The shop got a handful of sunflower prints in and this one was so pretty. I decided I better do something with it!
I was planning on making a one blocks wonder to surround a big sunflower panel, but I forgot how slow and tedious making these are. Especially after whipping out half a dozen nine patch quilts LMAO
Anyway. Weâll see how many I can make before I get tired of them. Might use the panel, might just make a lap with the blocks.
This three are all one block, just spun around to the three possible configurations. I have to do that with each one (i donât have to, i could just throw âem together with the first layout I do) and decide which I like the best.
And of course they lose a quarter inch all the way around during the sewing process, so they look slightly different again after I put them together.
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So, Gage has a job! You are about to see what said job is. You will also get your first real look at both sides of him. Iâm sorry if I havenât accurately put some details in, I will need to do some research and edit this.
Let me know what you think?
Tag list: @sleepy-and-anxious @stone-goddess-writing @mezvii @bethwrotethis @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @forlornraven @katiehahnbooks
C: Is it boring?
G: Very.
C: Do you know what isnât boring?
G: What?
Cass sent you a photo
Gage snorted, and had to fight the smile from his face. The photo of Cass was a selfie, grinning like an idiot, he was leaning over the largest chocolate and bubble gum, ice cream sundae Gage had ever seen. It looked like it was almost bigger than Cassâs head.
G: Donât get brain freeze.
C: You know youâre jealous
With a smirk and a sigh Gage turned his phone off and dropped it back into his blazer pocket. Across the polished oak table the two men were still arguing over the plea. Mr Tomlinson swore that he was not guilty, but the other lawyer was trying to dissuade him from making such a plea. Theyâd all see through that instantly, there was a camera recording after all. They would all see the man taking a crowbar to the car window and then taking it to the driver. The only way he was going to be given not guilty was if the whole jury were blind. Or by a miracle.
âOkay, enough.â The words were deep and quiet, but it silenced both of the men. âThis has an easy solution.â The other Lawyer threw his hands up in the air in annoyance, probably that frustration that Gage hadnât spoken up sooner. He stood up with a stomp.
âIâm going to go and get a drink. I need to cool off.â He glared at Tomlinson. âMaybe you can talk some sense into him.â He waved a hand at the prisoner and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went. Gage just rolled his eyes. Drama Queen. He was always making a scene.
âMr Tomlinson,â Gage opened the thin beige folder on the table in front of him, he flicked through a couple of pages. âIf you want to plead not guilty then I can help you with that.â He pulled a single sheet out from the pile and took a pen from his breast pocket. It looked like a fountain pen, but it was engraved with gold markings, in strange twists and twirls.
âThere really is a simple solution, but first I must ask you. How badly do you want to avoid jail time?â Killer. Murderer.
Tomlinson looked at Gage with big wet eyes, putting his cuffed hands on the table he leaned as far forward as he could, trying to reach him. His thick throat bobbed as he swallowed. Gage hated him. Hated the sweat that beaded on his forehead and upper lip. Hated his bulging eyes and all his tears. He didnât deserve the pity.
Killer.
âAnything! I would do anything! Theyâll kill me in there. Iâm easy prey.â
Well, he wasnât wrong. Heâd be easy pickings. No backbone to him. He stunk of desperation.
âWell, I can get you off the hook. It is simple court politics and miscalculations. A piece of missing evidence, a witness that doesnât testify.â Gage shrugged one shoulder. âIt wonât even cost you a penny.â Gage said.Â
Placing his pen gently on top of the sheet he admired the cursive words. The large âContractâ title stood out in deep red letters.
âWhat will it take?â Tomlinson was practically bouncing in his chair.
âA signature.â Gage said with a charming smile. He pushed the contract across the desk to the man in cuffs, the pen rolling a little with the force. âI want your soul. Upon your death, I would like your soul as payment.â
The man looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth dropping open.
âMy soul? What kind of joke is this? My soul!â Tomlinson shoved the contract back towards him, but this time the pen stayed still in front of Tomlinson, the paper sliding out from under it.
Gage ignored the outburst and stood up. He gathered the sheet towards him and placed it back inside the folder, he flipped it shut.
âWell, it was nice meeting you Mr Tomlinson.â He said with that same charming smile, using what Ali called his âphone sexâ voice. The one that got under your skin, bubbled through your blood, and made you ache. âI want to wish you luck at the trial.â
âWait!â The man was holding the pen, his knuckles white with the pressure. Gage stopped his show of packing up and raised his eyebrows. Tomlinsonâs mouth opened and shut. He cleared his throat and tried again. âI will sign it.â
Gage sat back down and instantly had the contract in his hand. He slid it back across the table.
âAre you a religious man, Mr Tomlinson?â Gage asked as the manâs pen hovered over the signature line. His eyes scanning the words on the page. A true business man. Tomlinsonâs eyes flickered up to his, and back down. âNo. Itâs all rubbish. Something people tell themselves to make death seem less scary.â
Gage smiled with his lips pressed tightly together. âIf you sign this contract, you will not be able to speak of what it entails. It is in the fine print.â Tomlinson waved the words away and promised his silence. Not yet did he realise that this wasnât something he would have control over. Once the deal was signed, he would never be able to speak of it to anyone. At least, not without drowning in his own blood.
Gage sat in silence as Tomlinson took a shuddering breath, gathered himself, and scribbled his name on the bottom line. The ink was red as it came out the pen, gliding effortlessly across the page. Under his shirt, the cut on Gageâs forearm burnt and he resisted the urge to itch at it. As the pen came off the page, Tomlinson exhaled. He stared at the signature with something between fear and relief.
The deal was done. Destiny changed. The pieces clicked into place. Gage leaned over the table and plucked the pen and paper from the manâs fingers. When Tomlinson looked back up at Gage, he no longer saw his lawyer.
Gage stared back at him. Sat back in his chair, his lips twisted into a smirk. His irises were red, surrounded by a blackness that swallowed light. Tomlinson stared into that blackness, saw his future, opened his mouth, and screamed.
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