visionary

alice cullen 

[ofvisionaries]

waywardsoldicr‌:

Home sweet home.

There was a bitterness taking root in Jasper’s chest. It spread quickly in the wake of their arrival, growing prickly vines designed to wring out memories from him that left his hands stained in an all too familiar red. The car ride had come with all the usual quirks of a Cullen family road trip – Emmett’s authoritarian rule over the radio station, Carlisle’s endless version of 19th century dad jokes, Rosalie’s insistence on passing by every rest stop and the subsequent argument over what she needed a bathroom break for when none of them had taken a piss since the Stone Age (Emmett’s words, not his) – just with the added bonus of a moving target looming over all their heads. He’d been on edge since they’d fled Forks, though now that they were here his limbs had turned to stone in anticipation.

The hot Texas sun cast her unflinching glare on their SUV, sunlight filtering in through the windows. For a moment Jasper saw the many scars of his past come alight under the sun’s gaze as she passed judgement over him, scorching him with the full weight of her disapproval. Murderer. Jasper squared his jaw and forced himself to look at his feet. 

It was Alice’s voice that drew him out of the past and locked him squarely inside the present. She had a habit of doing that and he’d never find the right amount of words to thank her for being his anchor. “Ah – shopping?” He looked hesitantly out the window. The less time they spent in Texas the better, as far as he was concerned, but when they reached the Louisiana border he knew they’d be going their separate ways, him and Emmett forging ahead with Edward in their care. He glanced Alice’s way again, the rigidness of his jaw giving way to a half-hearted smile. Sacrifice, right? “… Thirty minutes, tops.” He took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

Alice grinned widely at Jasper’s acceptance and kissed his cheek before leaning forward to convince Carlisle to stop the car for half an hour, the older man reasonably hesitant to do such a thing but eventually relenting. Edward looked like he wanted to just curl into a ball in the back of their van and, while normally Alice would feel for him and try to make her adoptive brother feel better, right now she really couldn’t find it in herself to give a damn. Road trips with the Cullens were an affair-with-a-capital-A, without the luxury of stopping every few hours unless Rosalie insisted on a “bathroom break” (honestly, bless Rosalie, she understood). 

The van turned into the parking lot and Alice was the first to jump out, literally climbing over Emmett’s lap before he had a chance to unbuckle and breathing in the fresh Texan air. The sun was still annoying, and she had to squint to keep it from her eyes until she found her sunglasses in her purse and all but shoved them on her face. “See Carlisle?” Alice asked cheerily (someone had to be cheery, and that would be her if it had to be). “It’s nice once you get out of the car and stretch for longer than five minutes!”

Okay, maybe there was a little shade tossed his way, but she deserved a bit of shade.

Alice waited until Jasper was out of the car before snatching his hand up and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, her forced smile turning into a warmer one as she ignored Edward’s groans and leaned into her partner’s side. Sure, they’d been pressed against one another for x amount of hours while driving, but it was different when it was by her own choice. “Half an hour,” she said. “We can make it a speed-date once we get away from this lot. How does that sound? Food court, a few shops, just...” Normal. Alice always longed for normal, couldn’t remember a time in her life that reined in normal because of her amnesia. She cherished every moment she could get where she could just forget their circumstances and be Jasper and Alice. “Let’s go.”

[bearfuckcr]

THE CULLENS ft. the Seven Deadly Sins

[ofvisionaries]

Texas was extremely different from Washington, Alice noticed when they entered the state. 

It wasn’t as if she’d never lived anywhere outside of Washington, but after being in similar states to Washington for the past decade or so, she wasn’t used to the boiling heat that came with being in the Southern United States. Alice gave a disgruntled huff and pulled her hair back into a half ponytail, the hair slowly growing out of the pixie style she’d sported for so long and allowing her liberties with styles. It wasn’t as if she could burn or sweat anymore, but glaring sun is bothersome to anyone, living or dead.

She didn’t necessarily blame Edward more than she had to for the situation they were in, but that didn’t mean she was happy about being on the run.

The group passing by a strip mall was one of the greatest things to happen to them all in her opinion, and Alice let out a happy squeal as they got closer to the shops. “Oh, we have to go! We deserve a break, don’t we?”

“Your funeral,” she heard Edward mutter from the back, but she easily ignored it in favor of going to Jasper and taking his hand.

“Let’s go shopping for a bit, take our mind off of things. Please?”

[ @waywardsoldicr ]

[ofvisionaries]

thegcldenage:

The problem, Edgar would vehemently contend to those who questioned him, was that there was just so very much to be done.

Lately, Edgar had been keeping himself busy in every way that he knew how, running errands for those of his friends functional enough to acknowledge what they needed doing and closely monitoring those who weren’t. It was the question of the hour: did they need kindness or did they need leadership more and how could he effectively be both. What would become of the Order now, with betrayal splitting their number wide open and grief festering like an untreated wound inside them all. Could they bear another funeral when the promise of so many more to come lay just on the horizon. 

Edgar didn’t have the answers now, he doubted more often of late that he ever had done, but what he had done was talk — talk and clean and prepare and repair what he could and provide a listening ear for the problems that weren’t so easily fixed while determinedly avoiding his own. It was exhausting work, trying desperately to glue their shattered pieces back together, the kind that left his bones so weary that he sometimes wondered if he remembered what it was to not be tired, but he had made the executive decision weeks ago now that exhaustion was far preferable to heartbreak and even heartbreak was preferable to despair.

Which is what had brought him to this: staring unblinkingly up at the paint swatches drying against a vibrant yellow wall from the floor, his legs tucked in front of him and a particularly vocal siamese winding through them as he balanced a cup of tea carefully atop his kneecap. The fragrant air smelt of jasmine mixed with paint fumes; a lulling fragrance that almost convinced him that he couldn’t hear the voice calling out to him.

Amelia had always had impeccable timing.

Lifting the cup to his mouth he sipped, washing the bitterness off his tongue as the silence dragged out between the question his sister had posed and the answer he didn’t know how to give. Could she come in? Of course she could. Did he want her to? Another question entirely. He frowned, rolling his thumb against the lip of the cup before politeness dictated he should respond, his voice tired and resigned as he called back, “It’s open.”

The invite was swiftly followed by words less inviting, his eyeline undisturbed from the various shades of eggshell blues and faded creams that were threatening the state of his sunshine yellow wall, “Why are you here, Amelia?”

It’s open.

Amelia genuinely hadn’t thought Edgar would answer, let alone let her inside of his flat. They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, and the fact that Edgar was even willing to meet her eyes (or, at the very least, look at her person in general) was a miracle in itself. The yellow was brighter up close, something that she remembered giving her brother shit for constantly since he first decided on the ghastly color, and she felt herself squint as she opened up her brother’s door. Edgar looked like a mess, honestly, though Amelia was sure she looked about the same, if not worse. 

The flat was inviting, but Edgar’s words were less so. She tried hard not to flinch.

You got yourself into this mess, Bones. You can get yourself out of it...or live with its consequences.

Slowly she closed the door behind her, taking a moment to gather herself and look about the surroundings. War had a funny way of messing with one’s state of mind, and more and more often she’d found herself looking for every possible escape route she could manage when inside a room or building. This was Edgar, for Christ’s sake. Amelia couldn’t worry about her brother attacking her.

...right?

“I... I don’t know,” she said lamely, mentally cursing herself because that was far from the truth. “No, I do know. I want to talk to you, Ed. It’s been months, and I--” I miss you. “--I want to talk about this. It. Everything.”

[ethan-chandlr-deactivated202003]

[ jessica jones ; 1.01 “aka ladies night” ]

[ofphantasms]

@amelias-bcnes

[ofvisionaries]

She was going to kill Edgar.

Amelia never should have agreed to watch after his blasted cats, but he’d pulled his puppy dog eyes on her and she’d caved in. One would think that years in politics would have desensitized her to moves like that, but here she was, running down the wet street bare footed, ready to sock her brother.

He’d said they were trained to go in the litter box. He’d said they wouldn’t disturb her strict routine for the few days they’d be there. Like a fool, Amelia believed him.

When she got home from work, Amelia had been greeted by torn curtains, shredded couch cushions, feces everywhere, and a severe lack of ten cats in her flat. Figures. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure in a trench coat fly down the road, and Amelia dropped all of her belongings to go sprinting after the figure. Her mind immediately went to Edgar, running away with his blasted felines before she could butcher them all--him included--and her vision turned red with rage. 

“I’m going to kill you!”

Edgar didn’t respond, only seeming to run faster, and Amelia picked up her pace to try and grab him. Her feet hurt as they slapped against the pavement, gravel sticking to the bottoms of them and threatening to break skin while she skirted a corner. A little more and she managed to snatch the trench coat, tugging at it with all of her might and flinging it to the road.

Ten cats, her brother’s ten cats, were under the trench coat, piled like a cartoon and staring at her with far too wide eyes. No one moved for several dragged out seconds, and Amelia hung her head as the cats scattered back toward Edgar’s flat.

“... I really need a vacation.”

@thegcldenage @wrongedxones

[ofvisionaries]

why did your parents name your brother digger? why not shovel, or tractor, or (garden) hoe?

I dunno, but out of those choices I think hoe would fit him the best.

[ofvisionaries]

@thegcldenage fn verse (fuck off noethley)

The bright yellow walls of Edgar’s flat were still visible through the broken window, and though yellow was supposed to be a happy and calming color Amelia felt anything but that. She couldn’t remember when she’d last seem Edgar, but now that she had a possible chance of talking to her brother Amelia wanted to turn around and hide.

And what a cowardly thing that would be.

She’d stayed far away to give him some space, because in the end she was the one who’d betrayed him, not the other way around. This war had torn her family apart, and as much as she’d thought joining up with Janus was the right thing, it now occurred to her that she’d made the wrong decision long ago. Reviving Regulus, playing the Order, everything she’d done in the name of good instead of evil wasn’t worth it. Amelia wished a time turner could turn back years instead of hours.

Being compared to Digger had stung. Thinking about her eldest brother at all was a slap to her face, and someone she never wanted to be. She didn’t want to be the person who abandoned her family selfishly like he had, but isn’t that what she’d become? Edgar saying as much was nothing but the truth. It pained her to accept that, but accepting that was the only reason she’d even sought out Edgar’s flat in the first place.

So why was she still outside?

Amelia took a few deep breaths and reached up to mess with the frayed end of her Ravenclaw scarf, taking comfort in the material that had last her for so many years. She was no Gryffindor, had never prided on courage, but now it was all she could do. Finally she made herself walk, putting one foot in front of the other until she was up the stairs and in front of his flat. This is a bad idea, but Amelia knew it was the right idea. Both of them deserved some sort of closure. One more deep breath, then she raised her fist and knocked rapidly three times. Hopefully he was home.

“... Ed? It’s me. Can I come in?”