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Latter Pillar Homewarming Fanfic

Latter Pillar & Barnaby B Beagle | Hurt/Comfort | One-shot

(The whole wiggle is here this Homewarming and Latter, off to the side, is feeling overwhelmed by it all. He meets Barnaby, who invites him inside of Home to continue the party, and maybe to make some new friends. )

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Latter holds back a sigh as he gazes out onto his many gathered relatives from the booth he’s sat himself in. The frosted over window next to him gives away nothing from the outside world but swirling ferns of ice and a slight draft. The annual Holiday Hullabaloo was well underway with jubilation, mirth, and merrymaking in full swing. Fairy lights glitter in the wine glasses, warmth aplenty comes through the vents keeping all attending cozy and comfortable. The scent of cinnamon, warm fruit, and alcohol fill his nose and make his antennae wave lightly until he notices. Cheerful music resonates from the radio with lyrics he can't make out over his relatives’ own ambient chatter, laughter and jollity bubbling loud and often from every table. Though…he wonders why he even bothered.

Sipping his tea, he hears Aunt Toodaloo laugh at something his uncle says by the drink counter.

Perhaps I should take up French this coming year. A renewal of the self? A way to grow?

He imagines with some melancholy the way his aunt and uncle might laugh and cheer at another one of their nephews learning a shared interest and culture. Then he winces. Aunt Toodaloo would then go on about whether that meant he was interested in international business with her and uncle Adieu. There’s a twinge of anxiety at the thought. He knew well how those conversations went… Bothersome and onerous.

No! Don’t think that way about them, he scolded.

Never mind, then.

Seeya is scolding the twins now for the umpteenth time tonight. He chuckles lightly at the sight. Oh, his misfit little nephews tried to get to the presents again! Well, not misfits, per se, he thinks. Young caterbees, the twins were a delight most of the time: helpful, attentive, and already busy-bees. Like most Pillar children, they just needed something to do. Latter would’ve offered to watch them, but, to his discouragement and woe, they have since figured out that the kids prefer active play, as opposed to reading or writing. He remembers his darling sister giggling, tittering, and patting his arms (in pity?) that first time, “haha! Oh, Latter, you silly-bug!” she said, “it’s only noon. The boys aren’t due for a nap until two!” She then shook her head while smiling and shooed him elsewhere.

He buries the sting of the memory. Seeya didn’t mean it that way. His dearest sister. He's…certain she didn’t.

Sitting there, once more gazing at nothing, he sips again at his cooling tea. That’s okay, he thinks, thumbing the rim of his mug. He gets it, really. Everyone in the Pillar family has something to give. A product, a service, a personality fit for business. In a few ways he knew he was the same. Except…

“This isn’t a theater, kid. Talk normal, please.”

“I can’t understand half of these words, Latter! I’m gonna have to ask you to redo your report.”

“Oh, brother! You cry about everything!” A heavy sigh, “You know what? I don’t have time for this.”

He’s cold now. The draft from the window has gotten to him, yet he can’t bring himself to move even now that he’s finished his tea. Looking out across the room, he doesn’t want to go back into the cloud of aunts and uncles, and cousins, and siblings, niblings, and his parents.

Speaking of which, a particularly loud (uproarious, hearty) laugh from the table over snags his attention to a table a few feet away. There seated are his parents, ever the love-bugs, Howdy, and a few other relatives. His brother looks to be recounting some kind of event— a sale, most likely—with great enthusiasm, all four arms gesturing this way and that way, the little bells on his antennae jingling brightly with every movement. His father had been the one who laughed, having been particularly tickled by something in the grand recounting. A brief sense of endearment bubbled up from his chest. Caterpillar he may yet be, but his brother, younger by a mere two years, was a shining example of the family. A charismatic, no-nonsense salesman with his own store, an ambition to be even greater, and the means to do so. He was proud. As I ought to be, he thinks.

“He says he’s a poet, but his poems are just downright dreadful, if you ask me.”

It isn’t until Father rises from his seat to give his brother an approving, fatherly clap on the back, that Latter lets his misery win. The air is suddenly too thick, he’s shivering, but from the cold or the aching in his chest, he can’t tell. The music and chatter, once a cheerful lull, now felt ceaseless and blaring.

Bleeding babbling. A blathering chorus of jabbering gibberish!

Leaving behind his mug, he scuttles tensely toward the front entrance. He pointedly doesn’t look back while putting on his overcoat and scarf as Mother enthusiastically grabs Howdy’s cheeks, peppering him with kisses.

He sighs to himself, I’m taking a walk.

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The temperature shock upon leaving the bodega was itself nearly enough to knock Latter out of his mood. His wings shivered from their place under his coat and his breath came out in white puffs, illuminated by the multi-colored fairy lights above. He thanks his genetics for making him so fuzzy. Without it he’d surely be shivering up a storm by now! Alas, his poor wings were still susceptible. He’ll adjust eventually.

Now, it wasn’t the first time he’s been in Home, but thinking back, he’d never seen the place at night before. The quaint neighborhood his brother set up shop in was familiar enough; he could recognize the order of the houses from the last time he was here. There was the red one in the center with the blue roof, the first of only two houses still lit from the inside, the other being the barn-looking house just across the pathway. Next to the barn to his left was the house— he was pretty sure it was a house— that he found the most interesting. It reminded Latter of a celestially-themed theater with a large set of curtains attached just under the roof’s edge that draped down the front door. A stage was set up between the two houses, oddly clear of enough snow in a way that suggested it had been used sometime earlier. In this weather? Across from Howdy’s was what he was pretty sure was a mail office. Though, why the neighborhood needed a mail office was beyond him. The other houses were pretty normal as far as dwellings and abodes went, yet no less lacking in personality.

Even now, in the glittering shadow of late evening and holiday lights, he could perceive just how colorful everything was. And he won’t lie, since the day he first visited, he’d been curious about the nature of the inhabitants here. It all looked so much more inviting than what he had to deal with behind him.

Ah. Speak of the devil. There went his mood again.

Initial distraction gone, his mind was free to wander and ruminate once again. Thus, he walked; he was in no rush to return anytime soon. And that was that for a while, him, following the shoveled, yellow pathway that looped around the neighborhood, pausing every few feet to look at some stray object left out, or a plant he didn’t recognize popping out of the snow.

The longer he walked, the lighter the weight in his chest became, until it was only a vague anxiety. —Oh, he regretted not having his notebook! The snow sparkled fresh and soft. Sleepy winter had only started, not yet willing to wake up and give way to the robust vitality and vigor of spring. The many objects and knickknacks strewn about told him a surprising deal about the people who lived in each house. He wondered idly if his brother got along with them.

What sort of company did Howdy keep nowadays?

He paused his trek, now standing before the large clock tower at the entrance once again. It, too, was decorated. Baubles and sparkling tinsel in green, red, and gold spiraled up the length of it before stopping just under the face of the clock, currently a dark blue. The partial cloud cover framing it just so against a backdrop of midnight black. Much like everything else, it was a jolly sight that filled him with a childish whimsy every year he came to visit.

A cheerful, jolly beacon, he thinks. A landmark that told all who neared “You’re here!”

He turned around and looked back into the little neighborhood Howdy calls Home (what an odd name). He couldn’t go back to the bodega yet. Now that he had removed himself from all the hubbub, he didn’t feel like throwing himself back into that veritable swarm.

They’re your family, don’t say that.

However, just the thought of approaching the store sent prickles through his chest and arms. But that was alright… There, just past the post office, was a bench. He spotted it the first go-around along with its twin near the bubbly red and white house right across the neighborhood, which he found rather cute. It looked like a nice spot to sit and rest for a bit.

A quick wipe down and some adjusting of his wings later, he was seated on the surprisingly comfortable bench. It was a tad low for his stature, causing his knees to sit higher than his hips, but made up for it with a taller backing than was usual. The people in this neighborhood must be on the shorter side, then. Not that he minded. For a bunch of bugs, his family, him included, were all very tall. Actually— He knows he asked why, once, but for the life of him he can’t remember what the answer had been… For the second time, he wished he had brought his notebook, or at least something to jot down his thoughts.

He was pondering the need for hibernation and lack thereof among insects when he noticed something. He’d been idly observing the house across from him, the little red one with the blue roof in the middle of the neighborhood. More baubles and tinsel hung merrily from the house’s shingles, glinting in the bright fairy lights and the warm lamp glow shining from within. A giant scarf wrapped around the sides and back of the house and clouds of—he squinted—heart-shaped smoke trailed joyfully out the chimney. Whimsical and frolicsome! A perfect picture of the Homewarming holiday.

But what had caught his attention was the new movement in the windows.

He sat up straighter on the bench. The house, whose two windows had previously been covered by shutters, were now open and looking at him, and he could do nothing but stare back, such was his bewilderment. The moment ended when the front door of the house opened and closed its door a few times in quick succession, shutters closing again in such a way as to make the house look… happy? Another cloud of heart-shaped smoke puffed from the chimney, this time larger than the previous.

Well… if some of his acquaintances could be living clocks and inkwells, then he supposed a living house wasn’t too far out of the question. Still, he’d never heard of a sentient house. He waved a hesitant hand at it, the action seeming to make it light up both in lumosity and joy. From his place on the bench, he could vaguely make out what sounded like squeaks and rattles originating from the little building. Could it speak?

How would that even work? He wondered.

The sounds had an effect, though. A shadow could be seen separating itself from the others within and heading to the front of the little house. His bemusement was quickly replaced by a familiar anxiety.

He considered getting up and leaving before he was spotted. What would they think of some stranger sitting alone outside in the middle of the night? Would his presence bother them enough to tell the others about him? Is he going to make them all uncomfortable??

Latter could have panicked longer, but in the time it took for him to think all that, the front door opened again. A large dog in a festive vest stuck their head out to investigate. Their color was hard to make out from his spot on the bench, what with all the different hues of light mixing together. Blue, perhaps? He could feel the moment their eyes met as the hound visibly perked up at the sight of him.

“Howdy? Pal! What’re ya doin’ over there? Ya can’t be turnin’ into an ice cube, yet! Save that for summer! Get over here!” he exclaimed over the distance while waving.

That guy thinks he is Howdy? That wasn’t right. Though, Latter can forgive the mistake. From the distance in the half-dark of the bench, he probably did look like his brother. He tried to shake his head, putting his hands up to deny, but the canine had already put on a pair of boots and started quickly making his way down the path to him. Oh, he could already feel the preemptive awkwardness of the conversation. The people acquainted with his family that met him usually did so with an expectation. One he never seemed to meet.

Please let this be quick! He thought desperately.

Half way down the path the dog’s pace stutters as he approaches, but recovers quickly before resuming. Finally within conversation distance, the stranger speaks again, “Oh! Sorry ‘bout that, heheh!” He chuckles. “Say, pal, you wouldn’t happen to know of my friend Howdy, would ya? Tall, green, blue hair, big red nose like a certain reindeer?” He gestured to his nose with a wink and a cheeky grin.

Well, he certainly seemed friendly. He wasn’t the individual the hound was looking for, yet this didn’t seem to affect his mood any. Good! He could work with that.

“The person you are referring to would be my dear brother. Howdyadoo Pillar, yes?”

“Yeah, Howdy!”

“Hello,” said Latter reflexively, startling himself. A half-joke on his and his family’s part, which the dog seemed to appreciate, thankfully. “You will find him with the rest of the “wiggle” back at the shop. Though, he was busy entertaining guests last I saw him. Did… you need him?”

Latter didn’t think he was quite ready to go back, but if this person needed his help, he’d try. Though, glancing back at the bodega, he sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case.

“Huh? Oh, nah. Don’ worry about that. I jus’ thought you were him sittin’ out here in the snow. Fella hates the cold, y’know?”

Latter did know, in fact. Howdy, since childhood, complained loudly and often when the weather turned and the first frosts began to cover the plants and rooftops of early morning autumn. Come spring he was busy as a bee with how he buzzed to and fro trying to catch up on all the “opportunities” he missed stuck indoors during the cold. More than once he’d seen his brother try to sell other kids piles of snowballs, rocks, and ice during a snow day, always the go-getter.

The dog continued, “So I came out ta see if he was okay. He said he’d be coming later, but he never said when,” he shook his head, “that guy. You’re not Howdy, though, so how’s ‘bout I ask you instead. What’s your name, bud? You alright out here?” He he says, extending a hand.

“O-Oh! Umm!” Latter rushes to stand, caught off guard by the attention. Had he been rude in thinking his company would just leave him after getting what he came here for? Gosh, what a bonehead he must look like! Taking the offered hand, he shakes it and is briefly startled at how firm the other’s grip is. Not firm in the domineering way that some of his father’s business partners were, but firm in a grounding, steadying sense. Where Latter felt like a leaf barely hanging onto its branch half the time, this furry individual in front of him had an aura like that of a tree (sturdy, strong and reliable). A whiff of sweetness in the air conjured the image of a maple tree in his mind’s eye. Looking at his face, Latter was met with a cheery smile and eyes like an open welcome. “L-Latter! Latter Pillar! My u-utmost apologies, mister. I did not intend to cause anyone worry. I was just taking a walk and decided to sit here a while, trully, heartedly!”

His companion just responded with a loud, “Heheheheh!”

Had he said something funny? Maybe the way he said it? You talk weird—

“Don’ sweat it, pal. Latter, was it? Nice ta meet ya! The name’s Barnaby. Barnaby B. Beagle at your service!” says the now named Mr. Beagle, tipping his hat with a short bow and a flourish that brought a small smile to Latter’s face. How jovial!

Releasing his hand, Mr. Beagle nudges Latter’s upper arm with a grin, “Well, now that that’s done, how ‘bout this: since Howdy’s still preoccupied with your folks, how’s bout you come over to our party inside Home over there and hang out a while, eh?”

Latter turns his head and as he is reminded again of the house, still there, still looking at him. Well, them, now, he supposes. Seemingly aware of their conversation, It gives another cheery wave with its front door. It was rather endearing, actually, now that the surprise has worn off somewhat.

“So, what do ya say? At least ta get you outta this cold. Are you cold? I forgot my coat inside and, frankly, I think I’m startin’ to turn into a pupscicle here,” he said crossing his large blue arms with a shiver, still retaining that air of humor.

Latter can see why this individual in particular would get along with one of his family. Almost every chance there was, he took it to make a joke or witty remark. Mr. Beagle looked like he was going to add something more to that, but, in the end, decided not to.

Truth be told, Latter was rather surprised at the invitation. Perplexed? Puzzled? Taken aback, even. Surely, surely, he had made a terrible first impression, but his new acquaintance (for he was hesitant to call him a friend) didn’t even seem to mind one bit. If anything, Mr. Beagle has been perfectly cordial and open since he first appeared at the door.

It was… nice… to be readily accepted into someone else’s company, even if it wasn’t him they were expecting. Yet, despite the honest invitation, he still couldn’t shake the feeling he would be intruding on someone else’s festivities.

Not wanting to disappoint or keep the other waiting, Latter hastily nods and stuffs his twitchy hands into his coat sleeves, “That sounds like a swell idea, Mr. Beagle. I would not want you catching sick on my behalf,” he replied with a smile that hopefully didn’t look as nervous as he felt. It was just as well that he noticed a few motes of snow starting to drift down around them.

“Me neither, so let’s get headed, yeah? Come on! I’ll introduce ya to the others,” he says, nodding his head towards the sounds merry-making. “Oh, and call me Barnaby, yeah? We’re friends now, after all!” He adds, casual as anything, turning to start the journey back to Home and the party, oblivious to the fluttering heart he’s left in the butterfly’s chest. Now that was a line, there.

Latter knows this feeling. The song and dance that occasionally followed when he indulged it. A pesky thing. It warms the soul just as well as it sears and rends. It’s the thought of “maybe this time it will be different.” It’s the muse of many of his poems and works. So beautiful was it, like a rose, fragrant and sweet. And like many rose metaphors, they all had their thorns.

Hope, Latter thought, was a painful thing.

Even so, like a chilled limb finding the warmth of a flame, he couldn’t help wanting more. The ember had grown too large and too quickly to smother. He hoped they were nice. Most people were, he knew. This friend of Howdy’s feels too genuine to be anything but. He’d accepted him, a stranger, an oddball, so readily. Yet, even as he walked next to Mr. Be—Barnaby, to the little house named Home, doubt still clung to him like the ink stains on his fingers.

—Oh, will you quit your griping! He mentally chastised himself. Why was he like this? I’ll be fine! Everything will be fine! Dandy! Marvelous! Focus on getting inside first. Then, meet the others and stay near Barnaby if I have to.

That’s right! Latter had been curious about the neighborhood residents not too long ago.

This is… an opportunity! Yes! He thinks, hands clenching his forearms, but more assured of his decision. Fortuitous! Best not waste it.

Arriving at Home’s front door, Barnaby calls out to the house in front of them, “Heya, Home. I’m back from bravin’ the wilds! Meet Latter. He’s Howdy’s brother.” He nods his head in Latter’s direction, who gives a small “hello” in greeting. Home jingles the small hoop of silver bells hanging off its doorknob, glass pane eyes shuttering in an odd manner.

“He’s happy to meet you.” Barnaby translates. Then, “Alright! Now can ya let us in before I freeze my little paws off? A little pooch like me won't make it much longer out here in this weather!”

An open door and a shove from Barnaby later, both dog and butterfly were finally settled in the warm foyer beyond home’s doorstep. Just in time, too. The few snowflakes Latter had seen were now coming down in flurries. He wasn’t worried about a snowstorm, but the windchill alone will be enough to keep everyone inside for the next while, even him.

Luckily, neither of the present neighbors seemed to have noticed him nor Barnaby enter yet. The room was filled with lively conversation, mostly from a small pink girl with a large green updo. It was lively, yet nothing like the overwhelming cacophony of sound and color that was the Holiday Hullabaloo at Howdy’s. The Homewarming tree sat left of the fireplace, practically buried in presents of all shapes and colors. Off to the other side was a long table laden with food and refreshments, one of which appeared to be a large, festive gelatine mold.

Seeing Barnaby kick off his boots, Latter followed suit in taking off his overcoat and hanging it on the provided rack, upon which hung several other assorted coats and accessories.

He wondered again if coming had been a good idea.

Smoothing out his coat sleeves one last time, he breathes in, out, and turns to face Barnaby. His blue friend throws him a smile.

“All done and ready there, bud? You didn’t get cold feet, did ya?”

“Y-yes. I mean no! I mean— “ He pauses, collecting himself, “Just…making sure nothing melts and gets wet, is all. Please, lead the way.”

He must still look nervous because Barnaby goes on to reassure him, “D’aww, don’ worry your droopy little antennas pal. It’s Homewarming! Ain’t nothing here but good company, good food, and good fun. Did I mention food?” He began walking, “Come on, let’s get some grub and hot coco! Gotta keep ourselves warm an’ all that.”

Barnaby has a way of making people feel at ease, Latter muses. No pressure, just an open invitation to connect and an offer for it to be returned in full and with a little extra thrown in for the sake of a good time. The pair of them approached the food-laden table where a small, blue-haired puppet stood gazing at a bowl full of apples. His certainty grew as he was greeted with that same open, friendly gaze given to him earlier by Barnaby, now offered by the smaller puppet. The look remained even after Latter had introduced himself. Wally Darling, Barnaby’s “best bud”, an odd yet polite little fellow with a kind, slow cadence. Latter won’t judge him for it. He knows he himself was rather odd. Plus, Mr. Darling was rather, well, darling.

Sipping his hot chocolate, he let his antennae wiggle contentedly as the two talked and caught up with the situation. His family would be fine without him for a night, he reasoned. Honestly, the only people he can imagine needing him are his mother and Seeya, but Mother has Father and everyone else to occupy her and Seeya has the twins (if she hasn’t given up on them by now). Then there was the wine to consider…

.

Well, that settles it. I will remain here at this Homewarming celebration for the rest of the night, or however long they’ll have me. After which, I will return to Howdy’s, get the rest of my things, say my goodbyes to the family, and finally go home! He nods to himself. Yes. Everything was good and dandy (set, determined, well on its way). Some time away from all that ruckus would give him the strength to get through it all. He hoped so, anyway.

With that weight lifted off his shoulders he tunes back into the conversation, taking the step and introducing himself to a different neighbor, the gray man he’d seen hovering around the pink, green-haired lady.

He identifies himself, stern and proper, as Frank Frankly.

“Well, Mr. Frankly, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

And he means it.

Jan 18 - June 12, 2025