping roof, the screened in porch, and the cracked pavement that proves the house has never seen a family from the west.
That’s the first fact in his notebook, the holy grail Billy will share with the world when he journeys back home again; houses in the Midwest are not equipped to care for families that were born near the sea.
Families where children are born with boards nailed to their feet. The surfing and skating kind.
Billy doubts they’ll be doing much of either, here.
“It doesn’t look that much different from home.” Max clutches her regulation board to her chest. The world’s most awkward and uncomfortable teddy bear, wheels poking and prodding skinny arms as she glances over, worrying the skin of her lip. “Do you think it looks different?”
Billy thinks it does.
He hates it. Everything about it; the brown house, on its brown yard, next to its brown driveway. Pancakes and hash browns. Grass as far as the eye can see.
Max worries the skin of her lip.
Billy thinks it looks different. Thinks it looks like hell, like wastelands and flood lands and miles of isolation, but. “Nah.” He shakes his head anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Feels different, though.” Billy rolls down the window, plugging his nose dramatically. “Smells different, too.”
Max snorts. “Shut up.”
Small victories.
“It does, it smells like cow shit.” Neil and Susan are still a ways off, pulling the Ford behind the moving van. Billy figures they have time, before.
Things change. Before boards are exchanged for Nike shoes and wool coats in the fall.
Billy digs around for his lighter. “Wonder what the locals do about the stench.”
“Maybe they plant flowers.”
“Impossible,” He says, taking a pull from his smoke and stretching his legs where they sit. It’s been a long drive, but. He’s not ready.
Not yet.
“Maybe they have massive green houses and everyone buys crates of lilies and sunflowers when they seasons change.” Max fiddles with the wheels on her skateboard. “Maybe their living rooms are full of yellow petals. Maybe they only eat sunflower seeds.”
“Sunflowers don’t smell like anything.”
“Bullshit.”
“They don’t, that’s why the factories cover them in barbecue sauce. To make ‘em smell good.” Billy watches Max filter through a series of expressions before she lands on her favorite.
Irritation. “Just because you’re my big brother--”
“Jesus, don’t call me that?”
Max blinks. Wide and owlish. Wet. “How come?”
And Billy doesn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. Doesn’t want to start over at all, but. That’s what this is. Endings and beginnings and relationships that crumble and turn to dust before siblings rebuild them out of clay, into.
Something shiny.
And new.
Billy tugs the collar of his jacket up and around his ears, frowning. “Makes me sound old.”
“You are old,” Max says lightly. “You know too much random shit not to be old.”
“Like what?”
“Like,” Max adjusts the skateboard, running her hands across the etched and worn surface. “How to change a tire. Where to find the best hiking boots. How to roast a turkey--”
“‘S not my fault your mom can’t cook for shit.”
“I know that.” Max says. “That’s what old people do. Complain about how their recipe for peach cobbler is better, and the local youths are ruining the duck pond, and like. Brag about shit they know how to do.”
“Oh yeah?” Billy counters. “And what kind of shit is that?”
Max shrugs. “Survival.”
She opens the car door after that, placing the skateboard on the pavement and testing the waters. Billy rolls her window down for better driveway vision.
“You think I know how to survive.”
It doesn’t seem possible.
“Yeah, you know.” Max gets a little more confident after her feet plant themselves on the board. She maneuvers pretty well over the cracked pavement, a kick flip here, a slash turn there. “ You understand lots of stuff. Maybe everything.”
“Everything, huh?”
Billy watches with glee as she falls on her ass over the fist split in the concrete. Max looks up at him, scowling when he can’t quite swallow the laugh working its way up his throat.
“The jury’s still out on that one.” She says stiffly.
Billy doesn’t buy it for a second. “Whatever, shithead. I’m your big brother now, and I know everything. Remember that the next time you’re trying to get your way.”
Max flips him the bird. Billy leans against the hood of the Camaro, eyes tracking the movement as Max tries the turn again.
If nothing else it feels good to stand on his own two feet.
--
Everyone in the Midwest leaves their clothes out to dry in the afternoon sunlight, and the only reason Billy knows this is because Steve Harrington’s clothes smell like warm sugar and daffodil blossoms.
Billy thinks it might be the detergent his mother uses.
Maybe the uber expensive, hyper polyester blend that makes up the polos Steve swaps out for gym clothes at basketball practice, but when he finally works up the courage to do more than sniff, Steve looks at Billy like he’s gone insane.
“You actually have dryers on the west coast?”
Billy frowns. “Of course we do, what is this. Little House on the Prairie?”
Harrington balls up his gym shorts, tossing them at Billy’s head. “The next time you wash your sheets, hang them outside.”
So Billy does.
And the next time he crawls into bed Billy realizes that sun bleached fabric does more than block out smells it creates a fortress. A barrier. Warm afternoons and the smell of oak leaves wrapped in his own little world.
--
From somewhere, through a haze of smoke and the wafting grasp of day old pizza, a needle tore a hole that felt like a bee sting. Painful in the way his feet would sometimes burn on the Middle School blacktop during summer.
Nancy yanked on the yellow rubber-band, letting it fall back in place. It slapped thickly against the meat of Steve's arm, and.
He was hanging in a butcher shopped. Ripe for sale. Wrapped from head to toe in caution tape, and.
Radioactive.
"Ow." Steve hummed distantly, fingers moving to rub. To soothe.
Nancy slapped his hand away. "Stings if you do it like that."
"Stings now, holy shit."
"You gotta let it heal."
Steve frowned. "I didn't think that was the point."
Which made Nancy giggle. "What, not to let it heal?"
"Yeah, I thought." He licked his lips. Once. Twice. It was like seeing God. "I thought we were supposed to let it bleed."
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Okay so you got me back into mckirk and I'm blaming you 100% but maybe a academy era shenanigans turned "oh fuck I think I love you" moment pretty please????
Leo doesn’t get homesick.
He’s made his peace with all the reasons that he had to leave Georgia. He doesn’t worry much about his mama--he knows she’s surrounded by her brood, sisters and great-nieces and nephews a plenty. That she keeps busy with a book club that really is an excuse to eat baked goods and gossip.
And he has a life in San Francisco. He has a career he grew into and Jim--whatever the kid is to him, he knows that Jim makes San Francisco feel like home.
But sometimes--it’s the way the breeze stirs on a summer night in San Francisco, or it’s the warm, comforting smell of brown sugar and cinnamon from the mess on one of their pie nights, or it’s if he hears a certain old Terran country song--he feels a tingling, sense of urgency to be back on his mama’s porch, drinking her peach sweet tea, listening to her infectious laugh.
He’s feeling that way--a bit sorry for himself, a bit nostalgic. He could go for Eleanora McCoy’s peach cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream from Van’s in town. He desperately wants to be playing rummy on the back porch with his cousins. He realizes that it’s been a year since he’s been home like a punch in the gut, enough that he has to brace himself on the threshold to his and Jim’s shared apartment.
He allows himself a moment, two, three, to breathe deep before he lets himself in, door swinging open.
And then smells it. The sweet, tang of peaches, the cinnamon sugar blend of that makes his mouth water right there in the doorway.
And then, he sees the cause. As if all the contestants of that baking show under the pastel colored tent just left mid-bake, the small galley kitchen nook is full blown chaos. Bowls full of batter, flour fingerprints on every surface, brown sugar trailing from the sink to the fridge, and on the counter, a pan of burnt crumble, next to a glass dish of yellow looking congealing liquid.
Jim pops up from around the corner, sheepish and with peach on his cheek.
“Oh, bless your heart.” Leo says, trying and failing to contain the snort.
“You’re home early!” Jim scowls, throwing off his Kiss the Doc apron that he bought for Bones last Christmas.
“And I caught you mid-murder?” Leo asks, cheeks hurting from how much he’s smiling. “What’re you even making? You only step foot in the kitchen when I make you clean.”
He takes a step around Jim to grab a towel, ready to wipe the peach off his cheek when he sees it.
On Jim’s PADD, a blown up photo, familiar handwriting on a worn yellowing recipe card. “Is that?” He breathes.
“I think I ruined it.” Jim says.
“My mama’s peach cobbler recipe.”
“I’m sorry. I know you can’t get home and you’ve been missing it--”
“How’d you know that?” Bones asks, searching Jim’s face, his freckles, his brilliant blue eyes, the way his lips are pursed thin in the way he gets when he thinks he’s about to disappoint you.
“You did look up shuttle tickets last night and asked me if I had off next weekend, before you got assigned those clinic shifts.”
“And you decided to try to make me cobbler?”
“Ellie talked me through it!” Jim says, almost defensively.
Leo chokes. “Ellie?”
“She said Mrs. McCoy sounded like her mama.”
Jim picks up a dish, with what looks like scrambled eggs, and sets it in their tiny sink.
“You didn’t have to do all this for me.” Leo says.
Jim shrugs. “I wanted to.”
They stand in silence, Bones stunned, Jim embarrassed.
“Can I try some?” Leo asks.
“You want to?”
“If it tastes half as good as how it smelled when I came in, I definitely need a plate.”
Jim hides a grin behind his hand as he peels off the offending peach off his cheek, grabbing oven mitts--Jim in oven mitts!--and reaching into the oven.
And where before there might have been a lurch, a wave of melancholy almost too heavy to swim away from, is just joy at the sight at it. And Jim who smiles softly at Bones as if he knew, and of course he did, that this is what Bones really needed most.
Maybe it should hit him, like his earlier homesickness, but instead it’s like opening the curtains and windows on the first day of Spring, a lightening, settling of the knowledge of how much he fucking loves Jim Kirk.
Jim scoops some and then moves around Leo in a complicated jig to grab, wonder of wonders, a pint of Van’s vanilla ice cream “Your mom shipped it up.” Jim says as Bones’ eyes nearly bug out in pleasure.
He wants nothing more than to dig in, to sit with this brilliant man’s kind gift. But instead he tugs Jim close, unexpected, but about damn time. And he kisses him in their small mess of a kitchen, enough so that the homesickness fades around Jim, and the taste of sweet peaches.
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DMC-OC-Week Day 4
(No images this time. I ran out!)
Seraphina Valkyrie
Something she likes:
“There’s so much I couldn’t believe I missed during my twenty-something years being lost in Hell. It’s strange to think that during that time, Vergil was also suffering in a similar way… often not himself, broken, desperate, and searching. Since coming back, I’ve had so much worry on my mind. On the first opportunity back in Fortuna where I could afford a little peace, I didn’t know how I was going to go forward with either Nero or Vergil. But then Kyrie, blessed little Kyrie who was barely a year old last I had seen her, made her mother’s tiramisu recipe for us all.
“It was one of my favorite desserts back when her parents invited me over for dinner. And I had shared some of this dessert with Vergil once before. To know that Nero also has a fondness for it, especially since it’s from Kyrie, makes me feel that everything is going to be okay. We will have more shared experiences to bridge off of this. Maybe I wouldn’t have to choose between Nero’s comfort or Vergil’s feelings. Maybe I’ll be able to have them both in my life, and bring them closer, too. We won’t make the most fairytale of families, and that’s okay. I simply wish to give them the love that they deserve.”
Something she dislikes:
“There’s no one singular way to describe this dislike of mine… but perhaps it’s simple to say that I loathe injustice. The problem with justice, however, is that it can often be a personal view.
“But I’ve suffered injustice. Nero has suffered similar injustice. Vergil, too, has suffered injustice. Would I be able to flay Sanctus alive, or to also go up against Mundus, I would not hesitate. People who will make others suffer just to make themselves feel better or bigger are a blight upon mankind. I have no sympathy for the fool that scorns love and promotes pain. And I am not above spilling the blood of villains.”
Kassandra King
Something she likes:
“It’s a bit cheap for me to say this, since this is somewhat of a family trait ingrained into our bloodline, but I like children. We all eventually become parental.
“That said, it’s one of the reasons why there are usually a lot of children in this family. We thrive as a family and as our own little community. And children are an absolute blessing, even when they are at their worst. To care for them and teach them how to become their own individual person is something that satisfies the Hive blood within us, because family is everything.”
Something she dislikes:
“This might sound odd from someone like me, who knows how to seduce and works at a strip club for fun… but when it comes down to more than that, I don’t do well with the whole ‘no strings attached’ thing.
“I feel guilty every time. I guess I just… crave a meaningful connection.”
Arabella
Something she likes:
“Oh, I’ve always liked peace and quiet… but I don’t think that’s the question here. I suppose I could count seafood as something I like. Does it provide much sustenance for a devil like me? Not as much as blood and red orbs. But seafood and the way humans might prepare it is not something we have in Hell. Fortuna being an island city was a good thing for me, even centuries after Sparda had left. I would mingle among the populace like a wraith, working part time here and there to earn the money just to enjoy human food and even check out what new establishments are built over time. The simple joys were like lovely little dreams… and devils seldom dream for enjoyment.”
Something she dislikes:
“The greatest dislike I have is when others take from me without my permission. I am, after all, very territorial and possessive. I can tolerate the human concept of borrowing, but in the end I am still a devil. Still, there is much I have learnt from humans. I can tolerate a little trespassing here and there while I’m in the human world. I would rather my children be able to live happily here, than to struggle for their survival in the Underworld.”
Snow
Something she likes:
“Oh there are a lot of things I like! Alfredo pasta, stuffed crust pizza, peach cobblers with French vanilla ice cream… okay, those are all pretty boring answers. Here’s something I really like and I’m really good at: music rhythm games. DDR, Band Hero, or any other number of music arcade games? I will high score and perfect-combo all of them! My name is on top of the charts for all of the local arcades, and yes, I’m proud of myself. Devil Hunter’s gotta have some fun, after all!”
Something she dislikes:
“Look. When I first brought this up, a number of people found this amusing and laughable… specifically the people from the, uh, Devil May Cry side of things.
“But olives suck, okay? And you know what I don’t understand? How is olive oil so amazing, but olives suck so hard? Olive oil is this lovely soft but fragrant taste but the stupid olive itself has a flavor that stings my senses!
“I think dad has the right idea. Olives can go to hell.”
Noel
Something she likes:
“Something I like? Uh…I like pasta, I guess?
“I should give more specific or in-depth examples? I don’t know… I try not to want too much. I guess I like fruits. Strawberries are good. I mean… okay so I guess I like sweets?
“This is tough. I don’t think too much about what I like. If I think too much about what makes me feel good right now, all that comes to mind is the… the rush from fighting demons.
“And I don’t like that. I don’t want to relish it. It feels… wrong.”
Something she dislikes:
“I don’t want to be alone. Don’t like not belonging. I guess that’s about it. There’s too much that I could really dig in about, but I have so little left that I can’t be worrying about what I dislike. I need to grasp what I do like and never let go. That’s what I need to do.”
Anthony and Caesar:
Something Tony likes:
“Eh? Sure. Plenty. I like pizza. But who doesn’t like pizza? I like rock and punk and metal and grunge. Nothing wrong with that, right? Alright I like to jam, too. I like to wrestle with dad… could add Uncle V to the list, too. Caesar doesn’t like to do a lot of fighting and stuff, but I hope he’ll like the idea of maybe us two challenging Dad and Uncle V to a fight at some point. I also like video games. Caesar also studies all that fancy programming stuff so I get to playtest. It’s pretty great.”
Something Caesar likes:
“You’d be surprised to know that I’m only lukewarm about books. Literature isn’t really my thing. Technology is a more fascinating avenue for me. There’s a lot of potential and a lot to look forward to in the future for the advancement of technology. I do a bit of hacking work but it’s not really my main thing. Still, if I don’t keep an eye on the security around the house, we’d have problems other than demons in our house. What, fighting? I don’t hate it. But I guess the difference between me and my older twin is that he’s the sporty one and I’m the more academic one. Don’t treat me like a pushover, though. I’m far from it. If Tony needs me at his back, I’m there, and I’m no slouch.”
Something Tony dislikes:
“Fuck olives. And also fuck any demon critter that is too fast for my axe. But I guess that’s why I deal with the heavyweights and Caesar can deal with the critters.”
Something Caesar dislikes:
“I tend to dislike…lack of effort. What I mean is… if something is preventable, why not make sure to take care of it? Inefficiency just takes away from the long run. Hefty things with too much excess weighing it down… both literally and metaphorically, I’m not fond of it. But I suppose that’s why I handle the details and the intricate problems, and I can always trust Tony to handle the clunkier things.”
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😭👪🍩☀️🌹🎁🍼💓(beating heart lol) for lola & deanna 😎
BIG mwah naomi
LOLA 💋
what makes them cry? do they cry easily?
She actually doesn't cry very often and when she does, it's usually out of anger or frustration.
what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?
She's the youngest, but also the only daughter, so there was a lot of pressure on her mother's end to better herself and marry good (enter Arnie 😏 we love a failed marriage hehe!) Her father didn't care as much— they had a better relationship because of it, but they still have their disagreements on how she should live her life. As for her brothers? She was only ever close with Joe. Henry was older (ten years, I think), so it was harder to find common ground, and Eugene (Edward? I'll be real I never remember what his name is lmfao it's not important) was too focused on his studies to pay much attention to her.
So... yeah. They're a family alright!
favourite sweet treat?
Peach cobbler, but it HAS to be her grandmother's recipe.
are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?
She absolutely is not. It takes her a ton of effort to drag herself out of bed and as soon as she does, it's straight to the coffeepot to make herself a cup. No milk, no sugar, and downed quickly enough to get ready for work.
do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?
She's a romantic, so it's definitely one of her favorite holidays. She’ll go all out for it.
And confessions? Well... only one has mattered enough to make a difference 🤭
what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?
Anything sentimental. Flowers, poetry, things like that. Like I said, she's a romantic!
She's amazing at gift giving herself and always knows exactly what to get somebody. It's like a seventh sense.
what are their thoughts on children?
She adores them and she knew she wanted to be a mother long before she even had her own, but it wasn't exactly a feasible idea given her strained relationship with her ex-husband!
what gets their heart racing?
Compliments, sweet gestures, the tapping of I love you in morse code on the back of her hand... oopsie.
DEANNA 🌵
what makes them cry? do they cry easily?
She’s not much of a crier either! It takes a LOT to get her to that point and even then, it’s just a few stray tears.
what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?
Her parents are amicably divorced, but she didn’t see her mother a whole lot growing up— she was always travelling for her job as a nature photographer and was only ever around for holidays. Her father, on the other hand, was ex-military and raised her and her brothers on a ranch outside of San Antonio. She was close with him while he was still alive— he taught her everything he knew and he’s why she joined STARS to begin with.
She’s just as close with her brothers and they try to meet up at least once a year (outside of the holidays) just to spend time together.
favourite sweet treat?
Brownies! Especially two-bites with a dollop of buttercream frosting.
are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?
She used to be, but after having kids, she finds she wants to stay in bed longer. Her routine is simple— she always showers first because it wakes her up and gives her a few minutes of alone time.
do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?
It’s not her favorite day of the year, but she still makes her husband and kids heart-shaped pancakes every year like a complete cheeseball.
Oliver absolutely beat her to the confession when it happened— which is fair because as confident as she is, being around him flustered her too much to do it herself.
what types of presents would they be most happy to receive? are they good at gift giving?
She prefers practical things! Anything that can be used in her day to day life. As for her own gift giving skills... she sucks at it.
what are their thoughts on children?
She was never the maternal type— figured she’d never have any kids of her own, even if she miraculously managed to find somebody who wanted to marry her— but all it took was meeting the little boy she and Oliver eventually adopted to change her mind.
what gets their heart racing?
The way Oliver always reaches for her hand even when he’s busy with something else, how he kisses her neck in the most perfect spot every time, and... well... ahem. Not so sweet things! 😳
#oc: lola#oc: deanna#getting to talk about lola... always a treat for me#also dee and ollie my emotional support dummies who mind their business and stay out of IT#thank you so much!!!! <3333
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Whats each fam members favorite dessert
Molly: She likes them all, but if she has to pick, probably brownies! Not because everyone compares her to them, but because she used to bake them with her mom.
Giovanni: His favorite changes every other week, because he’s always trying new recipes— and he’s really good at baking!
Sylvie: Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s totally not like he’s got a huge sweet tooth or anything, but... he DOES like cotton candy.
Mera: She likes crumb cakes with ice cream, because you can’t break something that’s already crumbled, and it’s really hard to hurt yourself eating ice cream.
Indus: He loves pretty much anything with a lot of sugar! Even handfuls of raw sugar! They have the same texture as sand, only they taste better!
Percy: She isn’t much for sweets. Her favorite dessert is plain strawberries— not even topped off with whipped cream.
Ramsey: Awww, how can he pick just ONE? But, fine... if he has to admit it, he really loves fancy cheesecake. And he KNOWS Zora will tease him for this.
Zora: Apple cobbler with generous amounts of cinnamon. Peach cobbler, too, if it’s in season. Tastes like home.
Howie: What else but ~Honey’d Snacks~?
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Character Stats
Thank you @aban-ataashi for the tag! I’ll pass one on to (if you want to, no pressure!) @gerundsandcoffee @jadesabre301 @sayonaramidnight @adraveins @ariela-of-aedyr and anyone else who’d like to! Claim a tag from me, I’d love to see your characters!
Dal (POE ttrpg, God Squad campaign)
Face Claim: Natalie Dormer - this one was the ref for Dal’s campaign art by @grumpy-jedi above:
Name: Idalia Tlalli, though the surname is only recently learned/acquired
Age: I think I ended up saying 22?
Height: Somewhere around 3’ or less, I don’t think I ever really specified but she’s on the shorter end for an orlan female
Species: orlan
Gender: woman
Birthday: whatever date Siofra picked for her to celebrate it was a guess based on guessing how many days old a glowing infant orlan was, so Dal should probably ask her parents now and see if they kept track
Residence: Grew up in Gilded Vale; now living in Quetzalli of the Ixamitl Plains
Marital status/Love interest: Uh…married eventually…Ranna has plans (and Ranna should write them buuuuut)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Drink: tea (but at this point she’ll stick with the non-magical kind)
Food/snacks: bread, sugar cream pie (why yes of course I am gonna appropriate some midwestern recipes for Dyrwoodan ones XD), peach cobbler, hazelnuts, onions. Not carrots.
Day or Night: Day
Pet: cats are OK and Dal will feed the strays that hang around the kitchen but is not too eager to pet them (knowing cats this probably means they hang around her all the more). Otherwise she is not that interested in animals, though she may have developed a fondness for the moths that hover nearby when she glows.
Colour: yellow, peach, light pink & green & blue
Flower: dahlia :-D Er, but her actual favorites are anything that can be used in cooking.
Sexuality: straight
Body Type: overall she’s orlan-tiny but a bit of extra padding from all that cooking :-D
Eye Colour: light blue, almost grey
Hair Colour: strawberry blonde (so, somewhere in between the “just blonde” and “bright pink” shades that most of the picrews seem limited to XD)
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h e a d c a n o n s, pt. 1
( tw: mentions of eating disorder )
When Lia is drunk/ tipsy she likes to act our favorite movie scenes—even if she’s alone. Most recently was the titanic scene (where she also got her knee suck in the balcony). She can quote all of the legally blonde courtroom scene and definitely knows the mean girls Christmas dance as well.
When Lia bakes, she has this small habit of humming or singing when she does so. Interestingly enough, for how involved baking is, she’d done it for so long she’s relatively good at shutting her brain down for a while when she does it. Or, at least, it takes all her energy to bake instead of overthink. It’s why she stress bakes so frequently and it’s also why she hums/sings when she does it. It’s mindless and she’d be embarrassed if anyone heard it–but she doesn’t always realize she’s doing it.
Surprisingly, while Lia’s favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, her favorite movie is Love Actually. She can quote most of the movie–as she can with most things she loves–and her favorite scene is when Hugh Grant dances to “Jump (For My Love)” by the Pointed Sisters. This is another scene she sometimes recreates when drunk.
Lia is not the biggest fan of Harry Potter. She doesn’t even know what house she’s in (its Ravenclaw but she can’t remember that). She never got into the series, never found it to be that interesting–magic didn’t quench her thirst the way some other books did…
Yes, that’s right. Magnolia Barnes was absolutely a Twi-Hard. You could not pull her away from these books–it was even worse since, at age 18, you’d think she would have had better taste. But no, she was #TeamJacob all the way. And yes, she did go see the movies when they came out. And yes, she did cry at the end. Don’t judge her.
Lia loves watching home renovation shows, though she literally has no reason to watch the show. She’s never had to do a home reno in her life. But she likes to imagine a day when she would–she thinks she’d be quite good at it. Sometimes about being able to use her hands in a meaningful way strikes her as soothing–its why she likes baking so much. She doesn’t have proof she’d be good at it, but she has a feeling she’d be pretty good with her hands if she can make delicate pastries so well.
Lia loves college football. Like absolutely adores it. Big Clemson gal, Tiger Rag is her jam. She remembered spending fall weekends at their Lake Keowee home so they could easily drive over to Clemson and go to a home game. Hates the Gamecocks with a passion. Rivalry weekend was her favorite time of year growing up–it was so full of excitement and energy. In fact, the most heated you might ever see Lia out of an argument is walking a Clemson football game. And yes she knows exactly what’s going on down on the field and if you ask her one more time if she’s sure–she will throw a piece of pie in your face.
Speaking of Clemson, Lia wanted to go there for college–get her degree in English. But she also had high dreams to be the baton twirler on the field–the one who dots the i with whatever family they’re celebrating that day in the pregame ceremony? Yeah, she wanted that. She thought that maybe she could mix the two worlds of hers, her two areas of interest–but no, that was never to be the case.
Lia grew up going to State fairs every summer–but never an amusement or theme park. She has never been to a planetarium, and her first trip to an Aquarium was with Beckett. Her first trip to a Zoo was with Ryder. So sure she’s ridden some rides, but it’s never been like most people have. It’s her dream to go to DisneyWorld one day and somehow, someway, stay in the Cinderella Suite. she’s watched enough youtube videos to know that not one gets to stay there but contest winners and celebrities, but still–a girl can dream.
While her peers took their vacations in Paris, Nice, Monaco and Italy, Lia’s father preferred north–like Amsterdam. Which, to be fair, was really very nice and Lia liked going. She even had a friend, Tess, who she’d hang out with when they would go on holiday as they called it. Tess was cool–she was into collecting model trains and really liked to read also. But then Tess’s parents sent her to boarding school after they had found out that she had been chatting with people online that she shouldn’t have been. Lia thought that sounded awfully harsh and hoped her parents would never do something like that to her. (Oh, irony)
When she’s sick, she doesn’t want chicken noodle soup, she wants wonton soup. Why? She doesn’t know, but she’s never liked chicken noodle soup. She thinks its the mushy carrots and celery. But wonton soup is essentially the same thing, but with a wonton and better flavor. She likes hers with spinach.
If toast is cut diagonal, she can’t eat it. Vertical squad for the win.
Big Bon Appetit fan. The quickest way to make her smile is to make her watch an episode of “one of everything” or “gourmet makes”. she might have a small crush on alex delany but we don’t talk about that.
Lia believe in aliens but not ghosts. She’s not big on conspiracy theories either–but she might be tempted by the stories at Denver Intentional Airport. She just can’t accept that humans are the only living things in the universe. That’s a lot for her–but she doesn’t go actively searching for them. Ghosts, on the other hand–she just never believed in them. Why would anyone want to haunt someone? Seemed like a weird power play to her. And no, despite what some people at the Malnati think, the moon is not made of cheese.
Lia is obsessed with spreadsheets. If you asked her what the dorkiest thing about her was–she’d tell you it was her planner and spreadsheets. She has a spreadsheet for probably every aspect of her life. her planner–which is really a bullet journal–is how she keeps track of things when she can’t get on her computer, but she has one for chores, her books, work, her bucket list, hell–even a bachelorette watch party she had a few years ago. She loves being organized.
Office supplies are her kryptonite. She absolutely loves blank notebooks and pens. She has a favorite pen for different things. Pentel RSVP RT Retractable Ball Point in black for everyday items, Staedleter fine tips felt pens for her bullet journal, sharpie pens for when she wants her notes to stand out, Zebra Mildliner for headers in her bullet journal or giving the pages shape. She is incredible persnickety on who can borrow what pen, and even keeps less important pens in her pencil bag just to lend out. And under very few circumstances will you ever see Magnolia Barnes using a pencil unless she has been required too. She hates the darn things.
Lia doesn’t swear–her mother taught her ladies don’t swear and while she doesn’t believe language as a gatekeeper for femininity anymore, the expectation still holds. So if you do hear her use a curse word, something is very very wrong.
Go to coffee order, you ask? Easy. Grande White Chocolate Peppermint Mocha with Blonde Espresso and Almondmilk and yes whipped cream. Sometimes she’ll get it with Raspberry instead. If its iced, it’s a tall and no whipped cream. However, she can also be bought over with a Venti Iced Guava Tea Lemonade with 8 pumps sweetener.
Lia has seen the Chatworth House–the house used as Pemberly in the Kiera Knightly version of Pride and Prejudice. While its not her all time favorite movie, she sure loves it still and begged her parents to take her one summer. They relented and it was everything she had dreamed of seeing.
It’s well known that Lia cannot dance–she often tells people she can only line dance and Viennese Walz, and the former only happens when she’s tipsy on PBRs.
Lia loves sleeping with windows open because she can’t sleep in silence. The white noise of the city helps relax her and and makes her sleep easier.
However, she must read in silence–any noise will distract her and she gets relatively grumpy if anyone interrupts her reading. She also adores reading by a window. She likes the way the natural lights illuminates the pages.
Words are some of Lia’s favorite things–she thinks they’re magic. So loves the way they sound and likes to think about the way they feel in her mouth and how they roll off the tongue. She does her best to take her time when speaking too–because if words are so important, its better to get them right the first time. (Although perhaps she would learn that getting it right may not always be nearly as important as saying something at all).
(tw: eating disorder) Not many people know this, but after the book incident, Lia has begun to go to therapy. Her counselor, Tonya, has been helping her try to work through what things are Lia and what things are Lia’s mother. They haven’t gotten to the eating disorder conversation yet–and Lia dreads it. because Lia has never used the term out loud–in fact, the only time it was ever spoken was by the doctor the night of the incident. She has never named it and technically never claimed it out loud–though she knows its true in her heart.
Lia hates pickles. Don’t know why, but she thinks they are gross. Also parmesan cheese.
Magnolia loves horses–perhaps not the extend of others, but she had grown up riding them and when she rode them, she always sensed a freedom that was just out of reach at home. Perhaps that was because who was always riding wit her, but she doesn’t like to dive deep into that. It complicates things (that maybe needed to be complicated, just sayin’). Leaving her childhood horse Butternut was like leaving a pet (something the Barnes did not have as Lia grew up). Butternut and her went on a lot of adventures together, usually along side Buttersquash and Jack. It was good squad.
Lia’ favorite dessert is Mrs. Whetstone’s peach cobbler–and she has pour her life’s work into recreating it since she never asked for the recipe before she left. Every time she tries, she feels like she gets a little closer, but its never quite right. But it does remind her of home and its one of those memories she loves dearly. Anyone who asks her, though, what her favorite dessert is, she’ll say cheesecake because nothing even compares in her mind to that cobbler and she doesn’t want something to try to do something that will never reach what she expects. And she does love cheesecake.
Favorite flavor of yogurt? Chobani Raspberry Lemonade. Its only available in the summertime, but boy is it worth the wait.
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“Don’t be such a wuss Dion” as the words get uttered, Dion looks from the house to the girl a few feet in front of him. Her multi-color hair cascading down her back and her hazel eyes shining with excitement while staring at the old home. The girl, feeling his stare turns and stares at him with a ‘what’ look.
“Briar three people died in that house! Why are you so excited?!” Briar rolls her eyes at Dion. She walks back over to the dark red-haired boy and wraps an arm around his waist pulling him into a side hug that has the boy’s face heating up. She smiles fondly at the boy gesturing to the house overrun by green foliage.
“Everyone knows those are just rumors, this house has been abandoned for years because the owners had an emergency out of state and they couldn’t return to sell it. What is so bad about this place anyway. Look at it, it’s beautiful!” Dion looks over to the house as Briar gestures towards it. The once light yellow house was now even lighter due to the damage of the outside world, light, wind, rain, heat. The greenery around the house has practically taken it over. Trees and bushes going through the windows and doors, claiming the house as its own. Briar was right, it’s beautiful, the inside probably just as beautiful thanks to the wildlife taking over. A shutter sound is heard and Dion turns to Briar and sees her holding up her camera, a radiant smile on her face.
“Hey! Have you two gone inside yet?” Dion and Briar turn around to see Tris and her significant other Archer. Briar smiles at the two as they jog over. Archer stares at the house with fascination, they, like Briar, love this type of thing. Anything abandoned is beautiful to them especially if it’s in the middle of the woods and overrun by nature. Tris stares at her sweetheart with a loving gaze as they stare at the house just as Dion was doing to Briar moments before.
“Let’s go inside now that we are all here.” Dion starts shaking his head at Briar's words but Archer and Tris link arms with him and drag him over to the house. Once through the front door which Dion noted was only hanging on by a hinge, everyone begins looking around as they hear the occasional shutter from Briar's camera. The wind moves its way peacefully through the holes along the house including the windows and front door. Even Dion had to admit, no matter what the rumors said about the owners Dion could tell the house was once loved. Furniture littered the rooms. Antique photos and vases full of dead flowers. Dion sits down at an old grand piano and pushes one of the keys. It’s out of tune, he figured as much. Dion stares at the keys with interest wondering if it was always out of tune or if anyone had played it before the couple had to leave, just how long it had been sitting here. A shutter sound interrupts his pondering causing his head to snap upwards towards the open door of the sitting room. There stands Briar smiling fondly at the photo she had just snapped.
“You looked pretty sitting there, I couldn't miss the opportunity to take a picture.” Briar's words cause his face to heat up slightly and he chuckles at the girl. They stare at each other for a few moments before Archer interrupts the two by shouting down the stairs. Dion’s and Briar's attention snaps to them and the duo leaves the sitting room and heads upstairs taking two steps at a time. Once upstairs Briar snaps a photo down the stairs. Stepping into the room the couple is in, Dion notices the dark brownish-red stain on the carpet. Briar steps into the room looking at Dion confused as to why he appears to be sick. She finally sees the carpet and the stain. Briar's arm shoots out and wraps itself around Dion's waist and pulls him closer to her, turning him around and into her chest so he can’t look at the stain.
“You,” Eyes snap to Archer as they begin speaking. “You don’t think it’s…” While sharing a look with their girlfriend they trail off. Briar rubs Dion’s back to hopefully keep him calm in this situation. Sharing glances, Briar nods her head to the door communicating to get the hell out of there for Dion’s sake. The couple walks out first, followed by the other two. Only when they are out of the house and at their cars does Briar let go of her friend. Despite the two no longer holding on to each other Dion does not move too far away from Briar. Once the shock and panic calm down between the four do they start talking about what they saw. Tris notices their male friend keeps glancing back at the house uneasily so she suggests getting out of there and meeting up at her place, mentioning how her grandma wanted them over for dinner anyway. After agreeing, the four get into their respective cars, peeling out of the grassy terrain and heading to Tris’s grandma's place. After 5 minutes of silence, Briar takes her hand off of the steering wheel and holds it out to Dion, knowing he is still a bit uneasy about the whole situation. The boy grabs her hand with a small smile and strikes up a conversation about what Ms. Silva will make for dinner that night.
After 20 minutes of driving and conversations between the two, they pull into the driveway of Tris’s home. Ms. Silva or as she requests the kids to call her Babu is sitting on the porch waiting for the group of four. Babu, much like her granddaughter, has rich brown skin that is as smooth as satin despite the wrinkles that came with her old age. Her hair is in a shaggy bob perfectly framing her face, her deep brown eyes show a certain level of kindness that can make everyone feel welcomed in her home but it doesn’t mean she is naive as some might think. Stepping up onto the porch hugs are exchanged between the now group of five. Babu ushers them inside and to the dining table as she brings out dinner for them. Babu placed dinner on the table, which was chicken-fried steak, fresh peas, buttermilk biscuits, creamed corn, and sweet tea. For dessert, Babu had made peach-cobbler from her secret recipe. Dinner was great as it always was whenever they went to Babu's house, afterward they went upstairs to hang out. Once upstairs Briar started going through the pictures she had snapped as well as pulling out her sketchbook.
“Which picture are you choosing this time?” Briar smiles up at Archer before showing them the picture she had chosen. Archer chuckles at her and the smile she held whenever she looked at the photo. She continues looking through the photos and stops on one, her facial expression changing to confused and concerned.
“B what's the matter?” Dion places a hand on her shoulder to get a look at what she saw on the camera. Tris and Archer exchange confused looks with one another as Briar connects her camera to Tris’s laptop and pulls up the image. Archer gasps while Tris just stares. Sitting on the screen is the picture that Briar took just before she entered the room. Standing up at the top of the stairs pointing down towards the bottom floor.
Staring up at her in the photo is a barely visible woman in a classic yellow sundress, the only disturbing thing is the blood spilling all down the front of the dress. Dion turns away from the image hoping to keep his dinner down. Briar pulls him into her side to keep his gaze from the image as the other three share incredulous looks before Archer shuts the laptop getting rid of the image.
Briar lays in bed at 1:00 AM still looking at the photo, thinking desperately how she wanted to delete the photo but not being able to do so. She turns off the camera, placing it on her bedside table, and stares at the ceiling trying to rid her mind of the horrific image. A vibrating sound cuts through the quiet atmosphere. Her eyes snap to the source of the noise, her phone, still in the same place as she put it when she entered the room.
She picks it up from the headboard and unplugs it, double-tapping the screen to turn it on. Dion texted her, still just as shaken up as her and the couple. Dion and Briar text back and forth for about thirty minutes before Briar gives up and just calls the boy. They speak quietly to one another, both of them finally relaxing at the sound of the other's voice. Dion falls asleep first but Briar doesn’t hang up, she listens to his even breathes and slowly but surely falls asleep herself completely forgetting about the picture.
The next time the group grows the courage to go exploring is about a week later. After a lot of convincing from Archer, they decided to head to an abandoned hospital nearby. There has been talk of asbestos being present in and around the building so before they entered they put on masks, gloves, and goggles. Once finally inside Briar raises her camera to take the first picture of the crusade. The picture is the reception of the hospital, papers scattered all over the ground, graffiti lining the walls. A lone wheelchair sits in the middle of all the chaos, a layer of dust has accumulated on top.
"Ten bucks to sit in the chair." Those are the first words spoken while inside the hospital. The group laughs at Tris's bet, Briar shaking her head, refusing.
"Hunny, I'm in black jeans no way am I sitting in that wheel-chair." Dion boos at his best friend, both him and Archer claiming that their camera-wielding friend was nothing more than a wimp. The group of friends starts teasing one another about who's more of a wimp. As the group divides into its usual groups of two Briar calls out that if anything happens to yell. Briar and Dion make their way through the upper levels of the hospital, finding patient rooms, and nurseries.
"Bri! You got to come to get a picture of this." Briar makes her way to where she heard Dion's voice. She found the boy in an operating room, the main operating table is sat up in a chair position. The surgical light hovers above the bed, metal utility carts litter the room. A heart monitor and cables stand next to the operating table, forever black.
"Careful Di, we don't know if the syringes are dirty or not." The boy nods in agreement as he steps beside Briar. The camera is raised to the room snapping a picture of the area. The shutter sounds before a ding goes off after. Dion fishes his phone from his back pocket, opening it up and informing Briar that the couple found the morgue. They leave the room, making their way done to the basement meeting up with Archer and Tris.
"You guys found the morgue?" Briar's voice is laced in excitement which doesn't surprise the rest of the group. All her life Briar had been excited by abandoned buildings and spooky happenings. Archer leads the way into the morgue. After five minutes of the group being apart and the only sound is Briar's camera taking photos Dion lets out a yelp of fear.
"Di!" Briar rushes towards him, Tris and Archer right behind her. Briar skids to a stop beside the frightened boy. Her gaze follows his, landing on the sight of cages and chains along the wall. With trembling breaths, Briar pulls Dion behind her.
"Those are way too big to be animal cages." Dion grasps his best friend's arm and tugs at it, trying to get her to leave. Following his pleading gesture, Briar and the others rush out of the room. Quickly leaving the hospital they once again meet up at Babu's house to discuss everything. They greet the older women kindly, declining lunch as none of them have an appetite after what they had seen. Once upstairs in Tris' room, the kids sit around discussing the cages. Briar, however, stayed silent, opting to plug in the camera into her laptop to go through the photos. She pulls up the operating room photo and her stomach leaping into her throat. She takes in a deep breath through her nose to keep from puking. The photo, much like the one she had taken at the house, now has a figure in the photo. The person, no the thing lays on the operating table, looking up at the ceiling. Their stomach is sewn closed but blood still covers them, dripping down onto the floor. This figure's face much like the one from the house is gray and blurry almost like tv static. Briar stares at the photo sadly, blinking away tears before turning to the first photo she had taken in the hospital. Much to her unbridled horror, a figure is in this one as well. It appears they were there for a while judging by the gown they don. They sit in the untouched wheelchair in front of the reception desk, their hands rest on the wheels as if they could still push themselves down the hallway as they once did. A white bandage stained blood is wrapped around their neck, having slipped from their head. Where it had once rested part of the skin and skull are gone, revealing the woman's brain. Briar gags, shutting the laptop which grabs her friends' attention. The group throws her concerned look which she ignores, sending a weak smile to Dion who sends a reassuring one back.
"I think my camera can capture ghosts, but only sometimes."
"That would explain that lady at the bottom of the stairs." Dion looks sick just hearing about the bloodied woman causing Briar to stand and take him in her arms. He relaxes in her embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist, and nuzzles his head into her neck.
"What do we do now?" Tris' word grabs everyone's attention. Archer and Briar share a confused look before looking back at the dark-skinned girl. "I mean, Briar's camera can capture ghosts! We gotta use that somehow." Without picking his head up Dion shakes it from side to side. Demonstrating his disapproval of his friend's words.
"She might have a point, now don't get me wrong. I didn't say that because Tris and I are dating nor did I say it because Dion does not like it." Archer captures everyone's attention, their arms crossed against their chest. "We have an interesting ability to see ghosts through, who knows what else we could do." Briar ponders their words for a moment. Her gaze drifts to her camera still hooked up to the closed laptop. Her eyes fall back onto Dion who still holds her closely, thinking of something that could please both parties. She always did that, try to find a compromise.
"Okay, we'll still go to places and I will still try to capture ghosts." Dion pulls back almost instantaneously, a betrayed look on his face. Before he could move farther away Briar cups his face in her hands and despite how hurt he felt, he still finds himself leaning into her touch. "Dion does not have to look at the photos, nor is he obligated to go with us to these locations. The minute he gets uncomfortable or scared we leave." The couple nod in agreement, none of them wanted their only male friend to be scared at any point. "Now that that's settled, the new season of Witchery is up and I think we should watch it." Cheers ring out through the room as Tris rushes down to the stairs to get snacks, leaving the others to text their guardians that they'll be staying at Babu's house that night. Once Tris is back into the room she helps her companion and their friends set everything up. Once the fort is ready and snacks are distributed the group lays down, immediately Dion lays next to Briar allowing her to wrap her arm around him. As the show plays eventually the couple falls asleep, leaving only Briar and Dion awake to watch the last episode of the season.
"Thank you." At the sound of Dion's voice, Briar lets out a hum. "Thank you for setting those ground rules, for always making sure I'm comfortable and okay. I don't know how I would've survived this long if you didn't become our mom friend." Briar laughs softly at his words, holding him closer to her.
"Dion, my dear, you are so much braver and stronger than you think. You would've lasted so long with or without me here and we know that." Dion's face flushes red at her words and the pet name. "But I appreciate the sentiment from you and just know I'm never going to leave your side." And with those final words both Briar and Dion drift off to sleep, feeling content in one another's arms.
@sokka-likes-forks-in-sockets
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